#okay well at least I can keep myself upright now

[frink-o-matic]

I’m so happy. 🥹

It feels like my muscles are starting to obey me again.

[lizardkingeliot]

Congrats on your freedom from the mess!

I'm having a craving to read a scene where Louis is defending Lestat to someone. I'm not particular about the context but I hope that we'll get some "that's my husband and only I can talk shit about him" energy from Louis in the show too. But I'd settle for a few hundred words from you! ❤️

Okay. So. When I started writing this I challenged myself to keep it under 500 words and... lmao. Well. It ended up being almost 1500. Because of course. But ANYWAY I hope you're here for some Rockstar Lestat and Photographer Louis because that's what this ended up being. The urge to turn this into a longer fic is STRONG but I'm resisting for now. After I finish my current wip I might come back to it and fill it out and pop it up on AO3. IDK... we'll see lol.

Anyway I'm sticking most of this under a cut. Thank you for this lovely prompt and I hope you enjoy it!

—

Louis emerged from the dressing room first. Leaned against the wall outside the door and started fiddling with his camera. Checking over the pictures he’d taken just moments ago. Lestat—a ring of vanity lights like a halo around the mirror behind him. Lestat—purple leather pants, lime green crop top, the word Slut scrawled in sparkly cursive on the chest. Lestat—golden hair gleaming in the artificial light. Eyes on the camera, on Louis where he stood a safe distance away beyond the lens. Pink mouth slightly parted just so, just so…

Lestat walked out not a minute after Louis and was instantly surrounded by a horde of people. His tour manager, his agent, Daniel Molloy, a handful of nondescript faces attached to bodies Louis didn’t know. Lestat scowled and waved them all away from him at once, muttering his annoyance under his breath in French.

Lestat’s whole body swayed as he walked. Pants sitting low on his hips. Hips like weapons, swell of his ass like a homing beacon. And Louis almost forced himself to look away when Lestat stopped, and turned back. And met Louis’ gaze across the distance. His eyes lined in smudgy black lighting up in exactly the way they’d been when Louis viewed him through the lens of his camera moments ago. Mouth quirking up in a secret smile meant for Louis and Louis alone.

Louis smiled back, couldn’t help it. Stomach doing some truly impressive acrobatics when Lestat turned away and disappeared in the direction of the stage. He was grateful for the wall for reminding his body to stay upright. He forced a breath, was just about to turn his eyes back to his camera when the muffled conversation two roadies were having over by the loading bay invaded his senses.

“Did you see what he’s wearing now?” Roadie Number One asked with a self-satisfied little laugh. The sound of it was instantly grating. It was such a pompously human sound. “For fuck’s sake, man.”

“Like I said before,” Roadie Number Two offered in a casual, gravelly tone. One hand on a flight case, the other fiddling with the cigarette he had tucked behind his ear. “The whole fruit basket, that one. Talk about shoving it in your face.”

Louis tipped his head to one side. Watched them both with big unblinking eyes as they started moving down the hall in the direction of the stage. His pulse beating slow and steady inside him. Moving the blood through his veins at a calculating, almost predatory pace.

—

After the show, backstage was the usual chaos. A sea of people and their sounds. Lestat’s team, his band, his groupies. Equipment being rushed back out the way it had come in. And though Louis had been standing just off stage and watched with his own two eyes as Lestat made his exit following his second encore. Had snapped one final picture in the split second before Lestat passed by and their hands—very intentionally, on Lestat’s part at least—brushed together. Suddenly, Lestat was nowhere to be found.

Louis screwed the lens from his camera, tucked everything away in his case and slung the strap over his shoulder. The moment he lifted his head, he saw them. Roadie One and Roadie Two. And hunger grumbled deep inside him. And it dawned on Louis all at once that he’d been so busy tonight he hadn’t actually fed.

He could have just let it go. He should have. Human beings—what did they matter? But Lestat wasn’t around and the thought that he was off with some groupie getting his dick wet pissed him off just enough for the hunger to spur him forward. He moved without even thinking to, and in a blink he was standing in front of Roadie Number Two. Crowding him against the flight case he’d been hauling. So close their noses nearly touched.

“Hello,” Louis said. Roadie Two’s eyes went wide as two big moons. “I have a question for you—”

“Hey, man, what the f—”

Louis choked off the man’s voice with a thought at once. Vampiric power working like a hand around his throat.

“Don’t be rude when your elders are speaking.” Louis took a single calculated step back. Roadie Two was trembling in his black jeans. Louis didn’t even have to hold him in place. Frozen with terror, the man couldn’t move. And Louis grinned. “Now—my question. And I do think you of all people can help me with this one.”

Louis listened to the tangle of thoughts in his head. A litany of curses. An endless slew of fear and dark and what the fuck what the fuck. People were rushing all around them. Louis thought, distantly—maybe—that Daniel was saying his name.

“Do you happen to know where I might find a fruit basket in this city?”

Louis laughed, a dark and wobbling sound. The hunger had him by the belly. He had to fight against his fangs to keep them from popping out.

There were tears in Roadie Two’s wide moon eyes that didn’t blink. He found the strength to reach up with one hand and paw uselessly at his own throat. Thick rasping sounds falling out of it as he fought against the Dark Gift’s suppression of his breath.

Louis laughed again.

“Yeah,” Louis said, and tipped his head to one side. And watched the artery throb with blood on the side of the roadie’s thick neck. “That’s what I thought. Not so easy to get those smartass words of yours out now, is it? You know, next time maybe you should try sayin’ that shit to—”

“Louis.”

Lestat. Behind him. Heartbeat like a siren. Warm, gushing sound of life like a song inside his veins. Louis’ mind stumbled over itself for a fraction of a second and he lost his hold on Roadie Two’s throat. And the man crumbled down to his knees in a coughing fit in an instant.

“Louis,” Lestat said again. And Louis spun around. And—

Smudged eyeliner. Pink mouth. Golden hair skimming bare shoulders. At some point between the stage and right then, Lestat had lost his shirt.

“Lestat.” Louis straightened his neck, gripped the strap of his camera case just to have something to hold onto. His heart was beating wildly in his chest and he knew Lestat could hear it. “Hey, uh, so—”

“Cheri, I know you’re hungry, but I believe it would be ill-advised to eat the roadies.”

Louis drew a breath, huffed it out, distantly aware that Roadie Two was half-crawling, half-running away behind him. “Wasn’t gonna eat him. Just—” He huffed another breath. “And please don’t call me—”

“You were sticking up for me.”

Smudged eyeliner. Blue eyes shining in those messy rings of black. Louis’ heartbeat was a kick pedal drum inside his chest.

“Just didn’t care for his tone, is all.” Louis tried for casual, but the words came out all wrong. Like suddenly he was the one being choked. “He said—”

“I know what he said, cheri.” One corner of Lestat’s mouth twitched, amused and annoyed all at once. “Excusez-moi—Louis.” Head tipped to one side. Eyes sweeping appraisingly over Louis’ face, down to his chest. Blue eyes limned in so much black. “They always say these things. The two of them. Like school boys. They cannot help that they are wildly attracted to me.”

At that—Louis instantly started to laugh. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

Smudged eyeliner. Leaning close. Lestat put his hand on Louis’ shoulder. ���Well, yes,” he said very quietly. Voice a husky rumble pouring from his throat. “That is what they tell me.”

Warm breath on Louis’ neck. Lestat pulled back, and all the people rushing around them suddenly melted away. And it was just the two of them. And there was a glint in Lestat’s eyes like he’d just won a game neither of them had even realized they were playing. Or that they’d both been playing with their whole chests, and now their chests were caving in. And the game was over.

And Lestat was clutching the prize with both hands.

And Louis was going to let him have it.

“Yeah, so—anyway.” Louis took a slow, deep breath. Slowly, slowly let it come rushing back out. He begged his heart to stop selling him out and to settle. “I’m starving. You wanna hunt?”

Smudged eyeliner. Pink mouth falling open with just the tiniest hint of his fangs poking out. “I would love to hunt with you, cheri,” Lestat said.

[gaycentral]

Secrets

Part One:

@reidcoffeemoon

You had known Spencer Reid for years now, back when he was a young, fresh-faced agent who struggled to speak to people his age and couldn’t beat Gideon in a chess match. He was thirty now, you’d both changed, unspoken feelings simmered beneath the surface, and you knew for a fact that Spencer was hiding something.

Your suspicions began a year ago.

Spencer was never late, and the few times he had been, it was always due to something strange. Years ago, it was his Dilaudid addiction that caused him to arrive late to work, other times it was migraines or nightmares. It was never for an innocuous, innocent reason.

A year ago, he showed up late to work with a black eye.

“What the hell happened to you?” You’d asked, eyes scanning over him for any other injuries. You wouldn’t have been able to find any with his purple cardigan and black slacks obscuring your view, but it didn’t make you worry less.

“I, er, accidentally punched myself last night when getting changed.” He visibly grimaced at his own poor attempt at a lie, suppressing a wince as he sat down, his muscles aching, every individual joint in his body collectively screaming from last night’s events.

Your brow raise told him you clearly didn’t believe him, although Morgan snickered loudly from his desk, having bought the boy wonders story. He was quite clumsy after all.

You were a profiler, you thought you’d be able to figure out what was happening quite easily. At first, you worried he’d relapsed, but ruled that out fairly quickly. Then you wondered if something was going on with his mother, but it wasn’t that either. It was frustrating, because you knew that something wasn’t right, but you had nothing.

The last thing you expected was for him to actually tell you what was going on, because if there was anything to know about Spencer Reid, was that he could keep a secret, and keep one very well.

Until he couldn’t.

It was one in the morning when he called, waking you up from the warm, cozy haven of your comforter as your phone buzzed loudly on your nightstand. With a tired groan, you reached over, a fumbling hand grabbing the phone and squinting at the harsh sting of the light in your eyes, fully expecting Hotch or Garcia to be calling you in for work.

You didn’t expect to see Spencer’s name on your screen, and you felt anxiety shoot through your veins as you sat bolt upright in bed, answering the phone.

“Spencer?”

“Hi,” his voice was a pained rasp, one you recognized as your heart sank. “I’m…I’m really sorry to be calling so late, but, can you come over? I need, uh, I need some help.”

He hadn’t even finished his sentence before you were scrambling out of bed, briefly getting tangled in the sheets and nearly face-planting on your floor before you managed to orient yourself.

“What happened? Are you okay?” You didn’t bother to change out of your pyjamas as you sped through your apartment, looking for your keys as simultaneously tried to put your shoes on.

“It’s hard to explain. It will make more sense when you get here, just…try not to freak out too much?”

“You can’t say that and expect me not to freak out, Spencer!” Your voice came out more of a shriek than intended as you all but burst out of your front door, making quick strides towards your vehicle as the cold night air rose goosebumps across your skin.

“I know,” he sounded exhausted, which didn’t help your growing concern. “I’m sorry.”

You would’ve told him not to be sorry, that he didn’t need to be while simultaneously chewing him out for worrying you but he hung up the phone before you could get a word in.

You definitely broke some traffic laws on your way to Spencer’s apartment building, and you were grateful suddenly that the roads were unusually quiet tonight or there was a good chance you’d have hit someone. But right now that was the least of your worries as you burst into the building.

For a moment, you considered taking the elevator, but you remembered how Spencer had made an offhand comment on his buildings elevator being slow.

Screw it. You’d take the stairs.

You hated the stairs, you soon learned, sprinting up several flights to get to his door. You weren’t sure where you’d gotten that burst of speed or endurance, but your lungs burned and your legs hurt like a bitch. But you made it.

Not bothering to knock, you tried the door, fully expecting to find it locked due to Spencer’s vigilance. Strangely, it slowly drifted open under your hand. He must’ve left the door unlocked for you.

“Spencer?” You called out into the apartment, shutting the door behind you as you entered. It was dark, the night and the deep green walls casting the space in darkness.

You didn’t get any sort of response back, but as you walked further into the apartment, you saw a light peeking out form under the bathroom door. Your stomachs twisted anxiously at the thought of what you might find as you slowly opened the door.

Whatever you were expecting, it wasn’t that.

Spencer was slumped over on the floor, barely holding himself upright against the base of the counter. The bizarre blue and red suit he was wearing was torn in several places and cuts littered the exposed skin. He was covered in blood—his own, presumably.

“Oh my god,” you crouched down in front of him, not even sure where to start, your hands hovering aimlessly. “Spencer, can you hear me?”

He seemed to be straddling the line of consciousness, his eyes heavily lidded as he managed to lift his head slightly before it dropped back down. You reached out, supporting his head in your hands.

“Holy shit, Spencer. We need to get you to a hospital.” The words were barely out of your mouth before Spencer was firmly gripping your wrist. Not hard enough to hurt, but to get your attention.

“No,” the word came out a broken plea, his grip on your wrist loosening but not letting go. “No hospital.”

You remembered the last time he’d been in the hospital, it had been due to anthrax exposure a few years ago, and it had been an incredibly traumatic experience for him despite the rather fortunate outcome. You supposed you couldn’t blame him for not wanting to go.

“Spencer, you’re hurt. You need some kind of medical attention, you can’t just stay like this.” Your eyes flitted over his bizarre outfit. It looked sort of like a Spider-Man costume. You’d seen that vigilante around a few times. But you couldn’t help but notice how detailed it was for a costume, a little too high quality.

“Just…just help me up, please?” He managed to look up at you, his tired eyes pleading and soft, and any further arguments died in your throat as you cursed to yourself.

“Damn it. Alright, put your arm around my shoulder.” He did as asked, his arm draping around your shoulders as his fingers lightly gripped your bicep for support, leaning against you as you wrapped an arm around his waist and began to help him to his feet. You heard him wince, biting down on his lip as he struggled to stand with your help.

“Breathe through it, in through your nose, out through your mouth.” You instructed him, briefly pausing to let him catch his breath. He nodded shakily, hair hanging in front of his eyes before he tried to stand again. It took a fair bit of effort but he was finally to his feet, leaning against you for support.

“We’ll take it nice and slow,” you assured him, beginning the slow shuffle out of the bathroom. Your mind swam. What the hell happened to him? You’d ask later, you figured he didn’t want to talk about it right now, but you were going to get answers eventually even if you had to shake them out of him.

You were halfway down the hallway when he passed out. His feet had begun to drag until he slumped against you with a heavy breath, sending you both to the floor.

“No, no no no!” You barely manage to catch him as you sink to the ground, keeping him from smacking his head off the floor, your hands hooked under his arms and his head in your lap.

“Don’t you dare do this to me, you ass!” You felt your eyes burn with tears that you refused to let fall. “If you die I’m gonna kill you so much!”

He groaned incoherently, his breaths strained, but he didn’t wake. His brow was furrowed, face twisted in discomfort.

“Okay…okay.” You stand up, picking him up and adjusting him in your arms until you’re carrying him bridal style, surprised at just how light he is. You knew he’d be light, but even when he was dead weight he was relatively easy to carry as you rush to his bedroom.

Setting him down on the bed, you anxiously wring your hands as you try to get your thoughts in order. In the dim lamplight his face is contorted in pain, his skin paler than it should be.

You rush back to the bathroom, grabbing a hand towel from the cupboard under the sink and running it under the cold tap, grabbing the first aid kit on your way out.

He was right where you’d left him, but he was mumbling incomprehensibly now, his words garbled and incoherent. You place the cool, damp rag on his forehead to regulate his temperature and begin looking for some kind of zipper on his costume.

“How in the fuck do you get in and out of this thing?!” You huff, knowing you’re not going to get an answer. There’s no zipper in sight, and you want to yell in frustration. You were about to go look for a pair of scissors when your hand brushes the raised spider emblem over his chest, and the suit suddenly loosens enough to be taken off.

“What in the–“

Oh.

It wasn’t a costume.

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

The Motorcyle Mishap (or, Our First and Second Six-Way Fight)

~ set in a modern Vesuvia and not-so-subtly based off my accident last week, have a fic with my self-insert "Drue" and his motley friend group! xD written for @vesuviaweekly ~

My hands are shaking in the damp, misty air as I type out my next message to the group chat, my right fingers already swelling as a car drives by and shatters one of my lost taillights behind me.

Drue: hey, can somebody come pick me up? i'm okay i promise

I sigh and look down at my discarded helmet on the sidewalk, right next to my crumpled gloves and the absolute beauty that was my motorcycle currently laid out on the pavement. A well-meaning stranger pauses and calls out from the other side of the street.

"Hey, you okay? Can I get you anything?"

I smile and wave, hoping they can't see the shake in my arm or the grimace I'm fighting back. "I'm good, thanks though!"

"You sure?"

They look ready to cross the street. I don't have it in me to talk to strangers right now - "Yep! I've already got friends on the way!"

At least, I think I do. Judging by the incessant buzzing of texts flooding my phone, I'm almost certain I do.

Asra: omw, where r u

Portia: what happened??

Julian: Are you okay? What do you need? Are you hurt? Where are you?

Lucio: he said he's okay guys wtf

Nadia: Drue saying "I'm okay I promise" is precisely why I know he's probably not. Does anyone have his location yet? I expect to finish this early morning meeting in another ten minutes.

Drue: i'm at the corner of -

My keyboard is cut off by a new call screen, which quickly splits into two and then three incoming calls. I pick up on the one that I haven't heard from yet.

"Heyyy, Muriel, what's up?"

"Where are you?"

"I'm at the intersection of Gladiator Ave and Market St, just past the canal. You know, where the cobblestones have the old tram tracks in them?"

"Good. That's close. What happened?"

"Uhm - okay - so, I'm okay ..."

"You bold liar ~"

I pause at the second, considerably airier voice on the line. "Muriel is - is Asra with you?"

"Yep!" I can hear the engine of his hippie van hitch as he shifts gears. There's a moment of eerie silence broken by nothing but the clinking of their mirror hangings and their quiet hum of turning right here until Muriel pipes up again.

"I asked him to drive me. Keep talking."

"Oh - yeah - right, so I - I think I crashed my bike."

I hear a sharp inhale and the engine protesting as Asra slams on the gas. Muriel grunts out a quiet "don't speed" before turning back to the speakerphone.

"Continue."

I try to replay the events of ten minutes ago, taking a deep, calming breath and ordering my thoughts. "I was taking a sharp turn uphill from a standstill, and the roads are pretty slippery right now, and I think I rushed myself trying not to hold up any cars. My back wheel slid out from under me -"

The gears churn on the other end of the line again and I swear I can feel Asra's tense attempt at not coming across too concerned. "Did you hit anything?"

I rub my throbbing shoulder. "Just a lamppost. Thankfully I was able to stay upright long enough to get out of the intersection."

Two slow exhales on the other end of the line. And then there's Asra's classic relieved chuckle, mixed with the near-silent scrape of Muriel rubbing his hand over his stubble in anxious thought.

"Well, it sounds like you handled that really well! Faust would be proud."

"Where are you hurt?"

"I'm not seriously -"

"Hmph. Better hope you're right."

Sure enough, I glance up in time to see the yellow beams of Asra's headlights in the early morning fog. The next thing I know they're pulling up next to me and hopping out of the van. I'm ambushed in a flurry of white curls and a warm, relieved hug before Muriel gets close enough to lay a cautious hand on my shoulder.

"You're wearing armored leather. Good."

"You don't look hurt either, but - oh Drue, your hands are shaking."

I nod, suddenly tempted to choke up now that I'm not the only one facing the problem. "My fingers got mashed between the handlebar and the lamppost, but otherwise I think I'm okay. I'm more worried about Bonnie."

"Muriel will help with it," Asra interjects, earning a grudging don't volunteer me like that but also you're right look from him before turning back to me, "and Ilya should be here any minute now."

"Thanks." I sit down on the nearest curb and give my friends a once-over. Muriel's already hefting the 500-pound machine back onto its wheels, not minding the smudges of grease that wind up on his hiking boots and trousers. Asra, on the other hand, is proudly standing in the middle of the sidewalk in rainbow crocs, fluffy leopard print socks, paisley-printed boxers, a shredded second-hand sex pistols band tee with old paint splatters on it, and a starry purple bathrobe. They turn back to me quizzically as if they can feel my stare.

"Hm?"

"Did you just wake up?"

Muriel grunts as he finishes maneuvering my battered motorcycle into a proper parking spot. "Do you ever see him awake this early?"

"Only when it's because he hasn't fallen asleep yet ..."

"Exactly."

"Oh, speaking of sleep deprivation -" I point with my right hand out of habit and immediately wince and grimace at the pain that shoots up my arm. "It looks like Julian's -"

"I'm here! Where is he?"

Two car doors slam shut a little ways up the street and the Devorak siblings come running down the sidewalk with their characteristic enthusiasm. Julian looks about as disheveled as usual, with his younger sister already dressed and done up for the day and carrying several large bags on her shoulders. He drops to a crouch in front of me and reaches straight for my eyebrows.

"No immediate signs of a concussion, that's a promising start - where does it hurt?"

I squirm at the focused attention as he checks my pupils for a good response, suddenly aware of all the parts of me that really want to lie down, and seized with the need to seem like I've got it all together.

"It doesn't hurt anywhe -"

One stern look from Portia over his shoulder and my mouth clicks shut. "Drue I swear to all that is good and holy if you dare to keep us from helping you I will make you regret it."

I nod and turn back to the doctor gently tugging my leather jacket off my shoulders for a better look. "I hit the lamppost on my right side, but the only thing that really hurts right now is my hand."

"Let's have a look then, shall we?"

I can see a familiar brow furrow and chin wobble appear on Portia's face when Julian gently lifts my hand in his and everyone present sees the way my knuckles are slowly disappearing into the swelling, reddish-purple bruise. He slowly bends my wrist this way and that.

"Does this hurt?"

"Nope. Just my fingers."

He nods and sets my hand back down. "An X-ray might be a good idea, but in my professional opinion, you're going to be right as rain. Given that you - ah, take proper care of it."

"As if." Portia rolls her eyes and holds out an instant cold compress, fishing in her bag again for what turns out to be a hand wrap. "You don't have a great track record with doing things the 'proper' way."

"Hey -"

"Seriously though!" She crouches down next to me and shoves a pastry against my chest. "You just got your bike, and you took your first trip out in weather like this?!"

She gestures to the hanging fog and slick roads and I feel my face flush with embarrassment. Asra steps in, still on high alert from seeing me injured and trying to lighten the mood.

"What, do you expect him to control the weather now?"

"Pasha's right," Julian cuts in with an afflicted sigh, "riding a motorcycle is already taking a risk. Perhaps I should've warned you better when you were planning to buy one. If only I'd -"

Asra bristles. "Perhaps you should let Drue make his own decisions, Ilya -"

"Don't you talk to my brother like that!" Portia squares up to the bathrobe-clad DJ, shaking off her older brother's feeble attempts to tug her back. "At least he has something helpful to offer here!"

Asra snickers. "And you're doing ... what, exactly? Shaming him when he needs help?"

"Enough." Nadia climbs out of the sleek towncar none of us noticed pulling up. "Is an ambulance needed?"

"No -"

"Can you secure your bike?"

"Yes -"

"Then get in."

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

I sit back on the plush sofa in Nadia's penthouse, watching sheepishly as she clicks back and forth in her heels. Portia hands her phone back to her with a playful smile.

"Your schedule's cleared, milady."

"Thank you, Portia." The city mayor graciously extends her manicured hand to accept it, and then turns back to face me with her polished nails tapping thoughtfully on the dark glass. "Now then, about the bike. Portia tells me it's currently enroute to the mechanic's, but whether or not you should ride that beast again is my greatest concern."

I look at her in confusion. "What do you mean?"

Julian clears his throat from where he's seated next to me on the couch, readjusting the cold compress he's currently holding against my hand. "We're not sure a motorcycle is - ah - wise."

"Ha! Do you think he cares about 'wise'?" Lucio appears from where he's somehow successfully invaded Nadia's liquor closet, an obscenely large amount of liquid sloshing in the glass he extends to me. I eye it cautiously.

"What kind of alcohol is that?"

"Does it matter? It looked like whiskey to me ..."

"Drue," Portia interjects worriedly, "what if it had been worse?"

I accept the glass with my good hand and take a hearty sip to avoid thinking about it. This tastes like a single malt. I'll have to remember to ask Nadia which bottle this is -

"C'mon, you're all overreacting!" Lucio flops onto the couch on my other side, flinging an arm casually around my shoulder. Asra and Muriel both stiffen slightly where they're occupying the nearby armchairs. "Everybody's gonna crash at some point! He just got it out of the way early, right? Besides, you gotta admit having one of those things is cool as fu-"

"'Cool', perhaps, but not safe." Nadia's eyebrows draw closer together the longer she ruminates on what's happened. "If he hadn't been able to keep the bike upright those extra seconds - if he hadn't been able to react in time - I fear to speak such things aloud, but he could have been trapped underneath it with a broken leg in the middle of an intersection. I don't take that scenario lightly."

Asra looks slightly queasy. Muriel, in typical fashion, goes right for the point.

"You could be dead."

"But he's not!" Lucio spreads his hands wide, grinning at his own truthful point. "He's fine! All he needs is some ice and he'll be zooming around town again in no time!"

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but I agree with Lucio." Asra drags his hand through his hair, the curls practically standing on end. "Life is full of risks. I'm not going to stop him from living ... especially when, all things considered, he handled it really well." They finish their thought with a reassuring smile in my direction. I start to smile back, and then wince when Julian crushes the compress against my hand in protest.

"I see motorcyclists come into the hospital every day -"

"Exactly!" Portia interrupts, "It's one thing if you want to live on the edge, but something that dangerous is just stupid."

"Portia says it with more fervor than I would, but I must agree with her." Nadia sits at Julian's other side with a thoughtful hum. "You're inviting a level of risk you could be avoiding with a different vehicle. If it's a matter of purchasing power, I do have a vehicle or two that need a new owner."

I avoid saying anything out loud with another hearty sip of what's quickly becoming my new favorite liquor. Knowing Nadia, if I took her up on her offer, I'd be getting a brand-new car delivered to my basement apartment with a singular obligatory scratch somewhere on the back and a charge of five dollars for the transportation fee. Julian, getting antsy from the pause in conversation, turns to the one person who's barely spoken since he showed up.

"What, ah, what do you think, Muriel? You're - er - quiet."

Muriel's hum sounds suspiciously like a grumble as he shifts in his seat. "I'm not making his choices for him."

Portia, dissatisfied, fixes him with her blue-eyed stare. "And?"

"And ..." he shifts again, uneasy, "And if this is the riskiest choice he's making in his life right now ... I'm okay with that."

That leads to a longer, heavier pause. I can feel several pairs of eyes on the different set of faded, old scars further up the arm Julian's treating, and I hear a few quiet hums. Lucio squirms from the abrupt seriousness.

"I can drink to that, Scourge!"

"Don't. Call me that."

"Okay!" I jump to my feet, reeling from two six-way arguments in a row and what could easily be considered a triple shot of whiskey. Julian catches my wrist in protest and reapplies the compress. I swivel slowly to look my gathered friends in the face. "I appreciate all your thoughts and opinions and I will think about them seriously - as soon as thinking is easy again."

Julian stands to check my pupils again, smells the alcohol on my breath, and sits back down with an amused snort. I collect my thoughts and continue.

"Thank you - all of you - for rushing to help me. You've each helped me today in ways I wouldn't have been able to help myself."

There's a round of murmured "your welcome"s and one disbelieving "is he sober or isn't he?". I ignore the last remark.

"That said, I am ready to go home and lie down. I'll decide what to do with the bike while it's at the mechanic, so ... can someone drive me home?"

Asra's already rolling out of their seat, a collection of keychains jangling in their hand. Lucio holds up my empty glass.

"Want another?"

"No," I turn to Nadia, "but I would love to know which bottle that came out of."

She tuts graciously and stands up to walk me out. "I'll send you one of your own. You may need it as you recover."

Portia walks over with a kitchen towel to tie the compress to my hand. "Ooh, save me a sip!"

"And make sure not to mix it with any painkillers!" Julian calls from the couch.

"Let me know if you get the good prescription stuff, I'll buy some off you!" Lucio smirks at his unsubtle dealing request, earning a scolding look from Muriel as he escorts me out.

"Pretty sure that's illegal..."

Asra playfully holds out his keys with a teasing grin, waggling their eyebrows when I sway slightly on my feet. "So. Wanna drive?"

[erin-unknown]

Random WIP (or "Rate My Spite")

I was feeling very blah and uncreative after work today but decided to write something anyway! Shit, it's late 🫠 I wanted to push myself a bit to write a scene with Spite because the thought of writing for him has been intimidating me, so here we go. Hell, this is almost completely unedited.

Below the cut: A short scene with my Warden Rook, Dalgar Thorne, and Spite. Rook's freakishly realistic nightmares from his childhood have returned after Weisshaupt. Spite is concerned about something.

This is set after the Siege of Weisshaupt and Inner Demons. Emmrich (and Manfred!) also make an appearance.

Dalgar jerked awake, heart racing and hands blindly scrabbling for purchase, before dropping back into his body like a stone. His eyes felt full of sand when he opened them. He found himself still sitting upright in his room, as stressed and sore as before he drifted off, only now he was no longer alone.

Crouched by his outstretched feet, Spite had him pinned with his unwavering, violet gaze. Lucanis was barefoot, dressed in a pair of simple trousers and loose-fitting shirt, both made from the same silvery samite. He reminded himself not to stare down the collar of his shirt.

“Spite,” he said.

He – Spite, not Lucanis – simply scowled.

“Spite, was Lucanis sleeping?” Dalgar asked, venturing cautiously.

“NO. ROOK!” He barked. Hearing him force words from Lucanis’ throat made Dalgar wince a little.

“Well, not anymore Rook’s not,” he muttered and rolled his neck, stiff from hanging awkwardly while he’d dozed. How deeply had he slept? He had a vague recollection of tearing screams and crunching bones. The song was so loud –

“STOP! LISTENING.” Dalgar jumped in his skin.

“Maker’s breath.” He pulled his legs in and cracked his back with a quick and deliberate twist, then sagged forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “Spite, you should take Lucanis back to the pantry. You’ve got to let him rest.”

“SPITE. MUST! STAY.” Spite-in-Lucanis’ shoulders tensed and he clenched his fists. Dalgar groaned, somewhere between exasperated and relieved that Spite’s days of trying to make a run for it seemed to be gone. He wasn’t sure what to do with this, though.

“No, I don’t think you do,” he replied. Spite scrunched his face up, looking skeptical.

“YES,” he said. “LURKING! STALKING.”

“Creepy.” Dalgar chuckled to himself and cast him a lopsided grin when suddenly, Spite leapt to his feet.

“THEY. ARE. CREEPING!” The spirit shouted in earnest.

“Whoa, sure they are. I’m sorry.” He held his hands up in capitulation. Something had him spooked, he guessed, but what could be lurking around the Lighthouse, he couldn’t fathom. Spite was worked up, now, pacing throughout the room frantically.

“THEY. CANNOT. TOUCH! WILL. NOT!”

Somehow, he was still getting louder.

Dalgar chased him around the room for a minute or two, Spite barking about something he couldn’t understand, while steering him clear of the glass wall on the far side of the room and keeping him out of the wardrobe in the corner.

“Alright, enough! Please,” he said after he’d cornered Spite near the door. Violet eyes looked him up and down, Lucanis’ mouth twisted into a grimace. “No one is going to touch you.”

“NOT! SPITE. ROOK!”

“Me?” Dalgar asked, incredulous.

Spite just growled in frustration.

“Okay then,” he said. “No one is going to touch me. I’m just sleeping. We’re in the Lighthouse.”

“DRIFTING. DREAM–”

There was a rapid knocking at the door and both Dalgar and Spite shut up and turned to stare.

“Rook?” Emmrich’s muffled voice broke the silence. Another, more urgent knock. “Rook, are you alright? There was shouting.”

“Uh, yeah! You can come in,” he replied, planting his hands on his hips with a sigh. “Just chatting with Spite, here.”

When Emmrich entered, forehead creased in concern, Dalgar could tell he’d been sleeping – or at least preparing to sleep; his hair was, miraculously, un-mussed but he was fully enveloped in a long burgundy dressing gown made of something luxurious and fine. The wide collar crossing over his breast was covered in scrolling pale green embroidery. Standing between Emmrich and Lucanis, he’d never been so relieved that he’d fallen asleep fully in his clothes instead of his favorite long underwear with the thrice-patched crotch.

“Forgive the intrusion, Rook, but Manfred came to me in such a fuss and practically dragged me into the hall,” he said, gesturing to Manfred just beyond the door with a richly decorated arm. He waved. Dalgar waved back. Spite hissed at them all. “We could hear Spite from the library. Is all well?”

The professor’s fine brows arched high on his forehead, looking both Dalgar and Spite over with a careful eye. Somehow, he felt a little chastised, like when he got caught sneaking snacks as a boy. He clapped a hand on the possessed man’s shoulder.

“Sorry to bother you both. We were just heading back to the pantry,” Dalgar said with a plastered-on grin. “Weren’t we?” Spite was boggling at the hand on his shoulder and said nothing.

“If I may ask, what started this?” Emmrich cast a glance around the room and settled on Spite, who didn’t answer.

Dalgar shrugged. “He was watching me sleep. Something’s upset him and he won’t leave me alone, so I’ll just go with him. Let Lucanis sleep in his own bed. Does that sound good, Spite?”

“GOOD.” Spite looked pleased, which was always sort of unsettling but in this case, something of a relief. Emmrich hummed and brought his steepled fingers to his lips.

“Spite, I’m sure you feel that you have excellent reason to be so concerned for Rook, but we really must address boundaries,” he said.

“It’s fine, it’s fine! I can sleep anywhere. Trust me.” Dalgar waved Emmrich off in hopes of heading off any arguments from Spite. At this point, he just wanted to get Lucanis back where he belonged and finally collapse on the couch just outside. Hopefully that would appease Spite.

Emmrich sighed. “Well, if you’re certain. We should still discuss this later.” He stepped over the threshold and began ushering Manfred back down the hall, when he stopped and turned. “Are you, perchance, still suffering from your nightmares, Rook?”

“I – well, sometimes,” he admitted.

“NO! ALWAYS.”

“Always, really?” Dalgar rolled his eyes. Spite bared his teeth.

Emmrich considered him for a moment.

“Come see me after dinner tomorrow. I’ll have a tincture ready for you that should hopefully alleviate the worst of it. We can also address that persistent stiffness in your neck and shoulders, if you would like.” Emmrich’s smile was small and quick, but his eyes were as kind as ever.

Dalgar blinked at him. “I would, thank you.”

“Wonderful, Manfred and I will start work in the morning,” he said, clasping his hands together. Manfred hissed in delight. “Good night, Rook.”

“Night.”

The professor bowed his head and disappeared into the library. Manfred gave a little wave, and ran after him. He would try not to set his hopes too high, he decided. But Emmrich was a skilled alchemist and a hundred times smarter than him, so what did he know?

Dalgar lingered in front of the open door until Spite’s fidgeting at his elbow dragged him from his thoughts.

“Let’s go, Spite.”

[tbc]

[hanjisungfanboy]

Idk if this is too much, but can you do what skz thinks about pegging and how willing they’d be to do it? Most to least?

Of course! I don't think it's too much at all! Thank you for being my first request. <3 This actually made me think a lot and I had to switch the order around a little bit, but my brain loved the challenge! I really hope you enjoy it and it's what you wanted. If not, I can write another one based on your feedback.

This is for fun and should not be taken seriously or how they act in real life. (Mood board not mine btw!) Mature content below, MDNI please! <3

Content and content warnings - Pegging (obvi-), anal, smut, gn!reader(I got a little carried away and wrote a little for each member, and maybe a lot for Han), lots of subby members (I live for sub skz), praise, anal virgin Binnie, hands being restrained/tied, dom I.N, and experimenting. (Please let me know if I missed anything and I will add it!)

Most to Least; Pegging

MOST

Han

Are you surprised? Cause I'm not- And maybe I'm biased. BUT I just have this feeling. So, I'd say he's very willing and it would even become a normal thing in the bedroom. He's super open to a lot of stuff, bro is just freaky like that.

His legs are spread eagerly, Jisung on his back as he stares at you lovingly, slowly slipping into subspace as he gets that dazed look in his eyes. He went into the bedroom reassuring you that he was gonna take charge tonight, even if it was your strap on in his hole. And while that did hold true for a while, it didn't last. For the first several minutes, he was on top, riding you like his life depended on it as he sucked hickeys onto your collarbones. He even restrained your hands from touching him, giving you a sweet yet lust filled smile. He was doing just fine keeping this up, even taunting you when your strap on hit a spot within him just right. His body shook and he whined, stopping momentarily which got a response out of you, "What happened, Ji? Too much?" He bit his lip at your teasing, your smirk setting his nerves on fire. "N-No, not at all! I'm just..pacing myself, that's it." He tries to go on further, bouncing up and down on the strap despite how much he struggled to keep upright. He wanted to prove to you he could finish one night being the dominant one but as time went on, he starts to slow down, body growing tired from how eagerly he was bouncing on top of you. You leaned towards his ear as he whimpered, "It's okay, you can let go tonight. Let me take care of you. I'll make it feel really good, Jisungie." Your words went straight to his dick. He locked eyes with you, finally giving in. "Yes- Please fuck me." You chuckled, flipping him over, which lead to where the two of you were now.

Changbin

Listen, I know those muscles don't lie but I feel like once he fully trusts his partner in a relationship, he lets go a little and wants to be pampered sometimes. He's never received anything anally, but he was always curious to how it felt. So, when he brought it up to you, you were shocked as he had always taken the dominant role in the bedroom. That was the default for you guys until now.

"Pegging? No, I've never pegged somebody before. Why do you ask, Binnie?" "No reason..But uh, when I fucked your ass for the first time, did it hurt?" "Well yeah, it hurt a little bit, that's kind of norma- Wait, are you saying you want me to peg you?" His cheeks went red, and he cleared his throat. He averted his eyes, pretending to look at something so very interesting on the floor. After a moment, he nodded. "Yeah..Yeah, I wanted to try it with you." "You could've just said so, Binnie." You chuckled at his rare timidness. He was usually very bold, but his shy attitude made you want to spoil him. "Is that a yes?" He mumbled, glancing into your eyes. "Absolutely, my dear Binnie."

I am so convinced that once you play with his ass, he falls apart. Shoving his head into the pillows and everything as you two are in doggy style. And it has to be doggy style cause dat ass- (I'll stop now)

Felix

I believe Felix is such a sweetheart and softie in the bedroom, leaning more towards being submissive. He loves to please you, wholly devoted to making sure you both enjoy any experience you two go through. This being said, when the topic of pegging came up, he was intrigued but not at all opposed to the idea. Usually, he always makes sure your pleasure comes first but good boys deserve to be spoiled so the first time you peg him, he'll be your pillow prince for the night. <3

His head is thrown back, blonde and luscious locks falling onto the bed below him. His hands were gripping onto your arms as you eased the strap into him. He's biting his lip, trying to conceal his noises. He didn't expect this to feel so good. "Come on, Lixie, let those sweet sounds out. Tonight is about you, Angel. My pretty and good Angel." He always melts at your praise, a sucker for your approval. His teeth release his bottom lip and he gives you the signal to start moving. As soon as you do, he's a moaning mess, moans growing higher in pitch as the night goes on. Long story short, that night was one of the best things he's ever experienced.

Minho

Okay, hear me out. I think he would be hesitant to the idea. It would take a few days to digest. After those few days, he thought, 'Why not? What could go wrong?' Hmm...What could go wrong? He could love it more than he thinks he should. Aaand, that's exactly what happened. He definitely likes it on the rough side after getting used to it.

Minho's hands grip onto the sheets for dear life as you railed into him from behind. He was trying to keep calm and pretend he didn't love this, but his hips betrayed him as he kept pushing back into you. He was scared he would get addicted to this feeling, but his thoughts started leaving him as he whined quietly. "Does it hurt, Min?" You were nervous about how he was holding up, considering how much he hesitated to do this. "M-More..." He mumbled, more to himself than you. "What'd you say?" You genuinely didn't catch what he said, and this only drove him to beg. "More! Please, Y/N-ie, give me more. Faster, please." He whined loudly, afraid to look back at you. He was scared you would be disgusted that he loved this. You smirked and leaned forward, causing the strap to go deeper as you grabbed his chin, forcing him to look at you. The tears in his eyes only fueled your desire to ruin him. "Alright, bunny. Let me devour you, tonight."

Seungmin

Hear me out(x2), I feel like he'd be super hesitant about it and wouldn't prefer it whenever you two have your intimate moments. BUT he decides he'll give it a try after he had a rough day and just wants to be taken care of for one day. It's a rare opportunity so of course you seize it! Long story short, he doesn't hate it, just doesn't prefer it unless he's feeling it. He prefers to take control more than give control so it's not often that he lets you peg him.

Seungmin was relaxing on your shared bed after a long day. He was stressed and just wanted to relax but you were horny. You plopped onto the bed right next to where he laid. He sighed; he could tell you wanted something. "Long day, Seung?" "Mhm..I know by how you're acting that you want to fuck but I'm not sure I have it in me tonight." You visibly pouted at this when he got an idea. "You know what? Grab that strap I know you've been holding onto. We can try what you've been wanting to try for a while." "Really?! Are you sure?" He laughed at your excitement. "Yeah, come on. Just go easy on me, today was a rough day." And with this, you scrambled for the strap-on and lube, eager to take care of him tonight.

Chris

Similar to Han, he's open to a lot of things and always tries everything once. He wouldn't be like, super excited to do it, but he wouldn't be dreading it either, y'know? He gives dom vibes, but I think he would be willing to be submissive. I heavily believe you would have to bring it up to him for him to try it, but he would be willing! I feel like it would be super soft and loving too! I feel like Chan would lean more towards the rough stuff, but he enjoys the romantic nights too.

Your hands were entwined with his while you fucked him, both of you locking eyes as you slowly thrusted into him. "How is it, Channie?" "Not as bad as I thought..But I definitely prefer fucking you." You both giggled as your bodies lovingly pressed against each other. Night like this were heavily cherished. It just proved how deeply you two trusted and loved each other. "Don't worry, I prefer you fucking me too. Though I do enjoy seeing how your body reacts to me." You whispered as you leaned closer. Your lips brushed against each other, and he chuckled softly before capturing your lips with his.

Jeongin

When you brought up pegging him, he thought you were joking at first. He laughed hysterically until he saw that you were serious. I am pretty convinced he would take much longer than Minho to digest and think about it. He loves being dominant in the bedroom, as he had never thought about being anything other than dominant. If he does end up letting you peg him, he wants to still be in charge.

Jeongin was on top, riding you as you sat upright. He had tied your hands behind your back with a ribbon, insisting that 'you can look but you can't touch', with a wink. He had one thigh on each side of you, trying not to put all of his weight on you as he bounced up and down on the strap. You absolutely loved the image of him riding you, but you wanted to touch him and mark his body up. "Innie..Please let me touch you." You whined, staring up into his eyes. He chuckled at your desperation. "You wanted to peg me, so right now you're going to enjoy the view. You'll get to touch later, I promise."

He didn't hate being pegged, but it's definitely not on his favorites list so maybe he'll entertain you once in a while.

Hyunjin

Spoiler alert, y'all tried it once and bro said never again. He didn't like the feeling and to be fair, pegging isn't for everyone. Even with all of the prep and lube, he just wasn't digging it.

He was on his back as you inserted the strap-on into him. His eyebrows furrowed the deeper you got. You noticed this and stopped, "Does it hurt, Jinnie?" "No..Just doesn't feel right." "Do you want to keep trying?" "Yeah, just a little bit longer." You nodded at this and slid the rest in, making sure to check in on him as you two continued. "How is it?" He made a face, trying to enjoy the feeling. "I don't really like it." "Do you want to stop?" "Yeah, if you don't mind." "Not at all." You assured him, kissing his forehead before pulling out completely. "Sorry, I just don't really like how it feels." He mumbled, feeling bad since you had wanted to try it. "Don't be sorry, babe. We tried it and I'm more than happy about that. I'm not gonna make you do something you don't like. Do you want to do something else or call it a night?" "Thanks, Y/N." He said, smiling softly. "Let's do something else, I'm still horny. As long as you're down." You chuckled. "When are you not horny?"

LEAST

I hope this was good! If you enjoyed, consider sending in a request, I don't bite. <3 (Unless you want me to- jk) Anyway, here's my request post if you want to see what I will or won't write. Bye!

[vampire-named-gampire]

COC day 8 - Bleed

Hello again. This snippet is a hot mess. I wrote it on campus while keeping an eye out for cops because my university keeps sending cops on students. It's really fucked up, but there's been no sign of cops yet and we just got a delivery of free falafels from people who support student activism :)

Anyway this fic! I want to talk about it so badly but it happens in the town that I live in, so I don't want to dox myself, I'm not sure I'll ever publish it. The AU is what if Simon and Baz never got back together in AWTWB, but make it four years later. Baz leaves England to get over Simon, Simon leaves England because he thinks he'll finally be happy somewhere else. Also Shepard gets kidnapped by an evil horse. It's weird.

Anyway here's the snippet. TW for blood (obviously) and alcohol. It starts with Simon riding a bike and nearly hitting Baz. 600 words

BAZ

The idiot on the bike just absolutely ate the pavement. Serves him well for riding so fast in a pedestrian zone. 

The smell of blood hits my nostrils immediately. Iron and life and alcohol and smoke and butter. 

My eyes widen in realisation. 

Smoke and butter. 

Fuck. 

Snow. 

He’s just gotten back on his feet and takes one stumbling step towards his bike. (Towards me. The bike flew in my direction when he fell.) He’s drunk as shit by the smell of it. 

Fuck, I have to deal with this. Even if he’s not hurt, I can’t let him get back on his bike in this state. He’ll nearly kill someone else. Or himself again.

“Are you okay?” I ask. 

His head shoots up at me and he looks at me for a few moments, like he’s waiting for his eyes to focus. 

“Baz?” He finally slurs. “What’re’you doing here?” He smells like cheap gin and sweat. Like blood and life. His eyes look like they’re still struggling to focus and that’s not good given how hard he just fell. He’s not wearing a helmet because of course he isn’t. 

“Sit down,” I instruct him. He does as I say. His palms are bloody and his jeans torn at the knees. There’s some blood coming through there as well. Thankfully, the smell of his blood doesn’t sting. I have two seagulls and three rats to thank for that. 

“Did you hit your head?” I ask, crouching next to him. He very slowly touches his hand to his head, then looks at me panicked when the hand comes back bloody. “That was bleeding before,” I dismiss him, taking out my wand. “Get well soon!”

Nothing happens. 

“On the mend!” 

His jeans repair themselves but his hands are still bleeding. 

“Magic doesn’t work on me anymore,” Snow slurs. 

“What the fuck do you mean magic doesn’t work on you anymore? Magic works on everyone. Get well soon!” 

Nothing happens. Snow shrugs. “Some shit happened. I’m immune to magic now.” 

Seven snakes, what have I missed in the four years of not seeing Snow? 

At least he can recall past events. That’s a good sign for head trauma, right?

I don’t know shit about Normal first aid. 

“Does your head hurt?” I ask. 

“Can’t feel shit. Too drunk.” His body sags forwards, as if to prove his point. 

Aleister fucking Crowley. 

I grab him by the shoulders, making him sit upright. Making him look at me. 

“Do you know my name?” 

“Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitchhhh.” He smiles at me lazily. Drunkenly. I’m too busy trying to deal with the situation to be affected by it. (I’d like to imagine Simon Snow’s smiles don’t affect me anymore after four years, but I’d be fooling no one if I said that.) 

“Do you know where you are?” 

He looks around slowly. “No idea.” 

Fuck. “Do you know where you’re supposed to be?” 

“Home.” 

“Where’s home?” Had we been in London, this wouldn’t be an issue. I know where Bunce is and I know where his horrible flat in Hackney Wick is, but I have no idea where he lives here. 

He shrugs. “Dunno. Can’t really pronounce the street name.” 

“General area, Snow.” 

He shrugs again. “Dunno.” 

Either Snow is a massive fucking idiot, extremely drunk or he really hit his head. Possibly all three.

“Can I see your phone?” If he has no idea where he is, he was probably following some sort of navigation on his phone. He checks the pockets of his jacket, slowly at first, then more panicked. 

“It’s not there!” 

I spot it behind him, laying on the pavement, and reach over to grab it. The screen is cracked and it won’t turn on. 

Brilliant.

--

@carryon-countdown

[axxio-sriracha]

Sirius' seventeenth birthday was- to put it politely- an absolute nightmare.

James had surprised him, ever the ladies man that Sirius always was, with a trip to a muggle club and a set of fake identification cards. He had expected, well, he had expected Sirius to enjoy it. At least a little.

What he did not expect was for Sirius to explode at him and run away, hiding for two hours until James finally managed to find him in the shreiking shack.

James couldn't tell you for certain what had lead them to this point, with Sirius' wand pointed at his chest and James' back presed to the door.

But he did know it definitley had something to do with his poor choice of birthday present.

In hindsight, maybe a card and some rock band posters would have done plenty, but he remembered Sirius saying something about 'experiencing the world as an adult' and... what else was James supposed to think?

So here they were, James' wand on the ground between them, his hands held in the air as he prayed to Merlin that Sirius loved him enough not to hex him to pieces.

He had tried to comfort him, which had only seemed to anger Sirius further,

"Stay the fuck away from me!" Sirius shouted, his hands shaking and his breathing coming out in short gasps.

"Sirius, I don't understand what's wrong." James sighed, keeping his hands up when Sirius waved the wand at him,

"You want to know what's wrong? I can't fucking live with myself!"

"Sirius-" James started to reach out to him before having his hand shoved away.

"I told you to stay back! You never should have talked me into this! I never should have went there. It wasn't a good idea, I- I shouldn't have gone."

"Why not, Sirius?"

Tears streamed down Sirius' face and he brushed them away angrily. Gritting his teeth, he lifted his wand higher, his eyes flashing,

"I am so tired of fucking everything up and not even knowing why! I can't do this anymore! I can't pretend to be okay anymore! I try so fucking hard just to make it! I'm not fucking okay! I've never been okay, Jamie, I-"

A painful sob ripped through him, his legs shook from the effort it took to keep upright.

Suddenly James realised this had nothing to do with his present at all.

Sirius gave another loud cry, turning away from James as his fist hit the wall. He shook out his hand and lifted his wand again,

"I'm fucking drowning, James. I don't know what the fuck is wrong with me!"

"Sirius, please-" James started, reaching for him again before he could think better of it, "Please, just talk to me."

"You want to know something, Prongs?" Sirius whispered suddenly, his tears had stopped falling now, "You want to know the truth?" He stepped closer,

"I'm a fucking monster." He gave a harsh laugh and jerked backwards again, keeping his wand aimed at James' chest,

"I throw myself into meaningless sex just to prove that I'm not broken! I spend all this time with all of these girls I can't stand just to say that I fucking can. I hate the way they look at me! I hate the way say my fucking name. I feel a piece of me die every time they fucking touch me! I hate it, James." His voice grew quiet again, "Sometimes, when I sleep with them, I get so overwhelmed it makes me want to fucking kill myself."

James was terrified. His tone was borderding on dangerous now,

"So I leave them. And I move on. And move on. And move on. And when does it fucking end?"

"Sirius-" James tried again.

"I'm in love, Jamie." He said finally, his hands shook too badly to keep his wand still.

This was news to James. His eyes went wide,

Sirius was... in love?

"And you want to know what I did about it? I slept with as many fucking girls as I could get my hands on." He shook his head, laughing again, "But it didn't do me any good, did it? I thought if I did it enough, it would make me want this person less but it- it didn't. And now I'm here." He started crying again,

"I just- I don't want to feel this emptiness anymore, Prongs."

James felt his heart shatter.

Sirius dropped his wand to the floor. His shoulders shook again as he sobbed,

"I love him, Jamie."

And that's when it clicked.

Him.

"Sirius..." James whispered.

Sirius shook his head, stepping away, "You know, I tried. I tried to forget about it. It's-It's wrong and I know that. And it's so much worse because it's him. I don't think I could ever live without him, you know?"

James knew then, without a single doubt, that it was Remus he was talking about.

"We love you, Pads. Always. No matter who you are or who you love." James took a careful step foreward, "It's okay. Nobody is upset at you for this."

Sirius' tears fell freely now as he collapsed into Jame's arms, "He'll hate me, Jamie. He'll never forgive me for this. I- I don't want to lose him."

"You won't. Trust me, you won't lose him, Sirius." He squeezed him tight, resting his chin on top of his head, "Remus loves you exactly as you are."

Sirius froze, he leaned back a little, his eyes wide, "How did you kow it was Remus?" He whispered.

James leaned their foreheads together, "Nobody has ever looked at anyone the way you look at him."

Sirius took a deep, steadying breath, "You really don't care that I'm- that I'm... gay?"

James shook his head, "I will always love you, Pads. Nothing is going to change that. Okay?"

Sirius nodded, leaning into the hug again, "Okay." He whispered.

So, they collected their wands and set off for the castle.

It wasn't long before Remus and Sirius became the first outwardly gay couple in school.

And James had never been prouder.

[stabbyfoxandrew]

mafia au please :)

glad you are back, hope you are well!!!!

WIP Wednesday (1/8) | Mafia Front Restaurant AU (Part 259)

The rest of the night goes much the same. Everyone is quiet, far quieter than usual. And Kevin and Neil keep staring at Jean like he's crawled out of the grave to come home to them. He thinks they're dramatic; he suffered worse in the Nest. He thinks all three of them did. Sure, his elbow still feels tingly in an all around unpleasant way and the hole in his back twinges every time he inhales too deeply. But he's alive and conscious and he's not even bleeding anymore.

He's not alone on the ground— on an exy court— with broken fingers and his eye swollen shut. He's not alone in a stall bathroom dry heaving and trying to convince himself not to shove a fork into his own neck during their next meal break. He's not alone in that box, wishing he'd already killed himself and that it was his coffin.

He's not alone—

That's just it, Jean thinks. He's not alone.

He's surrounded on either side, Kevin to his right and Neil to his left. And they both keep looking at him anytime he so much as breathes too loud, panicked green eyes and fiery blue ones. Both of them asking the same question, are you okay?

"I am fine," Jean says for the ninth time, sighing around the words. "It hurts but it'll heal."

"I know, but—"

"At least I don't have practice in ten minutes." Jean says when he notices the clock's hands are showing almost nine o'clock. That earns a sigh from Kevin and huff of air from Neil. "Can't imagine swinging a racquet right now. But I can manage to sit upright on the sofa and stare at the television. I'm fine."

"Okay," Kevin says, taking Jean's hand and pulling it into his lap. Jean watches him play with his fingers before lacing them together with his. Ten minutes later Kevin is asleep on his shoulder and Jean is infatuated with him. His hand is still entangled with Kevin and oh, how lucky it is. Jean wants to go to bed. Wants to entangle them the rest of the way. Oh not sex. Not tonight. Just closeness. He loves being a mess of limbs with Kevin.

The TV suddenly clicks off and the room goes dark, silent. Jean glances over at Neil to see him put the remote control down. "Kevin's asleep isn't he?"

"He is." Jean confirms and Neil nods, staring into Jean's eyes with all the intensity of a slow-dying star. If he's going to go supernova, Jean is going to beat him to it. "Stop looking at me like I died."

"You could've." Neil accuses. And it is an accusation, Jean can tell. Neil is pissed off that he would take such a risk. But it was no risk. It was instinct, his nature to be a shield. "You could've fucking died. Could've left me. Us."

"Was I supposed to let it hit you?" Jean asks and he can picture Neil's head with a hole through it so vividly it makes his stomach turn. His curls matted with red, his eyes open and unseeing. A haunted doll. Before Neil can respond Jean shakes his head. "I don't fucking think so. You're half of everything. If that cunt told me to, I would've shot myself to keep you safe. Don't look at me like that, you know it's true."

"I know it is." Neil looks so fucking angry and devastated Jean doesn't know what to do with himself. "Could've told me to duck."

"There was no time." Jean starts to explain, then he stops. "Am I really apologizing for saving your life right now?"

"No. For potentially ending yours." Neil tells him. Then he takes Jean's other hand— his left, the more crooked one— and sits there for a minute. "Never do that again."

"I will not promise that." Jean tells him. And then they sit in silence again, until the clock strikes ten and Jean nudges Kevin awake so they can go to bed.

[theladyofshalott1989]

Excerpt from Ch. 7 of "Burning Bright" (Book Two of the "Like Moths to a Flame" series) // Sebastian Sallow x Male MC

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x Damien Evans

Summary: The summer after the events of Hogwarts: Legacy, while staying at Damien's family estate in London, Sebastian and Damien have a serious discussion on a variety of topics, one of which is their "atypical proclivities," for want of a better phrase.

Word Count: 887

Rating: Teen (this excerpt; the full story is Explicit)

After an interminable period of time in which Sebastian rolled over at least six times, Damien broke the silence.

"Sebastian?"

"What?" Sebastian mumbled, pulling the sheets over his head.

"Are you cross with me?"

He groaned. "Now what would make you think that?"

Sebastian could hear Damien fidgeting. "Okay, fine, fine. You're right. I should have told you."

Sebastian let out an exasperated huff, yanking the sheets off his head and rolling over to confront Damien, who was now sitting upright on the sofa. Sebastian's frustration could no longer be contained.

"You keep a lot of secrets, don't you?" Sebastian grumbled. It's not like he was getting any rest anyway. He recognized the unfairness of his accusation, considering he had withheld his own share of secrets from Damien until very recently, but he had hoped they had moved past that stage in their relationship.

"You're not wrong," Damien said, punctuated with a resigned sigh. "But I want to be truthful, especially with you."

"Then why are you still keeping things from me?"

"Believe it or not, it's my reality. I've grown accustomed to concealing my true self."

Sebastian snorted. "I find that extremely hard to believe."

"I've had to hide myself my whole life," Damien replied, the exasperation in his tone quite evident.

"You mean hiding your relationships or hiding your magic?"

"My relationships, first and foremost. The magic later, as you well know."

Sebastian still found it suspicious that Damien allegedly only found out about his magical abilities last summer. He was far too skilled. Damien did have a point though. It had been awful for Sebastian the past few weeks keeping his distance from Damien in public. To have to do that his whole life must have been horrific.

"How long have you known?" Sebastian asked.

Damien glanced down at his hands resting in his lap. "That I'm attracted to the same sex?"

Sebastian nodded.

"As long as I can remember."

"And how many relationships have you had to hide?"

Damien looked back up at Sebastian and arched an eyebrow. "That's not very subtle." He laughed quietly, but his face sobered when he said, "Only one. At Eton." When Sebastian remained silent, Damien scratched the back of his head in a fumbling manner. "It wasn't serious. It was more of...a means to an end? Yes, I suppose that's the right phrase for it." Damien's shoulders slumped, and he dropped his head.

Damien’s defeated posture spoke volumes. Sebastian wasn’t sure what to say. He settled on a quiet, “That sounds truly awful.”

Muggles clearly needed to sort out their priorities, Sebastian thought as he climbed out of bed and sat beside Damien on the sofa. Damien slouched down and rested his head on Sebastian’s shoulder.

"It's in the past now," Damien said in a hushed tone.

"Clearly it's not."

Damien didn’t reply, so Sebastian continued, declaring with conviction, "Once we're back at Hogwarts, I've got a mind to snog you in the middle of the Great Hall. Right at the Slytherin Table, no less. Let’s be that insufferable couple." He paused, relishing the faint twitch on his shoulder as Damien, presumably, broke into a smile against it. “As for your ancient magic abilities, well, that’s perhaps a different story. But you know you can tell me anything.”

"I know."

They sat in silence for a while, until Damien raised his head back up. He locked eyes with Sebastian, a curious expression crossing his features. "And you? When did you realize you were...different?" he asked gently.

Sebastian suddenly became quite fascinated with his hands. "Honestly? I had my suspicions for some time, but they weren't confirmed until you asked me to kiss you that day in the Undercroft."

Damien's eyes widened. "Really?"

Sebastian nodded. "Really," he repeated. "It appears you possess a talent for breaking through more than just physical barriers."

Damien chuckled softly. "I didn't think my straightforwardness would have such far-reaching consequences."

Sebastian met Damien's gaze once more, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Life's full of surprises, isn't it?"

"It certainly is," Damien agreed, his fingers gently brushing against Sebastian's.

"But don't presume that makes me a virgin," Sebastian stated, matter-of-factly. Not that it needed mentioning, but a little clarification never hurt.

Damien snickered. "Oh, I already gathered that wasn't the case, rest assured. With a girl, I presume?"

"You presume correctly," Sebastian said. He really didn't want to delve further into that conversation, so he ended it with a swift, "Come on, then," grabbed Damien's hand, rose from the sofa, and pulled him over to the bed.

Sebastian scrambled on top first, tucking himself beneath the sheets. Damien followed his lead, lying down beside him. They both rolled over onto their sides and faced each other.

"Good night, Bash," Damien said with a cheeky grin.

"Good night, Damien."

But they didn't sleep, not at first. Despite everything, they found themselves snogging instead. Emboldened by the late hour and the fact that no one had stirred at their earlier, rather loud predicament, they didn't find it necessary to be particularly quiet.

Their frenzied snogging eventually slowed and they settled down to rest. Sebastian ended up curled up beside Damien, his back pressing against his broad chest.

Sebastian's heart was racing so fast that he didn't sleep for a long while.

[ Link to the full story ]

[tia-amorosa]

Sunset Died - Michael & Peter

Trip for two (Part 1)

Once they were in the children's room, Peter closed the door behind them. Then he put the clothes on the bed. "They should actually fit, our stature is about the same." Michael looked at him a little suspiciously. "Should I… get changed in front of you now?". Peter smiled, tilting his head. "I can go outside if you prefer"/ "No… In the changing room at school… It was fine, it's just… Different now"/ "hn. Don't worry, I'm not going to attack you".

"Yes, that… That would be really awkward, my sister could barge in at any moment and you know, that she never knocks…"/ "Mhm." Peter took the top piece from the pile and held it out to him. "don't worry, ok?"/ "OK." Michael took the item of clothing from him and then stripped down to at least his underwear.

It was indeed different to what they were used to at school. it was always a matter of course, changing together for PE lessons. And above all, nobody thought anything of it before. "What do you actually like about me?" Michael asked without looking at him. "hn, it's difficult to say, better ask me what I don't like"/ "what would that be?"/ "The old clothes. You've been wearing them for too long"/ "right… okay".

Michael put on the clothes Peter had brought him. And they fit him surprisingly well. "Thank you, when I can afford something myself again, I'll give them back to you". Peter took Michael's hands and examined the clothes on him. "Nonsense, I won't fit in there any more, and you won't either at some point. Then just pass them on, if they're still OK…"/ "mhm".

Michael wanted to take a few steps to the side, but the space was too narrow and he tripped over his own feet. Peter reacted with lightning speed and caught him. A deep look in the eyes, nervous swallowing… "I… Would really like to kiss you now, but I don't want to give your sister the shock of her life"/ "can't you hear the swing?". Right, you could hear the squeaking of the swing outside and the happy laughter of his sister, who was nowhere near the room at the time. "Hnhn…sounds still better than the violin…isn't it?".

And Bella wasn't Swinging alone, Xander was keeping her company and had a good loud laugh with her,… It's far away, so at least you get a chance to be close for once. Peter helped Michael to stand upright again. "I've got the giant backpack with me, by the way. I'm sure there's plenty of room for two sleeping bags, the tent and food." Michael was looking at Peters lips the whole time as he spoke. "mhm, that's good to know, but… Don't talk for a moment, okay?".

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

A little later. Peter picked up the large backpack and packed everything they needed to take with them. Then the two boys went downstairs. "So you two want to set off already?"/ "We've got quite a long way to go. Besides, the weather is good, you have to take advantage of that." Xander looked at the huge backpack Peter was wearing "and you're well equipped, yeah? Do you know how to make a fire?"/ "I've practiced it a few times at home in the garden, it'll work".

"And have you packed enough to eat? Warm clothes? You know it's really cold at night…". Michael was almost a little annoyed again. "Hey, we've thought of everything, really"/ "I'd better ask, Michael. After all, I've taken responsibility for you…"/"I know… I'm sorry, you've always taken good care of us since… you know. Can we go now then?"/"All right. But if there's anything, you'll make your way home right away, okay?"/ "okay".

Michael said bye to his sister and then they set off together. "Hey, you don't have to rush, okay? We've got time"/"I know… I guess I'll have to get used to calming down a bit… This is my first trip since my parents died"… Michael's tone was no longer as sad as it usually was when he talked about his parents. He seemed to be really looking forward to the trip. Peter took note of this with a smile and for the time being they walked in silence towards the wilderness.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

End of this Part

@greenplumbboblover , @samkat10423 , @dandylion240 , @danjaley , Thank you so much for your comments so far. I'm always happy when someone contributes their own thoughts. That motivates me to keep going. Even though I have other things to do besides production, I still enjoy the "work" here. 😊

Note: I already wrote about this in the episode about the returnees' arrival, but I have to mention it again here: I love this backpack and I have to grin every time my Sims walk around with it. Thanks again to @aroundthesims, it really is a great accessory!

[the-heart-of-a-monster]

Sorry if this is way too long, because it's INSANELY long, originally it was just something simple like:

If the 6th stage of the Werehog is a quadruped, does Sonic lose his thumbs?

But then I started thinking about it WAY too much, and then I got really into the possible symbolism and themes of it. So I ended up writing like a full length essay below by going on a long tangent on my interpretation of what the comic's central theme might be.

---

Anyway, if the 6th stage of Sonic's transformation is quadrupedal, does he lose the ability to walk upright and use his hands? Because I can imagine Sonic mid-tf, thinking "at least this can't get any worse", and then it does get worse, when he gets forced onto all fours and his thumbs become useless.

Either way, considering how distressed Sonic already is over his condition, being (physically) reduced to an animal is not going to go well for his mental health, that's for sure.

(And here's where that essay/tangent starts)

Speaking of mental health, the Werehog could represent the surfacing of Sonic's negative emotions, or 'inner darkness' so to speak. Sonic has a tendency to keep his real emotions to himself, so he hides them behind a cool and confident facade, not wanting to let on that he can be unsure and insecure. Sonic feels he has to be strong for everyone else, so he hides his issues from others and ignores them. Sonic is avoiding his 'darkness', but avoidance is not a solution.

Both Sonic's emotions and condition are only going to get stronger, and oftentimes, when someone's negative emotions get too strong, it twists them into a scared animal.

Which Sonic has literally turned into.

Unable to see past his fear, Sonic's reason is being clouded by his self-doubt and self-loathing, and he might be feeling the constant fear of: "if I can't even love myself, how can I expect anyone else to love me?"

How do hands tie into that? I think hands symbolize support and comfort.

At least three times, Shadow reaches out to Sonic to comfort and support him, showing him that he loves and cares about him.

The first time, on p28 of Issue 4, Sonic is having a rough change and is in a lot of pain, and is probably at his most vulnerable, so Shadow reaches out and lets Sonic hold his hand so that he knows he's there for him.

The second time, on p6 of Issue 6, Shadow just about tells Sonic what he needs to hear. He's going to be okay, it's alright to be like this and Shadow's not going to hold it against him, and he's there for Sonic. Shadow reaches out to comfort, and not only does Sonic accept it, he pulls in and hugs Shadow close, knowing that Shadow really is there for him.

However, on p3 of Issue 7, the third time doesn't go so well. Shadow hadn't told Sonic about Holoska's polar night, afraid that Sonic would bail if he had known. Because Shadow had doubted and didn't trust Sonic, Sonic now doubts and doesn't trust Shadow.

When Shadow reaches out to support him, Sonic sees it as Shadow just trying to "play nice on [him] now", and so Sonic refuses it, slapping away Shadow's hand.

"[He] relied on [him], Shadow. But it seems like that was a mistake", Sonic responds as he leaves, now isolating himself.

Now believing that he can only rely on himself, Sonic goes back to trying to do so. Looking at the cover to Issue 7, I believe that hand is Sonic's own hand -- Sonic is trying to support himself.

Symbolically, if Sonic lost his hands he'd lose the ability to support himself.

No one can handle negative emotions by themselves forever, and Sonic needs those around him as much as they need him. He needs their comfort and support, because he can't rely on himself forever.

And Sonic knows those close to him love him, so why is he so afraid to ask for help? Vulnerability.

All his life, Sonic has been strong for everyone else, helping those and need and being a hero. Being the one who needs help for once, goes against his whole life. It's not just the fear of being a burden, it's the fear of not being what everyone else expects him to be, both in body and mind.

But if Sonic would just let himself be vulnerable by showing this side of himself to everyone else, and admitting he has issues he can't handle on his own, Sonic would realize that those around him only want him to live his best life, regardless of who or what he is.

Even if what's on the outside is sometimes a beast, what's on the inside will always be Sonic.

No matter what, those close to him will always love him, through all his good and bad times. Like night and day itself, it's all part of the same cycle. The darkest nights always lead to the brightest days.

Sonic's friends will never hold this 'darkness' against him, because it's still part of him -- it's still Sonic. And while Sonic may have bad moments, but that doesn't make him bad, and even if he doesn't believe it, he still deserves compassion and acceptance.

After all, this 'monster' still has a heart.

---

Anyway, sorry again for writing something so long. It was actually kinda fun to look back on and analyze the comic, but I definitely overdid it.

It'd probably be an understatement to say I love this comic, but I do absolutely love it.

NO SORRY I THINK THIS IS VERY INTERESTING!!!!!!!!!!

especially the last few paragraphs have me clutching at my heart

[ginalinettiofficial]

listen to me. listen to me please.

i know that canonically bruce wayne never had any of his tiny children in booster seats because comic book writers likely are not very well educated on the topic and, like honestly most people, are entirely unaware of the very real dangers that children under age 12 face in cars due to their spinal and skeletal development. i know this.

but i cannot help the part of my brain that IS educated about car seat safety and booster seat safety and best practices for children in vehicles

and i also cannot help but know that bruce “my back up plans have back up plans and research is my super power” wayne would absolutely have at least SOME idea of the most up to date car seat regulations okay

and so i cannot help but think that somewhere in some universe. there is a bruce wayne who has asked for booster fit checks for his 12 and under robins on car seat safety facebook groups or reddit pages

and now i am just imagining. the posts. because listen

there are car seat pages on facebook okay, groups full primarily of parents and caregivers who post pictures of their children’s car seats/boosters and/or their children IN said seats, for purposes of doing a “fit check” aka asking the professionals in the group (CPSTs, in case anyone cares) to double check that the seat is installed correctly and that they have buckled the child correctly and that everything fits properly

and the thing is that a good quarter of all posts in those groups are in fact of children aged 10-12 sitting their most upright and buckled in WITHOUT their booster, with a caption that goes something like “hey so my 10yo is begging to be done with their booster - can i get a fit check? they’re 55in, 62 pounds. we drive a 2007 camry if that matters.” and the comments are inevitably filled with people letting them know that nope, sorry, that kid does NOT pass the 5-step test, and probably will need a booster for a couple more years.

(the five step test, if you’re curious, is the five steps that a child has to physically pass in order to safely sit without a booster before age 13. there are four places to fit check - neck, lap, knees, and feet - and then the fifth step is whether they are mature enough to keep themselves in a safe position for the duration of a car ride - aka won’t slouch, mess with the seatbelt, etc. most 12 year olds do not 5 step and if their parents are educated about it, that means they’ve gotta be in a booster til they’re 13.)

((the comment section will also inevitably have at least one adult woman saying “this is wild, i’m 5’1 and i don’t pass this five step test myself! yall are too strict!” followed by the admins or a cpst kindly reminding them, “yes, but you have an adult skeleton. also you ARE at more risk in a car than the average man, cars are designed to keep male bodies safe and female and child bodies just have to make do.”))

all this to say that i can just. SO picture bruce wayne being in one of these groups, and every few years posting a pic of a different kid and saying “please help me convince my child he still needs his booster, as he won’t listen to me. age 11, 60in, 75lb, convinced that i’m making him use a booster seat solely to embarrass him 🙄”

and then the comments section which would be half people going “hahahah my 12yo is the exact same - but nope sorry bud, knees don’t meet the edge of the seat & that belt is definitely too high up on his neck!!” and “definitely doesn’t 5 step, better luck next time kiddo 😂” and the other half people going “BRUCE WAYNE??????????” or “BRUCE POSTED EVERYONE WAKE UP BRUCE POSTED AGAIN!!!!! hi bruce we missed you!!!!!”

i can’t draw well enough but please know that if i could i’d make a whole social media au that’s just bruce asking for booster fit checks for his various children

[angelsentabove]

longing for love, pt 2. (pt 1.)

ⓘ longing for love is an (angsty, slow burn) story including iyanna taylor in her arranged marriage with xavier taylor, which is an unrequited romance between these two and eventually the love is finally reciprocated. when? well, everything great takes time, am i right?

𐙚 themes of violence. 7.4k words. wattpad version. this a long one yall, enjoyyy.

the soft alarm coming from my phone stirred me out of my blissful sleep, waking me up to my sleeping form being bathed in the morning sunlight from the hotel curtains. the sun made me squint almost instantly. i reached for my phone to turn off my alarm and check the time along with my reminder- 6 A.M. wedding day.

awh God.

i groaned and planted my face straight into my pillow. i was already dreading today, my mind making an outline of how the events will unfold. i keep saying i’m not ready, but i have no choice now. everything’s all said and done. it’s just time to put it into action. i said a quick prayer and shuffled out of my bed to stretch, blankets that clung to my legs coming down with me and piling onto the carpeted floor.

my strategy was to just let things unfold as they should, i guess. just don’t think about what’s happening. ayana was already up and she was outside on the balcony, so i decided to go join her. slipping on my slippers and making sure my silk robe was tied tight, i pushed open the sliding doors as the morning air breezed my skin. i sat in the lawn chair next to hers with a small, antique glass table next to us.

“hey.” i simply said and leaned back in the chair i was sitting with my hands folded in my lap, my legs crossed. ‘yana looked over at me and i assumed she noticed the distant look in my face as well as my voice. probably thinking i was distracted, which i was, very.

“hey. you okay? i know your we-“ i interrupted her the moment she was about to say ‘wedding’ by raising my hand up. i didn’t wanna hear the word for the rest of today. especially if it was being associated with me. she nodded understandably. “right. my bad.”

i sighed and leaned my head back; taking my bonnet off so i could let my hair breathe. and my thoughts- felt like it was being restrained. i couldn’t think straight. there ceremony isn’t for another 9 hours, but i deserve to anticipate. i don’t believe im being dramatic either. everything’s so surreal and i wish i could just stop time for a second. i need to breathe.

ayana noticed the stressed look on my face. i mean, it was all throughout my body language. she wanted to comfort me, but she knew that i didn’t really want to be bothered with right now. yet she knew i needed a topic change and some clarity. “hey. uhm, moms making breakfast. said it’ll be done in a minute. in the mood to eat?”

i perked up slightly; intrigue now replacing my distant mood. she giggled and stood, “i take that as a yes. i’ll go ahead and go. you come when you’re ready,” was the last things she said before she exited the balcony and the suite, leaving me with my thoughts. i heard the door close softly and i sat upright, reminding myself to just let it happen. there’s nothing else i can do.

what essence said last night played in my head. ‘everything is for reason. maybe he turns out to be your soulmate or something.’ i repeated it aloud to myself quietly through a deep breath. with that, i stood and went over to my bed to pick up the blankets that fell. i then exited the suite- navigating down the hallway to my parents hotel room.

once i got there, the door was already unlocked. i stepped inside and the smell of breakfast food instantly consumed me. along with the sizzling of something else cooking. now that put me in a good mood. i said my good mornings and sat where my sister was seated, surrounded by my friends and… jordyn.

it fueled me with irritation just seeing her. but i don’t hold grudges.. at least, not usually, so i just let it go for now. life’s to short to be mad at everything. i scanned around and on the counter was various foods on a charcuterie board. things like fruits, bacon, eggs, pancakes, waffles, sausages, and more actually gave me some ounces of strength. it was like a buffet.

“how’s my favorite soon-to-be bride?” essence’s soft but energetic voice questioned, and i almost missed what she called me. almost. looks like i’d be reminding people all day to not label me anything wedding related. or id just deal with it. but let’s be honest, that’s my less likely choice. ‘yana noticed the half smile on my face and kindly told her to not say anything like that. and thank God she understood.

“its alright. you didn’t know. as for my feelings about the.. situation, the plan for today is to just let it be. there’s not much of anything i can do.” my tone was more of a defeated one. can’t believe my persistent didn’t win in the end. jordyn just had to flap her gums and say something stupid. wish we could switch spots so she’ll know how i feel.

“its not that serious.” she said it quietly; acting like she didn’t intend for me to hear. her apathy was through the roof it was insane. how am i still putting up with this chick? “you don’t know how i feel though. try getting married to a guy you don’t know.” i spoke bitterly. i wasn’t in the mood to play with her. it wasn’t the time, day, week, nothing.

she mumbled a “just saying” and it took everything in me not to leap across the table and rip off those temu lashes. seeing her irritates me. i’ll remove her from my bridesmaid list later if she pull one more scheme. she knows what she’s doing 90% of the time. actually, why is she wearing lashes at 6 in the morning? …never mind.

i rolled my eyes and looked away from her, my attention redirected to my mom who was telling us that we could now eat, and i practically hopped out of my chair. with the fact that i was feeling sick to my stomach, breakfast food was just what i needed. i put basically everything in my plate. and i might even come back for seconds.

everyone got settled with their food and we were all at the table, while my parents were on the balcony eating. we were chatting and having a wholesome time. the freedom of it all made me forget. temporarily, of course. but it just had to be a momentary distraction. i snapped back to real life once my alarm rung again. it was time for my shower. and after that, my hair.

my mom came back from the balcony and announced that everyone should go back to their rooms now to start preparing for the wedding, and that’s when i knew everything was beginning to fall in motion. this was getting scary now. everyone said there goodbyes and my sister and i arrived back at our suite.

“alright- rush hour. i’ll clean everything up and plug up the curling iron, and you can go ahead and shower. i’ll get everything set out for you. okay?” ‘yana stated after we closed the door behind us, and i agreed with a silent nod. we both went our separate ways while she began cleaning up as i disappeared into the bathroom.

ⓘ ayana pov.

i watched as iyana faded away to the bathroom and shut the door behind her. i then sprung into action to make sure everything was orderly. making up the beds, plugging up the curling iron and straightener in the outlet next to the TV, bringing out the makeup bag, usual necessities for a wedding.

but my heart couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for her. it was stupid, really. having empathy was a curse and blessing all at the same time. one part of me tells me that i should be thankful is not me. another part is gonna feel bad by default. that’s my sister for Gods sake.

i tried to just shake away the thought instead. it was no point sulking over someone else’s situation when it’s not me in there shoes. atleast that’s what i tried to tell myself. i stepped back and scanned around the suite, i had to help her get ready, so i was also the one who had to make sure everything was ready. once i saw everything in place, i figured i had some time to kill. why not chill with essence?

i called out to iyana before i left, notifying her i was leaving and that she should text me once she’s out the shower- but i wasn’t too sure if she heard me though. i left out, made my way down the hallway, and knocked on essence’s door. she allowed me inside and i sat on the small couch in the corner of the room. her and jordyn were bridesmaids like me, so they were getting ready as well.

“why aren’t you getting dressed ayana?” essence asked while she stared into the mirror, curling her hair. there was everything everywhere, makeup bags, hair products, brushes, combs… she even switched her wig to a pretty silver one. “i gotta help my sister get ready, so i’ll be ‘enrobing’ after her.”

she giggled and nodded, while we went silent for a second. her next words took on a more serious tone and it caught my attention immediately. “hey, i’m.. sorry. about jordyn this entire time we’ve been here in hawaii. i don’t know what’s gotten into her. her filter is just nonexistent.”

…wow, okay. apologizing for someone else was something even i wouldn’t do, and i try to protect people’s images a lot. thats also part of the reason why i respect essence so much. however, she was apologizing to the wrong person. “i appreciate that, i’ll relay the message to iyana.” essence looked slightly defeated once she heard me- almost like she thought i was mad. but she didn’t speak back negatively.

i stared at the floor for a moment, kinda thinking of reasons why jordyn could be acting the way she is. she was so supportive throughout our whole time in highschool. so what’s up now? “..actually, do you know a possible reason why she might be acting that way?” she looked at me through the mirror with a pause in her movements, almost like she was thinking.

“back in highschool, you nor iyana knows this, but she frequently talked to joseph in secret ever since him and your sister were together.. and she thought that iyana was lying when she told us about when he hit her. she also frequently visited him in jail after school.”

ohhh really? so it’s a jealousy thing. honestly i didn’t have to hear anything else. i know why. but it’s crazy, you want an abuser 4 years older? right.. “hm. alright. thank you- see you later.” i stood and began to walk about before she placed her straightener down and scrambled over to me in a hurry. she had a worried expression on her face yet again.

“you aren’t mad at me, are you? trust me i tried to stop her but-“ i grabbed her hand to interrupt her. there was no need for me to be mad at her. the culprit is jordyn. think i’ll bring this up later. “essence- of course i’m not mad. just prepare for later.”

ⓘ iyana pov.

the door finally pushed open where ‘yana was on the other side, except something was.. off about her. she had a more monotone expression than her neutral one, it had a sort of irritation she was trying to disguise behind it. seeing her face made me bite my tongue to hold back the joke i was about to pull.

“oh lord, what happened now..?” i asked to no avail. no reply, no look in my direction, no nothing. she just motioned for me to get up and walk towards her so she could do my hair as well as my makeup in the bathroom. now i’m not gonna lie, i do sometimes see my sister as helpless. but right now? she is intimidating as a bull.

nothing was said from neither of us within the first 10 minutes, plus i was too worried to say anything so i kept my mouth shut until she decided to speak up. which she did, finally.

“found out some interesting information about why jordyn has been acting the way she has. turns out, she’s been visiting you know who in jail during our entire year of high school, including why she’s been acting the way she has.” she finally admitted with a sigh. yet i wasn’t too shocked. she’s not acting the way she used to.

“i figured. she’s been giving me torture since we’ve gotten here. actually ever since redacted was locked up..” it was ridiculous, really. and as if today wasn’t already going bad. what a birthday.. ‘yana offered to confront jordyn about it, but i already had a plan to sort everything out.

“don’t worry about it ‘yana.” i said in a tone that sounded calm- but on the inside, i was honestly beyond irritated. she furrowed and raised an eyebrow at my words while she curled up a blue section of my hair. it was safe to say she was intrigued as to what i was planning to do.

“i know, you’ve already got enough on your plate, and this days already going.. interesting for you. but what are you planning?” she asked almost cautiously, her hands stilling for a moment. yet i simply replied. “something.”

about an hour and a half passed, and it was now 8 A.M. my hair was done along with my makeup, so now it was just time for my sister to get finished with her hair since she already had her dress. i sat at the edge of my bed with a small notebook in hand as well a pen in my other. i was dreadfully writing my vows while stuck in a deep thought process.

what was i supposed to say? i don’t even know him. i can’t do like those tradition vows where they talk about how lucky they are to have them. thankfully my parents came to save the day; both coming in the room and immediately hugging me while they let out an endlessly long chain of compliments. all i could do was giggle- the praise made this slightly more bearing.

once they finally let me go, my mom asked how i was. but judging by my distraught expression including the pen in hand and notebook in my lap, she knew i was figuring out what to say when writing my vows.

“oh! i forgot to tell you. according to the paper, the vows are supposed to be about how you’ll satisfy your parents with this marriage. or- something like that.” ..right. thing is i don’t wanna, but alright. i didn’t understand how she could just say that so casually while i felt so disordered and awkward about this whole thing. i nodded slowly and began writing, while her attention shifted to my sister who was arranging her hair into a bun.

i found this whole situation absolutely obnoxious. and like i said before as well as many times over even while i was 15, this just wasn’t right- morally. you don’t do this to someone. i’ve never brought up an arranged marriage to her before. i mean, does my future husband even enjoy this? did he agree to this? why did his parents agree to this? it’s just so much i don’t understand. i should’ve asked more questions when i was younger..

i was snapped out of my thoughts once my dad came over to me and saw my paper still blank, asking me why i was just sitting here. i didn’t have too much time, i had to get dressed soon after my sister was done with her hair; and she was almost done.

i sighed and apologized. i knew i had to actually get started to write this time. just simple lies is all i had to do. stuff about how grateful i am to enter this new chapter, excited to fulfill my parents request for this marriage, ready to get to know you.. a whole bunch of nothing. before i knew it, the words just entered a flow state by itself and i was done. i smiled at my ability to absentmindedly do things.

unfortunately, my pride was short lived, ‘cause now it was time for my dress plus everything else including jewelry. i was actually excited about this part though, wearing big, puffy, and sparkly dresses was always exciting. it fueled my inner child. my mom and sister would be the ones assisting me while i went in the bathroom already, waiting for them to get everything. dad was sat on the edge of the bed to see the grand reveal.

soon after (and quicker than i expected) my mom came in the bathroom with the beautiful wedding dress i had a vivid memory of picking. my sister followed soon after with my shoes, veil, and jewelry. my mom set the dress down carefully on a hook behind the door, and for a moment, the room fell silent as we all took it in. the delicate lace, the intricate beading—everything was just as perfect as i remembered. was almost enough to make me consider acting right for the wedding.

my mom gasped as if she’s just seen it for the first time. “i forgot how gorgeous it was.. you ready?” no. i didn’t say that out loud as much as i wanted to fix my lips to say it. so i just simply nodded as i tried to steady my nerves. my sister immediately sprang into action in response by signaling for me to lift my legs to allow me to step into the dress.

once i stepped into the dress, the smooth fabric brushing against my legs felt heavier than i remembered. or maybe it was the weight of everything this dress symbolized- like some sort of duty, or obligation. maybe more like a life i had no control over. my mom adjusted the bodice carefully, her hands lingering on the intricate beading as if to admire it one last time before it became a part of me.

“baby, you look stunning..” she said softly, her voice brimming with emotion. her eyes shimmered with tears, but they weren’t the kind i wanted to see. they were full of pride, hope, and relief, all of which i couldn’t bring myself to feel. “turn around.” ‘yana said as she started zipping up the back, her hands steady despite the tension in the air.

“can’t believe this is actually happening.” she muttered under her breath. but it wasn’t a hopeful and blissful tone like my moms, it was more a sarcastic one. one that was in disbelief and not in a good way. “me neither,” i admitted quietly, my voice barely above a whisper with my tone matching hers.

‘yana paused for a moment, her fingers resting on the zipper. she leaned closer to my ear- careful that my mom wouldn’t hear. “you sure you’re okay? i can try doing everything in my power to prevent this.” she asked, her eyes meeting mine in the mirror.

i forced a smile, though it felt brittle. “we don’t really have a choice, do we?” she sighed in a disappointed agreement, but didn’t push. “at least you’ll look incredible for your birthday.” she said, smoothing out the train of the dress before reaching for the veil.

my mom handed her the delicate piece of fabric, her hands trembling slightly. “this is it.” she said, her voice cracking. “you’re about to start a new chapter, sweetheart.”

a new chapter. that what everyone kept calling it, as if this was some fairytale instead of the reality i was trapped in. but there was no use fighting it anymore. i swallowed hard and nodded.

“lets get this over with,” i mumbled under my breath, though it was more to myself.

‘yana carefully placed the veil over my head, letting it cascade down my back like a delicate waterfall. i caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror as much as i tried to avoid it, and for a fleeting second, i barely recognized the woman staring back. she looked regal, composed—even beautiful—but none of it felt real. it was a more like a mask, an illusion of someone ready to embrace a future they had no say in.

my mom stepped back, her hands clasped over her mouth as tears began to slip down her cheeks. “oh, you look… perfect baby,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “just like i always imagined.” this isn’t about you though. i wanted to tell her that this wasn’t what i imagined.

perfect was the farthest thing from what this felt like. but instead, i stayed quiet, my hands clutching the skirt of the dress tightly to keep them from shaking from irritation and just breaking down. ayana looked uncomfortable too. she let out a shaky breath before stepping back to admire me. i could tell she was trying to stay calm for my sake. “there. all done.” she stepped back to admire her work and gave a small, hesitant smile. “you’re ready.”

how ironic. her words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. they even rung in my ears and played back over and over in my head. i wasn’t ready. not for this. not for him. but i nodded anyway, swallowing the lump in my throat.

my dad softly opened the door and essentially gave me a breather for this moment, announcing it was time for us to take pictures. i nodded, my throat too tight to respond, and smoothed my hands over the fabric of my dress as if that small action could ground me. my dad stepped back into the room as my mom followed with a small smile to me, giving me a moment to gather myself. ‘yana came up beside me, brushing an invisible speck off my shoulder before leaning in close.

“this whole thing is ridiculous, i know.” she muttered under her breath, her voice low enough that only i could hear once again like earlier. “but we’ll get through it. just one picture at a time, okay? theres still a few more hours before the wedding, you’re fine.”

i gave her a weak smile, appreciating her solidarity as well as her transparency. thankfully she hated this arrangement as much as i did, and though neither of us could change it, her quiet defiance made me feel a little less alone. we stepped out of the bathroom and into the suite, and progressively we were in the hallway.

while i was walking with ayana on the way to the lobby of the hotel for our pictures, i heard small but quick footsteps pattering on the hotels carpet. accompanied with a small voice i could notice anywhere. “cousin iyiy and ayaya!!” it was none other than my adorable little cousin, kaylee. ayana and i turned around in sync- our fed up expression instantly wore away.

“hey kaykay baby! you excited for today?” i asked her in a high pitched voice as i bent to her level. since she was our flower girl while her sister was the ring bearer, i had to atleast act right for those two cuties. she ran up and hugged me instantly after an eager nod. in response i picked her up, earning a giggle from ‘yana.

auntie cici followed shortly after her while walking with kaylee’s sister, bailey. she instantly ran up to ayana and hugged her, while ‘yana picked her up too. “hi girls, you two look stunning! and congrats, iyana.” she said while planting a kiss on my cheek. i would usually force a smile, but i’m around people that aren’t my parents, so i’ll comply. they don’t know how i genuinely feel.

“oh! before i forget..” auntie cici started, before handing me a beautiful blue rose bouquet that was hidden behind her i’m assuming. it was glittering- and huge not to mention. oh, did i say it was blue? i had to let down kaylee to actually accept it; with a whine of protest from her of course. “auntieee… you shouldn’t have.”

bailey gasped and looked over her shoulder, instantly asking if her and kaylee can get one. random but i found it cute how she included her sister. reminds me of ‘yana and i…

“i wanted to, iya. now, you two better hurry and head to the photoshoot. you can take kay and bay; i’ll be a little delayed.” we nodded and i wrapped my arm around the bouquet so my freehand can hold kaylee’s while we made our way to the lobby. eventually we were greeted with the photographer, mom, dad, essence, and.. jordyn.

the photographer greeted us with a wide smile, her camera already slung around her neck. “you’re a vision,” she said, her tone warm and professional. “let’s start with some shots of just the bride, then we’ll bring in the rest of the family.”

i let down kaylee as she ran to my moms side, mentally preparing for these photos with my heart at high. i stepped into the frame she indicated, feeling the weight of the dress and the eyes of everyone around me. ‘yana stayed just out of view, arms crossed and a slight scowl on her face as she watched. i knew she was holding back everything she wanted to say- for my sake.

“beautiful,” the photographer said, her voice cheerful as she adjusted the angle of her camera. “turn your head a little to the left. perfect. now just a soft smile.” i tried, but the expression felt forced, my lips barely lifting. the photographer didn’t seem to notice and kept snapping away, filling the quiet with the sound of the shutter.

when it was time for the family photos, ‘yana stepped forward reluctantly, her jaw tight as she arranged herself beside me. “smile,” she whispered sarcastically, her voice dripping with irony. i almost laughed, but i knew better than to let it show. as the session dragged on, my mom chimed in with suggestions, her excitement filling the gaps in the conversation.

“let’s get one with the two sisters!” she said, gesturing for ‘yana and me to stand together. ayana hesitated but finally moved closer, wrapping an arm around my waist. “you okay?” she asked quietly, her voice low enough that only i could hear. i nodded, though the truth felt heavier than i could admit. “i’m alright,” i whispered back, my voice barely audible.

but we both knew i wasn’t. neither of us were. and yet, here we were, playing our parts, smiling for the camera, and pretending this day was everything it was supposed to be.

and then what i heard next made my heart sink. plummet, drop, whatever. not as much as it will before the wedding, no, but it was still nerve wracking to hear.

“alright everyone, we’re about to get to the ceremony venue! which is also where our lovely bride- iyana, will get her first look with her future husband!”

oh. my. God. first looks are optional, why are we optionally doing this? i don’t want a first look. it’s gonna be so awkward. what would i say to him?? id rather see him during the ceremony. this is.. God.

the announcement hung in the air as i stood frozen near the doorway of the hotel just as i was about to head outside. my mom clapped her hands together as if this was the best idea she’d ever heard, her excitement practically bouncing off the walls.

‘yana and essence caught my eye from across the lobby, their expression dark and unimpressed. ayana hurried closer to me, her voice low and sharp. “first look? since when? did you agree to this?” i shook my head, my lips pressed tightly together as my breathing picked up. “no..” i whispered, feeling the fabric of my dress tighten against my chest with every breath. “i didn’t.”

“figures,” she muttered, crossing her arms. “they just love springing things on you last minute.” before i could respond, my mom turned around with a glowing smile. “come on, girls! let’s not keep everyone waiting. the sooner we get there, the sooner we can start this beautiful day.”

beautiful day. sure. if beautiful meant overwhelming, anxiety-ridden, and scripted. essence placed her gentle hands around my shoulder and whispered a string of ‘i’m sorrys.’ but it wasn’t her fault. i wanted to cry at her sincerity. i reminded her that there was no need and it was just the way things had to work out unfortunately. i let ‘yana and essence guide me toward the door, essence’s hand on my back a quiet show of support.

we got inside of the van with everyone necessary while we started to get on the road. everyone had their own side conversations besides the bridesmaids, and of course my mom chatted animatedly with the planner about timelines and details.

sitting in the seat ahead of us, she turned around with a radiant smile that only added to my nausea. “it’s going to be beautiful,” she said, her voice brimming with excitement. “just think about how special it’ll be to see each other for the first time, just the two of you.”

but this wasn’t about even us. this was about appearances, about giving everyone else a picture-perfect moment to fawn over. i bit the inside of my cheek to keep from saying anything, my gaze dropping to my hands.

essence wasn’t as restrained and broke her silence. “she’s nervous.” she said, her words cutting but smooth enough to pass as caring. “maybe it’s not too late to skip the first look and save the surprise for the ceremony.”

i perked up at the idea, especially since ‘yana already saw me what he looked like last night on facebook. that idea was crushed of course. my mom’s smile faltered for half a second before she recovered. “oh, nonsense. it’s tradition for so many couples now. it’ll help calm her nerves before walking down the aisle.”

mmmcht, bee S. don’t act like you care. my nerves were already shot, and the idea of standing face-to-face with a man I barely knew before everyone else even saw me was like pouring gasoline on an open flame.

it was an hour later and the van slowed as we pulled into the venue, the lush greenery and immaculate decor mocking me with their serenity. my dad was already stepping out, holding the door open as the rest of us began to file out.

‘yana grabbed my hand before I could move. “you don’t have to do this,” she whispered fiercely, her eyes searching mine. “we can stall. say you need to redo your makeup or something.” i wanted to take her up on it sooo badly. but the second my mom turned around with her expectant gaze, my resolve crumbled. i shook my head, a final lie- ‘i’m fine.’ yet it was well known i was anything but.

and God, the walk towards him was even more unbearable. my heels hitting against the pavement as i stepped out of the van with all eyes on me. the photographer following every step i took, my train dragging against the ground, and my everyone we travelled with standing around patiently. walking through the grass arch and now? in front of his turned back.

he was kinda taller than me- actually a lot taller. probably 6ft. he sorta gave off a soft aura and it rested my tense shoulders. i could see his was tensed also. my hands shook and felt beyond sweaty as i slowly began to raise it with hesitation evident in my slow actions. “whenever you’re ready,” was what people frequently told me. but ready isn’t possible. not ever. especially not in my situation. but finally, with a gathered and slow breath, i did it. i tapped his shoulder.

he turned around, and there he was. xavier woods. he looked way more gentle in real life, his facial features were so.. delicate? it’s like he had a baby face. he was the word patience as a person. and when he spoke? gosh, someone hold me, i’m gonna fall.

“hi,” xavier started with a peaceful tone as his eyes studied me. i began to feel nervous under his gaze and even blush a little. “iyana, correct?”

“..yes.”

“you look “beautiful..” he spoke in a slightly trance-like state, maybe starstruck. i can’t believe i’m saying this, but just from this interaction alone, i felt.. grounded. yet i was still unsure. i still didn’t wanna do this. this didn’t change anything. but i did giggle.

“thank you. you look handsome yourself.” i complimented back in a nervous tone. even though he was obviously unsure too, he seemed so relaxed and calm. it made me calm. a little.

“are you nervous? relax, i don’t bite.” he joked with a slight laugh as i giggled again too. yeah, i sure hope not. wouldn’t wont to be marrying an abusive man. we went silent for a few seconds. yet i felt awkward. everyone was staring at me like i was obligated to say something, but he didn’t. he was just admiring me. i felt special. in a way..

“i believe this is when i’m supposed to say something inspirational. maybe heartwarming.. sorry, i’m not good at this.” i mumbled, more of a shy confession with an even more unsure laugh.

“it’s okay. this is your first marriage, i don’t expect you to. but we’re gonna learn together, yeah?”

patience too? kinda like this one. “…yeah.” mom, if this one abuses me, i swear to God it’s your fault. unfortunately, the photographers energetic voice was enough to snap me out of the moment, telling us we needed to break since it was 20 minutes before the ceremony actually began. we waved each other goodbye and went our separate ways, heading into the building since the wedding was outside.

“you were amazing, i can see the connection.” my mom said to me while hugging me, and for once this entire day i actually agree with her. for once in this entire day, i cracked a genuine smile. ‘yana instantly teased me about it of course.

the side room was bustling with energy as my bridesmaids buzzed around, adjusting their dresses, fixing their hair, and throwing out last minute jokes to lighten the mood while playing some SZA. i sat in front of a mirror while ‘yana finished touching up some of my makeup. the mood was lighthearted between us, despite my heart racing which was enough to make me lightheaded. yet.. i didn’t forget.

i cleared my throat, turning around in the stool i was sitting in. nobody thought i was about to say anthing serious, since i was the only one that felt the tension. not even ‘yana. “jordyn,” i spoke in a casual tone. “did you ever engage in any activity with redacted?”

as soon as i finished speaking, everyone’s expression faltered. essence, iyana, even jordyn. she knew i got her. “who’s.. who’s redac-” she answered dumbly, but playing coy doesn’t work on me unfortunately for her.

“errr, wrong answer. you know who he is.” in interrupted as i started daggers in her. if she tried lying, im pouncing on her. and not verbally. she cleared her throat nervously. guess she wasn’t gonna keep up with the lies anymore going forward.

“well.. even if i was, what’re you gonna do about it? that’s your ex so you shouldn’t care.” grown woman acting like a child part 562. it’s pathetic, really. an unspoken rule is don’t mess with your friends ex if you’re well aware they went together. especially if they have a bad reputation in your friend group.

i stood and walked a bit closer to her- actually directly in front of her. i wasn’t in the mood for games, and i was angry. if she catches a stray, it’ll be a mean one. “that’s not right. you don’t fool around with your friends ex, especially if their an abuser and their in jail. visiting them everyday is crazy too.”

she scoffed and looked over at essence, for which i don’t know why. no one’s here to save you while they watch you get your world rocked. “it’s not like you’re gonna do anything about it. plus, he told me you lied.”

told you? you believe an abuser over your friend since middle school? that’s kinda wild what she’ll do for a nigga, honestly. “so you believe a man over your best friend? and if i was lying, why’s he in jail?” stuck. looking dumb. she froze. and all she could do was say fighting words after that. but i’m ready.

“well, if you’re so mad do something.”

and i did. i instantly punched her dead in her nose; rings and all. she stumbled backwards slightly and the room erupted into gasps and a stifled giggle from essence. yet no one stopped us, they were ready to see her get humbled.

“oh you little..” was the last night the said before she basically leaped on me, going straight to attempt at pulling my hair. temporarily she had my head down while she yanked my hair, but i ended up punching her in her stomach which made her lose balance and got her on the ground. i dragged her by hair (essentially switching roles) and began punching her at the back of her head while she continued to curse at me.

“let’s see how you’ll hold up when joseph hits you like this.” i spat sarcastically and pulled her up by her hair but pulled it over her face, then starting to strictly punch her in her face. she ended up pushing me which made me stumble backwards into the wall, causing us to both end up on the floor as she tugged at my dress.

once she and iyana saw how she was gonna end up messing up my dress, they instantly stepped in and broke it up. essence was holding jordyn while ‘yana had me, fixing my dress and hair the best way she could.

“let me at her. let me at her.” was the only thing you could hear her yelling as essie basically escorted her. i was too irritated to say anything back at her, letting ‘yana recurl my hair plus straightening out my veil. “so that’s what you meant when you said you’ll deal with her..” she said sarcastically whilst i just giggled in response.

not even a few minutes later, mom came basically charging in. she instantly laid her eyes on me and put both of her hands on either side of my face; looking furiously into my calm yet irritated ones. “iyana skylar- have you lost your mind?! this couldn’t have waited? the day *of your wedding. really??”

i tried to hold back what i really wanted to say, because i was tired of everyone at this point. so i just sat there and let her talk. i didn’t have the energy; and i almost was at my breaking point. she was about to say something else- until the intercom dinged that announced it was time for the ceremony to commence. great. just what i needed.

she forcefully let go of my face while mouthing ‘this isn’t over’ and stomped away. i sighed whilst moving a curl away from my face, beginning to bounce my leg out of irritation. ayana put both of her hands on my shoulder and gently told me it’ll all be alright. she guided me to stand up and we made it to the main hallway next to my dad.

and for lack of better words, the events and feelings leading up to the wedding all matters now. from when i first received the news 5 years ago, to my feelings when i first woke up this morning, and now while i’m walking the isle. it felt more than awkward. it’s like when you ask someone to buy you something and your pacing around in your head; actively thinking about it while you asked it. or walking in a crowded area and you’re the main attraction.

but don’t even get me started on the part where it was time for us to officially get married.

ⓘ essence pov.

this wedding was painful to watch, and i wasn’t even getting married. yet i had to force a peaceful, ‘everything is fine and im so proud’ expression. but that facade was slowly wearing off, and it collapsed once the officiant began the declaration of intent.

i couldn’t stand by and watch this, i had to do something. i had to say something. my eyes darted over to ayana, and she was just looking around at all the guests faces. she didn’t wanna witness this no more than i did. in addition to that though, i didn’t care if it was ‘nothing we could do.’ i didn’t care if everything was decided in 2015, im sure yall don’t mind last minute decisions, right?

the officiant finished asking xavier if he accepted iyana- which was yes of course. and then it was iyana’s turn. God, i could literally see the discomfort and hesitation written all over her face. and her tone was even more evident of that hesitation. regardless, she said “i do.” but now it was my time to shine.

“if anyone has any reason why these two should not be joined within marriage, speak now or forever hold your p-“

“me. i object.” as soon as i said that; it went silent. i didn’t realize the weight those words held until they were actually spoken. iyana practically broke her neck in intrigue, and don’t even get me started at how i saw the excitement all in ayana’s eyes. the guests, not so much. they whispered and gave me nasty looks. i felt like i was being put on the spot.

“….never mind.” they continued to commence with the ceremony. why did i do that. why did i do that. WHY. did i do that. i should’ve stood on what i said: but then again, were they really gonna care? probably just asked it to go on with a traditional wedding. i felt like i let iyana down. someone hand me a glock..

it’s no point in dwelling on it anymore. i backed down and i can’t backtrack. however, it was time for vows, and i felt this was really gonna punch iyana in the ribs. xavier went first like a traditional wedding with his voice. his voice was steady as well as his face. how are you so calm about this? however, it was iyanas turn now. christ, it was gut wrenching.

ⓘ iyana pov.

i took a deep, shaky sigh as a nervously sweaty hand that was none other than mine held up my paper with my short and simple- yet future sealing vows embedded into it for me to read. all eyes on me. again. microphone up to my lips. again.

“xavier.. i promise to make your family and my family pr..” i paused and caught my breath that was labored. begging my eyes to stop slowly but surely watering. if worst comes to worst, one tear is fine, right? the grandmas in the audience telling me to take my time didn’t make this situation any better.

“prooudd.. proud.. with our obligation to this marriage. i foresee a… great future with.. you as your..”

“wife,” i forced out, yet i started sniffling as my vision went blurred, except i wasn’t done. the show must go on. “i am grateful our parents have decided to arrange us together, otherwise, i wouldn’t be able to build an..”

no. nope. don’t start. not now. “…amazing.. fu-..” i stiffened, my whole body froze. then it was one tear.. then two.. then i was sobbing. emotions overwhelmed me and i literally couldn’t even take it anymore. xavier rushed to begin comforting me while holding me and rubbing my back. everyone thought i was sobbing because i was happy. but no. i hated this.

i genuinely couldn’t believe this was it. even if i had all this time to think about it. 2015, ‘16, ‘17, ‘18- i didn’t care though. i knew id never be ready for this, but was it really my choice? even more sad when i knew only 2 people knew why i was actually crying.

..God. what a new life. cheers to my 20’s, am i right..

𐙚 don't copy anything from this story. this is all my original work, thoughts, and storyline. credit will be given where credit is due if i get inspired.

[imnotoverlyobsessive]

In Your Dreams

Moodboard by @softhecreator

Chapter Six: You Got Inside My Head & Set A Fire There Instead

AO3 info one two three four five six seven epilogue

All my work is 18+.

Maybe I know somewhere deep in my soul that love never lasts, and we’ve got to find other ways to make it alone or keep a straight face. And I’ve always lived like this; keeping a comfortable distance, and up until now I had sworn to myself that I’m content with loneliness, ‘cause none of it was ever worth the risk.- Paramore, The Only Exception

Lea really hadn’t meant to stick around for so long. She’d figured that once he’d, uhhh, ‘claimed’ her or whatever, that would be enough, that she’d be able to go back to her shared shoebox apartment with its windows all facing brick walls and the kitchen she couldn’t turn around in and the doors that didn’t stay closed and her cold bed, to her rapidly increasing student loan debt and her crippling anxiety and the constant, neverending sense that something about her life was wrong.

In any case, she had intended to go home once Tim was in the clear.

She was showering the following afternoon, staring out the window that overlooked the city. Water droplets from the shower dripped down the glass, and Lea sighed, tilting her head back to finish rinsing her hair and wondering how in the hell she was gonna go back home after all this.

“Well that’s a sight I could get used to.”

She damn near jumped a foot in the air at Tim’s voice echoing off the marble floors, immediately rushing to hide behind the wall of the large shower.

He laughed. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you, I was just appreciating the view!”

Lea blinked rapidly, trying to process what was happening. She still hadn’t fully processed the night before, and here she was, butt naked, totally regretting using his shower rather than one of the ones in the guest rooms. He had fuckin’ five of them, so it wasn’t like there wasn’t space.

After several bests of silence, the only sound the running water from the shower, he softly said, “Are you afraid of me?”

Lea jolted towards the clear shower door, looking at him around the corner of the wall. “Of course not!” she squeaked, eyes wide.

He looked back at her, his gaze sad. “Then why are you hiding from me?”

She glanced down briefly at his body, only just now noticing his nudity. “I just…” She gulped. “I just feel weird about you, like. Seeing me this way, y’know?”

Frowning outright then, Tim asked, “I’ll admit I’m pretty casual about being naked, living as an incubus for several thousand years will do that, but why on earth would you be shy with me?” When she didn’t answer right away, he added, “I’ll respect your feelings, don’t get me wrong, I just— you’re my mate, we had sex a few hours ago, and I legitimately cannot fathom why you’d feel weird. Will you please help me understand?”

“I’m… not used to being naked in front of anyone,” she admitted softly, standing back upright to lean against the wall of the shower, hidden from him again. “Like, okay, how often do you have to, y’know. Feed?”

There were a few seconds of silence as he considered this. “I dunno. Every few weeks, maybe?”

“Right,” Lea confirmed her understanding, “and do you feed from a different woman every time?”

“Usually, yeah,” he said slowly, as if he were trying to figure out where she was going with this.

“And that’s even when you were in relationships?”

He was silent for a few moments again. “I can only feed from humans, and I haven’t been involved with one romantically in I don’t even know how long—centuries, at the very least, maybe longer—, so I had to… with other women.”

“You were with another human before?”

“Yes.”

“Who was she?”

“Her name was Alane.”

Lea’s heart thudded in her chest.

“Did you love her?”

“Yes.”

“What happened?”

He sighed, and she heard him slide down the outside wall of the shower.

“I’ll have to tell you eventually, I guess.”

“You don’t have to,” she assured him hurriedly.

“No, you need to know.” A deep breath. “She was a Gaul, captured by Romans. I knew what they did to women, so I went to help. No clue why, I’m fucking useless with that kinda thing, but I went to help. But when I got there…” He let out a hoarse laugh. “She’d killed two of them and was working on a third.”

“Jesus,” Lea muttered.

“Totally covered in blood,” he went on, “I think she would’ve tried to kill me, too, if I hadn’t blurted some random shit out in French. Gave her enough pause to let me help her escape, I guess.”

“Then… why aren’t you with her now?” Lea asked softly, hoping he wouldn’t notice the quiver in her voice.

“We were together for a few human lifetimes,” he admitted. “We were careful—we were so fucking careful—but birth control wasn’t an exact science then, and, well… I told you that most women can’t stay pregnant with an incubus’ baby.” Another snort. “Stubborn girl—she was a lot like you that way, actually; maybe that’s what attracted to me to her in the first place, was her similarities to my future mate—refused to let me get it flushed out of her. I told her, I told her she couldn’t survive it, but she was damned and determined to try anyway.”

“And then?” she asked shakily.

“She died.” His voice was soft, almost hesitant. Regretful. “She died because she loved me.”

Despite the rather intense jealousy she was feeling, her heart ached for the pain he’d been through. It was clear he blamed himself for Alane’s death.

Taking a deep breath and steeling herself, Lea reached out and opened the shower door. The hot water was beating against her skin, the sound of it almost drowning her out when she whispered, “You can come in, too.” A slight hesitation. “If— if you want, I mean.”

There was silence for a few long moments before she heard him stand, and then he stepped into the shower.

His hair was tousled from sleep, but his skin wasn’t sallow anymore; the bags under his eyes were gone, too. He was still a bit thinner than she knew was normal for him, but he definitely looked better. Healthier.

He closed the door behind him, gazing down at her and not taking his eyes off hers. “It wasn’t your fault, Tim.” He grimaced, so she reiterated, “It was not your fault. It wasn’t your fault she got pregnant. It was an accident. It wasn’t your fault that she chose to continue the pregnancy, either. None of it was your fault.”

He wasn’t grimacing anymore, just kinda studying her expression. “You aren’t jealous?” He looked almost disappointed, the prick.

“I never said I wasn’t jealous,” Lea admitted slowly, “but I don’t want you to blame yourself for something that’s not your fault. I don’t like seeing you in pain.”

A small, soft smile twitched at the corners of his lips, and he took a step closer to her, taking one of her hands in his. “Everything’s less painful when I look at you,” he murmured. “Hearing your voice, seeing you smile, touching your skin— it sets me at ease. Even when I was close to death, whenever you were next to me, it felt like everything would be alright.”

Tears filled her eyes at that, and she looked away. “Tim…”

“I think,” he went on in that soft, sweet voice, “that I could conquer the world if you held my hand while I did it.” After a moment, he added, “Plus, you’re jealous, it’s very obvious, and it’s awesome—“

Lea flushed, crossing her arms over her breasts with a grumble of, “Like you wouldn’t be jealous, too, demon boy.”

“Psh,” he scoffed, waving his hand dismissively. “You kidding? I’m jealous of everyone that’s so much as looked at you.”

“You’re a dork,” she muttered, fighting off a smile.

“Maybe,” he shrugged. “Or maybe I just love you.”

She couldn’t stop herself from smiling then.

“Are you done showering?” he asked quietly.

Lea blinked, surprised at the question. “I should probably rinse my hair again. Might still have conditioner in it.”

He stepped closer, and her heart lurched up into her throat at the anticipation of feeling his skin against hers again, but he just reached behind her and took the handheld shower nozzle. 

“Turn around.” It was a soft, gentle command, but it was a command nonetheless. Steadfastly ignoring the fluttering in her abdomen, she obeyed, turning to face the marble tiles of the wall and adjusting her hair so it fell in a wave of dark red curls down her back.

“Lean your head back,” he told her gently. She did so, keeping her eyes shut, and he held the nozzle close to her scalp and ran his fingers through her hair, careful not to miss anything. “Did you comb your hair out already?”

“Y— yeah,” she mumbled, pointing vaguely in the direction of the wide-tooth comb that sat on the ledge with the various shower-related items.

He hummed before continuing to rinse out her hair in silence.

Once he was done, he leaned forward to replace the shower nozzle again, and the one on the ceiling began to cascade down onto them once more. Without a word, he wrapped his arms around her so her back was against his chest. And stomach, too, because he was a tall bastard.

Tim’s arms were around her waist, just below her breasts, and his thumb brushed the underside of one of them.

Lea gulped anxiously, wishing he’d touch her fully, grab her breast the way he’d done the night before. “How are you, uh… how are you feeling?”

“What d’you mean?” he mumbled into her hair.

“Well, you almost died yesterday,” she said slowly. “So, how are you feeling?”

His arms tightened around her. “I’m alive. You’re here. I’m alive because you’re here. So I’m doing pretty fuckin’ awesome, I’d say.”

She reached up and brushed her hand gently over one of his, lacing their fingers together.

“I’m glad you’re okay.”

She felt him shrug. “I wasn’t expecting to be, but I’m not gonna lie and say I’m not thrilled about you loving me.” He paused momentarily before admitting, “And also that you let me fuck you. That was pretty great.”

He moved her hair to one side and started kissing her neck then, and she squeaked in surprise. “Are you, uh… are you hungry again? Not— not for food, I mean, but like, for… y’know…”

She could hear the smirk in his voice, feel it against the damp skin of her neck. “I only need to feed every few weeks,” he reminded her. “However, that doesn’t mean I don’t want to fuck you again, because I very much do. It’s less about my biological need for it and more about my love for my incredibly sexy mate and the natural desire I have to watch said mate’s tits bounce as I fuck her until she cums on my cock.”

Lea’s face flamed, the sensation intensifying further when she realized he was hard behind her.

“But,” he was saying, “we don’t have to. I will never try to make you or convince you to do anything you don’t wanna do.”

“I know,” she said, tightening her fingers over his. “You almost died ‘cause you didn’t wanna risk guilting me.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t want you,” he murmured, one of his hands sliding down her side to grasp her hip firmly. “God do I want you.”

“Tim,” she exhaled, leaning back against his chest.

“Baby.” His voice was hoarse, desperate, and he went on, “Do you want that? I won’t ask you to if you don’t want it, but if you do…” 

Flushing, she looked at her feet and said, “Maybe we could… go back to bed?”

“If you want.” He shrugged before gesturing to the windows. “The windows are tinted, though. No one can see in; they look completely black from outside.”

She blinked rapidly, eyes wide. “Oh?”

“Mhm,” Tim confirmed, taking her hand in his. “So why don’t you just jump up here—“ he guided her to the windowsill, encouraging her to sit down. “—And spread your legs for me?”

“Are you sure you wanna—“

“Lea,” he cut her off, voice serious, “knowing you want me, I think that I cannot possibly handle the prospect of not having you.”

“O— okay,” she managed. 

“Good girl,” he praised with a smirk, stepping between her legs, his hands on her knees. “Gonna make you feel good, baby.” He reached between them, gripping his dick and guiding it to her entrance, pressing against her.

Lea bit her lip, whimpering. “Please, Tim, I can’t—“

“Can’t what, sweetheart?” he crooned gently, rubbing his cock up and down her folds teasingly. “Tell me what you want.”

Embarrassment gone, she begged, “Want it, want you, want you inside me—“

“Good girl,” he told her again before sliding into her.

She moaned, her head falling back against the glass of the window.

“So fuckin’ tight,” he grunted, pulling out briefly before slamming back in. 

He was looking down at her, and she marveled at how gorgeous he was; the city lights behind her were glinting off his jawline and cheekbones and those red fucking eyes—god, he was feeding from her again, he was feeding from her again—, and his hair hung in soaked curls, longer than it usually was so it nearly brushed his shoulders, water droplets falling from the tips of the strands and onto his bare skin.

It was looking at him, at how insanely, ridiculously, unfairly sexy he was, that caused a desperate, fervent need to touch him to overtake her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down to kiss her. He obliged, slanting his lips over hers with a startling amount of ferocity, but it was short-lived because then he was trailing kisses down the column of her throat before taking the tender skin between his teeth and sucking. 

Moaning, she threaded her fingers through his hair, and he groaned at the sound she’d made, thrusting in again. “Made for me,” he grunted against her damp skin. “This pussy was fuckin’ made for me.”

Her fingers tightened around his curls, holding him against her neck as he repeatedly kissed the bruise he’d given her. “Feels— feels good,” she gasped out, spreading her legs wider, wanting him to fuck her senseless, fuck her until she couldn’t walk or move or breathe.

Tim righted himself again, leaning his forehead against hers, his red eyes boring into hers, pinning her there against the window as if each snap of his hips didn’t have the same effect. “You like it?” he wanted to know, the words an exhalation brushing against her lips. “You like it when I fuck you?”

Nodding jerkily, Lea arched into his touch when he reached down to grasp one of her breasts, tugging sharply on the nipple. “I like it,” she admitted, her voice breathless. “God, please don’t stop—“

His hips jackhammered against her, and he slid one hand up to cup her neck, the one on her breast moving to grasp her hip so as to hold her in place. “No god here, baby,” he muttered, stroking her skin affectionately. “Just you and me.”

Something about this statement made her feel as if she had the sun inside her, starlight under her skin, and she wanted nothing more than to keep him there, to stay there with him, safe in his apartment, their own little world. Nothing existed outside of what they had together, outside of what he was giving her, of what she was giving him. It was just the two of them, and she felt as if as long as he was touching her, nothing else ever could.

It was quiet and unprompted when she gasped out, “I love you. I love you, Tim.”

The hand he had on her neck slid up to her cheek, and he leaned down, kissing her with desperation equal to that of his thrusts into her. “I love you, too,” he said against her lips, into her mouth. “More than anything. You’re everything, Lea. Everything.”

She could’ve sworn that the sun inside her shone through at that, and if anyone looked at her, they’d go blind from it. Instead of responding, she wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist, pulling him closer. He let her, allowing her to kiss him as much as she wanted, returning her kiss with fervor. He took her lower lip between his teeth and tugged on it lightly, making her moan and close her eyes.

“No,” he growled when he released her lip. “Look at me. Look at me. I want you to see who’s fucking you, who’s making you feel like this. I don’t want you to ever forget.”

Lea opened her eyes, difficult as it was, and gasped out, “Could never forget you. Love you too much and you feel too good, fuck but you feel so good—“

His lips quirked into a smile against hers. “Yeah?” He kissed her again, the hand on her hip tightening, his fingers digging into her flesh. “Feels good when I give it to you, baby?”

“Mhm,” she whimpered, undulating her hips as best she could despite being seated and pressed up against the window. “More, I want more, please.”

“Such a polite request,” he mused, leaning down to kiss the bruises he’d left on her throat. “You know I’d never refuse you, don’t you? My sweet girl, all mine.”

He gave a particularly harsh thrust at that, and she moaned loudly in delight, her fingernails digging into his shoulders. “‘m yours,” she agreed immediately. “Yours, Tim, all yours— fuck—“

“Good girl,” he groaned, thrusting into her again. “Been waiting all my life for this, sweetheart, all my life for you, for your perfect little pussy, all for me, fuckin’ made for me, baby, made to take this cock.”

Something about what he was saying—babbling, if she were honest—made the heat that was already swirling in her abdomen to grow, intensifying further and spreading throughout her body, a tingling sensation that made her feel like she was burning, like there was fire beneath her skin, in her veins. She was made for him. She was his, she wanted to be his, to belong to him. How could she not, when belonging to him felt so good?

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned, “can I make you cum? I wanna make you cum. I can feel the way you’re clenching around me, I know you want it, I can tell, just let me—“

“Yes,” she cut him off without hesitation. “Yes, you can make me cum, yes yes yes yes yes—“

“Fuck,” Tim grunted, snaking a hand between them to where they were joined and finding her clit with practiced ease. He may not have had much experience with her body specifically, but he knew exactly what to do anyway, how to make her quiver and shake and scream. Plus, by the time he brushed his fingertips over her clit, she was so turned on—by the way he was fucking her, the way he looked when he fucked her, how he was looking at her, the things he said as he pounded into her relentlessly, everything—that his touch had her moaning loudly, her toes curling. She was already so fucking close and he’d barely started stimulating her. “So good for me, sweetheart,” he groaned in her ear. “Give me those pretty little noises, baby, c’mon. Wanna hear you say my name.”

“Tim,” she moaned desperately. “Oh fuck, Tim, I’m gonna— I’m—”

“That’s it,” he encouraged gently, rubbing her clit faster. “Give it to me, Lea. Cum on my cock, wanna feel it.” When she moaned wordlessly—though his name could probably be deciphered if one tried hard enough—and tightened her legs around his waist, her core clenched down on him, and then a few more swipes to her clit combined with punishing thrusts had her bursting apart at the seams.

He fucked her through her orgasm, his eyes such a bright shade of red they almost glowed. Still, once it had ended, he didn’t stop rubbing at her, instead growling into her neck, “I want another. Gimme another, sweetheart.”

Lea’s pulse was thrumming in her clit already, so it wasn’t exactly a difficult feat to manage. He kissed her neck wetly, murmuring words she couldn’t quite hear into her skin. She couldn’t seem to formulate any speech at all, only capable of desperate, high-pitched keens of, “Ah, ah, ah, unh—” over and over again until his touch sent her over the edge a second time.

“Gonna fill you up, baby,” he grunted. “So pretty when you fall apart, gonna fill you with my cum, Lea, fill this sweet little pussy up, love you so much, baby, so fuckin’ much, fuckin’ take it—”

She could do nothing but whimper and cling to him, yearning for him to cum inside her, to fill her exactly as he was promising to.

And then he did, release finding him with an almost pained-sounding moan of her name.

Her head was buzzing, her ears were ringing, and the room—the shower, they were still in the shower—was wobbling. So when he panted against her neck for a few minutes before pulling back to kiss her briefly and step away, she nearly collapsed to the marble tiles of the shower floor.

Tim caught her, pulling her close with one arm and reaching to turn the shower off with the other. “‘s okay, baby,” he murmured, pressing a sweet, gentle kiss to her scalp. “Let’s get you back in bed, okay?”

“O— okay,” she mumbled, her voice sounding groggy even to her own ears.

Tim opened the shower door and grabbed a towel that was hanging on the rod and drying her off, having her lean against the wall as he did so.

Was sex always so exhausting, or was it just her? Maybe it was ‘cause she had no experience prior to him.

He hung the towel back up and took her hand again. “Do you want me to carry you, sweetheart?”

“No,” Lea assured him, horrified at the thought even through her exhaustion. “I can walk.”

“Okay,” he agreed, though he sounded a bit reluctant, “I’m gonna be right here, so fall against me if you need to.”

She hummed in acknowledgment as they made their way out of the bathroom and back to bed. He pulled the covers up over her and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“I’m gonna go make you some food, okay?”

“Mmkay,” she mumbled.

And then she was dead to the world.

Tim’s sweet, gentle voice eased her into wakefulness.

“Lea, sweetheart,” he said, a hand on her shoulder.

“Mmf,” she grunted into the pillow.

“I brought you some food,” he told her. “An omelet with hashbrowns and bacon. Extra crispy, just how you like it.”

The guy knew her well, he really did. But she was so tired.

“You’ll feel much better after you eat,” he promised. “Cmon, baby. Will you sit up for me?”

She groaned, pushing herself up onto her palms. “There you go, sweetheart,” Tim encouraged. “God, you’re so cute when you’re tired.”

“I feel like I shouldn’t be this tired,” she grumbled in annoyance, tucking the blankets under her arms so her chest was covered. “I just woke up a little while ago.”

Tim blushed, settling the tray of food in her lap. “It’s, uh… it’s an incubus thing. You’re tired because I’ve consumed your energy. I’m sorry. I’d avoid it if I could.”

“Oh,” Lea said with a hum, picking up her knife and fork. “It’s okay. If the consequence of you not starving is me being tired, I don’t mind.”

“You’re a fuckin’ saint,” he muttered, sitting down on the bed next to her.

She let out an inelegant snort. “You make me tired and then provide me with food. Not gonna complain about it.”

“I absolutely do not deserve you.”

Lea glanced up at him from her meal. “You literally brought me breakfast in bed.”

“Yeah, but—“

“Don’t care,” she cut him off. “You’re being sweet. No complaints.” She smiled softly at him in reassurance.

He took her hand, holding it tightly in his. “Okay.”

He didn’t let go of her hand the entire time she was eating.

No, really. She really hadn’t meant to stay so long. She’d ended up staying for a month and a half, though. But in her defense, Tim was really sexy, and he was being so wonderful to her, and she loved him so much.

It was hard to reconcile with the fact that all of it was temporary, that she’d have to return to her boring, shoebox apartment and her day job.

And then she missed her period.

But it was nothing to worry about, right? There was no reason for her to be concerned. She was on birth control, had been for years. She’d missed periods before, usually when she was stressed. It was probably the next semester looming over her head.

Tim was ordering some delivery from the grocery store—he rarely went out for such things himself; a privacy concern, he’d said—and asked her if she needed anything.

He knew what sort of food she liked, so that wasn’t a concern. However, even if her period was late, she’d definitely be getting it soon.

“Uh, yeah,” she told him when he asked what she needed. “Some tampons, I think.” She paused. “And some Midol. And a heating pad.”

He blinked, raising his eyebrows in surprise. “Uh… okay, but why?”

She looked at him skeptically. “Why do you think? I’m about to get my period. It’s a little late, so it should be coming any day now.”

He frowned outright at that. “Um, Lea. There’s a reason your period is late.”

She hummed in acknowledgment, hunting through the drawer in his closet he’d temporarily dedicated to her clothes for a fresh pair of panties. “Stress about school, most likely.”

“No,” he said slowly. “It likely won’t be coming at all.”

She paused, turning around to face him. “Why not?”

“Because… because you’re almost certainly pregnant.”

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[builder051]

Drunk tank, dunk tank

Chasing ghosts

—————————

Warnings for college drinking and brief allusion to sexual assault. Also brief allusion to male anatomy.

Sorry. Couldn’t help myself. I’m so dirty, I know.

—————————

3:27 AM

Center campus courtyard

“No, no, not in the fountain.” James pulls Steve’s arm to keep him from leaning too close to the burbling three-story birdbath.

“But—now.”

“Yeah, I know.” James pulls again. This time Steve boings backward, and James shifts his weight to the back leg so he can insert his fist between Steve’s shoulder blades.

“Over there.” James nods intently toward the manicured shrubs and flower beds that form an outline of the large brick paved circle. The spring perennials are half dead and could probably use a fertilizing.

“Fine. Ok—“ Steve breaks off with a gag and slaps his hand clumsily over his mouth.

James turns them together on the spot, like some sort of perverted ballroom dance. Their scraping shoes make a horrible sound.

Steve has just enough sense to lurch away from the walkway. James grabs a handful of the back of Steve’s shirt to keep him from falling on his face. He’d hardly imagined that the robust swim team captain was such a lightweight. The guy has a bespoke whiskey collection back at the apartment for fuck’s sake.

Steve retches loudly, loosing a torrent of red-tinted fluid over the dried up petunias. He tries to hock and spit, but he’s far from finished.

“It’s ok,” James says, trying to sound comforting, though it comes out as exasperated. This clearly isn’t his idea of fun, but he’s not telling Steve that. At least not right now.

Steve’s breath hitches as the next heave overwhelms his system.

“You’re alright.” James has left his prosthesis at home, thinking a collegiate sports party wasn’t exactly the venue to bare his nuts and bolts. It would inevitably lead to investigations to arm wrestle, which he’s glad to avoid. Now, though, he wishes he had another hand to thump Steve on the back. There’s no way he’s loosening the grip he already has. The danger of Steve conking his head seems much more urgent than his possibility of choking. And James isn’t sure he can get Steve back upright once he’s on the ground.

“S-sorry,” Steve murmurs weakly. “Sorry, Buck. I didn’t mean to…” He coughs, and another spurt of sick launches from his throat.

“Yeah, I know.” James laughs humorlessly. “PGA punch doesn’t really sit well with anyone.”

Steve snorts, then gives a wet-sounding belch. “What does that even mean?”

“Oh…” James pushes his nose into his own shoulder to collect himself before continuing to speak. “It’s pure grain alcohol. What did you think it meant?”

“I don’t know.” Steve proceeds to vomit from both his moth and nose. Then in a nasally stuffed-up voice, “Like. The golf team? I think those guys made it…”

James isn’t sure the university had a golf team. To him, the whole thing is a non-sporting game reserved for the rich and famous. “Okay…” James pauses to figure out how to put Steve right without putting him down. “That would still be NC-double-A.”

“Huh?” Steve capitulates to another retch. “I thought… they brought it?”

“You were there for set-up,” James reminds him. “It was an athletic-department party, right?”

“Um… there was powder,I think? I was laying out cupcakes…”

“Yeah, those don’t agree with most people either.” James pauses for a moment. “Didn’t you notice it tasted terrible, though?”

Steve’s shoulders slump again, and he spits up something thick and purplish grey. James readjusts his hold on the tail of Steve’s ruined polo.

“Grocery store frosting.” Steve licks his teeth and sputters. Strings of mucous dangle from his lips and the tip of his nose.”

“Well, that too,” James agrees. “But the punch. Why’d you drink so much? It can’t have tasted good.”

“Powdered stuff never tastes good. You know, Crystal Light or whatever.”

“Oh jeez.” James has forgotten this particular aspect of Steve’s sheltered childhood. He’s probably never experienced the hell of drinking unsweetened, off-brand kool-aid. James will have to introduce him. Later, of course. “Did you seriously think it was virgin?”

“‘M not a virgin…”

Fuck. Drunk brain has evidently checked in. James gives the original conversation one more try before calling it a lost cause. “But why did you keep gussying it? Every time I turned around your cup was refilled. Which is pretty dangerous, as a matter of fact.” James had been counting on Steve’s draft horse of a metabolism to make him immune to GHB. He’d calculated that date rape as an extremely remote possibility. Steve would probably fall asleep on top of his would-be attacker and smother them to death.

“I had to hydrate,” Steve groans. “Between shots, you know.”

James gives an internal groan of his own. “How many of those did you have, if I may ask?”

“Hell if I know.” Steve bats at his face with the back of his hand. It’s a wonder that he doesn’t give himself a nosebleed. “Can we go home?”

“In a bit,” James tells him. “Let’s hang here for a little while.”

“I wanna go to bed.”

“Throw up some more first,” James says sensibly. “I don’t think you want to mess up your own car.”

“I can drive.” Steve sounds as complacent as a two-year-old.

“Nope. Not tonight.” James glances toward his wrist, but it’s too far away to make out the time. “Today. Whatever.”

“You can’t drive.” Steve can’t be capable of knowing how accusatory he sounds.

“Can and should aren’t the same thing.”

Steve grinds his teeth and spits again. “You can’t should drive, then.”

“Nope, that’s what you can do. After you get it all up.”

“Done,” Steve claims, but he makes no move to stand upright.

“I don’t think so, Stevie.” He’s reluctant to suggest it, but the situation calls for for practicality. Morality is long gone. James is sure the campus is supposed to be dry, the carefully constructed mess of tables and chairs left throughout the staff parking lot notwithstanding. “Stick your fingers down your throat and get it over with.”

“Ick.” Steve finally lifts his head, and it sets of a dangerous lean to the side. “I need water or something.”

“Um.” James tries to think critically while also resetting Steve’s center of gravity. He’s reluctant to change location. Maybe getting to a sink and a toilet would be worth it, but he’s not sure the buildings with conveniently placed restrooms are unlocked at this hour. “Just, maybe, turn your head and cough?” James hopes Steve won’t comment on the similarity of his words to the institutions given with a testicular exam. He’s starting to lose his mind as well.

“No, a drink.” Steve takes a wavering step, miraculously pulling both feet back onto the pavement.

“Wait,” James warns, attempting to catch Steve’s elbow.

“But I know,” Steve argues back. “Just… Lemme go.”

“Oh, fine.” If Steve faceplants, it’s his own damn fault. Maybe waiting for Steve get off the ground would be easier. Then James might take a seat himself on one of the benches by the fountain.

The fountain. “No! Steve, stop.” James redoubles his efforts to block Steve’s path. “Hell no. Come on. Step away from the fountain!”