#rip wanted to get this done earlier so i could publish the next part (the holiday party) in time for the actual holidays but...

[blushinggray]

change of plans: part 7

awww shit. here we go again. but things are heating up!!

sero hanta x fem!reader

part 7/? (part 6 | part 1)

cw // more denial of feelings/confusion, slight angst, past kaibara/reader, attempted confessions(?)

—

Over the next few weeks, you find yourself back in Sero's room every so often. Since it's not too far from school and he kind of just appears more often around you on campus now, never wasting an opportunity to invite you over.

It's not like you accept every time or that you have sex every time you go there. Acceptance rate is at about half and probability of sex is... well, more often than not, but you're being careful! Not just with physical protection, but with your heart as well.

You never sleep over. Ever.

That is the one line you can't cross, because you know that if you spend the night in his arms, wake up to his kisses and morning voice, and make yourself coffee in his kitchen, then you know you'll fall off the deep end. It's already difficult to resist wearing his clothes and bathing yourself in his scent after you have sex. If you slept in them all night, you'd practically be poisoning yourself.

Because while on the surface, it seems like Sero is into you, there are still moments where you feel like something's off. Ashido and Aoyama and plenty of your other friends are loudly supportive of you two — or at the very least, insatiably nosy — but they don't hear some of the things that Sero says when you're alone together.

While they're not red flags about him as a person, they do remind you that he is still, at heart, a playboy.

You are endlessly charmed by his flirty wit and hooded eyes, but you can tell that some of his material is recycled. All the pretty words and sweet praises and experienced touches are all just so vague sometimes. Like he could say or do it to literally anybody and it would still work on them. It probably has, which is why he’s using them on you too.

"I've never seen such a beauty before." He says, when you get naked in front of him.

"Looks like all my dreams are coming true tonight." He hums when you climb on top of him after deflecting something cheesy he said.

"I swear to god, there is nothing in the world that feels as good as you do." He murmurs into your ear while he's inside you, like he's telling you a secret.

When he really wants to lay it on thick, he'll just sprinkle in some Spanish like they're magic words.

"Look at you, bella. All pretty for me."

"Ven aquí, baby. I know what you want."

"Hueles tan buena... Oh, mami..."

It's absolutely maddening, how easily that gets your legs trembling and your panties wet. What's worse is that he knows you like it, so he's been using it more and more on you lately. Though he at least has the decency to do it in private.

At least that way, no one aside from Sero's roommate has caught you acting and sounding so pathetic. And luckily for you, Todoroki seems like a pretty chill guy. He hasn't so much as batted an eye at the two of you whenever he happened to walk in on you on the couch or in the kitchen (which you were not naked on, just to be clear!). So he either genuinely doesn't care or he's just used to Sero being indecent at home.

Though that also somewhat feeds into your anxieties, thinking about how commonplace it must be for Sero to bring someone home and get openly frisky with them. Does he still do this with others on those days that you don’t follow him home? How often? And does he talk to them and touch them the exact same way he does to you?

Sometimes, the longer you let your mind wander, the more you just want to leave. So after a nice fuck, and maybe a shower or a drink, you get your ass out of that apartment. Away from the room that’s filled with personality, culture, music, stories, and an increasing amount of memories.

So that you don’t have to torture yourself with the idea that Sero might have laid with someone else in that hammock. Or that he took a photo of someone else who looked better than you wearing his clothes. Or that he looked down at someone else with the same reverent, smoky eyes just before he lit a joint between his lips and slipped inside of them.

And all of those little moments, when you learn something new about him, or he makes you genuinely laugh, or he teaches you Spanish or something about Latin America, these moments where you feel like he’s opening up to you… You can’t stand the idea that he could be sharing the same intimate moments with others. When you think about it too much, it starts to hurt, and that’s your cue to leave.

You want to believe that it’s all in your head and that maybe he does care about you and that you’re becoming special to him, but the proof is in your gut and all the signs around you. You haven’t lost that weird feeling that could only be your own intuition warning you whenever he says something particularly vague to you.

You’ve caught more than enough accidental glimpses at his texts when they appear on his phone, many of which were flirty or horny in nature — and they really were accidental! The fact that you’ve seen so many simply in passing is proof enough that he’s still in contact with too many possible side hoes. Even worse is the notion that you are one of those side hoes...

Worst of all is when you catch sight of him with someone else in person, though it’s not often and you can only speculate from what you catch glimpses of. Sometimes it’s just another friend sending you a photo they snuck of him somewhere else, feeding into the drama in your head. But surely that’s another sign that you should continue to be careful? With all these people in Sero’s circle, you doubt that you’re at the forefront of his mind when he’s not with you.

But god, when you so much as see him leaning closer across a table to someone he’s having a coffee with, or leaning down towards someone who’s already on their tiptoes to let them whisper in his ear, or letting a hug go on for longer than normal, there’s pain in your chest.

Now you know that you like him too much for your own good. It causes you physical pain to see him with someone else and think that they could be close. Closer than you are with him. And you feel like you don’t have the right to complain since you were the one trying to push him away in the first place. You’d make a fool of yourself now if you admitted to him how much you like him. Especially when he clearly is only having fun with you.

“I just don’t get it,” you sigh when you’re over at Aoyama’s apartment one night, hugging a mug of tea to you. You’re both in your pajamas after washing off your face masks, and you’ve pretty much been gossiping all night. “Why would he kiss me like that if he’s okay with anyone else at the end of the day?”

“How do you know if he is? It’s not like he’s simply called someone in just to warm his bed after you leave.” He says, picking from his mini charcuterie board.

“Well, obviously I don’t know that he does, but I also don’t know that he doesn’t!"

“And does he know that you want to know this badly?” Aoyama asks rhetorically.

"Tais-toi." You roll your eyes, hiding your pout behind your tea, "Pourquoi devrais-je lui dire?"

Shut up. Why should I tell him?

Aoyama hums before reciting, "L’amour fait les plus grandes douceurs et les plus sensibles infortunes de la vie."

Love makes the sweetest pleasures and the most hurtful misfortunes in life.

"Is it not worth the risk?" He pins you with that stark and unreadable smile on his face.

You frown because Aoyama's opinions are usually as unwelcome as they are wise. And you've complained to him enough about Sero at this point to feel bad about it, so maybe you could do well to consider a solution or two.

"I don't know." You shake your head, shrugging, "I really don't need a repeat of my last fuckboy situationship."

"Oh?" Aoyama's eyes light up with curiosity, "And what happened with that boy?"

That's right, you had only met Aoyama about a year ago, so he didn't know you while you were going out with Kaibara back in freshman year. Or, well, 'going out' implies that you went on dates like a couple, but in reality, they were mostly late night meetups.

Like he'd call you up to hang out at a late night diner after leaving a party as a prelude to the massive drilling you'd get in his bed later that night. Or he'd actually call you up to come over or show up to your dorm when he was horny at 2am, and you'd stupidly oblige his requests a lot of the time. Sometimes, he'd pull a cute romantic date out of nowhere, like a drive-in movie or something, but usually that also ended with fucking in the backseat anyway.

Around the four-month mark, you eventually started asking the questions that he would avoid or parry with some line to distract you. At that point, you had an idea that he wouldn't be calling himself your boyfriend anytime soon, if ever, but you still held out for another month, hoping things would change...

The only thing that changed, however, was his consistence. He started responding slower to your texts, calling you less, and just slowly drifting weaning himself out of your life. He would still fuck at 100% capacity, making sure that you got yours, so you didn't believe things to be changing. But you knew that you had essentially been shelved when you still saw him around, on his phone half the time, yet still taking over a day to bother to respond to your texts.

That was a rough few weeks... You don't know how much time and stress you wasted over waiting for his responses. He was all you could think about, no matter how you tried to distract yourself. School and work were hard to focus on, you annoyed your friends with how often you'd rant about him when you got drunk or high, and you were plagued with constant wonder over if you just weren't good enough for him. If he got bored of you or just didn't like you enough to be anything more than casual.

Weeks and weeks of agonizing over all kinds of stupid, obsessive thoughts over Kaibara, and what you had, and missing him gradually started to fade away. Slowly and painstakingly, but the thoughts started bothering you less as time went on. Yet never fast enough.

You muted all of his socials, but you could never bring yourself to just delete or block him because you had several mutual friends. Actually, you had met him through a high school friend who ended up being in the same department. They all knew about your 'relationship' but they never talked to you about it, and vice versa. Like it was just a present fact that everyone knew but let you keep to yourselves.

"In retrospect, they probably knew that Kaibara wasn't that serious from the beginning and just didn't want to hurt my feelings." You sigh as you conclude your story with the last sip of your tea, "He was probably already sleeping with other people by the time he started distancing himself from me."

Aoyama had poured himself a glass of red wine during your story, listening hungrily the entire time. He hums when you finish, swirling the glass around before saying, "Are there similarities between this boy and Sero? Aside from their reputations."

"Mm... a little bit. Tall, dark haired, super charming. They're both pretty charismatic and friendly." You name off the top of your head. Which is actually quite a lot. Maybe you have a type.

"Anything else~?" Aoyama wiggles his eyebrows as he touches his two pointer fingers together and slowly spreads them apart, waiting for you to stop him at a certain length with mischief in his eyes.

"Tais-toi!" You slap his hands down, pouting before you eventually admit, "Sero is a monster though. Like, incomparable to the average dude."

"Hmmmmmmmmmm~" Aoyama hums, resting his cheek in his palm, leaning against the couch cushions from his spot on the floor. "Okay. So they do share similarities, which make your fears perfectly reasonable. How are they different, then?"

"Oh. Jeez." You blow a raspberry through your lips, deflating against the couch a bit, "Well, for starters, Sero is waaay better at acting like he likes me."

"What do you mean by that?"

You pause for a moment, wondering how to phrase it before you just start thinking out loud, "Ever since I saw him a few weeks ago cuddling up with that one girl a few days after he kissed me, I haven't been able to shake that feeling from my mind."

Every time you've seen him around campus, just hugging someone in greeting, or putting a friendly arm around them, or even smiling at them, you can't help but wonder or read into it. Compare it to how he hugs or touches or smiles at you. You wonder if any of it means a thing to him or if it's just his typical playboy flirtiness.

"I always feel like I'm sharing these deep, special moments with him, but... I also can't stop these thoughts that they aren't... real. You know?" You take in a deep breath before exhaling just as deeply, "Like, no matter what he does with me, it's just so easy to think he could be doing the same thing with others.

"What if he calls me 'bella' because he can't remember my name sometimes? Who else is he running into at the grocery store? Or flirting with at a party?

"Sometimes, when he lets me pick the music, I look at his CD collection and think, 'wow... there's a lot of albums that hot girls would like in here...' Or when his sheets smell fresh, I wonder if he's changed them recently because he had someone else in his bed. And just— ugh!" You sit up and smash a couch pillow into your face to groan before setting it back down, "I just don't know how much of it is feasible intuition or self sabotage at this point."

"I see." Aoyama muses, holding the glass of wine against his lip, without actually drinking from it, "And you think this is all just an act for him?"

"What?" You blink.

"You said at first that he is better at acting like he likes you." He reminds you, "So all of these special moments you've shared with him, you don't think that he truly feels something for you?"

"Well how am I supposed to know?" You pout, "You can never tell with his type. Flirting with a playboy is like constantly deciphering codes."

"So why don't you ask him?"

You snort immediately, "Excuse-moi?"

"Just ask." He repeats, "If it's bothering you this much, then you should just ask him. If he reacts the same way that Kaibara did, then you'll get a better idea of where you stand."

"And how exactly am I supposed to do that?"

Aoyama shrugs, "Just tell him how you feel and ask if he feels the same. It's honestly rather simple, non? If you really like him that much, then isn't it just easier this way?"

"Yeah. Because telling someone how you feel is so easy." You roll your eyes.

"Pourquoi pas?" Aoyama shrugs, taking another bite of cheese, "You're just asking him a question."

You suck in your cheeks as you think about it. It's not like you haven't been direct with Sero before. It's just that... every time you've tried to declare some sort of distance from him, he's always managed to change your mind. You wouldn't be surprised if he threw you off course this time, too...

But the (unfortunate) truth is that you do like him. As hard as you tried not to, you really have come to like him, both as a lover and as a person. And... it is kind of different from what you had with Kaibara. At the very least, you can say that they are not the same people. Can you dare to hope that it might turn out differently this time?

"Well, how am I even supposed to bring it up?" You bring yourself to ask, "The way we talk is always so 'go with the flow.' It's hard to find a good moment to be serious."

"So create the moment yourself." Aoyama suggests, jutting his chin towards your phone, "Give him a call."

"Right now?" You furrow your brows, aghast at such a suggestion.

"Oui." He sips at his wine, "Right now."

"Are you crazy? We don't have that kind of relationship."

"But you want that kind of relationship." He's quick to quip back.

You open your mouth but end up closing it again when you can find no retort. You can't even deny it because... you do kind of want that. You wouldn't mind getting a call from Sero at some random time of the day just to hear how he's doing. Or feeling at ease enough with him to not worry about what he might think of you when just want to hear his voice.

You want to feel excited or happy instead of anxious whenever you hear from him. You want to be rid of all this jealousy over him still possibly seeing other people. You want to... spend the night in his arms one day, and wake up to him without worries or hesitation.

It's so hard and downright embarrassing to admit it, but you do kind of want that. But the main question is: can you have it?

Aoyama pushes your phone into your hands, "Do it. Before you have time to talk yourself out of it."

"You just want to listen in." You roll your eyes, scoffing when he only replies with a cheeky chuckle.

Staring at your phone in his outstretched hand for a few more seconds, you pout as you wonder... what really is the harm of making a phone call? It's not like you had any rules about it. Unspoken or otherwise.

But you can't deny that it would still be unusual, since it's been far more in character for you to run away instead of initiate. So this would be a rather bold declaration of your interest and feelings for him, wouldn't it? Are you really going to do this?

You look up and hold your gaze with Aoyama's delighted, sparkling eyes for another moment before letting out a sigh, "Can I have some of that wine first?"

"Oui carrément." He fills the other glass on the table for you.

Several minutes and twice as many sips later, you finally pull up Sero's contact. Then you stare at the number for a bit. This is so unnerving.

But Aoyama has a point. If you're going to do it, then just do it. Save yourself some time and create that moment for yourself.

So with a deep breath, you exhale and press the call button.

And it rings.

And rings...

And rings...

And—

Maybe he's busy. You didn't think of that. It's a Friday night, so you should have have considered that he'd have plans. He might not even touch his phone for the majority of the night, so maybe—

"Hello?"

You hope to god he didn't hear your sharp inhale through your nose when his voice came through. Holy shit, your heart just shot right up into your throat.

"H-Hi..." You say into your phone, wrinkling your nose when Aoyama gestures frantically for you to put him on speaker. You figure nothing strange should come out of this, so you suppose there's no harm in letting him listen in and help coach you through it.

"This is quite the surprise." His voice echoes loud enough through your phone for your friend to hear now, too. You can just hear him smiling all smug on the other end, "What's going on?"

"Uhm..."

Fuck.

What is going on?? You should've prepared something for this. Looking frantically over at Aoyama, you gesture at him for some kind of prompt.

Aoyama taps his wrist and points his chin at your phone.

"Just, well... are you busy right now?" You ask.

"I'm at Kaminari's place right now, but we're just chilling. Watching MMA and stuff. What's up? You missing me already?" He jokes.

"Shut up." You roll your eyes, positive than he knows you're doing it even if he can't see it.

But you see Aoyama looking at you with an anticipating sparkle in his eyes and you sigh quietly to yourself as you remember to stay on track. You can't just keep deflecting if you want to share your feelings.

"So... So what if I am?" You ask, more quietly than before. Almost in a rhetorical way.

And then there's silence on Sero's end.

Ugh, you don't like the sound of that. What is he thinking? You can't even begin to gauge the kind of face he might be making right now.

Eventually though, his voice pipes up again. And to both your relief and disdain, he laughs. A light, surprised laugh, it sounds like, but still a laugh... Does it amuse him...?

Ugh, this is embarrassing. Maybe you can't do this after all. And the wine isn't kicking in at all.

"Well, isn't this a treat? I get a call and you miss me? Suddenly makes me wanna ditch the guys and come see you instead." He chuckles, and you feel your heart flip in your chest. You quickly exchange excited gazes with Aoyama before Sero continues, lowering his voice, "You busy tonight, bella? I'll wait up for you if you wanna come over."

Suddenly, your jumping heart deflates at the question.

Right. He must assume that by "missing" him, you mean "horny." While you want to clear it up, you're not sure you want to have the conversation anymore while he's at someone else's place and trying to have a good time.

Yeah, you're supposed to be 'creating your own moment,' but there's always a way to curate a better one, isn't there? One where you can actually see his face and there aren't other people listening in... Ugh, why did you let Aoyama talk you into doing this again?

"Mm, not tonight. I'm actually at a friend's place, too." You say, "I'll see you some other time. I just wanted to call to..."

"To...?" Sero prompts when you trail off.

"To... Just to, uhm, to... tell you..." You gulp, eyes darting around for something to say before your eyes land on Aoyama gesturing with his hands covering his heart, making a dramatically yearning expression. And after scrambling for the words to say, you eventually blurt out, "Tu me manques."

"And what does that mean?" Sero asks curiously.

"N-Nothing. Never mind." You shake your head, chickening out. That was already harder than you thought. "Forget I said it. I'll just— tell you next time."

To your misfortune, you hear another laugh come through the phone, making your neck feel warm. But then, he says in a rather soft voice, "Say it again."

"What?"

"Say it again," he encourages, "If that's what you called me to tell me."

You hesitate, darting your eyes back to your meddlesome friend before you take a breath.

"Tu me manques." You say, somehow more tender than the first time.

I miss you.

And without thinking, you continue, "Je te manque?"

Do you miss me?

There's another pause, but it's eventually broken when you hear Sero hum deeply, "Man, I wish I could see you right now. I bet you're making the cutest face."

Now that gets your entire face warm. You're immediately on the defensive again with a cheeky retort, "Yeah, and you're probably already reaching for a camera somewhere."

He breaks out into a heartier laugh this time, "How'd you know?"

You scoff, "Tough as it is trying to figure out what you're really thinking all the time, it's not as hard to guess when you're gonna point a camera at me anymore."

Another pause, and then a more neutral voice when he asks, "You can't tell what I'm thinking most of the time?"

"How could I?" You say, almost sigh, "You're so unserious. I can never really tell if you're trying to have an actual conversation or if you're just setting me up for a line."

Okay, that came out a little more honestly than you were expecting. The wine must finally be kicking in. Fuck.

"I see..." Sero's voice trails off, sounding thoughtful before he picks right back up on that playful confidence, "Guess I can't help it with you. You're just that special, querida."

"Alright, I'm hanging up." You decide to cut off the conversation before it just becomes the usual useless banter. Not that you don't enjoy it on occasion, but it's not what you called him for tonight. You (sort of) said what you (sort of) needed to say. And you should stop before the wine makes you even more loose-lipped. "Good night, Sero."

He hums before asking in a hopeful voice, "See you soon?"

You hesitate, glancing quickly at Aoyama before answering, "Yeah. Bye."

You hang up before he can give you a reply, then immediate collapse into the couch, throwing your face back into the pillow for a muffled scream.

"Ahhh mon dieu..." You groan.

Aoyama allows you to lament for a minute before he eventually asks, "He often takes pictures of you?"

You sigh, turning to rest your cheek on the pillow to face him, "Yeah, he's something of a photographer... I couldn't tell you how many photos he's probably collected of me already."

"What kinds?"

"I dunno. Random things." You sit up, reaching around the couch for your bag, "Me eating, me laughing, me wearing his clothes or standing in his room... I have no idea what his 'artistic visions' are."

After digging around in your bag, you find and fish out the small polaroid photograph you had been keeping inside a compartment in your wallet, handing it to Aoyama to see.

"Oh, wow." He says with immediate intrigue, "When was this taken?"

"About two weeks ago? Maybe." You shrug.

You had been sharing a joint with Sero after a good hour of sex one afternoon. He was lying in his hammock while you were chilling in his bed, nothing but your undies and one of his t-shirts on. He had put one of his CDs on, and you two only occasionally exchanged a few words in the relaxed atmosphere.

At some point, he had taken out a polaroid camera from somewhere and called to you to "look up," which resulted in this photo of you, looking innocently sexy while you laid on your stomach in his bed. The blankets and sheets are wrinkled and gathered beneath you, hiding about half of your body, though your bare thigh and part of the band of your panties can still be seen. And you've got your chin tucked into one of his pillows that you had been hugging to keep your chest elevated.

"Why are you always sneaking photos of me?" You had scoffed at the time.

"I gotta document the most beautiful girl in the world while I have her with me." He said while he shook the polaroid in his hand.

"There you go again with that cheesy pickup line shit again." You groaned, rolling over onto your back so you could hide your expression from him.

"Roll your eyes at me all you want. That's really what I think." He had smiled before he showed you the picture.

You had to admit, it was a cute photo. You actually ended up liking it quite a bit, so he just gave it to you (after he took a digital photo of it to keep for himself...). Though now that you have it, you've had no idea what to do with it since then, so you've only kept it tucked away in your wallet.

"What's this written here?" Aoyama asks, pointing to the caption written into the bottom of the polaroid.

"It's the name of the band that we were listening to that day." You explain, "Come to think of it, he's done that a few times when I've stuck around to listen to music with him in his room. Maybe to document the 'vibe' of the photo that day or something."

"Hmmmmmm~" Aoyama nods as he drags out his hum before returning the photo to you, "I see. So you really are une idiot, ma chère."

"Me?! Why??" You burst, outraged.

"To be frank, I am not sure why you are so confused. He clearly is very smitten with you, based on your phone conversation and this evidence you've shown me." He gestures at the photo in your hand. "What exactly is making you hesitate?"

You groan as you slump back into the couch's seat cushions. "Honestly, that's what I'd like to know, too. I keep getting this feeling to be careful, but I can't tell if it's intuition or paranoia anymore."

Aoyama hums again as he refills both of your wine glasses, looking contemplative. While he's been pretty eager to hear about Sero so far, you wouldn't blame him if he also got sick of your shit by now. Cowardly as you are.

Eventually though, he says, "Well, there is a saying: Le cœur a ses raisons que la raison ne connaît point."

The heart has its reasons that reason itself does not know.

"Perhaps the storm in your heart is a sign to wait until it clears," He shrugs. But he sets down his wine, and his expression is very casual as he looks at you to say, "But if you have love to give, and you want to give it to him, then there is nothing wrong with running into the rain."

Your eyes widen, mind suddenly flashing back to that day that Sero just grabbed your hand and led you in a dash through the rain. And you remember... enjoying it. The wild spontaneity and simple joy from that moment still leaves a warm memory in your heart.

"Of course you might get hurt. You might get embarrassed, or used, or forgotten. That's never out ruled, no matter who it is." Aoyama continues, "But even if you get hurt, is it not worth trying to live and love to your best ability anyway?"

Slowly, you look up and blink at your rather wise-sounding friend, remembering why you value his input. He considers it in your perspective before he turns your expectations upside-down and tells you to follow your heart anyway. And while it may sound frivolous on the surface, you know that it's coming from a deeper place.

Polishing off the rest of your wine, you stare at the glass you set down for a few moments, thinking. Thinking about all of the worst possible outcomes that could happen if you tell Sero how much you like him, or possibly ask him to be serious with you. You recall all the suffering you went through the last time you tried to hold out for a playboy and wonder if Sero will be any different, or if you'll just have to learn the same lesson all over again.

You think about all of that, until eventually, you decide, "I guess it can't be worse than what I'm already putting myself through."

Aoyama smiles at you, this time, with a much more readable emotion: pride.

—

Sero calls you the very next evening, and you manage to pick up despite your shaky hands.

"Hello?"

"Hey, beautiful." He greets, "This a good time?"

"I'm just studying." You say, taking the opportunity to step away from your desk to refill your tea. "Finals are starting and all."

You exchange a bit of small talk while you get your hot water going, listening to his woes about all his essays and sharing a few struggles of your own with one of your group projects. But when the conversation comes to a natural lull, Sero picks back up with a new subject.

"Hey, about what you said yesterday, when you called me." He starts, "I wanna answer your question."

You spill the hot water a little too quickly into your mug before catching yourself and saving your skin from a burn, "M-My question?" you ask.

You mean when I called and asked if you missed me out of nowhere?!

"Yeah. Sorry I didn't get it the first time," he says humorously, "But if you wanna ask me again, I think I can answer properly this time."

"Did you get help from Yaoyorozu again?" You find yourself smiling a bit, imagining Sero asking his other French-speaking friend to help interpret your cryptic words from a surprise call.

"You don't think I could figure it out on my own? I'm a big boy." He teases.

"Are you?"

"Nah, Yaomomo definitely helped me." He chuckles, "But I meant it when I said I could answer this time."

You press your lips together as you watch your tea brew, the color saturating into the water like paint. Now that you've had a day to think about it, you're kind of embarrassed about that whole call. You went out of your way to call him to tell him about how you feel, yet you ran away to hide behind another language.

And yet, he went out of his way to ask someone for help just to find a way to answer you back. You're cringing at the thought of having to repeat what you said, but you can't really back out of it now that he's prepared some sort of response...

"You're really gonna make me say it again...?" You say.

"Did you not mean it?"

"N-no." You clarify immediately, "I— I meant it..."

"Ask me one more time, then. I wanna hear it again." He says in a soft voice.

You let out a slow sigh before relenting, "Okay... Tu me manques. Je te manque?"

I miss you. Do you miss me?

"Oui, je pense à toi tous les jours." He answers easily, and your breath gets caught in your throat.

Yes. I think about you every day.

You wait a few beats, staring at the steam now rising from your mug, trying to will the heat out of your cheeks. Trying to will your heartbeat to calm down.

"You called me just to say that?" You say.

"Oui~" He answers with his usual cheek.

You let out a sharp sigh as you shake your head, pulling the phone away from your mouth as you mutter to yourself, "Ce tombeur. Il me rends folle."

This fucking playboy. He's driving me crazy.

"What was that?" You hear Sero chuckling from your phone speakers.

"Nothing," you say, bringing the device back to your ear, "Just... that was actually pretty impressive."

"Merci." he hums before teasing, "But you know, if you're gonna tell me something like that, it'd be nice if I didn't have to go to Yaomomo first."

"I... didn't know that you'd think that hard about it." You admit.

"You call me first for the first time out of nowhere and you think I'm not gonna bust my fucking brain to understand what you said?" He says, actually sounding somewhat serious, "After you said it all shy and cute like that, too? Come on, [Name]."

"Shut up." You groan, face heating up again, "Did... Did you mean what you said, then? At first."

Do you really miss me? Do you actually think about me every day?

"Yeah. I did." He answers simply, like there's a smile on his face, "And I couldn't stop thinking about you after you called. I was so fucking happy."

"Y-you—" You almost choke from the way your heart jumps into your throat, "You were..." you say, skeptical.

"I was." He confirms, "And I'm pretty jazzed that I can call you up and talk to you like this right now, too."

What the heck is he doing, being so straightforward with you? He's answering your questions without his usual flirty misdirection or banter. And he's talking in a way that... you can't doubt his sincerity. He really does sound genuinely happy to just be talking to you on the phone like this.

Your heart can't stop flipping. Though while you appreciate the straight answers, you can't help but ask, "What is up with you today? This isn't like you. Getting straight to the point and sharing your feelings."

"You told me you that you can never figure out what I'm thinking." He says, making you suddenly recall a part of the conversation that you had forgotten.

You're so unserious. I can never really tell if you're trying to have an actual conversation or if you're just setting me up for a line.

"I always thought I was being pretty clear about it. But if you need me to say it, then I'll say it." He continues, "I really like you, [Name]. Like, a lot."

A gasp flies into your throat, meeting your heart halfway when it tries to jump out. Your chest is aching, and the blood is starting to pulse in your ears. Because— Did he really just say that??

"You're on my mind, like, all the time. And I've been trying to take it slow because I thought that was what you wanted. Since it was already hard enough to get your attention in the first place." He goes on, "But you're just so fucking cool, and funny, and interesting, and so, so pretty. It's hard not to want to keep you in my bed and hold you in my arms all night."

What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck is going on???!

Your heart is going crazy. And for some reason, it connects straight to your core that warms up when Sero mentions holding you in his arms through the night. How is he doing this to you while you're standing in your kitchen over a cooling mug of tea?? Is this some sort of advanced version of phone sex meant to rile you up emotionally?? You're going to go insane.

"You— I... I'm—"

Great. Now you can't speak either.

"[Name]?" Sero's voice reverberates through your ear, riding straight into your groin now. Why. How.

"Huh..." You drag out a sigh, struggling to figure out what you even want to say, trying to get your head out of your pussy, "Why are you telling me this all of a sudden?"

"I dunno." he admits, "After you called me yesterday, I just couldn't stop thinking about when I'd get to talk to you or see you again. Would've liked to tell you in person so I can see what kind of face you're making, but... now that I'm talking to you, it kinda just came out."

God. You're actually kind of thankful it turned out that way. Who knows what kind of teasing you'd have to endure if he saw whatever ridiculous expression you're making right now.

"But if I'm honest, I'm glad I told you. It's something I've been wanting to say for a while now." he says, voice going soft again.

You gulp as you marinate in his words, replaying them over and over in your head again. Getting lost in the storm in your chest as you think about them...

"I really like you. Like, a lot."

"You're on my mind, like, all the time."

"It's something I've been wanting to say for a while now."

For a while now...

How long is a 'while' exactly? You want to know so bad. You... kind of want to see his face too. See for yourself how sincere he's being. Because as much as you want to believe him, you can hardly believe that all your worries will be put to rest with just one phone call.

Summoning all of the calm and patience still remaining in you with a deep inhale, you say, "Okay. So when am I gonna see you again? You know, so you can tell me in person."

He lets out a little laugh, "I'd see you as soon as tonight if you'd let me."

"Tonight?" You laugh, trying to hide just how tempted you are to say yes, "I don't think that's a good idea. You know you're gonna distract me from all my schoolwork."

"Yeah, I definitely would not be above that." He chuckles with you, "But no pressure, baby. I'm still willing to take it as slow as you want."

While you feel reassured and appreciate the sentiment, you also find yourself impatient to finally have this conversation. Which is funny, since you were so afraid to do it for the past couple months. But if Sero actually meant all of that... you can't help but feel hope fluttering in your chest.

"I... I do want to see you though." you find yourself admitting, "Just maybe... after finals or something. Are you going to Yaoyorozu's holiday party?"

You heard about it from Ashido and Hagakure, and they said that Yaoyorozu would happily extend the invitation to you as well. And since it's their circle of friends, you're sure that Sero would be invited too.

"Agh... that's so far away." He whines a little, before switching back to his softer, sweet voice, "But sure thing, bella. Whatever you want. I'll talk to you soon."

"Alright." you agree with another deep breath, "G'night, Sero."

"Sweet dreams, [Name]." he lowers his voice and makes a kissing sound through the phone, "Voy a soñar contigo."

You hope he doesn't hear your sharp little intake of breath as you give him a last hum and hang up, before you can say something embarrassing or change your mind.

Studying is a lost cause for the rest of the night as you go about getting ready for bed and the rest of the week. All you can think about as you robotically maneuver around the apartment is all the things he said to you. Replaying every exchange of words in your mind over and over again until you're smiling into your own hands.

It isn't until you're tucked into bed and staring at the call log in your phone that you think about that last thing he said before hanging up:

I'll be dreaming of you.

Maybe you'll be doing the same.

—

tbc

edit: thank you (again) to mia @pageantdisaster for helping me out with the french!!

part 8

[distinguishedvoidkid]

Hidden (P4!)

TW Threats, blood (i wont put a cut cos i dont think it is too bad but if you know either of those things trigger you, maybe avoid this part?)

Aziraphale POV

I was led to a bland and white desk, unfurnished and dull. There were several stacks of paper, almost as tall as Crowley. Sorry... my bookshelves. Yes. I must get into this mindset before I get into trouble. Nevertheless, it was boring, so boring.

"Say, my good sir, would you mind if I popped back to Earth to grab a few trinkets from my bookshop? It's just my desk is a little... dull?" I offered hopefully. Maybe Crowley would still be there. Not that it mattered, right?

The Metatron grunted "How about you give me a list I can pass onto that lovely angel Muriel. I'm sure she would love to help"

"They," I grunted. "Muriel is a they. Anyways, I would prefer to-" The Metatron raised an eyebrow warningly. "I mean, it should be fine, I will get a hold of you when I have made a list."

The Metatron nodded curtly. I grabbed my notepad from my pocket and ripped out a page. I picked up a pen and wrote:

"Dearest Muriel,

I hope you are caring for my bookshop well. If you could, do not sell any of the books.

Would you mind delivering the following items to my desk in Heaven?"...

I listed a few things: oddities I had picked up during my time on Earth; souvenirs from my time with Crowley; a few of my favourite books. After subtly casting a miracle upon the paper, I handed the paper to the Metatron and he examined it suspiciously. "Well," he said. "Looks like there isn't any code. I am surprised- you have settled in well. Whilst you wait for your... human objects, I suggest getting some work done." The Metatron indicated the stack of paper on my desk.

"But- but will there not be more meetings, and practical work?" I enquired desperately. Forms and documents are so dreadfully boring.

"No-no, Aziraphale. Did I not tell you? Gabriel had been ignoring these files for many a decade; they need to be sorted ASAP, hmm?"

"R-right." I rolled my eyes as the man walked off. Thanks Gabriel. Incompetent brat as usual. I bet he was just flirting with that damned demon Beelzebub. All these forms would have taken minutes to do but you let it all stack up until you left the job. There had to be weeks of work here! Gosh, I am so irritated with him right now. I must compose myself if I am to get this done at all.

A little while later, fifty or so documents published, signed or posted, the Metatron returned.

"Hello Aziraphale! I see you are getting on well! I will leave your things here." He indicated a few boxes he had bought here. I nodded, and continued with the work, until I was sure he was gone.

My things! I had missed them so much. I unpacked the boxes, arranging everything exactly how I like it. Soon enough, my lonely desk in this blinding desert became more homely, although it could do with a certain demon as well. When I was unpacking the last few things, I noticed a scrap of paper. Is this what I think it is? I picked it up, curious and hopeful.

'Dear Mr Fell,

This is my first time writing a letter! It is very interesting and exciting, but I think the waiting for a response will not be as fun. Could we be 'pen pals'? I found out about them in a book in your shop.

I haven't sold any of your books. Mr Crowley told me not to earlier. He gave me a list of all the things to do to look after your wonderful bookshop, actually! I hope if you ever come back to it it will look like I was never even there. But clean still. Not dusty. Haha!

Your other message only appeared when I sat down at your desk, that was clever! I'm guessing you don't want anyone else reading that bit. I don't know where Crowley went but thank you for his mobile number. I have messaged him (Heaven gave me a 'phone' to look normal on Earth but it works to message) but he has not seen it yet...

I will do the other thing next week, that's when the next security angel meeting is (whatever that is).

Lots of love from

Muriel'

This was all adding up. Only a week of this. It's not like I haven't spent a week without Crowley before. It will be fine! Just do a bit of work. Actual. Real. Work. No food, distractions or places to go. Just get it done. This is going to be dull.

All of a sudden, I felt a sharp pain in my forearm. It was like someone was slicing into it, in fact there were marks, almost... knife cuts? I wasn't sure. I was bleeding, a lot and a few chunks of flesh clumped out of my arm. But there was no sharp object, no other people. Had Heaven somehow got hold of my request to Muriel? I desperately miracled a bandage to wrap around my arms, shaking. What was happening?

[inkedinshadows]

ho ho ho!! (Santa's back, baby!) I'm sorry it's been a little bit since I've reached out, friend! would have to say that I 100% agree with your take on elain as Cassandra, and I love everything you have to say about elain and az! they're just so perfect, aren't they? I did have a super fun idea for your gift though...if I were to get some work done on it, how would you feel about a wip wednesday next week? anyways, four questions for you!

kind of like I asked earlier, but would you want wip snippets/a synopsis before you get your gift? how much do you want to know about it? some things must remain secret, but how secretive would you like me to be?

you said in an ask a little bit ago that you have a few headcanons for az and elain. can I ask what another one is?

do you prefer one-shot or multi-chapter fics? I'm deciding between squishing everything together or breaking it up into three chunks: do you have a preference?

fun question of the day! what's the best book you've read recently? (or, if you haven't read a book recently, what is the best content you've consumed?)

that's all for now!!! thank you so much for being patient with me :) see you SO soon, I promise <3

Hiii! Don't worry about disappearing. Life gets busy, I get it. But I'm so happy you're back with questions bc I love answering them! I smile like an idiot every time I see your asks haha

Ohh already next week? I'm so excited about it! Maybe not a synopsis but snippets? I think it'd be more fun to read them and try to figure out the synopsis on my own, and it'd also be a fun way of revealing just enough and keeping the rest a secret? I love being teased tbh

I am a sucker for forehead kisses. Cutest thing someone could ever do. And I have this hc of Azriel always kissing Elain's forehead (or temple if she's next to him). And I mean ALWAYS. Goodnight, goodbye, when he comes back home, if wakes up before her, for no reason at all. He just loves to do it and watch her smile. And then maybe one day Elain kisses his forehead too because she loves when he does it to her, and Azriel turns completely red with a little shy smile and a questioning look because she usually just kisses his cheek (again, she does that very often). And so Elain makes a point of kissing his forehead every time he's sitting down (otherwise he's too tall lol). I guess my point is, I think their love language would be physical touch (and quality time).

First of all, what do you mean THREE chunks?! Omg that's so long, I can't believe you're doing this for me, I love you 🥺🥺 I think I'd prefer the three chunks, honestly. I usually prefer one-shots, but if they're too long than yeah, multi-parts. Unless of course you think it's better to keep it all together.

Okay so... I'm guilty of not having read anything since July I think? I just got into a reading slump and started ACOTAR again a few days ago to get out of it. But the last book I read was Empire of the Damned by Jay Kristoff and it's a freaking masterpiece. He's my favorite writer so I might be biased, but damn that book was SO good and I think about it on a daily basis. That's probably why I haven't read anything since. It did rip my heart out and made me cry all my tears and now I have to wait at least one year for the third book to be published, but love me some pain.

I might have talked too much again, sorry Santa. I just love you and your questions 🥰

[yunhoiseyecandy]

✕ 𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐞; 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞

✕ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞; 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭

✕ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠; 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐣𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠 ◆ 𝐟.𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

✕ 𝐰/𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭; 𝐧𝐨 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐧

✕ 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬; 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐣𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠, 𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥- 𝐟.𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐧𝐨 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 - 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐬𝐚𝐟𝐞

[𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭]

 happy birthday, @hanatiny !!! a big thanks to @barnesbabee​ for giving me the plot for this story

─────

it was like a constant cycle

he goes to work, deems his workers' articles unworthy of being published, and then drives home late in the night only to be greeted by the emptiness of his home.

and he was starting to lose his mind

he needed a change in his schedule, like an escape from the real world. it’s normal to grow a need to leave a place you’ve grown to get tired from after so long.

the only thing closest to an escape for him would have to be sarah, his assistant at work. but he can’t remember the last time she’s made him feel something. 

it started out as fuck buddies, but hongjoong soon got bored of her. she wasn’t into the things that he was, which made hongjoong confused because she said she liked it rough.

and it’s not like he did anything that she wouldn’t want, he made sure to respect her boundaries. but he was tired of being vanilla, so he opted to do the one thing he never thought he’d do,

sign up as sugar daddy

“mingi, are you sure this is a good idea?” hongjoong said, his thumbs swiping up and down the screen of his phone. they’ve had no luck so far, only finding sketchy accounts that seem to be run by bots. “Yeah, I mean I got olivia from this app.”

“that doesn’t mean shit, dude.” san chuckled, slapping mingi upside the head. online dating is one thing, but finding a sugar baby who only really wants money is another. 

it was hard finding someone who wasn’t only there for money, and he knew it would probably take a while before he found someone, considering money is the only reason they even had an account.

he wanted someone to take care of, to get his mind away from work and only focus on the way she felt wrapped around him, focusing on the sharp gasps for air that left her mouth.

“guys, I think we should just give up alread-”

san snatched hongjoong’s phone from mingi’s hand, motioning towards him with a wide smirk on his face. “I think you’ll like her. read the description.”

hongjoong laughed, surprised at how excited san seemed to be. he looked down at his phone, mouth agape at the words on screen. he’d never seen someone as intriguing as you, and the white lace you had on only made it harder for him to not press message right then and there.

introduction

hey baby, my name’s rose. are you my next sugar daddy? I’m 22 years old, and I’m looking for someone who always has time for me. 

what are my interests?

I love painting, and photography is a close second on my favorites. I’m open to just about anything, so I don’t mind it if we have different hobbies.

hard no’s in bed?

nope, I’m open to anything and everything. maybe even a little bit of pain..

"you can breath if you want." san said, and hongjoong scoffed at the younger ones words.

he couldn't peel his eyes away from the screen, you were just too pretty. and he knew he had to have you.

"you guys can leave now, I think we're done here."

—

as soon as he saw you walk into the restaurant, he knew this was going to be a long night.

you had on a black dress with small slits on the side of it that made him want to bend you over the table you two were about to eat on.

he stood up from his seat to greet you, pulling out your chair and gesturing you to sit. "you look beautiful, rose."

he really didn't know what else to say, and the words left his mouth so effortlessly.

you couldn't lie that he looked more than handsome, and you felt slightly intimidated by the look in his eyes.

"thank you. and you look really nice, too."

it was a long and comfortable evening, but you couldn't help but tease him every now and then.

sometimes by going to "grab a napkin", but just using it as an excuse to show off your cleavage. or even going as far as to flirt with the waiter, slightly touched their arm when they would bring a new glass of water.

hongjoong lost it when you both had ordered dessert, and you decided it would be a good idea to suck the chocolate off the spoon while looking right in his eyes.

you loved his reactions, and you could tell you'd be in for it tonight. but after all, that was your whole plan.

this seemed different than all of your other sugar daddy's. he was genuinely interested in you, and not only for the sex. even though, you wouldn't mind it if he was.

"I can tell what you're doing, and you might want to stop while you can," he said, leaning in towards you.

you smirked at him, tilting your head to the side. "I don't think I understand what you mean, hongjoong."

scoffing, he waved down the host to bring the check. "I doubt that, sweetheart."

—

maybe teasing him was a bad idea. because as soon as you walked through the front door of his apartment he had your clothes scattered across the floor, already leading you to his room and on the bed.

“what’s your name, baby?” his voice was deep as he whispered into your ear, biting down on the shell of it as he sat you on his lap.

you leaned back, hands resting on his chest. “rose, I thought you knew?”

he chuckled, “no, you’re real name.”

you didn’t know what to say to him. no one has ever asked you for your real name, let alone care enough to ask if rose was your actual one. you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face when he brushed his hand against your cheek, feeling the warmth through his actions.

you hesitated, leaning back into his touch. “it’s y/n..” 

your lips brushed against his as you spoke, and you could taste the chocolate ice cream from earlier on them. 

he hummed, his hands running up and down your body before he placed his thumb on your lip, trapping your jaw between his pointer finger and thumb. it was a soft movement, and it took your body by surprise when he tilted your head to the side so he could place wet, hot kisses all over your chest.

no one has ever done that before, and you loved the rush it gave your body. you tried your hardest to keep your legs from closing around his waist, but your underwear was starting to rub against you in a way that had your mouth closing to keep any noises from escaping your mouth.

“mhm, y/n,” he groaned into your skin. it was a beautiful name, and he thought it fit you all too well.

maybe it was the way he felt your wetness when you brushed against his shirt that had him flip you over, or it could’ve been because of the lingerie you had on. but he needed to hear you, taste you, anything that would have you screaming his name over and over again. 

you gasped when he un-clipped your bra and pulled it off, tossing it on the ground and getting on his knees in front of you. 

“I’ve been trying to picture how you’d look like this,” his hands ran up your legs, pushing them apart, “but nothing that I’ve imagined could ever compare to the view I have right now.”

your hands gripped the sheets beneath you as you took in everything. his lips as he dragged them up your thighs, the way his fingers teased the hem of your panties. and the way his eyes never once left yours. 

“hongjoong,” you moaned as you felt him pull your underwear from your body as he returned back to his previous place. “please just do something already.”

he teased you, kissing right above where you needed him the most. he'd usually tease you since that's what you'd done to him. but right now there's no time for that.

he pressed the flat of his tongue against your clit, flicking up into it and moaning around you. your head dropped back, and you couldn't help the whine the left your mouth.

"fuck, right there."

he made sure to take his time with you, wanting to make you come more than once tonight. his movements were slow at first, but they got faster with every moan you let past your lips.

his lips parted from your core, slipping a finger in you and groaning at how wet you were. "you taste so good,"

he felt you clench around him, and he easily slipped in another finger while watching your mouth drop open again.

his mouth found its way back to your clit as he sucked on it hard, curling his fingers to push you over the edge.

"h-hongjoong!" you clenched one last time around his fingers, feeling yourself tense up when his teeth grazed your clit.

he sat up slowly, enjoying your fucked out face more than he should. and as pretty as you looked right now, he wanted to see tears streaming down your face while making you come.

you were already tired and he hasn't even fucked you yet, so to say you were excited would be an understatement.

without warning, he flipped you onto your stomach and spread your thighs apart, pulling his boxers down.

his hand grabbed the base of his cock and he dragged it up your core, his knees digging into the matress behind you.

he pushed in slowly, making sure you were comfortable and not in pain. your eyes fluttered closed at your good he felt, and you clenched tightly around him when his finger moved to draw circles around your clit.

just like earlier, his strokes were slow. but with every passing moment his hips seemed to have a mind of their own and his place quickened.

you felt one of his hands press on the small of your back, pushing you into the matress.

the angle that you were at now had you screaming his name, and you could feel his cock hit all the places your fingers never could.

he made a warmth spread through your body when he angled his hips a certain way, hitting that one spot inside of you that made a silent scream come out.

"you close, baby? gonna make a mess on my cock?"

you couldn't tell if it was because of your previous orgasm, but you came as soon as those words left his mouth, nail ripping the bed sheets as you came around him.

hongjoong's head fell back as you came, his bangs sticking to his forehead from all the sweat he's built up.

it wasn't long after you came that he pulled out, ropes of his cum lining your back as he took in the view.

you slumped onto the bed legs giving out while he went to the bathroom and turned the shower on.

never in his life has he ever taken a shower with someone, only grabbing a wet towel to clean them up. but this felt different, and he felt the need to pamper you after all the stress he's put on your body.

"can you walk, baby, or do you want me to carry you?"

─────

[frankiefellinlove]

THE STEVIE FILES PROUDLY PRESENTS - THE AMAZING ROCK & ROLL ODYSSEY OF STEVEN VAN ZANDT

From The Source to Soulfire via Springsteen and Sam & Dave

Recorded, transcribed, edited, written, produced, mixed and mastered by MIKE SAUNDERS

SIDE TWO (1975-1983)

Track 6: Miami Steve, The Asbury Jukes, Tenth Avenue and Hammersmith

In early 1975, Steven returned to New Jersey from Florida, inappropriately dressed for the winter weather. “I came back with the flowered shirts and the Sam Snead hat and continued wearing them in the snow.” For the next seven years, he was known as Miami Steve. He joined Southside in the Blackberry Booze Band and within weeks they’d altered and expanded its line-up (adding keyboard player Kevin Kavanaugh from Middletown and bass player Alan Berger from The Dovells’ backing band), transformed its musical direction, changed its name to Southside Johnny and the Asbury Jukes (referencing their mutual hero Little Walter’s band and first single release) and established a successful three-nights-a-week, five-sets-a-night residency at the Stone Pony in Asbury Park.

“Just before that, me, Southside, Bruce and Garry went to see Sam & Dave. A life-changing moment. So me and Southside basically decided we were gonna be the white Sam & Dave, with rock guitar. So the horns came in and although we didn’t know it, we would change the entire concept of what a bar band sounded like and the respect a bar band would get by making it creative, soul meets rock. ‘Bar band’ was an insult. ‘You’re a bar band,’ which means you can’t make it in the real music world. After the Jukes, they started using ‘bar band’ in reviews and they meant it as a compliment, with Graham Parker and Elvis Costello and Mink DeVille. We changed the way people thought about these things.”

The Miami Horns were a vital component of the new band. Steven composed the horn arrangements, but although he’s always possessed a natural ability to imagine horn parts, he doesn’t read or write music (“never have”) and has always required a little help from his friends to transcribe them. “I have people write ‘em down, to this day. I like that actually. You have to do a lotta things yourself so any excuse I find to collaborate I do it. I find other people will bring something to the party usually. That’s why [I’ve] used Eddie Manion for I don’t know how many years. He knows how I like to voice things. Once I think of something and create the parts, I get bored if I have to voice every part, exactly right. If I hear a voicing I don’t like, I will change it, but I get bored by the mechanics of everything.”

While the Jukes were building their reputation and growing their audience, Bruce invited Steven to hang out at the Born To Run sessions in New York, where he was working on “Tenth Avenue Freeze-Out.” David Sanborn and The Brecker Brothers had been hired to play the horn parts, but Steven created a spontaneous new arrangement. He’s told this anecdote countless times, but I ask him to repeat it because it provides perfect examples of his innate musical talents in action (“I can hear the parts, who knows why?”), the nature of his friendship with Bruce (“I still am the only human being not afraid of him”), and his no-bullshit attitude (“I didn’t know anything about diplomacy”).

“So he says, ‘Whaddya think?’ I said, ‘It sucks, that’s what I think!’ I didn’t know how uptight everybody was. I didn’t give a fuck either. The managers and producers were all afraid of him already. He asked me a question, I’m gonna be honest. I’m trying to help my friend here, not make points with some fucking record company guy. Moment of silence. ‘He just said it sucks, which means we all suck.’ Bruce [says] ‘Alright then, go in and fucking fix it.’ So I did. I went in and sang the [new] parts. I didn’t know they were the most famous [session] guys in New York. It wasn’t insulting them, the chart was ridiculous. That was my thing, just from the Jukes being around maybe six months.”

“I wasn’t really feeling the pressure that Bruce was at the time. I didn’t realise his life depended on this album. His first two records hadn’t done very well. They wanted to drop him. I don’t know how aware I was of any of that. He invited me into the session and I’m laying on the floor. All I can think is, we’ve been hoping to get into recording our whole lives, I’m listening to this and it sounds fucking terrible. Not just the horn charts, everything. It was the worst period of recording in history. Virtually every record from the 50s and 60s sounded great, virtually every record from the early 70s sounded terrible. Because engineers took over, started close miking, padding the walls. Separation, separation, separation, all the things that make rock ‘n’ roll suck. The idea was, you isolate everything and make it sound exciting in the mix. Which they managed to do, miraculously, with the Born To Run album. Because it was pieced together in a bizarre way. Bruce made that record 100% out of willpower, he willed that into existence!”

Soon after making his instinctive artistic contribution (and singing backing vocals on “Thunder Road”), Steven was invited to join the E Street Band. It was a chance to complete the circle, play with his old friend again and settle any unfinished business from three summers earlier, when he’d been sent packing at the Greetings sessions. He made his live debut on the opening night of the Born To Run tour, which ran until New Year’s Eve. His input and influence over the next decade, onstage and off, would prove invaluable. (Bruce even began playing The Dovells’ “You Can’t Sit Down” as an occasional encore). In the fall, the tour took everyone to Europe for the first time, where the culture shock was off the charts. “There was no hamburgers, no peanut butter. The only place you could get a hamburger in the whole of Europe was the newly-opened first Hard Rock Café. There was a line around the block even then.”

Culinary deficiencies aside, Bruce also had to endure the overblown hype surrounding his first UK gigs at London’s Hammersmith Odeon, where Columbia had displayed the legend “Finally London Is Ready For Bruce Springsteen” on every available surface prior to his arrival. “[It was] completely obnoxious,” says Steven. “[Bruce] spent half the time ripping down posters. It was an embarrassing time for him, between that and Time and Newsweek. He didn’t like that stuff. You wanna be in charge of your life, that’s why we get into rock ‘n’ roll. Suddenly it was slipping out of his control. We made the mistake of playing a place with seats. It just made the show that much harder. But by the end, we got ‘em outta the seats. We went to Amsterdam, Stockholm, and back to London. The second one was a bit easier.” The experience had a prolonged effect on Bruce. “He was uptight in those days and would remain so through Darkness into The River, until he asked me to produce the record and we found a way to have some fun.”

Track 7: Epic Records, Steve Popovich and The Stone Pony

Back on the shore, Southside Johnny and the Asbury Jukes continued the Stone Pony residency throughout 1975, gradually consolidating their line-up. For the next three years, between Springsteen commitments, Steven worked as their producer, arranger, manager, part-time guitarist and principal songwriter. In early 1976, after circulating a demo tape, they signed a recording deal with Epic, with assistance from Steve Popovich, the label’s Vice-President of A&R. “I Don’t Want To Go Home,” the song that Steven had kept in his back pocket since his days on the oldies circuit, became the title track of their debut album and their first single. Ben E King’s loss was Southside’s gain.

“I produced [the song] in a way which was appropriate for the Jukes. They didn’t have a big background vocal thing going on,” explains Steven. “I was very conscious of being able to try and do most of it live, although I put strings on it, on my very first production! There was no synthesiser in those days that could play strings. That’s why I re-cut it [on Soulfire] the original way I pictured it, with the singer and background vocals answering. That idea of writing for someone else is extremely important, critical and essential. It changes the way you write completely, from when you think of writing for yourself, which is extraordinarily complicated and confusing. It’s not easy, but easier, to write for someone else. There’s their identity in your mind at least. I’m writing them a song. That’s a wonderful exercise for songwriters.” I Don’t Want To Go Home was released in the summer of 1976 (“I’ve never received one penny of royalties, but whatever!”). The Jukes later began their first national tour and made their European debut in 1977.

Recommended by Bruce, Steve Popovich was one of a kind. “The last of the real music guys in the business. The only other person I can compare him to would be Lance Freed on the publishing side, who’s unique. He’s actually into music and songwriting and the things you’re supposed to be into when you have a job description like that. And Frank Barsalona, the only agent who really did his job and would set the standard for everybody to follow. Those three guys, really quite historic. [It was] Popovich’s idea to launch the record with a broadcast from the Stone Pony. Never been done before. Popovich loved the local scene idea and he largely made it happen. It never would have been recognised nationally, I don’t think, if it hadn’t been for Popovich, who had the vision to say it’s cool if you’re not from New York. Rather than being embarrassed if you’re not from New York, LA or Nashville, it’s actually cool.”

Track 8: Production Credits and Political Awakening

Steven developed his talents as a producer and songwriter with the Jukes in the late 70s, following I Don’t Want To Go Home with This Time It’s For Real and Hearts Of Stone. Successive releases featured greater quantities of his original material, which included “I Played The Fool,” “This Time Baby’s Gone For Good,” “Take It Inside” and “Some Things Just Don’t Change,” apparently written for another of his heroes, David Ruffin of The Temptations. During this period, he also produced the “Say Goodbye To Hollywood” single for Ronnie Spector and the E Street Band and provided production assistance on Darkness On The Edge Of Town. His relationship with the Jukes ended when they left Epic for Mercury in 1979 and he went on to co-produce The River and two comeback albums for Gary US Bonds, Dedication and On The Line. It was an impressive fast-track apprenticeship. Steven had no production experience when he began. He acquired the skills and learned from his mistakes in the studio. “That’s why all three Jukes albums are different,” he says. “By the time we did The River, I knew what I wanted to do. I got it all down by then. That’s how I tend to do things. I can picture what I want. Jump in, do it, let’s see what happens.”

Steven also kept his promise to himself to bring his musical heroes out of obscurity, initially as guests on the first two Jukes albums. “I did what I could, but I wanted to do so much more,” he admits. “First time I get in a studio, got Lee Dorsey out from under a car, where he’s a mechanic. Got Ronnie Spector out of retirement. Second album, we reunited The Coasters, Drifters and Five Satins. Me and Bruce worked with Gary Bonds. We got Ben E King and Chuck Jackson on that record. Those artists had a talent level noticeably above everybody that followed. I wish I’d been insistent on doing more of them. In those [early] days, you actually had to have talent to make records. You had to be able to sing a song, beginning to end, perfectly in tune, perfectly the right melody, and if you fuck up one word, you gotta do the whole thing again. Couldn’t do enough for those people, they were so much fun to produce.”

In addition to his studio accomplishments, Steven played more than 300 shows with Bruce and the E Street Band between 1976 and 1981, primarily on the Darkness On The Edge Of Town and River tours. The majority took place in North America, but the River tour included a European leg that took the band away from home and out of their comfort zone for nine weeks. Much longer than their previous visit in 1975, it was their first significant experience of foreign countries, languages, cultures and political perspectives. They received rave reviews wherever they played, but Steven gradually became aware that not all Europeans viewed the United States in a favourable light.

One particular encounter was pivotal in dramatically reshaping Steven’s worldview. “A kid asked me, ‘Why are you putting missiles in my country?’ I said, ‘I’m not, I’m a guitar player.’ I realised, for the first time in my life, at the age of 30 I’m embarrassed to say, that I’m an American. What the fuck does that mean? I managed to grow up in the middle of civil rights, the Vietnam War, demonstrations about every fucking thing and had no interest in any of it. Amazing when you think about it. Redefining tunnel vision. Suddenly, the tunnel is gone. We’re now successful. Who would have ever figured that would happen, right? Now it’s like, uh-oh, what did I miss, the last 20 years?”

Track 9: Men Without Women, Motown and Mixing In Mono

This revelation accelerated Steven’s growing political awareness, one of two important developments in 1981 that would change the course of his life forever. The second came when he returned from Europe and was approached by EMI America about making a solo album. Having spent six years producing and writing for others, he welcomed the opportunity to have his own creative outlet, which soon expanded into a separate career. In the fall, he enlisted musicians from the E Street Band and the Asbury Jukes to record most of the material for his debut album, Men Without Women, using his established rock-meets-soul sonic blueprint. Including “Lyin’ In A Bed Of Fire,” “Princess Of Little Italy,” “Angel Eyes” and “Until The Good Is Gone,” it remains an undisputed career highlight for Van Zandt devotees, but Steven feels that an outside producer might have helped him make a more commercial record.

“Conventional wisdom is you never should produce yourself and I have to say that’s correct. The only exception I can think of in the history of the business was Prince, who was an extraordinary genius, but other than him, I don’t know anybody who successfully produces themselves.” Describing himself as “extremely schizophrenic, I’m twelve different people, never mind two,” Steven explains how his inner producer failed to control the whims of his inner artist. “Without knowing it, the artist takes over. I was into this extreme naturalism, no logical reason why. I did the whole album live in one day. Came back the second day, did it again, beginning to end. Couple overdubs, that was it. There’s one guitar. The horns aren’t doubled. Nothing’s doubled. Bruce did all the harmony on that record but we couldn’t use his name. We [did] a similar thing with Born In The USA, where we just recorded live in the studio.”

“I made Bob Clearmountain mix ‘Forever’ in mono, to try and achieve the perfect Motown record. It’s never gonna be exact and it shouldn’t be exact, why should it be, but I wanted to capture a Smokey Robinson Motown record. The only way I could do that in my mind was to make it completely mono. He was so good in those days. I mean Bob’s still the best, but in those days he was beyond the best. He was something else when it came down to that Neve board that wasn’t automated, and he’s feelin’ those faders. I made him do something he’d never done before, which requires a whole different way of thinking. You’re now thinking depth-wise and vertically, not horizontally.”

“That’s where my head was at. Can I achieve the emotional communication that my heroes had provided me? My heroes being Motown in general, 10 acts there. Or my heroes at Chess, another 10 acts. Sam Phillips did ‘Rocket 88’ for Ike Turner (Jackie Brenston) and ‘How Many More Years’ for Howlin’ Wolf, three years before Elvis Presley. Unbelievable genius. [I’m] trying to achieve that level of quality in my own world, in my own little bubble, which has these ridiculously high standards. I’m absorbing the 50s and 60s and then trying to integrate them in my head and reproduce them in my own way, not the least bit interested in what’s going on in the 70s or 80s certainly, because it was shit to me, comparatively. An interesting moment here and there. Punk was certainly interesting. But mostly it’s all coming from what I call the renaissance period, ‘51 to ‘71, where it all was created. And that’s true to this day. That’s all I was interested in and that was enough for 10 lifetimes. I didn’t need another bit of input after 1972.”

Track 10: Little Steven, Little Richard and Bob Dylan

In 1982, after recording with Bruce and Gary US Bonds, Steven completed his album, formed the Disciples of Soul (which included Dino Danelli from The Rascals on drums, Jean Beauvoir on bass and Eddie Manion, Mark Pender, Stan Harrison and La Bamba on horns) and played a debut concert at New York’s Peppermint Lounge. Released in October, a month after Nebraska, Men Without Women preceded his first national tour and was credited to his new professional name of Little Steven, which would be used for all future solo activities. “I just wanted separation [from] being the sideman,” he explains. “Each of my personalities required a different name, in order to keep it straight in people’s heads and my own head.” The name referenced his early heroes Little Walter, Little Anthony and Little Richard. In his role as an ordained minister, the latter officiated at Steven’s wedding to Maureen Santoro in New York on New Year’s Eve. Percy Sledge sang “When A Man Loves A Woman” as they walked down the aisle and the reception included performances from Gary US Bonds, Little Milton, The Chambers Brothers and the wedding band from The Godfather. “Little Anthony was doing a cruise at the time or he would have been there.”

“All I can think is, we’ve been hoping to get into recording our whole lives, I’m listening to this and it sounds fucking terrible. Not just the horn charts, everything. It was the worst period of recording in history. Virtually every record from the 50s and 60s sounded great, virtually every record from the early 70s sounded terrible. Because engineers took over, started close miking, padding the walls. Separation, separation, separation, all the things that make rock ‘n’ roll suck. The idea was, you isolate everything and make it sound exciting in the mix. Which they managed to do, miraculously, with the Born To Run album. Because it was pieced together in a bizarre way. Bruce made that record 100% out of willpower, he willed that into existence!”

Steven toured internationally in 1983, then dropped the horns, adopted a more contemporary rock sound and made his second album, Voice Of America. It was an explicitly political record that featured “Solidarity,” “I Am A Patriot,” “Out Of The Darkness,” “Los Desaparecidos” and “Undefeated.” Triggered by his River tour experiences in Europe, this radical transformation was completed with a long period of self-education. “I read every book about post World War Two [US] foreign policy. [It was] shocking how often we were on the wrong side. All of these bad things were happening behind the scenes and nobody was talking about them. No political consciousness whatsoever in the country. I decided I have an obligation to say something about this stuff that we’re all paying for with our taxes.”

“Being conscious of the fact that everybody needs their own identity, I figured who the hell needs another love song from a fucking sideman? I’ll be the political guy. Nobody else is doing it. There were people demonstrating of course. Jackson Browne, John Hall, Bonnie Raitt, Graham Nash, those guys. The Grateful Dead were doing a benefit every week, but rarely did it end up in the work. In general, people weren’t putting much politics into the lyrics of their songs.” For artists with commercial aspirations, he concedes, that’s a smart move. “Jefferson Airplane being an exception with ‘Volunteers.’ Big exception, Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young, with Neil Young’s ‘Ohio.’”

Steven contends that Bob Dylan’s “Subterranean Homesick Blues” introduced the idea of political consciousness in rock ‘n’ roll. “His first electric song. It’s not given enough credit. The first sentence from Bob Dylan’s electric period, ‘Johnny’s in the basement mixing up the medicine, I’m on the pavement thinking about the government.’ What? You’re doing what? You’re thinking about the government? Excuse me? Who does that? Whoever did that before, in a song, no less? There in that one sentence, Bob Dylan communicated what his entire career was gonna be about, which was having fun with language, with inference, symbolism, metaphor and nonsense lyrics that rhymed. ‘Johnny’s in the basement mixing up the medicine,’ what does that mean? It means whatever you want it to mean, right? Then ‘I’m on the pavement thinking about the government.’ Holy shit! You mean we’re supposed to figure out the government? That, to me, is the most important sentence in all the history of rock ‘n’ roll, right there.”

All photos below by Mike Saunders

[imaginesandinserts]

Irreverent Pt. 35 - The Fifth

Title: Irreverent Pt. 35 - The Fifth Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader Rating: M Words: 5130

Irreverent Series Masterlist

It's the middle of the night after a long case away involving a family annihilator, after which you and Aaron had picked up Jack and more or less collapsed into bed from sheer exhaustion. You're woken up suddenly and for a second you're not sure why until you feel Aaron shift erratically behind you. You turn slowly towards him to see his face contorted and a thin layer of sweat covering his brow. He's having a nightmare, and knowing everything he's been through, you can only imagine what it's about.

Reaching out slowly, so as to not startle him, you softly shake him. "Aaron, honey, wake up." It takes a bit more shaking to really get him out of his sleep. He wakes with a start and a shout and you worry he'll wake Jack. "Shh, it's okay, you're okay." Your hands are running over his chest and face, trying to help him calm down.

Aaron had been having the Foyet dream again. The dream where he's driving and driving and he hears Haley and he hears Jack, except now it's not just them, it's also you. He's driving and the car isn't moving fast enough and he hears that first gunshot that hits Haley. He hears yours voice - your voice asking him why he didn't make the deal, your voice telling him to hurry - and then a second gunshot.

He's shaking as he realizes that he's in bed, that you're there, and reasonably he knows that Jack is in his room down the hall. You're saying something and he's nodding but not sure what he's saying yes to. He feels cold and clammy and your hands are softly brushing back his hair as his breathing starts to become normal again. From the nightstand, you'd grabbed the glass of water and are handing it to him, your hand cupping his as he brings it up to his mouth.

"You're okay, you're alright. Everything's okay. Jack's alright. It's okay."

He nods, hearing you this time, and allows you to help him lay down, his head against your chest and your hands running over his arms and through his hair. It's helping. Reminding him. Grounding him. This is the first time he's had someone around for this nightmare. He's used to waking up alone and then getting up to check on Jack - just in case. But he has your voice in his ear, assuring him that Jack is alright.

He closes his eyes and focuses on the steady beat of your heart.

You're there.

You're there.

You're there.

*------------*

It had been a short case and it had ended relatively well all things considered - the Unsub was apprehended before he got his hands on his next victim. Sometimes you just take the wins you're handed, and so the team had flown out of Phoenix in good spirits, looking forward to a long weekend off. Rossi had already planned a barbeque at his place on Sunday and you and Aaron had plans to take Jack to the new Dinosaur exhibit at the Smithsonian on Saturday. Monday - if you all made it that far without a case - would be dedicated to introducing Jack to the Toy Story series. You'd ordered him a little Woody outfit and toy as a surprise and just received the notification that it was delivered, so it was perfect timing really.

"I'm just saying, he wasn't too far off the mark," you hear Spencer's voice as you're sitting sideways on the couch, your legs in his lap.

The latest Unsub had formed unhealthy attachments with women who he helped provide tech support to, so the conversation had turned to that again, as far as you could tell. JJ thought it was creepy how the guy had essentially used his access to the customer log to stalk his victims that fit his fantasy and the two of them had been talking it over as she was typing out her report. Her and Will had plans for tomorrow and you knew she wanted to get home early tonight so was doing her best to wrap up her work before you even landed.

You debated starting yours too as you saw that Hotch was working on some paper work as well. Emily and Derek however were sitting and chatting about something or the other and Rossi was reading a newspaper. Who did that anymore? You really needed to introduce him to a kindle or something. Maybe for Christmas. Then again he's a published author. He might take offense at having the feel of a real book be replaced with technology.

You decided to join JJ and Spencer's conversation - maybe you'd learn something to add to your report that you would type soon and not wait to do until after you landed. Of course not.

"What're you guys talking about, Spence?"

"I'm just trying to explain to JJ, that while the Unsub might have gone about it in an unorthodox manner," you hear JJ scoff at Spencer's description of the murders, "he wasn't wrong about the initial premise."

"Which is?" you prompted, trying to take mental notes at the least.

"That many people find love through work - be it a customer, client, or coworker. We spend at minimum, 40% of our waking hours at work. Add in the fact that many people tie their work to a facet of their identity, it makes sense that relationships formed in workplace settings have a high degree of success."

You nod along, taking a drink from the bottle of sparkling water you'd grabbed earlier.

"I mean, just look at you and Hotch - you two seem to be making it work."

You felt yourself choke on the water and cough, enough to get everyone's attention. No. You'd misheard. He hadn't said that. Why was it so quiet on the plane all of a sudden? They're all looking at you. You and Hotch. Emily and Derek had entirely stopped talking. Rossi had put down his paper. No one was saying anything really, as if they were waiting.

You meet Aaron's eyes and see the same question reflected there. Do they know?

You're about to contradict it, really, you are. You're going to ask Spencer what he's talking about. Because you and Hotch are not together - no sir. He must be mistaken. He must have you confused with someone else.

That option is taken from you, however, when Aaron straightens, putting down his pen, and asks Spencer, "How long have you known?"

It's JJ who answers however. "We didn't actually. Not for sure at least. Thanks for the confirmation." There's a smirk on her face and a knowing glint in her eye. You look around and see that they're all wearing pretty much identical smirks.

You can feel the incredulity building in your head. You'd been had. Actually no. You had not. Aaron had. You were all set to deny deny deny. He had to open his big mouth and ask a self-incriminating question. I should pull up the Virginia Bar records and check if he's still licensed because he's really losing his touch.

Aaron had the good grace to look a little ashamed at having been tricked so easily.

You're supposed to say something, but this isn't how you'd planned on telling everyone that you were sleeping with the boss. Well not just sleeping with, but still! There had been a plan. A carefully orchestrated plan involving dinner and copious amounts of expensive alcohol so that no one could be upset at having been lied to. It was very hard for people to be upset with you after you've fed them. Especially if you made your tiramisu. The tiramisu had been part of the plan!

You can feel your face heating up the longer the silence goes on. Realistically it's only a few seconds at most while both you and Aaron process that everyone knows now. But it feels like a very long stretch of quiet in which they're all just looking at you as if they expect you to start making out with one another any minute now.

"How'd you figure it out?" you finally ask, hoping that question would urge Spencer to talk and distract everyone from staring at you. You sneak a peak at Emily. She doesn't look mad or upset really. That's good.

"Well, I've suspected since Hotch got shot," Spencer explains. "I was pretty sure you made a large donation to the surgery department to get Dr. Kepner instead of Dr. Wilson, which didn't really make sense as something someone would do for a friend or a coworker. Though sometimes I do tend to misread those types of situations so I asked JJ and she agreed with my interpretation that it was unlikely you'd make a large donation for just anyone like that."

You look at Aaron and see him color just slightly. The two of you had had a bit of an argument about you throwing your money around to get your way, but you'd reminded him that his bullet wound had healed remarkably and there was barely a scar at all. Plus, it was your money and you could use it however you wanted and then you'd said something about how scared you'd been and how you didn't know how else to help and could he please just not be mad at you for doing something that was good for him. You weren't sure if it was what you said or the fact that you were sat in his lap pouting and upset when you'd done it, that had made him finally relent.

You still refused to tell him exactly how much you'd donated.

"We won't hold that against you, though," JJ says kindly. You can see the humor dancing in her eyes.

If the jet were to suddenly rip a hole and pull you clean through, you wouldn't be all too upset about it.

"You also said no to a date with Charlie," Derek adds. Detective Charles Bass was a friend of Derek's from the Chicago PD whom you'd met on the case prior. "You and I both know he's your type, princess." Derek has a teasing smile on his face that helps you calm down a little bit.

You rolled your eyes but didn't refute his claim. He wasn't wrong. Detective Bass was incredibly good looking and charming and exactly your type if you weren't already completely head over heels for a certain unit chief. Aaron had laughed when you told him and then proceeded to remind you exactly why you said no to dates with other men. You two were lucky no one had heard you with how thin hotel room walls could be. Though now you have to wonder if they had indeed heard you but were adding it to the pile of evidence they'd been collecting.

"And then," Emily decides to finally contribute, prompting you to really look at her, "when I was taking the lunch order, and Hotch was busy, you knew his sandwich order exactly. When I handed it to him he asked how I knew that he didn't like mayonnaise on his roast beef sandwiches. I didn't know that. But you sure did." Emily has a smug look on her face and there's a promise in her eyes that the two of you will be discussing this later. In detail.

You're just sitting there now, shaking your head. It was embarrassing to have your profiler coworkers point out things that you really should've known to be more careful about. You're sure Aaron feels similarly awkward because he's just silently looking at each person as they speak, a flush coloring his face and neck.

Rossi looks like the cat that ate the canary, however he is conspicuously quiet. You have to wonder how long he's known that the others suspect you and Hotch were together. However none of them seem upset really or even surprised so that has to be of some solace to Aaron. He'd had the ridiculous notion that Derek and Emily would think he was taking advantage of you or some nonsense. As if anyone could possibly think that of him.

"And finally, there was the case in LA a few weeks back when we got called in late and both you and Hotch arrived around the same time. Which in and of itself wouldn't be too odd, but you were wearing an emerald green cocktail dress with off the shoulder sleeves and Hotch was also dressed up and wearing a tie that matched your dress exactly. Hotch doesn't have green ties." Spencer relays all of this as though it's all oh so obvious and you really want to call him a weirdo for knowing what ties Hotch does and doesn't have - but he's right. You'd bought him that green tie because it was your favorite color and he'd matched your dress when the two of you had gone out to dinner on a rare night off. "Plus, the two of you often tend to match. Is that on purpose or subconscious - I've been wanting to ask."

You look down at your red blouse and then across to Aaron's red tie. Well, if any of them hadn't believed it before, they sure did now.

You might as well have been caught red-handed.

*------------*

Sunday was a nice and sunny day. You and Aaron had arrived at Rossi's together with Jack. In the same car. That was a definite perk of everyone knowing - the two of you had been growing tired of always bringing two cars to and from places and trying your best to arrive a few minutes after the other.

Jack had immediately found Henry and the two of them were playing in the shallow end of the pool with Aaron and Will keeping watch nearby, while Rossi and Reid manned the grill. Well Rossi was doing the grilling. Spencer was spouting facts about the origins of barbeque which Aaron had long since tuned out from.

He looks over as you lay in a deck chair near the girls and Derek. Prentiss, JJ, and Garcia had all opted for bikinis and were working on their tans. You'd taken off your coverup and were wearing a wine colored one piece swimsuit underneath, your hair tied up in a high ponytail reminiscent of some pop star whose name he could never remember. Last week, he had come home to you and Jack singing along to her teeny bopper tunes and when he'd complained you'd told him that music didn't stop with the Beatles and it was good to have balance. He'd had the song stuck in his head for days.

All in all the team had taken the two of you dating relatively well. They'd all said they were happy for the two of you and no one seemed too upset at having been kept in the dark about it. He supposed he was grateful given the group's history with secrets. He was also pretty sure he'd seen some money exchange hands afterwards, however had decided to not bring that up with you - he had a feeling you wouldn't be thrilled to know your coworkers were betting on your personal life.

On the other side of the pool, you were getting settled in and enjoying the warmth of the sun on your skin. Emily's lying next to you on her stomach after you'd finished lathering her back with sunscreen.

"Derek, where's Savannah?" JJ asks, taking a sip from the giant margarita glass that Rossi had handed each of you as you entered. She's sitting up in her chair, sunglasses perched on her head  and an eye on Henry the entire time.

"She's on call, but she says hello," Derek answers. You know it's been rough on them trying to see each other despite both of their busy schedules. That's one thing you're grateful for with you and Aaron working on the same team - you get to see him at home and at work. Though, you suppose you might as well enjoy it while it lasts. McKinney has been hinting at getting you working - part time at least - with some local task force groups to increase your exposure. You'd end up splitting your time between that and the BAU.

"Alright, let's talk about what we all really want to know more about!" Penelope turns to you, her face a mixture of curiosity and childlike glee. Heat and alcohol were not a good mix. "Y/N, tell us more about you and Hotch!"

You'd been dreading this. You'd told Aaron as much when the two of you were getting ready that morning and at this moment you resented him for being on the other side of the pool with Will. Will who wasn't nosey and minded his own business.

Sighing, you prop yourself up to take a sip of your own drink. "What do you guys want to know?"

"How long have you been together? Officially."

"A few months - since the career day conversation."

"That long?!" JJ's eyes widen in surprise.

"Didn't you hide Will from us for almost half a year?" Derek raises an eyebrow at her hypocrisy however she doesn't seem perturbed.

"Yes, but that was different. Hotch and Y/N are both around us practically 24/7. I'm surprised they managed to hide it that long."

You laugh. "Well we obviously weren't that good at the hiding if you guys figured it out."

"Don't sell yourself short, princess. If pretty boy hadn't told us all about the hospital thing we wouldn't have given it too much thought."

"He's right," Emily agrees. "You and Hotch being together isn't like a surprise, but it is also."

"What do you mean?" You're intrigued by that because that's something that's bothered you since you declared your relationship to Strauss. She hadn't been surprised and she'd said no one else would be either. You hadn't really taken her word for it.

"I mean, you guys were basically a couple already - all the stuff you did with Jack, always partnering up together, not to mention the fact that Hotch has been in love with you forever."

You roll your eyes. Everyone's said that - Emily, Rossi, even Aaron when he told you that he'd loved you for years. You couldn't help but be a bit skeptical. Years? Really? Deep down you knew the reason why you're bothered  - it's because you can imagine how painful that must've been for him if it was true - you'd flirted with other men, you'd dated, and then there had been the time when you two were barely speaking. While that had been awful for you as well, you couldn't imagine how much worse it was for him knowing he was in love with you and you two were barely talking.

"But also it was a small surprise," JJ continues, drawing your attention back. "Like, none of us thought Hotch was your type - at least based on the other guys we've seen you date. We honestly thought about setting him up a few times just to help him get over it and move on."

That was news to you. No one had ever mentioned wanting to set Hotch up with anyone to you. "Why didn't you?"

You see JJ and Emily exchange a look. Emily's the one who answers, though she seems hesitant. "Well, we did. Once. We set him up on a blind date with my friend Sarah. Apparently all he did was talk about the team and Jack…and you."

You raised your eyebrows at that and looked over at Aaron, throwing Jack into the water. "He talked about me?"

"According to Sarah, it seemed like he was hung up on some girl named Y/N," JJ teases, "and she was pretty upset that we wasted her time."

You can't help the pleased smile or the slight color that comes to your face. You wanted to ask why none of them had told you, but you knew the answer. They wouldn't betray Aaron like that.

"So," and you can tell this is Emily's way of changing the subject back to what she really wants to talk about. "How's the sex?" Her mouth is twisted into a smirk, a mischievous glint in her eye.

Derek takes that as his cue to excuse himself from the girl talk and walks over to join Rossi at the grill. As if you'd talk about that with him there anyways.

You shake your head. "Emily he's your boss."

"He's your boss too, and you're sleeping with him. I just wanna know what it's like."

JJ and Penelope are also looking at you expectantly. You bite your lip, and with a sigh you admit, "It's the best sex of my life."

Their loud ooohs and teasing squeals catch the guys' attention and you meet Aaron's gaze as he's walking over.

Aaron can sense the girls' eyes on him as he walks over to you to grab the keys to the car. Jack wanted to grab the waterguns to play with.

"Hey, the keys still in your bag?"

You nod as he grabs the bag from the other side of your chair and looks for the car keys. You'd all become far too quiet the second he'd approached. Emily was stifling a dirty smirk very very poorly and both JJ and Penelope were still giggling behind their drinks.

"Were you talking about me?" he asks, a small smirk on his face as he fishes out the keys.

"Yes," Emily replies, flipping her sunglasses up to meet his eyes. "Now go away so we can continue."

Aaron chuckles and shakes his head. He's about to walk away, but as he passes the back of your chair, you suddenly feel a light tug at your ponytail, and before you can react he's pulled your head back and captured your lips in a sweet kiss that takes your breath away.  Letting go, he throws a wink at your shocked face before strolling away.

You take a second before you look back at the girls and you're met with three identical faces of outright surprise.

Emily recovers first, fanning herself with her hand. "Has Hotch always been this hot?"

The four of you can't help but laugh again.

Yes he has.

*------------*

You'd changed out of your swimsuit and into a dress after playing waterguns with Jack and Henry in the afternoon. The food and drinks had flowed throughout the day, and everyone had moved into Rossi's large living room as the sun set. It was pretty much assumed that no one was  in a state to drive back home that night.

Jack had eventually tuckered himself out and fallen asleep in your lap before Aaron picked him up and took him to the guest bedroom to lay him down next to Henry. You were feeling a little sleepy yourself, tucked into Emily's side on the large couch, lazily holding a glass of wine, and trying to follow the conversation.

"So, he just said you weren't good? Like, straight up?" JJ looks appalled that anyone could be so rude to someone's face.

"Yeah, can you believe it? I had an off day and still went down on him and he comes at me with that," Emily replies, the rage clear on her face. Her latest paramour had been less than appreciative of her skills and she had been filling you all in on the aftermath.

"You did dump him, didn't you sugar?" Penelope was equally worked up, her nostrils flaring.

"Of course," Emily assures her, "And then," she continues a bit hesitantly, "I did something…else."

That definitely caught your attention. "Oh God…what'd you do Em?"

"Well, I may have gone through my contacts and obtained more personal feedback." She's not looking at you and instead speaking into her wine glass. You're pretty sure it's her third and that was after margaritas all afternoon.

You blink as you process what she had said. However, Penelope beats you to it. "You called up your exes and ASKED?!"

"How else am I supposed to know? I was feeling insecure and I needed to know if he was right. There isn't exactly a Yelp to rate blowjob skills."

You groaned. Of course she had.

"Emily, you can't just call people and ask them that." You couldn't believe she'd done that. You could not even fathom.

"Why not? I feel better and I know he was wrong."

You just shook your head, smiling in spite of yourself. Suppose you do have to admire the confidence.

"Maybe I should do that," Penelope says, twirling her phone in her hands.

"Alright, you're cut off." You grabbed her glass from her hand and moved it to the table. "We can't all just go around asking men to rate us." This was an entirely alcohol fueled conversation at this point.

JJ agreed with you, making a grab for Emily's glass as well, which she dodged. Damn those undercover agent reflexes.

"I don't know Y/N," Emily teased, "you always like being the best. Wouldn't it be nice to know for sure."

You narrowed your eyes at her.

Before you could say anything else, however, she'd already called out. "Hotch!"

You watch Aaron turn from his conversation with Reid, beer bottle in hand. He looked a little flushed from the day drinking, his hair flopping adorably to his forehead. "Yes?"

"Does Y/N give good head?"

You feel your jaw drop and your eyes widen in horror. You're already shaking your head at Aaron. You're waiting for him to say that it wasn't appropriate. Waiting for him to ignore it and roll his eyes and turn away. Instead he looks at you and the look in his eyes tells you exactly what he's thinking about. You can feel yourself heat up under his gaze.

Aaron, in his defense, was a few beers in and his guard had been down. He'd spent the entire day watching you in your bathing suit and when Prentiss - blatantly - asked him if you gave good head, his mind went immediately to a few weeks back.

A few weeks back when you'd woken up before him - which you rarely did. He had woken to the feeling of little kitten licks on the tip of his cock and the sight of you knelt between his legs. He'd shifted, alerting you to the fact that he was awake, and you'd looked up at him with the cutest smile.

"Good morning." He'd raised an eyebrow, at your position.

You'd hummed in response, taking him into your mouth, tongue swirling around the head, and released him with a kiss on the tip.

His eyes darkened as he shifted to sit against the headboard and watched you move with him.

"What do I owe this wakeup call to?"

You'd appraised him, still knelt between his legs, as if debating exactly what to say. He knew you weren't incredibly experienced in this particular area and he'd been more than happy to forego it altogether in your time together thus far. You bit your lip, and spoke slowly. "You know that I haven't done this much."

He nods, watching you fidget with your hands.

"Will you teach me?"

He felt a jolt of need that went straight to his cock. He was about to imprint this image of you to his mind forever - kneeling between his legs, doe eyes looking up at him from under your lashes, mouth pouty and lips glossy from his precome coating them. This would be the image that he would forever bring to the forefront anytime he was unfortunate enough to spend a night without you.

He lets out a shaky breath before nodding yes.

You were an incredibly fast learner.

You watch as Aaron tips the head of the beer bottle to his mouth and takes another drag, before lowering it. He looks right at you when he finally speaks, deliberately slow. "I have no complaints."

You let out a breath of disbelief and the girls started laughing around you as he turned back around to his conversation amongst jostling from Derek and Rossi. Cocky little…

When you walked to the kitchen to grab some water, you could feel his eyes on you and you're not surprised when he joins you a moment later, arms circling your waist from behind.

"Hi." His breath is warm against your neck and you can tell he's just this side of drunk because he's very loosely holding himself to you.

You simply hummed as he pressed his lips to your neck. He had been very touchy today and to be honest, you hadn't expected this level of PDA from Aaron. You'd expected him to be much more reserved, though that's likely exactly what would happen once everyone was back at work.

"Was that the right answer?" He mumbles into your skin, leaving open mouth kisses along your neck.

You smile, rolling your eyes. "The right answer was I plead the fifth. I thought you were a lawyer."

His chest rumbles with laughter behind you and you can hear the teasing smile in his voice. "Well, your honor, I think I'm a few beers in and allowed to appreciate my girlfriend's skills. Any chance I could talk you into another demonstration?" Oh he was really pushing his luck.

You bite your lip to prevent the grin that's threatening to break out. "I thought you were drunk."

You try to turn to face him but he pushes you into the counter, grinding against you. "Not that drunk."

He moves his hand to cup your jaw, turning your face towards him, and capturing your lips in a wet, dirty kiss that leaves you moaning and grinding back into him.

You're grateful the kitchen is hidden from view of the living room and no one has walked in on you both yet.

"Aaron, we can't have sex in Rossi's house," you whisper urgently when he gives you a moment to breathe.

"You're kidding, right? He told me where the condoms are."

You scoff. As if the two of you even used condoms.

But he's looking at you earnestly and you chance another look in the direction of the living room. It sounded like everyone was talking and distracted. They probably wouldn't miss you.

He can see the wheels turning in your head, and he smiles triumphantly as he sees the acceptance in your eyes.

"You're a bad influence Agent Hotchner," you say as his lips meet yours again and the two of you start making your way down the hallway to the back of the house.

[juyeoniemyhoney]

can this morning never end

Namjoon is the most beautiful human being to ever walk the earth. It is natural that you have a crush on him. You expect that eventually, your feelings will die out but then, you find yourself squealing uncontrollably outside of the library that you and Namjoon had agreed to meet at for your pair-work assignment. You have always watched Namjoon from afar. It surprises you when you find out that Namjoon has been observing you too. Well, there’s a first for everything. 

-pairing: Kim Namjoon x reader

-genre: FLUFF, a lil bit of angst, high school/secondary school au (where i live high school is called secondary school;-;)

-warnings: vulgarities, pretty self-depreciating writing if im gonna be honest so be weary, Namjoon is a little bit of a simp for oc in this one, the ending is lowkey shit rip im sorry

-word count: 3208 words

-A/N: hi hi im back, this time with a Namjoon fic. i havent been writing a lot because im so preoccupied with my exams. in all honesty, i shouldnt be writing at all but i have absolutely no sense of self control, so i wrote this. it’s not my best but i really like how joon’s so soft in this so i decided to post it anyway. don’t be afraid to tell me how you liked (or didnt like) this imagine! and requests are open! hope you enjoy this one:)

--------

As you approach the entrance of the library, your heart starts beating a mile a minute.

You stall outside the automatic sliding doors, mind racing with a million scenarios. You freak out a little and silently squeal, earning you disapproving frowns and judging eyes from passers-by. But you don't care. You've waited a whole week for today.

A week ago, during English class, you were busy writing instead of paying attention, as usual, when your teacher had given the class the assignment to write a scenario, of any genre but it had to contain the writer's techniques she had taught in class. And she made the whole class pair up. You, too lost in the world of fanfiction, had not been listening and frankly, you didn't really care, passing her words off as just more homework.

The next thing you knew, Kim Namjoon had turned around in his chair, calling your name in that deep, gravelly voice. At the sound of his voice, your head immediately shot up, eyes wide in surprise.

"Do you want to partner up?" he had asked, lips slinging into an easy grin, eyes curling up and that goddamned dimple making itself made known on his left cheek. He patiently waited for your answer, eyes periodically glancing down to your desk that was in disarray, pieces of paper containing your words messily covering every corner of your desk. You pray that he didn't catch a peep of your (admittedly) cringeworthy fanfic as you tried to subtly gather the papers before he could read too much.

"Um, partner up for what?" you questioned, confused, head tilting ever so slightly to the right in question, brows furrowed in misunderstanding. He mirrored your actions and your heart had unwontedly skipped a beat. A beat of silence passed, "For the assignment?"

Before you could ask what assignment?, your teacher had interrupted your conversation with a satisfied clap and a smile. "Alright, I assume you have all found your partners. I'll give you time to work on your assignment right now. Remember that planning is the most important stage of writing. Do approach me if you have any questions."

Namjoon had turned back to you with a wry grin that looked a tad bit awkward, saying, "Well, I guess we're partners now."

Which is how you find yourself freaking the fuck out in front of a library on a Saturday morning, mind racing with different, absurd scenarios and outcomes of this meeting. You decide to take another minute to compose yourself.

You wouldn't say that you like Namjoon per se. You just think he is the most handsome man to walk on this godforsaken planet. But seriously, that man is far too beautiful to be real. From the first time you met him til now, you have no doubt that that man is a celestial being, gifted to the world from the gods, purely to cleanse the eyes of us, mere mortals. To make matters worse, he is smart too; of a wisdom thousands of years beyond his age. You still can't believe you've had the god-given opportunity to meet someone like him.

Okay so, maybe you kind of like him a lot, more than you let on, but you're not really sure if you like him because he's Namjoon or if it's because you are lovelorn, touch deprived, or both.

You reckon it has taken more than a minute to compose yourself because by the time you snap out of your daze, you are five minutes late when you had actually arrived five minutes earlier than the agreed timing. You sigh and finally walk through the doors that welcome you into the cooling library, cold blasts from the air conditioning cooling down the fierce blush that had taken refuge on your cheeks.

You immediately proceed to find a seat but Namjoon texts you, telling you that he's already a step ahead of you, having secured a seat in a room with tables on the second floor.

When you reach the second floor, and make your way towards the rooms, you can see Namjoon through the glass walls, sitting down and silently reading a book as he waits for you. The closer you draw to the room, the faster your heart pounds in your chest. The sound is deafening and distracting and you don't even realise how fast you had walked until you are finally knocking on the glass door, sending Namjoon a small smile when he looks up at you.

"Hi, Y/N," he greets, smile widening into a grin so wide that it hides his eyes. Your heart stops but you hide it with a small smile as you settle down your things and yourself opposite him.

"So, what genre did you want to write about," he asks as you take a pen and a piece of paper out from your bag. You freeze when your brain registers his sentence. "The assignment is to write a story?"

Namjoon stares at you wordlessly for a while, speechless that it's been a week and you still don't know what the fucking assignment is. You, however, have no idea that he is thinking about how stupid you are and happily stare back at him, taking in his mono lidded, almond-shaped eyes and the dark brown of his irises. His nose bridge is straight and the tip of his nose is a little flat, like a koala. You have never wanted to boop a nose so bad in your entire life.

"Yeah, that's the assignment," he responds patiently, giving you a gentle smile. You can't help but feel that it seems a little tight and forced, like he is regretting asking you be his partner, and regretting that he didn't have enough time to reconsider. You ignore the feeling of dejection that slowly bubbles up inside of you.

"I thought that it'd be easiest to write romance since you're so well versed in that.". You freeze. Time seems to have stopped and your ears refuse to register the rest of what Namjoon is saying, tuning everything out but your deafening thoughts. You have to remind yourself to breathe.

"You know that I write?" you interrupt Namjoon. He stops and fixes you a look of confusion, like it is so obvious that you write. It's not that you've been trying to keep it a secret. The thing is, for most of your stories, Namjoon is the main male character. In most of your stories, you have described every single part of him in excruciating detail, his eyes and lips especially. When your friends had first read your stories with Namjoon as the male protagonist, they had caught on quickly, almost immediately asking you if you were describing Namjoon because of how well you had described him. A bad feeling washes over you.

"Yeah, you're always scribbling away during English so I got curious and asked a few of your classmates," he responds, flashing you another lopsided smile. If this were any other situation, your heart would have been absolutely eliminated because of that smile but in this situation, all you can think about is if he's read any of your work. Because if he has, you're done for.

"What did my classmates say?" you question hesitantly, still deciding if you want to know his answer.

"Well they said that you've been writing since forever. They also said that a lot of people know that you write. Oh, and they also said that you had some published works so I went to check them out—" Namjoon's voice fades out as he continues to talk.

This is it.

It's the end of your social life. Namjoon is going to tell his loud ass group of friends that you write stalker-esque stories about him and then one of his friends is going to accidentally tell their girlfriend and then the girlfriend is going to spread it across the school and you'll be known as the loser who writes creepy stalker stories about Namjoon—

"It was amazing," you hear Namjoon say in between your mild quarter-life crisis. You pause and look him square in the eye. You want to come off as serious but you falter slightly when Namjoon stares back at you, irises a whirlpool of dark brown and glittering fascination, a swirling vortex that draws you in with a vicious intent of drowning.

"Yes?" Namjoon questions you after a beat of silence passes. You want to ask him if he knows that he is reading about himself but you stop yourself. "You like my stories?" you ask instead, feeling a tad bit shy now that you've realised that Namjoon likes what you write about him.

He lets out a small laugh, "Is it that hard to believe that I like what you write?"

"I was just surprised." He flashes you another wide grin and there it is, those cursed dimples show themselves again, grinning tauntingly at you and your heart commits the highest act of treason when it starts to beat faster. You gulp.

"You shouldn't be surprised. It was really good. I really liked it when you described the male character. It felt like I was looking at him myself. That's why I asked you to be my partner. I'm sure with your talents, we can get a really good mark on this assignment."

Your heart thuds a little faster when Namjoon tells you that his favourite part was reading about how you described him. But it falls to your stomach when he tells you that he picked you solely for your supposed talents. You don't know why, but a part of you had thought that maybe Namjoon wanted to get to know you better, and was using this assignment as an excuse. You thought that it was finally happening, someone you like has finally noticed you. But it looks like you thought wrong.

"Thank you," you say meekly, flashing him a half-hearted smile that you're sure he notices from the way he stiffens. "So, you said that you thought that romance would be a good genre, but what do you want to write about?"

Namjoon is silent for a while, lips pursed in ponder. You wait patiently for his answer.

"Well, I thought that I'd wanted to write romance too," he answers flashing you an awkward smile. The silence that follows is palpable and suddenly, you feel so very exhausted. "Well then, that's settled. Now we just have to think of a situation."

"How about this one?" Namjoon asks immediately after you finish your sentence. He says it rather suddenly and it startles you a little. You can't help but hear a certain extent of desperation in this voice. He wants to get this over with, you tell yourself.

"How do you mean?"

"Kinda like us now," he starts but stops to think about what to say next. You remain silent. "We should just write about us but make it a love story. For example, the two main characters are supposed to do a project together so they meet at a library," he pauses to gesture to the shelves surrounding the both of you.

"Then they start working on the project and they start talking. Then, somehow, the boy confesses to her. And the girl tells him she's always felt the same way. We can come up with how he confesses since I myself haven't come up with that yet," he continues, softening the last part of his sentence into a mumble that you barely hear, but still do. You pause. What the fuck?

"What did you say? I didn't hear you," you ask against your better judgement, curiosity getting the best of you. "Huh? Oh, it was nothing."

A furious blush begins to spread on the apples of Namjoon's cheeks, and for some reason, your body begins to mirror him, heart pumping hot blood to the blood vessels that lay beneath the skin of your cheeks. Namjoon shyly directs his gaze to his lap, dark brown bangs, the colour of his eyes, coming down in luxurious curls and waves to hide his eyes. You can't help but think that you like to see Namjoon like this; soft and shy and vulnerable because he is usually so confident and suave. It feels like he is showing a new side of himself to you, like he is peeling back the layers of masks and personas he has built until he is left raw and natural, allowing you to see everything that he is. The thought of that leaves you feeling winded because it is exactly what you want. And suddenly, you don't feel bashful or shy because of his words. Instead, you are determined, hellbent on making something out of this and you hope with your whole being that it is a relationship.

You are about to say something, to question him, bombard him until he is spilling his feelings in fumbled words and sentences of desperation and want, clawing at you until you too, are raw and vulnerable. But he beats you to it, speaking in a soft, hushed tone, as if you are a stern silence that he is afraid of interrupting.

"I think you're amazing, Y/N. What do you think of me?"

He stares meekly at his lap, too afraid to even spare you a glance. You remain silent, building his desperation like you are some professional flirt. In all honesty, you really just want to tell him you like him too but you're just so scared. The evidence that he at least feels something for you is right in front of you and yet your brain rejects it like a vending machine rejects a bill, walls built far too high and thick that words are no longer enough to convince you. He has to show you. And you think he knows that too.

Namjoon's head shoots up to stare you in the eyes, a new found determination and confidence burning in his eyes. The way the light finds his dark brown irises makes your heart do a million somersaults. They light up and turn into a golden brown you can't help but compare to a sweet, caramel syrup that coats your tongue in golden, sugary gratification. You swallow so hard, you feel the sides of your throat rub together painfully. 

"I think you're freaking amazing, Y/N. Every time I look at you, I always want to make myself better. For you. I want to become the best version of myself in hopes that it'll satisfy you and garner your attention. And I really like that you do what makes you happy. I absolutely love it when you write in English because you're always so focused and serious, plus, you make that really cute face when you're concentrating and it always makes my heart beat a little faster and it makes me hate that I sit in front of you because I have to keep finding stupid reasons to turn around just to look at you and I just think you're the most amazing, admirable, lovable person ever," Namjoon lets out. His words are rushed and desperate and you melt like goddamn candle wax.

"I'm— Wow, I'm— thank you, Namjoon. That really means a lot to me," you stutter, not really knowing what to say at first but finding your words soon enough. "Oh, and I feel the same way," you add, somehow missing the main point of your response. It doesn't matter anyway. He knows now. That's all that matters.

"Wait, really?"

You let out a laugh. "Yeah, Namjoon. Is it that hard to believe that I like you too?" you reply, a homage to your previous conversation.

Namjoon smiles a small smile, then it widens, and widens, and widens, until he is flashing you a blinding grin that could outright beat the glare of sunlight. "You said that you like me," he points out, eyes shining.

It is your turn to blush in embarrassment, cheeks feeling hot as you begin to sink into yourself, hair falling from behind your shoulders to hopefully make itself useful as a curtain to shield your red face from Namjoon. Something in Namjoon's chest begins to splinter at the sight. He is so very tempted to pull out his phone and snap a picture of you but he holds himself back at the thought that he is positive he has many more chances to do so. His ribs nearly break in half because of how hard his heart beats.

"It's a good thing that I like you too," he says gently, smile now gentle instead of blinding. "Also, we have a plot now!" he exclaims in excitement as he slides the pen and paper closer to himself, ready to start on your assignment.

"Wait."

"Yeah?"

"So, we're, are we? You know... Um, dating now?"

Namjoon's eyes widen in horror and he deflates himself, a disappointed frown pulling his eyebrows together at the centre and turning the corners of his lips down. "Shit, I'm sorry I didn't ask— I just assumed—" he cuts himself off, clearing his throat dramatically.

"Y/N, will you be my girlfriend?" he asks. Somehow, he still feels nervous even though he knows that you answer is a resounding, "Yes, I would love to be your girlfriend."

Namjoon lets out the breath he didn't even know he was holding and it comes out in a relieved sigh. "Thank God because if not our story would have a horrible ending," Namjoon comments, picking the pen back up and clicking it open.

"Let's write that," you cut in before he can say anything else. "Write a sad love story?"

Namjoon is going to tell you no, to completely disapprove of your idea because writing a sad love story is one thing but writing a sad love story that will be handed up to your teacher for her to grade is another thing. But then, he sees your eyes glisten in determination and he dispels his thoughts immediately, folding into himself like a goddamn lawn chair. He can't believe he was just about to say no to you. What the fuck is wrong with him?

"Please? I'm better at writing angst. Plus, we have a happy ending and that's all that matters," you press, trying to convince him. You don't have a real reason other than the fact that you write angst better. You also don't really know why you want to write angst right now when you feel as if you could fly. But it doesn't matter. None of it matters anymore. Namjoon is your's now. 

Namjoon flashes you a dimpled smile, eyes curling up and glittering with mirth and unadulterated belief in you. You can't help but think that you want him to never stop smiling like that, looking at you like you are some sort of celestial being, hailed from the sky solely to bring him every sort of merriment known to mankind and the heavens. The thought of him thinking of you like that scares you, because you are always afraid of not being enough. But Namjoon diminishes all of your worries with a short sentence, manhandling them by the throat and shoving them off a cliff.

"Okay, I believe in you."

[oftenderweapons]

Stress Reliever  - Namjoon

Pairing: Namjoon x reader (nicknamed Vixen)

Wordcount: 3.9k words

Genre: smut, angst, fluff

Rating: 18+

Hello! As I mentioned in a previous post, I’ll be publishing longer scenarios which could actually be considered small one-shots. The first theme will be stress-relieving/angry sex (’cause let’s admit it, that’s one great way to blow off some steam and ease some tension) 

I’ll be following the official order, so I’ll start with Namu uwu. 

I don’t really think I need to say this is smut, and filth and an unedited mess. Let’s just move on to trigger warnings. 

TRIGGER WARNINGS: swearing; unprotected sex within an established relationship (wrap it before you tap it, and please get checked for STIs regularly) lingerie kink, DADDY kink (like, how could I not) plus Joon is fucking packed and we all fucking know it, dirty language, allusions to cheating (but like, not really, how could one possibly cheat on daddy big dick Joon? Ha, not me), spanking, ddlg/bdsm dynamics, brat!reader, oral (female receiving, mentions of male receiving), peaches and cream (don’t look at me like that, how could I NOT do this) marking, biting, overstimulation and ruined orgasm (listen, daddy makes the rules, it’s not my fault, next time be less of a brat), cumplay, mild angst (lack of attention, abandonement issues). RIP to y/n’s deceased La Perla set. I suppose this is all? This is quite pwp, but not really. About 3900 words.

Also, here you can find my masterlist. Enjoy!

Your day had been phenomenal, your boss had complimented you and assigned you a new office as you joined your new team. You had celebrated going out for lunch with your new colleagues, getting to understand the dynamics and roles within the groups. Since you were given a free afternoon to receive a general briefing and celebrate your promotion you went off work earlier than usual, deciding to get yourself a nice new dress and some celebratory lingerie, all Italian lace and silken bows.

But your mood was sour. Namjoon didn't even bother reading your text, ignoring you all day, which normally would not bother you, but considering how hard you had been working for that promotion and how tired you were, but most importantly considering he knew how much it mattered to you, it really upset you. And you were meaning to make him pay for it. 

As you arrived at home you started getting ready, you bathed and did a face mask, hair all pretty and soft, fixed your nails. You felt gorgeous. Gorgeous and furious. Which was normally a very entertaining combination when you added Namjoon, who was currently absent without justification. He should have arrived home twenty minutes ago. 

When he finally came through the front door, you were lounging annoyed on the sofa. 

"Hi." 

You did not answer. And he didn't even notice, nor look at you. 

He went straight to the bedroom, got rid of his clothes and wore something comfy, going straight to the kitchen. 

"No dinner?" He asked. 

"I'm going out." He looked up to where you were sitting, a little baffled. 

"And no dinner?" 

"I called at the Garden, booked a table for two at nine. You could get ready in fifteen. It's on me."

His forehead creased. "I'm a bit tired."

You raised a brow. "I'm going out anyway." 

He huffed out. "Okay. Let me wear something decent."

Five minutes later he headed out, in jeans and a white shirt. He looked completely insane, the sleeves slightly rolled up, his hair pushed back. "Am I okay?" 

"You look divine." You were too turned on to deny him a compliment. "I'm sorry I made you dress up. I really wanna destress." 

His half tired look in his eyes had disappeared, probably thank to the brief shower he had taken. "It's good, baby."

You headed to the restaurant, his hand perched on your knee during the drive, his head heavy on your shoulder. He still hadn't mentioned your promotion. 

A nice waiter welcomed the two of you, he must have been new, considering you had never seen him before and you and Joon were pretty much two regulars there. 

He accompanied the two of you to the table, your hand reaching for your man, while he looked absolutely lost, completely disconnected from you. Even at the table you tried to spark a conversation but he was entirely unresponsive, only mentioning that he had been working on his new collaboration and he had been late because he had to meet the singer. The fact that it was a woman low-key triggered you. It's not like you were jealous, or maybe you were, but jealousy was a feeling you had felt before and you had always had the self control not to act upon it. However, mixing that mild jealousy with the disappointment of him not acknowledging your promotion and your special effort for your looks, together with his detached demeanour had you starting something you never thought you would have the guts to do. 

You started being excessively polite -- borderline saccharine -- to the cute waiter, asking for his name and behaving in an almost too friendly way, offering him nice smiles and sugary 'thank you's. 

Not that Namjoon seemed to notice. 

You were getting half an idea to gently grab the waiter's wrist and write your phone number on his forearm just to see what your boyfriend would do. 

By the time you finished your main course and got ready to close your meal with dessert, you were so upset you gave up on your usual tiramisu, telling Geonwu -- the waiter -- to hand you the bill. Namjoon seemed to get out of his bubble for a second, as you turned down the dessert, suddenly triggered by your strange change of habit. He must have really upset you, he thought as you gave the waiter your card and waited for the payment to be processed. 

A few minutes later you entered your apartment, kicking your shoes and heading for the bedroom. You hoped he would trip over your discarded shoes. Damn him. 

In front of the mirror in your ensuite, you started taking off your makeup, slowly undoing your hair. You hated him. 

He reached the bedroom too, standing in the door between your room and the bathroom, looking at you through the mirror. 

"I know what you were trying to do at dinner." He crossed his arms. "I don't like it at all." 

"I wouldn't have done it if you had payed attention to me." You took off your earrings and your watch. The necklace he had given you for your first anniversary. "But you were… Busy."

"So you wanted me to pay attention." He came up behind you, pressing himself against your backside. "Sorry thing I already knew you would land that promotion." He kissed your neck, slowly starting to unbutton the mother pearl buttons on your silk camisole. "So I thought I could keep you on edge and make you snap at me, make you so angry you would finally take all that tension off on me."

You held your breath as he nibbled at your neck. "And I know you were trying to rile me up and make me jealous just to get me to fuck you like crazy, uh?" 

He finished with the buttons and untucked your shirt, discovering the black lace corset underneath. 

"Was this part of the plan, little vixen?" He toyed with the strings of the undergarment, his sex now hard against your back. 

You nodded eagerly. 

"Then bend the fuck over cause Imma teach you a lesson." He lifted up your pencil skirt. "These are new, aren't they?" He said teasing the fabric. 

"Yes, daddy. I bought them for you." You just wanted him to snap, hoping that your submission would spark up his dominance. 

You saw a shiver ran down his spine. "So kind, but you didn't bend over yet. And this won't save you from your punishment." He said, pressing a heavy hand between your wing blades and pushing you down. "You know daddy likes giving you attention, so why didn't you ask?" 

"I didn't want to bother you, daddy." You already felt a whine in your voice, a petulant, bratty tone emerging. 

“I still don't get whether I should treat you like the brat you are or like the good girl you’re desperately trying to be.” Suddenly you felt the heavy smack of him delivering the first hit. You moaned out in relief and arousal. “You better keep quiet. You kept quiet while you should have told me you wanted me, so now that you wanna talk you’d better keep it down, brat.” he delivered another spank, making his point clear. “Understood?”

“Yes, daddy.” You lifted your head, your eyes rolling up from under your lashes.

He licked his lips and used his spare hand to hold your chin up high, so to maintain eye-contact. “Good girl.” He caressed your bum delicately. “Shall we say that you received your promotion at nine a.m., and now it's almost midnight. That makes it fifteen hours of you keeping it from me. Considering that you’re always so eager when I spank you I won’t include the first two blows I already gave you. Now hold tight because dirty girls like you don’t learn their lessons from soft punishments.”

By the thirteenth blow you were gripping the sink, knuckles white, face blushed with effort, a coat of arousal and sweat slickening your thighs. Namjoon’s tempo had slightly slowed down in order to softly brush your sensitive skin between a spank and another. “Come on, two more, ____. Enjoy them.”

He hit you with full force. Considering that you’d got used to the pain, your tolerance adjusting to his attack, he must have really put some fury in the last two. 

Now finally done with your punishment, he moved you slightly to the side, so to use the sink to cool down his palms. “Next time I should use a paddle. No use hurting my hands for punishing a spoiled brat.” Some part of you already felt a dark craving, moaning at the thought. He snickered at how hungry you always were for him.

He passed the cool skin of his hands on your glutes, offering you a small reprieve, taking care of you without giving any explicit sign of your punishment being over. You knew it wasn’t, and it didn’t surprise you when he hooked his fingers in your panties and dragged them down your legs, kneeling to unhook them from your feet. “Those don’t deserve to be ripped.” Now at perfect eye level with your slit, he couldn’t help but give in to the smell and taste of you, licking up your soaked thighs, nuzzling his lips against your sex, delivering one sweet kiss. “Can you take it like a girl good and make daddy happy or do you wanna slow down?”

He probably knew how exhausted your muscles must have been from the position you were into. However, you wanted it your way. “Make daddy happy.” You murmured.

He smiled like a madman, still between your thighs, biting one of the few spots that weren’t bright red on your behind. He raised to his feet, towering over your bent shape, his nimble finger undoing his belt and jeans, gripping his hard on and using the tip to tease your entrance. “Baby, you got me so hard, watching you take your spanks so well, your ass so soft, quivering like jelly. You should see yourself right now, baby. Looking like a wet dream.” 

He caressed down your shoulders, using his free hand to hold your waist. You knew he wouldn’t bend down to kiss you, that would be so out of character. And considering he hadn’t stretched you out, you also knew it would hurt. 

“Ready?”

You nodded. “Yes, daddy.” He offered you his hand in your own and you gripped it hard as he slowly sinked in. It took him half a minute to bottom out. A deep groan followed. “So good, babe.” 

You released a heavy breath, squeezing you inner muscles lightly. “Woah baby, fuck.” He swore viciously, carefully beginning to roll his hips, both his hands on your waist, one of yours joining there, reaching for his fingers, craving for a small sign of affection while he was being careful not to hurt the bruises already forming on you ass. His thrusts were slow and deliberate, looking for the smallest sign of discomfort on your face and posture. Once adjusted, you arched further, allowing him a shift in angle that had him hissing and throwing his head back. His beautiful, dark hair followed, catching your attention in the mirror. His chest, still covered in the shirt, inflated, straining the buttons on his sternum. You would have done anything in that moment to kiss the small triangle of skin appearing at the base of his neck. 

Now newly focused, his eyes opened and fixed on you, while one of his hands moved to your breast, still covered in the corset, toying with your nipple, then gripping the flesh with his big palm.

“Joonie,” you dared murmur as his pace intensified. 

“You good baby?” He slowed down again, in fear he was hurting you. 

“So good, Joonie, I just—” You shut up a second, needing to focus before you continued your sentence. “I wanna cum, daddy.”

“It’s okay baby, let me take you there.” He made you turn your face and caressed your cheek tenderly, using his other hand to reach between your thighs, drawing taunting, tight circles on your clit, with just the right pace and pressure. God only knew how he did that. 

“Keep squeezing me baby, so close.” He gripped the back of your neck for leverage and his thrusts got stronger and faster, you completely losing it over the way his hips stayed closer to yours and pushed harder, pulling out just an inch before plunging in again. 

Your orgasm washed over you with sweet relief and you were sure it would have gone on for a bit less than a minute hadn’t Joon pulled out of you, his hand still toying with your clit, his vicious fingers way too skilled not to know how much he was affecting you -- and how wrong it all felt. “Joon, inside!” You cried out, barely coherent, only now noticing in the reflection that his arm was moving aggressively, his lower lip caught between his teeth before it slipped out, his jaw angrily clenching in a way that made you want to turn around and suck him into oblivion. 

“This ass still needs something.” He spat out through gritted teeth. 

Your mouth opened in wonder as you felt him press his tip to your skin, his hot flesh turning even hotter when he groaned out almost desperately, one hand still on his shaft, milking out his cum. 

“Do you like that, daddy?” You teased, wanting nothing but his fucked out babbling to praise you. 

“Love it, vixen, you nasty little fucker. I’ll put a damn ring on your dirty finger someday.” He muttered, his high almost over, the hand on your mound parting your labia before he slipped in sloppily, some drops of his orgasm ending inside you, while the rest made a sticky mess between the two of you.

He crumbled forward, mouth at your neck, his spine arching up away from you as he kept pushing his hips against yours, chest deflating with heavy breaths. One of your hands removed the fingers still massaging your sex into overstimulation. You were both a sweaty bundle of limbs, exhausted and brainless. 

“I’m so in love with you, ____.” He whispered in your ear. “My perfect baby.” The hand under you slipped to your chest, helping you handle the weight of your upper body. “Can you wait like this a couple seconds? I need to clean you up before we make a mess.”

You nodded sleepily while he stretched towards the closest towel, wetting the cloth under the tap and placing it against your skin as he slipped out. The arm under you helped you rise up, his mouth immediately kissing your cheek. 

“Did I go too hard?” He asked, his free hand touching you in tenderness and devotion, stroking your heated skin. He used a clean corner of the towel to swipe the dirty spots on your behind, then cleaning himself roughly.

“It was amazing.” Your head propped on his shoulder, your neck stressed because of your previous position. 

“Let me take you to the bathtub and ease out the knots on your muscles, yes?” He discarded the cloth and turned you around, kissing you softly and fondly. “I’m so proud of you.” He kissed you again. “You’re amazing.” He pressed his mouth to your forehead, “and now I wanna take care of you.”

He took off your corset with care, knowing how sensitive you were, but also how tired your body was, incapable of handling any violent push and pull to undo the garment. 

“Tell me you didn’t ruin it.” You said, voice imploring. 

“No. I was careful. I still regret ruining that La Perla I got you for your birthday. The colour looked so good on you.” He blushed, completely oblivious that two minutes ago he had been an unbelievably sexy, self-confident man spanking you and ruining your orgasm without the smallest hesitation. 

“I feel so spoiled, I took a bath this afternoon.” You murmured, thinking of all the wasted water. 

“Would you prefer a shower?” He asked, already closing the tap.

You nodded. Your muscles were sore but your conscience was still awake.

Opening the enormous shower he loved so much, he helped you sit down on the wide seat on the wall, flinching as the cold marble made contact with your bruising skin. 

Namjoon looked at you with wide eyes, feeling sorry for the pain you were feeling because of his selfishness. 

“Can I make it better?” He asked, caressing your face gently before pushing your hair back. His concerned tone made your insides melt. 

“I think that having a proper orgasm with your tongue between my legs would help.”

“You’re a spoiled brat. Never gonna learn.” He tried sounding angry, but the smile on his face told you otherwise. “You’re lucky I love you.”

You opened your legs wide as he kneeled before you. “You mentioned putting a ring on it, Joonie.” You teased, the inside joke between the two of you now sounding way too serious after he said it in that context, with that voice just an orgasm ago. 

“Careful or I’ll wife you.” He kissed your inner thigh, biting playfully. “Fill you up with babies.” He bit the other side. “Have you barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen.”

“Please do, kind sir.” You begged, laughter spilling from your mouth.

He positively laughed at that, his fit of giggles tickling your skin. You were overflowing with love for him.

“Sounds shady coming from a lady who was flirting with the waiter at dinner just tonight.” He started sucking at your skin, the tissue bruising easily after his harsh treatment. “Do you think I forgot?”

Here he was again: gone Joonie, welcome daddy. “I’m sorry.”

He laughed sarcastically against your other thigh, now just a couple centimetres away from your heat. “Do you think he could have done you like that?” His hand grasped your breast, squeezing it viciously. “Like I did tonight?”

“No, daddy.” Your mouth opened as he started rolling your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. 

“Do you think he could discipline you?” He asked, his voice matching the love bite on the soft skin of your crotch where your thigh met your pelvis. 

“Of course no, daddy.” You repeated, shifting delicately in your seat to accommodate his mouth.

“Good.” He perched your legs on his shoulders, then his tongue licked your labia forcefully, your flesh and his adhering perfectly, the bridge of his nose rubbing your clit deliciously. 

The angle was difficult, and if it hadn’t been for the whole sink ordeal, you would have probably balanced yourself on your arms and used your hips to fuck his face midair, but from the way he was looking at you, you could tell Namjoon knew he couldn’t trust your body like that tonight, the risk of you slipping because of a lousy grip or tired muscles too high. 

Much to your dismay, he parted his mouth from your cunt, meeting your gaze. You loved seeing how blissful he got when he was using his mouth between your legs, his brain too focused to think of anything else. It was his go-to stress reliever.

“Hold tight. Be careful.” He said with intention, as he moved an arm behind your back and brought you closer to his face, making you plant your feet on the ground as he laid down on the empty floor. With some attentive adjustments, following his lead, you ended up straddling his face, his head luckily away from the stream of water falling from the shower head. 

“I need you to ride daddy’s face, little vixen. Show me how much you wanna belong to me.” He teased with a dark growl. 

“That sounds so good daddy!” You squealed enthusiastically. “I’m going to make you so proud.” You promised, smiling at him before his mouth latched on you, his arms snaking around your waist and dragging you down. 

“I’m so happy when you lick me, daddy.” You said, voice mischievous, while he enthusiastically picked up his pace.

“I’m the luckiest girl in the world.” His tongue lashed on your clit mercilessly as he kept pumping your most sensitive part with the muscles of his cheeks, hollowing them with the force of his movement. 

“I’ll learn...” Your breath caught in your lungs. “I’ll be so good to you.” 

His hands helped you balance yourself attentively, chasing your high, until you felt your eyes closing, the room spinning around you and your hips moving on their own command, your climax already possessing you. 

“Daddy, please, that’s...” The breathiest moan exited your mouth, your arms collapsing, Namjoon’s hands on your hips the only thing keeping you from smashing face first against the tiles. He moved his head with wide sweeps upwards, accompanying you through your high. In the meantime you managed to readjust, your weight now again in control, you eased Namjoon’s arms, thinking of how tired he must be. 

You lifted yourself up, sliding away from his face, down to his lap. 

He was incredibly hard, once more, quite unusually. “Please, let me ride you, daddy.” You tried to persuade him. “I’ll do all the work.” You were literally batting your eyelashes at him. 

He laughed breathlessly. “How can I tell you no, baby, when you sound so nice?”

“Can I?” You pouted. 

“Yes, baby.” He groaned.

You were on him in two seconds, grabbing him, squeezing him gently in your palm -- at which he shut his eyes tight -- and holding his tip towards your entrance, sliding on it flawlessly. 

“You feel amazing, ____.” He breathed from his spot on the floor, still in the same position as you’d left him after your mind-blowing climax.

You moaned out at the sound of your name, going already pretty fast to make sure that you both came as soon as possible. Namjoon’s hands led your vicious pace while your hand, already toying with your core, made sure that you could come to the edge of your third high within a few minutes. “Joonie, tell me you’re close.”

“Keep going, baby, almost there. Use your-- oh that!” His mouth opened, eyes scrunched. “There!” 

You smirked naughtily as you worked him with your kegels, hips gyrating on him.

“Joonie, help.” You called out, noticing that his arms were going slack. 

Exhaustion was getting to the both of you, but as he pushed up, chasing his sensations, you felt the change of angle and in a couple seconds you felt his hot cum fill your every crevice, your own orgasm mixing with his as your upper body collapsed, mouth searching for his neck. “Joonie.”

“Here.” His arms wrapped around you, holding you close as your legs started shaking and giving out. “I’ve got you, ____ baby.”

Your nose brushing against the side of his jaw, teeth scraping gently against the vein on his neck, you let your body be lulled by his breathing. 

“Love, let’s finish this shower and head to bed, yes?” He caressed your hair back, lovingly.

You have little memory of what happened afterwards, except his weight beside you on the mattress, the lights switching off his heartbeat calling you to sleep.

[snowdice]

Big Bang (Sort of) Editing Story [Day 24]

I started writing this fic while editing my Big Bang story, but am going to continue doing it for other things now that Kill Dear is out. I will write and publish 100 words of the story every time I finish doing whatever task I’m doing. If you’d like to block these proceedings, please feel free to block the tag proofread stories. I will reblog this post with the parts of the story I do today. Edited chapters are linked; everything else I’ve done so far is under the cut.

My Master Post Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

Got a little editing to do and instead of studying... I’m going to do that! (And then study later... I hope.)

Chapter 8

Whatever the potion was that the prince had just given him made his mouth tingle slightly. It was not an unpleasant sensation. In fact, it was actually kind of nice, and it tasted pretty good though not as good as the honey he’d been offered earlier. It did, as Logan had said, have a bit of a sour taste under the sweet of the honey. Yet, the way it sort of warmed his tongue almost made up for that.

He bit his lip, wondering if he was making a mistake and having more than a taste would rip apart his insides, but still replied, “yes,” when Logan asked if he was willing to drink more.

 “Okay,” Logan said, tapping his finger on the container in his hands. “I’d like you to drink about to this line today if you can, but you can go as slow as you like.”

Virgil nodded. “Okay.”

Logan offered the container again and this time Virgil opened his mouth for it slightly. Logan tilted it slow, letting Virgil control the pace. It was still slightly warm from being cooked, but there was a bit of unnatural warmness to it as well. It slid down his throat easily when he swallowed, and Virgil could feel it go to work the instant it hit his stomach.

 Virgil paused and Logan let him. The warmth didn’t fade. Instead, it seemed to radiate out and through him. He opened his lips again and Logan tilted a bit more of the liquid into his mouth. He drank until Logan pulled the container away and looked at the level of the liquid. Seeming to be satisfied with how much Virgil had drank, Logan capped the container and moved away.

“You should drink a little bit more each day until this is empty,” Logan said.

“O-okay,” Virgil agreed. The effects of the potion hadn’t faded. There was a pleasant, warm buzzing all over his skin at this point.

 It seemed to congregate where he knew there were still a few leftover bruises on his back fizzling there slightly under the skin. He let out a breath and felt his head slightly droop, suddenly felling very sleepy.

Logan turned back to him and seemed to notice. “Apologies,” Logan said, “I did forget to mention that it has a general healing potion in it as well. If you were at all injured and it needed to activate, you may feel some drowsiness. Though it should in no way be enough to force you asleep if you do not wish it.”

12766

A potion with a sleeping agent sounded like something Virgil should be concerned about, he thought, but he couldn’t quite manage to summon any anxiety over it for once. He felt himself list a bit to the side.

“…Of course,” Logan continued. “I did not account for the fact that I have no idea when you last slept, and you are also likely suffering from an adrenaline crash considering your panic a few minutes ago.”

Those… sounded… like… words?

“Oh dear,” Logan said. “Let’s not fall asleep in the chair.” He felt Logan hovering over him and squinted up at him.

 “I’m going to touch you now, alright?” Logan asked. Everything felt kind of floaty and he felt warm but not too hot all over, like he’d fallen asleep at the exact right distance from a fire. His eyes slipped shut and he couldn’t quite recall why that made a bit of panic shoot up his spine. Said panic was dulled immediately by the crashing waves of exhaustion and a comforting lack of pain anyway. “…Virgil?”

“Mmmph.” The identity of the speaker didn’t quite stick anymore, but it didn’t sound mad so it was probably fine.

“...I will take that as consent.” Gentle hands pushed him back up into a sitting position where he had been listing to the side and then Virgil’s wrists were grabbed. Virgil confusedly staggered to his feet when he was pulled up and immediately stumbled into something warm. He decided to lean against it. Leaning against it sounded good.

“When is the last time you slept, Virgil?” The voice rumbling from the warm thing supporting Virgil’s weight registered as chiding, but there didn’t seem to be any danger coming from it. He was given a soft push and he tripped in that direction. A warm band went around his waist to steady him and then pulled him forward. Virgil allowed himself to be guided, leaning heavily against the warmth next to him. He was stopped after an unknown amount of walking. “I’m going to have to put you in the closet again for now since I have to keep watch over the binding potion. However, it seems as though Patton has already constructed a comfortable enough sleeping area there anyway.”

“Mmmnum.”

“Would you lay down for me?” Laying down sounded fantastic right now. The walking was not fun and had made him even more tired. He let his body slump forward until his knees hit something very soft and then toppled onto his face. There was a sigh from above him and then hands were pushing at him until he rolled over onto his side. When one of the hands strayed near his head, he pressed his cheek into it.

“This would be something Patton would find adorable if it wasn’t a result of my unintentionally drugging you, injuries, and sleep deprivation.” The hand Virgil had been leaning into carefully lifted his head and when it was lowered again, his ear sunck into a plush thing. Something soft was pulled on top of Virgil, covering him from head to toe and then the warm thing drew away. Virgil whined at the loss.

There was a pause. “Here.” Something soft and squishable was placed under his chin and Virgil curled his arms around it, pulling it to his chest. “Sleep well. I’ll be back to check on you periodically” There was a soft click and then the world got even darker behind his closed eyelids. Virgil drifted off to sleep.

 “I think if we put a few more blankets and pillows in here, it would work okay,” a voice was saying when Virgil started to wake.

“You think he needs more?” another voice asked.

“Yes, Logan,” the first voice chided. “We want him to be comfortable.”

Speaking of comfortable, Virgil had no idea where he was at the moment or what was happening, but he was very comfortable. There was soft fluffiness closing him in on all sides and what felt like a really nice pillow under his head. He curled up even more around whatever he was holding against his chest.

 “Aw, Logan look,” the first voice cooed. There was a slight pause and a light smacking noise. “Don’t roll your eyes! You’re the one who gave him Barnaby!”

“…He was distressed.”

“Uh huh.”

“Shut up.”

Virgil was starting to wake up a bit more. He squirmed a bit and opened his eyes a crack to see two figures in front of him.

“Hey there,” Patton said, noticing him move. “You waking up?”

Virgil blinked a couple of times. He was still a little sleepy… right, Logan had given him a potion that had a sleep aid. He should probably be a bit more upset about that, but considering he was waking up without any problems, he thought it was okay.

 “Hey there,” Patton said softly. “How’re you doing?”

“Uh… I’m okay,” Virgil answered.

“Good.”

Virgil looked around himself and found that he was covered in a thick blanket and had something wedged between his restrained arms near his chest. He gave it a confused looked.

“That’s Barnaby,” Patton said. “He’s my stuffed bear.”

“Oh,” Virgil said staring at it. He couldn’t see much more than the top of it’s furry head. “Do you want him back.”

“You can keep him for now,” Patton said. “His job is to help make people feel better and you seem like you maybe need him right now.”

 “O-okay?”

Patton smiled brightly at him which seemed weird because all Virgil had done was keep something that belonged to Patton. “Are you hungry?” he asked. “Lo and I already ate a bit ago, but we kept the rest of it warm for you.” Well that was an offer Virgil wasn’t about to refuse.

“I would like to eat,” Virgil said hesitantly. “I-if that’s okay?”

“Of course, sweetie,” Patton said.

“Actually, if you wait a few more minutes,” Logan said. “I will have a way for you to eat more easily.” Virgil looked over at him questioningly. “The new binding potion finished up and I have been letting it dry on new restraints that will give you more freedom of motion,” he explained. Virgil did not relish the experience of having more binding magic applied to him, but at least it didn’t sound like he’d be forced to drink anything or that it would be poured directly on his skin. Virgil didn’t know what he meant by ‘more freedom of motion,’ but it sounded like something he’d want.

“Okay,” he agreed.

  Chapter 9

Logan had explained briefly what had happened while Patton was gone getting food. Patton had lectured him a bit about the whole drugging the poor boy on accident over breakfast, but he understood why it had happened. Logan had been too busy explaining to him that the nutritional potion would not hurt him, that he’d forgotten to explain everything about it.

The poor thing. Patton didn’t have any personal experience with binding potions, but he’d been around that one time Logan had accidently gotten some on his hand and that had been a nightmare. Swallowing it had to hurt really, really bad.

 So, it made sense that Virgil was tense when Logan came back in with the new restraints. It was just two thick leather bands that looked like simple bracelets and had little engravings on them. Patton wasn’t sure if those were decorations or meant something, but he did know at first glance they didn’t look like something to keep someone prisoner.

“I’m going to put these on first,” Logan told Virgil. Patton had brought him out of the closet and set him down in one of the comfy chairs while Logan had been gone. “Then, I’ll take off the old ones. Once that’s done, we’ll do some adjustments okay?” Virgil nodded, looking resolutely at his knee.

 Logan’s expression grew pinched, but he still reached out to take Virgil’s wrists. Patton saw Virgil close his eyes and clench his fists. The leather bands were quickly fastened around his arms above where the metal ones sat. Then, Logan removed the metal ones and set them aside. “I’m going to tighten these around your wrists now,” Logan said, already sliding them down so they settled around his wrists. “Please tell me if there is any discomfort. I want them to be tight enough not to chafe, but I don’t want to tighten them too much and cut off your circulation.”

 Virgil peeked open his eyes and blinked down at the cuffs. “That didn’t…” hurt, Patton filled in to himself.

“It’s not meant to hurt Virgil,” Logan said. “Whoever has applied binding magic to you before clearly is not only grossly negligent, but cruel. Now,” he finished fiddling with the cuffs. “There are three different settings that only Patton and I can change for these cuffs. The first setting is like the basic binding potion on the metal cuffs. It keeps your wrists locked in place wherever they’re moved.” He moved Virgil’s wrists, so they were both at his side and tapped the cuffs once. They glowed slightly making Virgil look at them curiously.

 “This setting allows you some range of motion. You can move slowly, but you will feel a pull back to this position and if you move too quickly it will snap your wrist back into place. Go ahead and try it.”

Virgil stared at him for a long moment. “Just… just move them?”

“Slowly, but yes.”

Virgil’s arms moved very slowly at first, but eventually he did pull them in front of him. Then he let them return to his sides.

“See?” Logan said. “You can do things like eat with that setting easily. The third setting gives unrestrained range of motion, but Patton or I can make them snap back into place with a thought.”

 “We’ll likely keep it on the second setting when we are actively watching you and the first when we are not, but I wanted to have the flexibility of the third as well. For now, we’ll keep it on that setting so you can eat.”

“Okay,” Virgil agreed.

“Here,” Patton said, walking over to where they had stored Virgil’s breakfast. “Logan put it in a stasis thing to keep it warm for you.” He walked back and sat it down next to him. “So, we’ve got bacon, eggs, blueberry pancakes, and blueberries by themselves. I suggest we start with the pancakes.”

 “Um,” Virgil said. “Okay.” He still didn’t seem comfortable with moving his arms much, so he nodded at the plate. “Are those the pancakes?”

Patton gasped. “You’ve never had pancakes before?!”

Virgil looked startled. “Uh… no?”

“We need to rectify this immediately!”

“You were already going to have him eat pancakes,” Logan pointed out.

Patton ignored him and instead pulled over one of the other chairs so he could sit next to Virgil. “If we’re going to do this, we’re going to do this right,” he informed Virgil.

Virgil blinked at him and then looked over at Logan. “What is he talking about?”

 “I have no idea. Just do what he wants. The worst it will be is a slight annoyance,” Logan said. Patton stuck his tongue out, but also it seemed to make Virgil relax marginally so he couldn’t actually be annoyed.

“So, these are blueberry pancakes,” Patton said. “They’re my favorite types of pancakes,” Patton said. “Though chocolate chips ones are pretty good too. Have you had blueberries before?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Well, these are blueberries from the castle gardens and they’re really good. Here, try one!” He picked up the bowl and offered it to him. He looked at it hesitantly. “Oh! Right!” Patton said. He reached forward and popped a couple into his mouth.

 Then, he offered the bowl again. Virgil very slowly reached out to take one and brought it to his mouth. Patton watched as his eyes lit up when he bit down on the blueberry.

“See they’re really good!” Patton said. He shook the bowl. “Have another one.” He was a little quicker to grab a second blueberry, but still cautious of the restraints. He popped it into his mouth and happily chewed it. The way he perked up a little bit at the taste was absolutely adorable

“Okay,” Patton said, smiling in excitement about the next part, knowing if he had never had pancakes, he probably had never had syrup either. “You can have more of those later, but first we’re going to introduce you to one of the most important parts of pancakes other than the actual pancakes: syrup.”

 Patton grabbed the still slightly warm bowl of syrup and stuck his finger in it before putting it in his mouth.

“Patton that’s disgusting!” Logan scolded. Patton rolled his eyes, popping the finger out of his mouth.

“Don’t mind him,” Patton instructed. “He’s just silly.”

Logan sputtered. “You didn’t wash your hands.”

Patton met Virgil’s eyes and then rolled them halfway. He saw Virgil’s lips twitch just barely. Patton offered the syrup and Virgil carefully dipped his finger in and brought it to his mouth. He made a small sound when he tasted it and then blushed slightly when he realized that he did.

 “And then the best part,” Patton tore off a little bit of the blueberry pancake with his fingers and dipped it into the syrup.

“Patton silverware.”

Patton looked over at him. “Are we giving Virgil a fork?”

“Right…” Logan said. “Probably not.”

“It’s better to eat it as finger food anyway,” Patton advised Virgil. “Go ahead.”

Virgil tore a piece of the pancake off and dipped it into the syrup. He got maybe a bit too much on it because it dripped onto his shirt, but it was worth it to see his expression when he ate the bite of pancake.

 “Like it?” Patton asked. Virgil nodded. “Well have as much as you want and don’t forget about the bacon and eggs. You need some protein too.”

“Okay,” Virgil agreed. He reached forward and grabbed some bacon.

“Patton and I were discussing sleeping arrangements before you woke,” Logan said after a few moments. Virgil looked up warily at that, and Patton wondered what he expected out of that. “I’m going to ward the closet you were in earlier and you can sleep in there.”

“I’ll make it up real nice and comfy for you,” Patton assured. “I bet we can even convince Logan to make you some of the fun light thingys he does for it.”

 “Unless you have an objection,” Logan said, “however, you seemed to be comfortable in the closet before. Also, with is warded, I’ll set it so whenever you are in the closet you can move your arms freely.”

“The closet is good,” Virgil said. “It’s comfy.”

“And that’s without all the other stuff I’m going to put in it!” Patton bounced a bit in excitement. “We can decorate it too! However, you like!”

“…Okay?” Virgil replied, seeming confused.

“Great!” Patton chirped. “You keep eating and I’ll go get stuff to decorate it if Logan’s able to watch you.”

“Sure,” Logan agreed. “Go ahead.”

 “Okay,” he turned back to Virgil. “What type of decorations do you want? I have a lot of cat decorations in my room so we can do that. Or mama has a lot of flower themed things I can get from her. Ooo and I think I still have star themed stuff from Logan’s birthday last year.”

“I like stars,” Virgil said after a moment’s thought. “But anything is fine.”

“Stars work,” Patton said with a smile. “I’ll go get the stuff and we can decorate the closet together today so it’s nice and comfy for when you go to bed.”

 “I’ll be right back with the stuff in a few minutes,” he said before leaving Logan’s room.

  Chapter 10

Patton spent most of the day setting up the closet into a makeshift bedroom. They moved the clothing that had been in that closet to a storage area in the potion’s lab, and Patton fussed over the arrangement of the pillows and blankets for far longer than necessary. Now he was putting up little decorations on the walls. He continuously asked for Virgil’s opinion, and Virgil always seemed startled by that fact. Logan observed them sitting halfway into the closet while fiddling with the star shaped lights Patton had wanted him to make.

 He figured Virgil would appreciate having the option of multiple light settings for the lights since they’d be above his head all night. Logan had only ever made them with on and off settings before, so he’d grabbed a few of his books; he currently had one in his lap. While he’d already figured out how to make preset settings and had programmed four: off, 100%, 50% and 25%, now he was working on the possibility of making a sliding dimmer. It was a bit more complex of a task, but it should be doable.

“There!” Patton said. “Nice and comfy!”

 Logan glanced up to see the way Virgil’s head tilted like he was trying to puzzle Patton out. Patton just smiled at him. “Go ahead and test it out!” he said. “We can switch things around if you want.”

Virgil obediently crawled into the closet and onto the makeshift bed Patton had made.

“Lay down and make sure it’s okay,” Patton coaxed.

Virgil did, laying down on the pile of pillows and blankets and laying his head on the pillow that had been reserved for that purpose.

“Is it okay?” Patton asked.

Virgil blinked long and slow like he was very much contemplating going to sleep right then and there. Logan wondered if the potion was still affecting him or if he was just still exhausted from before. Perhaps it was both. “Yeah,” he said softly.

 Patton turned to look at Logan. “Are the lights done?” he asked.

“Not quite yet,” Logan said. “They will be ready before it is time to sleep.”

“Sounds good!” Patton said. “We should probably think about dinner soon.”

Logan hummed in acknowledgment and waved his hand over the light he’d been working on. It lit up dim and then slowly increased in power as he moved his hand. Perfect! Now that he’d figured it out, it would not take long to get the rest of the lights working properly. Then he’d just have to install them.

He was just about to shut off the first light when there was a soft knock at the door.

 “Patton,” Patton’s mom’s voice called.

Logan shared a panicked glance with Patton. “Just a second,” Patton called back. “I told her you were sick,” he whispered just loud enough for Logan to hear him.

Logan jumped into action. He shoved the unlit lights under his desk along with the books and lobbed the lit one towards the closet. It missed and bounced on the ground, but Patton seemed to get the idea and picked it up, handing it to Virgil. “Sorry, sorry,” Patton said to the boy. “Just be quiet please.”

Logan hurried over to his bed and pulled the covers up over himself. Patton was there in the next second tossing a cloth over his forehead; hopefully she wouldn’t notice that it was not wet.

 Then, Patton was zipping to the door. He glanced back at Logan when he got there who nodded, laying back. He pulled open the door. “Hi Mama!” Patton said cheerfully.

“I brought you boys up some dinner,” she said.

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that,” Patton said sweetly; for someone who always preached the virtues of truthfulness, he was an awfully good fibber. “I could have come down and gotten us something. I was actually thinking about it right before you knocked.”

“It was no trouble,” Patton’s mom said. “I brought chicken and noodle soup for Logan since he wasn’t feeling well.”

 She looked over at Logan and smiled. “How are you feeling, sweetie?” she asked.

“I’m doing better. Ms. Heart, thank you,” Logan said.

She pushed a small cart past Patton loaded with food then and brought it to his bedside. “I brought chicken and noodle soup, some bread and butter, and a few apples from the garden for you two. Do you want anything else?”

“No thank you, ma’am,” Logan said.

“This is great, Mama,” Patton said. “Thank you.” He seemed to be subtly angling to hurry her out of the door, but she did not leave right away.

“What did you two do today?” she asked.

 “I mostly slept,” Logan lied. “And I read a bit.”

“I mostly just read too and helped Logan out.”

She continued to talk to them for a few more agonizing minutes before standing to leave. “Are you staying with Logan again tonight, sweetie?” she asked.

“Uh huh,” Patton said. “If that’s okay.”

“Of course,” she said. “I’ll come check on you both in the morning.”

They both smiled and nodded as she left the room. Patton slumped against the bed when she was gone. “Hiding an assassin in your closet is stressful,” he said.

“Indeed,” Logan agreed, sitting up in bed.

 Patton got off the bed and went back over to the closet. “Sorry about that,” he said. Virgil was still sitting in the closet with the light in his lap. “But we have dinner! Want to come eat?”

He nodded immediately and crawled out of the closet. His bracelets vibrated slightly when he crossed the threshold and they shifted from the mode that let him move freely to the one that made him move slowly.

They split the dinner. Luckily, Patton’s mom always provided more than enough food so there was plenty for each of them. Virgil seemed content with all the food but seemed particularly fond of the apples. Between that and his reactions to the honey and pancakes, Logan wondered if he had a secret sweet tooth.

 After eating, Logan quickly finished up the other lights and worked on installing them as Patton went poking around in Logan’s other closet and drawers for something Virgil could wear for sleeping and possibly a change of clothing or two for future days.

“I’m going to go get some stuff from my room real quick,” Patton said once they’d found suitable clothing. He set the clothes in the closet next to the bed so Virgil could change in privacy later. “Will you two be okay?”

Logan hummed his assent, continuing to work on getting the lights in the exact right place.

 Once he was satisfied, he motioned Virgil over. “These are your lights,” he explained. “You can control them with this panel I set up.” He pointed to it and then flicked through the four preset light settings. “You can also customize how much brightness you wish to have by waving your hand over the panel slowly.” He demonstrated. “You should be able to reach it fairly easily with your right hand when you are laying down.”

Virgil nodded and then tilted his head up so he could look at the lights on the ceiling. Logan had set them to 25% intensity.

 “It’s the sky,” Virgil said awed.

Logan smiled, please that he’d noticed. “It isn’t completely accurate, but I did my best, at least with the brighter ones.” Virgil looked over at him and for the first time, Logan thought he didn’t see any fear in his eyes. “Is it adequate?”

“It’s great,” he breathed. After that brief moment of calm, he seemed to remember himself, growing wary once again. The contrast between his usual countenance and the one from the moment before inexplicably saddened Logan.

“You must have watched the night sky many times if you can recognize it in a glance,” Logan said.

 “Yeah,” Virgil said. “I did every night at the orphanage in the summer. There was a book on constellations that I found. I don’t remember them all, but I remember a few.”

“Which is your favorite?” Logan asked.

“I really liked the one of the Girl Who Sowed the Forest.”

“I made that one,” Logan said. He leaned over and fiddle with the panel a bit, causing most of the stars to dim except for a dozen.

Virgil smiled at it, and even held up a finger to trace the design of the girl with her basket.

“Do you know the myth behind that constellation?” Logan asked.

 Virgil shook his head.

“It’s about a young girl,” Logan began, “who lived in a town at the edge of a forest. Her exact age varies in the retellings, but usually she is somewhere between 10 and 12 years old. She loved the surrounding forest and would spend hours in it some days picking berries, watching animals, and just exploring. One day, there was a fire. In some stories, a group of soldiers came through and set it; in other’s it was a god who was angry at them. Yet, in most it was a member of the village who was careless and accidently set their village on fire during the night. The village burned down, and the fire spread to the forest. It killed most of the people in the village and burned for weeks. Eventually, it was put out by a rainstorm. The girl was taken by the surviving members of her village somewhere else to finish growing in a less baren place. Years passed until she hit adulthood. Her people sent young men and women on soul searching trips when they came of age. She did not mean to return to her old village and the still destroyed forest, but she stumbled upon it anyway. She looked upon the landscape that had once been her home. The land had not healed since she had left. It was still all ruined and it made her heart ache. She decided then and there that she would take it upon herself to heal what had been broken. She remembered from her childhood what plants and trees used to grow there and went and found seeds from other places and people and brought them back to her home. She spent the rest of her life living in a house she built in her old village, planting seeds, and helping the forest grow once again. By the time her life came to an end, the forest was returning. They say when the trees of that forest finally grew tall enough, years after her passing, they themselves placed her image in the sky.”

 “Wow,” Virgil said. “I didn’t know the myths were that complex.”

“I also enjoy watching the stars,” Logan said, “and constellations are good for navigation. I’ve found the stories people have made up about them more often than not are meant to help one navigate life.”

“Do you know others?” he asked tentatively.

“I do,” Logan confirmed. “Would you like to hear another?” He nodded, and Logan reached over to turn all of the stars back to 25%. “Which one would you like to hear about next?”

When Patton returned, he didn’t disturb their conversation. Instead he just sat down silently next to him and listened to Logan tell the stories.

 Virgil started to droop part way through the third story, and Patton suggested he lay down. He tucked the boy in as Logan continued the story. Eventually he fell asleep, face lit lightly by the hanging stars.

“Okay,” Patton said when Logan ended the story and Virgil still didn’t stir.” I think it’s probably time for us to go to bed too. Logan nodded and they both stood. Logan quietly shut the closet door and checked the binding spell around the closet’s exit to make sure it would hold. Then, he and Patton got ready to go to sleep themselves.

  Chapter 11

Over the course of the next three days of Virgil’s captivity, Virgil would come to the conclusion that his captors were idiots.

This thought flickered to life once again as Logan leaned into the closet to point out another constellation on the ceiling, tottering unstably on his knees as his weight shifted forward and distracted by his enthusiasm.

They were alone in the prince’s room. Patton had left only a few minutes before to help his mother in the kitchen (less because she needed help and more to not make her suspicious about why he’d spent so much time away in the last few days).

 He wouldn’t be back for a while and Virgil had full mobility in the closet. With Logan leaning over the threshold like that, it would be easy to kill him or even just incapacitate him. One rough yank on his arm would have him completely in the closet. Virgil had no question that he could pin him down so he couldn’t activate the restraints, and even if he managed to do so, he’d have been drawn close enough that Virgil could use his legs. He could either force him to take off the cuffs or, since they automatically went to the second setting when he left the closet, just deal with it until he managed to get away.

 It would just be so easy. Yet, he did not. He just watched Logan as he leaned stupidly over an assassin while info dumping about stars.

This was the first day that he hadn’t felt at all tired when he’d drank the provided nutrition and healing potion, though it had never affected him quite as much as it had the first day. Logan said that meant that his injuries must be healed. It was a weird feeling. He didn’t remember when the last time was that he wasn’t damaged in some way. Even before his grueling training, there’d always been bullies at the orphanage and he’d been the youngest and smallest in his age group.

 He was also more well rested and fed than he had been in as long as he could remember. He felt better then he knew was possible today, and he suspected that he would only feel better after a bit more time under their care.

He told himself that is why he didn’t lash out now. He was waiting until he was as strong as possible to make sure his escape went as well as it could, even if it was a risk. They’d mentioned that the king would be gone for three weeks. After he returned, Virgil would surely be turned over to people much more capable of actually keeping him well trapped and less likely to feed him well, give him a nice place to sleep, and leave him without injury. It was a gamble to stay, because it was possible that he wouldn’t find another opportunity in time and would get handed over to his fate. Really, if he was being reasonable, he should get out now while he felt good and had a secured opportunity.

 Still, he did not. He had not any of the times they’d given him the opportunity in the last few days. Logan finished his sentence and leaned back out of the closet to safety. He still was speaking though in that soft happy tone. Logan liked the stars. He liked to talk about the stars, and Virgil found he liked to listen to him. They tended to end up in this position whenever Patton was away, just talking as Virgil laid in his closet.

Eventually, Logan’s latest story tapered out. There was silence then for a few moments. Virgil stared up at the fake stars on the ceiling. The stars that Logan had made for him when he really did not have to. Virgil had not been expecting lights in the closet, let alone ones so beautiful and thoughtful. Not ones with stories behind them. Just days ago, if someone had told Virgil the prince would be keeping him in his closet for the next few weeks, Virgil wouldn’t have expected a blanket let alone all of this.

 He turned his head to look at Logan. “What?” Logan asked.

“Your magic’s very beautiful,” Virgil said.

Logan seemed pleased by the complement, lighting up almost as much as the stars he made. “Well, it’s just a basic light spell,” he said, “though I did make some adjustments to them and the dimmer was a bit more difficult. Anyone could do it with practice.”

Virgil shook his head. “They’re special, I think,” he said. “Your magic’s different than most people.”

“How so?” Logan asked curiously.

“It’s gentle,” he said. “Gentle and warm, like eating the warm soup you fed me a couple of days ago.”

 “And other people’s magic feels different?” he asked.

Virgil nodded. “I’ve met a lot of magic users, but it always felt bad. Usually it hurts or makes you feel sick or just makes you uncomfortable. Even healing magic always felt like bugs nibbling at my skin, but the potion you’ve been having me drink in the morning feels… safe. It doesn’t hurt or make me want to cry. It’s just good.”

“Magic often has much to do with the caster’s intentions,” Logan said.

“I think you could poison me gently.”

Logan made an odd expression. “That…” he said, nose scrunched. “That is a strange thing to say.”

Virgil cocked his head. “Is it?”

 “Yes!” Logan said, shaking his head. “You are far too comfortable with the concept of death for your age.”

“I’m fourteen,” Virgil argued. “That’s old enough to be sent on missions without a blood compulsion!”

“…A what?” Logan asked.

“A blood compulsion,” Virgil said. “You know, with a multrum.” Logan was frowning at him. “One works in your gardens and you’re a prince. You had to at least have seen one or two. They take a bit of blood and multrums process it into a little bead. Then you’ve got to do what your told or it hurts a lot.”

 “I know what a blood compulsion is,” Logan said. “I am simply wondering who would put one on a fourteen-year-old.”

“They don’t,” Virgil said. “They stop putting them on people when they turn fourteen.”

“And exactly what is the age range for it?” Logan asked. Virgil was almost startled by the way his tone was quickly hardening. He’d never heard him be that harsh even when he’d first woken up in his custody. It made Virgil tense up.

“They take kids usually when they’re about 8 and it’s a year of training before your sent on a mission so 9-13,” he said.

 “That’s horrible,” Logan spat so violently that Virgil flinched. Logan didn’t seem to notice. “They force children to kill under a blood compulsion?”

“Well, no one really wants to do it without one when they’re that little. They get scared, and usually try to chicken out so…”

“So, they torture them unless they kill someone.”

“I mean… it’s not. They have to agree to the deal.”

“And if they don’t agree to it?” Logan asked.

Virgil thought back to the second time they’d made him get a blood compulsion. It had been with the multrum before Janus, a girl by the name of Alina. He’d made the mistake of hesitating on his first kill and faced the consequences before finally giving in and doing the job. When the second mission had come around, Virgil hadn’t wanted to accept the blood compulsion.

 That had been the first time they’d made him drink a binding potion. Logan seemed to be able to get an idea about it by the look on his face.

“So, your options were to be tortured, be tortured in a different way, or murder someone.” Logan looked at him. “You said your fourteen. Have you ever even killed of your own volition?”

“I… no,” he admitted, but quickly added, “but that doesn’t mean I can’t. I know what I’m doing.”

“That explains a lot about your personality and reactions so far.”

Virgil rankled at that for some reason. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

 Logan just stared at him for a long moment. “What they did, what they are doing isn’t right you know?” he said.

Virgil blinked at him but said nothing. He became more and more uncomfortable in the silence that ensued.

“Would you like to learn more about magic?” he asked. “There are many uses other then to hurt. I can teach you a few basics if you like.”

Virgil was confused about the topic change but was relieved about it. “Uh,” he thought. “Sure. That would be… interesting.”

Logan smiled at him. “I’ll set up something and we can work with it in the next few days. What would you like to learn?”

“Um, I have no idea. What is there?”

Logan considered it for a moment. “We could do a hair color changing potion. Or perhaps a small protection charm or I can teach you to make fire shapes.”

 “Protection charm,” Virgil said without hesitation.

Logan gave him a sad smile. “Of course. I’ll start showing you how to make them tomorrow and we can actually make some the next day.”

“Okay,” Virgil agreed.

“Would you like to hear more about the stars?” he asked. Virgil nodded. He once again leaned into the closet to point and Virgil once again did not move to attack. Nor did he attack when that afternoon Patton turned his back on Virgil for far too long when they were alone. Nor did he when they settled him to bed once again in the closet. He told himself it was strategic, but he knew it wasn’t.

  Chapter 12

Logan had needed to spend some time performing royal duties today which left Patton and Virgil alone after breakfast. Patton had started out trying to teach Virgil different board games. He’d seemed intrigued at first, but after a few games of checkers seemed to grow bored. Patton had gotten a blank stare when he’d asked if Virgil had any ideas about what to do for fun, so now he was trying to figure out something else they could do. He cast his eyes around at what Logan had in his bedroom.

“How about I read you a book?” he suggested.

 Virgil seemed very intrigued by that idea. “Sure,” he said.

“Okay!” Patton said cheerfully. “He popped to his feet and glanced through the small shelf of fiction books Logan kept in his room. He decided to choose one of the lighter ones that Logan and he had liked to read when they were younger. “This one is called The Never-ending Garden,” Patton said. “It’s about a group of four children and their adventures in a garden. It’s full of magic and adventure and friendship! Is that alright with you?”

“It sounds good,” Virgil answered.

Patton happily walked back over to sit next to him. “It is!” he said.

 First, he showed Virgil the picture on the cover of a wild looking garden with four kids roaming through it. One of the children was in a little red wagon being pulled by another one wearing a fancy hat. One of the others was walking, looking at a map while the last had a wooden sword. After giving Virgil a couple of moments too look at the picture, Patton cracked it open.

“We start with Lydia’s perspective,” Patton said. “She’s one of my favorites!” He pointed to a picture of a girl in a raincoat at the beginning of the chapter and Virgil leaned slightly closer to see. Then, Patton cleared his voice.

 “It had been raining that day,” Patton began, “but Lydia had been so bored that she still begged her father to go out and play when the storm lightened into a sprinkle. He made her change from the yellow dress she had been wearing into the one she often used to help him garden because he knew she was certain to get herself muddy. Her younger brother Marcus asked if he could come too and though part of her wanted to say no because she wanted to explore on her own without her baby brother slowing her down, her father had taught her to be a good big sister, so she agreed to let him come.”

 Patton watched Virgil out of the corner of his eye as he read about Lydia meeting up with the neighbor boy, Al, and the three children started to explore the garden in Lydia’s backyard. Virgil leaned in slightly to look at the pictures and listen to the story intently as the three children traveled deeper and deeper into the garden, but never made it to the back fence. They’d just made it to the part where they heard rustling behind the blackberry bush which Patton knew was the last main character, Melly, when Patton felt the need to adjust his posture a bit. Virgil moved in kind and ended up leaning further into Patton.

 Without even really thinking about it, Patton brought his arm around to touch the top of his head. Virgil flinched the second Patton made content and Patton drew the hand away immediately. “Sorry,” he said with a wince. Patton was a naturally touching person and he’d been having trouble battling his instincts to cuddle everyone and everything while around Virgil, but he knew most touch was not welcome. The poor thing startled every time Patton went to touch him unannounced and even sometimes when he’d said something before doing it.

“I-it’s okay,” Virgil said.

Patton gave him a tight lipped smiled and turned back to the book.

 He stilled a second later when Virgil leaned back in and their shoulders brushed. He blinked over at him. “Oh,” he said softly. “Do… do you want me to touch your hair?”

Virgil curled up into himself a little bit but then nodded.

“Okay,” Patton said. “I’m going to put my arm around you and do that then, okay?” He drew upon his years and years of convincing easily startled cats to allow him to give them pats as he slowly moved his arm back to where it had been before and gently touched the side of his head. He tensed, but didn’t startle this time, and so Patton gently ran his fingers through the hair a couple of times. Eventually, the tension bled out of him and he sort of slumped against Patton’s shoulder. Patton just barely restrained a coo before going back to reading. He continued to stroke the side of Virgil’s hair as he described the gang meeting up with Melly and them being told she was a fairy that lived in the garden.

 He'd only gotten to the part about them finding the wagon when Virgil started to shift a bit uncomfortably, his neck craned in an awkward angle. Patton kept reading as he brought the hand in his hair down to his shoulder and pushed lightly. There was the slightest bit of resistance as Virgil didn’t know what he was trying to do, but then he allowed Patton to move him. Patton leaned back a bit and picked the book up off his lap before continuing to push him down. Virgil did not help at all, seeming confused about what was going on.

 Patton had to poke him around until he was on his back laying across Patton’s lap. He grinned down at the boy who was looking at him in blatant bewilderment and propped the book up on his chest. He held it there with one of his hands and stretched the other out to resume messing with his hair. Virgil relaxed into the new position after a few minutes of reading, eyes shutting as he enjoyed the attention. His eyes would flicker open every time Patton moved to show him a picture, but other than that, he seemed content to not move.

 Eventually, he stopped responding when Patton moved to show him the pictures.

“Are you asleep?” he asked quietly. When he didn’t get a response, he bookmarked the last picture Virgil had responded to, and then continued reading to himself.

Eventually, there was a knock at the door. It was the one he and Logan had decided on to tell the other one that it was just them and not to panic when the door opened. The door opened to Logan a moment later.

He paused, taking in the sight of the assassin sprawled across Patton’s lap like a sleepy kitten. He shook his head fondly and walked over to them on silent feet. He bent and pressed a hand to the top of Virgil’s hand. Virgil stirred just barely, but didn’t open his eyes, pressing into the touch a bit.

Logan smiled. “He wanted to learn how to make protection charms today. I assume you’d like to join us?” Patton perked up and nodded happily, making Logan chuckle softly. “I will go set it up then. Would you like another book for the time being?”

“Just the one I was reading last night would be nice,” Patton said.

“Of course.” Logan stepped away to grab it and handed it to him. Then, he disappeared into his potion’s lab. Patton smiled down at Virgil’s sleeping face and settled the new book onto his chest to replace the children’s book. He didn’t even stir.

  Chapter 13

Logan was able to quickly set up the station for making protection charms. Patton had always liked making them, though he often used his more as fun accessories than for protection. The one he was going to show Virgil how to make was a very simple low level one used for little more than to keep bugs off of yourself and, in the event of a well made one, alert one to imminent danger by changing temperature. It was a nice thing to hold in the middle of the night if one was frightened by real or imagined threats. It would be warm to the touch when your environment was safe; he thought Virgil might appreciate it.

 He and Patton decided to wait until Virgil woke up naturally which only took about 30 minutes. Then, Logan brought him to his set up supplies. He explained briefly the process for making a protection charm. “I will be the one performing the enchantment for today,” he told Virgil. “I will show you how to make your own later, but I thought seeing how to make them would help with the learning process.”

“Plus, it’s fun!” Patton said.

Logan flashed a smile at him. “And that as well. I’ve prepared a small number of possible pendants for you to choose from. You can choose the shape and color, then we will put on a custom engraving, as well as decorations.”

 “Glitter! Glitter! Glitter! Glitter!”

“Yes, Patton, everyone knows you’re going to choose glitter,” Logan said, amused, “but why don’t we let Virgil decide for his own pendant?”

“Fine,” Patton said, “but mine will be glitter.”

Logan grabbed the box of blank pendants and offered it to Virgil. “Choose whichever one feels right,” he suggested. Virgil moved forward and looked over the box. “You can touch them,” Logan said. “In fact, I would suggest it as it is meant to be held when it’s done and you may as well get a feel for it.”

At his prompting, Virgil did. He reached into the box and shifted a few to the side. Eventually, he started picking a few up. “I like the crescent shape for holding the most he said,” holding a blue one up, but I don’t know.”

“What’s your favorite color?” Patton asked.

“Oh, um,” he mumbled. “I dunno.”

“Well here,” Patton said, reaching for the box. He dug through it and pulled out every single crescent moon shaped pendant and lined them up. “What do you fancy?”

Virgil considered them all for a long moment and then tentatively pointed the purple one out.

“Great!” Patton said. “Then, we’ll use that one.”

Virgil nodded and Patton picked up the pendant to drop it into his hands. His fingers curled over the shape and he seemed satisfied by the choice, so Logan turned to Patton. “Your turn,” he said.

Patton happily grabbed out a heart shaped blue one, but then paused and exchanged it for a purple one. “We match!” he said.

Virgil smiled slightly at his enthusiasm, and Logan dug out a blue crescent moon shape for himself. “Now that you have your base, you get to choose the engraving.” He opened up the instruction book to the correct page and showed it to him.

Virgil looked over the two pages of designs with carful focus. He wavered between the spiral sun and the flames for a moment, but eventually settled on the flames. Patton chose the interlocking hearts design as anticipated; it was his favorite, and Logan chose the spiral sun design for himself.

“Now, I’m going to engrave this design onto yours,” Logan said getting out the thin pen like instrument and dipping it into the slightly glowing bottle of potion he’d set out. “In the meantime, Patton will show you what we have for decorations.”

He was careful to get the symbol as perfect as he could and then started on Patton’s. Patton apparently managed to corrupt the boy because both of them came back with brushes and glitter to add as decoration.

Logan shook his head and handed them their freshly engraved pendants. “Apply the glitter how you like,” Logan said, moving on to his own engraving. Once he was finished, he selected some glow in the dark paint to decorate his own.

[nanagoswife]

Bending The Law - Part 12

Summary: The aftermath

Word count: 2k

Warnings: fluff, implied smut, mentions of blood, reinjury, torture

A/N: Like I said in an earlier chapter, I do not agree with certain actions that happen. I apologize for any uncomfort it may cause. I'm a person who writes detail and that is what I always do. This is a warning for anyone who may find this disturbing. If you want to skip this, it is the last section.

On a slightly more positive note, this is actually the last installment of this story. I may continue this, but it won't be for a while if I do. I hope you all enjoyed and please give any constructive criticism you think of. I hope you all enjoy.

Over the next few days, there was a story published about what happened with Michael. It mentioned nothing about Roman, giving you a wave of relief.

What it did say is that Michael was trying to frame Roman. The fact that you and your coworker were kidnapped was because of information you found, which was true. In the end, it was said that you escaped and Gotham PD were the ones who found Michael after being tipped off by an anonymous source. That also, in a way, was true from a certain point of view.

The court case against Roman was quickly shut down. Resources were given to you to get better, and compensation for the troubles was given to Roman. Yet, he turned this down. This gave him a better standing and showing that he was only cooperating. It helped kill any doubt some may have had.

Although the case trial was waved off, there were still things that needed to be done. Some loose ends to deal with. That would be what you would need to do as soon as you were better.

When talking with your firm, they said they would’ve done it had it not been this sort of case. Not only was this high profile, but the crimes that he was being charged for were far more serious than many you’ve had before.

Besides the recovery from injuries, you would also need time to recover from all of this from your job viewing. Just before all that Michael had done, you had successfully defended him in court. Many will probably be very suspicious of your ways now.

There was so much information that passed by you as you tried to recover.

In your state, you shouldn’t have been looking at any of it, but you couldn’t help it. You felt so restless not being able to do what you needed.

So, despite Roman’s protests, you studied everything you needed to know.

“Y/N?” Roman’s voice broke through your thoughts.

You turned around from looking out the window in the penthouse and gave a small smile. Even though there wasn’t much that happened outside, you still looked out. You would watch the sky.

“The papers said they found Michael. I thought you got him,” you said after turning back to the window.

Roman walked up behind you and wrapped his arms around your front, “We did.” He pressed a kiss behind your ear, “Gotham PD likes to take credit for nothing to give Gotham a false sense of security.”

You hummed in agreement and carefully turned in his arms. His hair fell gently over his forehead as he looked down at you. You brought your hand up and brushed it back out of his face. His brilliant blue eyes were warm.

“I came in to tell you that the doctor is here,” he said quietly.

“Ahh.”

“Today is his final checkup, correct?”

You nodded. The small cuts on your head had mostly healed and you were sure your concussion was gone by now. Today would determine whether you were right or not.

- - -

Roman waited anxiously. Sure, you were going to be fine. That didn’t help ease away his thoughts. He knew how much you wanted to get back to doing actual work instead of just reading about it.

For a moment, he stopped. When did this happen? When did he begin to actually care about anyone but himself? He didn’t know.

Ever since the moment he laid eyes on you, there was something that pulled him in. He actually wanted to talk to you. He was the one that chased after you. Usually, it was all the others that would chase him.

If he had to admit it, he liked having to basically convince you to be with him. He wanted you to be his girl and here you were.

When you originally told him that he needed to close the club during this, he usually would have been furious. Sure, he was going to close it anyway, but he felt more compliant when you told him.

There was so much that he admired you for. Pulling off Michael’s defence, the situation with your sister the first night at his club, his conversation with you. It all drew him in during every moment.

His thoughts were broken when his office door opened and he was met with your smile.

“Looks like you can go back to work,” said the doctor behind you. Your smile grew bigger as you thanked the doctor.

- - -

Feeling movement, you opened your eyes. You were met by a smirking Roman hanging slightly over you.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you,” he said quietly. Carefully, he leaned down and kissed you. His skin was still bare from the events a few hours prior.

Pulling away, you looked into his eyes and placed a hand on his cheek. “What are you doing awake?”

A smug smirk spread his lips, “Tonight, revenge takes place.”

It had been a week since all of your work had finished. The case was finally over and done with. Like he had promised, he waited until it was.

“Good,” you said as you traced circles with your thumb over his cheekbone. “Make him pay, Roman.”

His smirk grew before he kissed you again.

“Don’t wait up for me,” he said against your lips. “I’ll tell you tomorrow.”

Giving him a small nod, he gave you one more brief kiss and got up to get ready. You fell quickly back to sleep after Roman left the room. Michael was going to pay.

- - -

Anticipation filled him as he was driven to the docks. The cool night seemed to encourage this feeling.

Usually, he would have his mask with him. Tonight, though, was no time for games. He wanted Michael to see his true anger. So, he would get his blood on his own hands.

When he arrived, Zsasz was already waiting outside.

Roman wasted no time. He made his way into the warehouse with a slam of the doors.

Seeing Michael hanging from the rafters brought a smile to his face, “The time has come, my old friend.”

Michael made no sounds, no movements. All he did was stare at Roman with anger mixed with fear. It brought even more joy for Roman.

Crouching down, he ripped the duct tape off Michael’s face, which earned the sweet sound of a pain filled grunt. For a moment, Roman stayed silent. He wanted to know if Michael would try to say something. He didn’t.

“So many lies. So much deceit and treachery and you have nothing to say?” Roman said, slightly annoyed. Michael only looked at him, breathing heavily.

Finally, he opened his mouth to speak but decided against it.

“Michael. Oh, Michael. Come on, you can talk,” he said slightly mockingly. “This may be the last chance you get.”

He stayed silent.

Roman decided to now take this into his own hands. He eyed the area that he shot Michael in the leg. Reaching into his pocket, he took out his knife and opened it. Eyeing the knee again, he stood up and cut a hole to expose the bandages. Cutting those, he was met with the red, swollen wound.

“Well, look at that. This must have been agony,” he said slyly. He bent down slightly, “I bet this will make you talk.” Then, he dug a gloved thumb into the bullet wound.

Michael screamed in pain as Roman opened the poorly healed wound back up. Blood easily began to poor out. “I still can’t hear you,” Roman said as he then dug the knife into the wound.

This time, Michael wailed out in his agony.

Hearing this, Roman smiled, “There’s your voice.” He twisted the knife slowly to hear the cries coming from Michael.

Taking the knife out, he watched in enjoyment as blood flowed. Not enough to kill him, but enough to show evidence of the old wound. He gave Michael to briefly calm down.

“So,” he started, “would you like to speak before I force it from you?”

Michael looked at him almost pleadingly, “Please don’t. I- I’ll talk.”

“There we go,” he lifted Michael by his hair, “Now, tell me the real reason you fucking betrayed your childhood friend. Why you had killed her colleague when he had nothing to do with this. Hmm?,” Roman said as he tilted his head to the side and raised his eyebrows in question.

Michael stared blankly for a moment and looked away, almost in embarrassment.

Roman jostled him by the hair, “Don’t you dare look away when I’m talking to you!” His voice took on the harshness he meant to save. He needed to get his point across, though.

“I wanted t-to have her when I overthrew you. I was going to force her to be with me so that I could get her family’s position as well,” he paused. Terror was painted in his eyes.

“Go on.”

“Then, I killed her coworker to make my point.”

Roman couldn’t help but let the anger he felt show. “Thank you for the honesty. Now, where was I?”

He appreciated the new fear that showed in Michael’s eyes as he let him go.

“Zsasz, stop his fucking swinging.” He did.

What he wanted most was to hear his screams. Tonight, he was the one who would take ownership of this.

Stepping closer, he considered his next moves. Taking his knife, he dug it back into the knee. For now, he was going to keep it there.

“Zsasz, bring me that,” he pointed to another knife, his favourite, on the table. He got a good grip on it after it was handed to him.

He brought the knife to Michael’s collar bone and dug in. Michael was squirming and it was making this more difficult. Thankfully, Zsasz was already there and stilling him.

Adjusting his grip, he thrust the knife into Michael’s shoulder. The sweet sounds of his pain soothed him. Slowly, he twisted the knife before he took it out and did the same to the other. He enjoyed the sight of blood that started to pool underneath his head.

Reaching up, he took the knife from the knee and shoved it back into the other shoulder. Simultaneously, he turned them both. Every scream was glorious.

After a few moments, he took both knives out. He jabbed one into Michael’s stomach and made a few specific cuts. All with the intent to cause the most pain without killing him. Not yet.

For a moment, Roman paused and admired his work. Blood was soaking almost everything. Had Michael been wearing a light coloured shirt, it would’ve turned completely dark.

There were two trails of blood that had made their way down his face. One down the side of it, one that ran down the center to his forehead.

Kneeling down, Roman took Michael roughly by the hair. “This is an example to everyone as to what happens when you fucking betray me,” he sneered.

Adjusting his grip one final time, he slammed the knife into the bottom of Michael’s throat. Dragging it up, he listened to the gurgling of blood until he could see his tongue fall through. He watched in amusement as he wriggled and helped the blood pour even more into his face.

Roman watched until the body stilled. He smiled.

Looking over at Zsasz, he said, “Get the car ready.” Looking down at himself, he saw how much blood he had on himself.

One last time, he looked at the lifeless, hanging body. This should send a clear message as to what will happen if anyone were to cross him.

With a spring in his step, he made his way out. Not before twirling and yelling out his signature, “Woo!”

Now, he was on his way home. On his way to you.

@stardancerluv @jaydenwoo @madmax2003

[harrysgoldrush]

and they were roommates {h.s.} i

masterlist

one of the perks of being roommates with harry is that he’s an honest audience.

you’re both writers, with him being the successful musician he is and you being a best-selling romance novelist which works out perfectly for the two of you when writer’s block takes over.

it there’s a chapter or moment you’re unsure of, he’s always eager to help even if he seems busy. you’ve always done the same for him when he can’t find the right word or turn of phrase to carry his latest tune, you’re quick to set aside your laptop to help. 

still, anyone who knows you two knows that you’re the two most competitive people in the world.

every bit of advice comes with its own witty comment.

harry never fails to find your weaker moments, suggesting that the youthful confession of love in chapter four should be shyer and that your main characters should struggle more when nervous to tell the other how they feel.

you’re quick as a whip to point out any misspellings or made-up words, or as he likes to call it ‘harryisms’ and advise a shift of words to make the flow of lyrics fit better when he has too many syllables.

its all good-natured, you’re both stubborn perfectionists in the end and highly supportive of the others.

but that doesn’t stop you from sneaking into his bathroom early in the mornings to bring harry asperin, having learned early on that he has a nasty habit of falling asleep in the bathtub with his typewriter when he needs a late-night change of scenery when struggling with finalizing a song.

its become a habit for harry to get you an espresso every morning in the weeks leading up to a deadline when sleep is chased away by nerves and procrastination. he hates to hear you fell asleep at another meeting with your publisher. 

still, the loving jabs at each other just serve as distractions.

he’ll loudly barge into your room at 2am to tell you your typing is keeping him up late as he slowly picks up the latest printed chapter of your book, tucking into his ridiculously fluffy yellow robe as he tells himself its just a much needed late-night read.

you simply scoff at him, not looking away from your laptop as you tell him you’ll stop as soon as he stops singing so loudly in the morning when he makes breakfast, carefully pausing your harry styles radio on spotify and hoping he couldn’t hear his music blasting through your earbuds.

it’s never been a secret you two admire each other’s work, there isn’t an unsupportive bone in either of your bodies.

and its been that way since the two of you met in a rushed coffee meeting in between business meetings in between work. he needed a ‘flatmate’ and you needed an apartment closer to your publishing house.

a friend of a friend had mentioned you at some point during a fashion show two years ago and harry was happy to reach out and ask to meet.

harry sat hunched over his warm coffee mug, his olive green jacket collar popped up to keep him warm as he watched you carefully sip your pomegranate tea, unbothered by the wind as you sat outside the fairly empty cafe.

his hair was longer back then, being relentlessly pushed into his cheery face with every gust of wind until you had graciously offered him a dark yellow hair tie. the two of you had instantly begun chatting like old friends.

“it’s freezing out here,” he exclaimed, his teeth chattering and his eyes wide as he held his mug close under his chin, ducking down to feel the steam on his face. after another particularly strong gust of wind, harry set his mug down and reached down to zip up his jacket. his brows furrowed and his face grew comically annoyed, making you stifle a laugh, before he shifted back in his seat and began to tug at the thin material of his white shirt which had somehow gotten caught in the teeth of his zipper. Once he successfully freed his shirt and fully zipped up his jacket, he smiled widely and grabbed his mug again, squeezing it between his hands.

his nails were a deep blue, his neat manicure both impressed you and caused you to curl your hands up to hide you last minute and very messy attempt to paint you nails red before rushing here to meet him. his ripped jeans and designer boots put your leggings and worn trainers to shame. 

but something in his kind eyes told you it didn’t matter to harry. he had seemed ecstatic to see you, practically leaping onto you once he took in your faded fleetwood mac shirt you definitely stole from your mom before going off to college, crushing you in a surprisingly comforting hug.

“sorry. i guess i’m stuck in the habit of sitting outside, i’ve only gone in to order.”

“you don't have to apologize, ‘sides, it has a nice view of the park.”

“exactly. perfect to people watch.”

he had laughed at that, nodding as you casually checked the time on your phone.

“sorry, what time is it?”

“one thirty two.”

“don’t you have that meeting at two?”

“oh,” blinking, it dawned on you that you did indeed have a meeting you were scared shitless for. “it’s okay, i can reschedule.”

“no, no its fine. we can wrap this up.” finishing up his coffee, he set his mug down and rubbed his hands together quickly. “jeremy hatcher said you were still looking for a flatmate in the city. my flat is far too big for just me and it’d be nice to not come home to an empty house; i haven’t been adjusting well to living alone. i don’ t have anything planned for the next few months but normally, i travel for wo--”

“i know who you are, harry,” you laughed. when he looked at you surprised, you added, “the whole world does, your band has been the focus of every tabloid for weeks since you decided to go on hiatus.”

seeing him grimace made you realize that you never wanted to see him frown again. 

“i am so, so sorry that was uncalled for.”

“maybe a bit.”

“you should make plans.”

“what?”

“just because you don’t have a band anymore doesn’t mean you can’t keep doing what you love. i’m sure everyone tells you this but its a blessing in disguise,”  sighing, you rubbed your neck, unsure of why you were opening up so quickly to a practical stranger you wanted to live with. “i got laid off from my last job where i was cowriting mystery novels with eight other writers. i have a draft due in twenty minutes that i’m terrified to deliver because i’ve never published a book that didn’t have my name in tiny print. i’m scared people read my books because of the other seven authors but i’m also happy because this is my work. its what i want to write and if no one reads it, so be it because i know i’ll read it. maybe my parents will too. but i’ll have said what i want to have said.”

harry’s smile from earlier grew tenfold and he quickly stood up, startling you. “You shouldn’t be nervous about that meeting. i think you’ll be fine. and i’ll be happy to read it once you move in.”

“what?” you asked in shock, watching as harry dug through his jacket pockets before awkwardly shoving a hand down the tight pocket of his skinny jeans, pulling out a few crumpled dollars which he set on the table, placing his mug ontop of them to protect them from the breeze. “you hardly know me! you can’t just ask me to live with you after half an hour. i could be a murderer. don’”t ask me to be your roommate yet!”

stepping back, harry chuckled and shrugged, his hands moving up to grab at the drawstrings of his hood. “i’d like to think i know you well. besides, that’s the best part, we can’t rush getting to know each other.”

“you can’t just leave!” you exclaimed as he pulled his hood up and began to walk away.

“yes i can,” harry spun on his heel to take one last glance before frantically tapping at his bare wrist, “and you have a meeting to get to!” 

“harry!”

“i know you’ll do great roommate!”

[have-each-others-six]

time will tell, she’ll see us through (pt. seven)

***

part one

part two

part three

part four

part five

part six

***

well, this is it! the final part is upon us. thank you all for all of your support with this story, i’m really proud of it so it’s nice that people like it. if you have ideas for stories you’d like me to write, you can always message me or leave an ask. thank you again, and enjoy the final part!

***

“I didn’t rip up your manuscript,” Katherine says softly. “I don’t know why I said that, really.” She laughs sort of humorlessly. “I was just so angry at you all of a sudden that the worst thing I could think of left my mouth, and then everything just… escalated.”

“So… so if it isn’t ripped up…” Cathy says faintly, “then… then where is it?” “It’s at home,” Katherine murmurs. “It’s in a box in my room.”

“It’s not destroyed?” Cathy whispers, and she isn’t overjoyed like she would have assumed she would be. She’s not even fully relieved, not really. Her revelation from earlier about using the manuscript to define her has shifted her emotions about the story to a more complicated place, and beyond just the manuscript itself she can’t quite tell how she should react to Katherine right now.

Typically, she experiences shock by feeling her heartbeat kick up to immeasurably high speeds as whatever news she’s just received sinks in- that’s how she felt when she opened her eyes and was no longer in her own body or her own time- but now, hearing that her manuscript isn’t really gone, shock sort of feels like a heavy stone sitting just under her ribs, weighing her down and keeping her frozen in place.

“No,” Katherine replies, quietly confirming her previous statement. “It isn’t destroyed.” 

“So what do we do now?” Cathy asks shakily, feeling like she doesn’t quite know if she’s really here, if this is really happening, even as her fists tighten around a clump of grass in an unsuccessful attempt to keep herself grounded. 

“Do you want to go get it?” Katherine offers sort of awkwardly, and Cathy nods slowly, her head heavy with the amount of thoughts and feelings racing through it.

The younger queen stands first, holding out a hand to pull Cathy up to her feet, and then they begin walking, the lamps seeming brighter than they did when it was just Cathy out here alone searching desperately for Kit, only half an hour or so ago.

“Thank you,” Katherine murmurs, looking at her feet as they walk back to the apartment. “For… for saying those things.” “The things I said were true,” Cathy replies, just as quietly. “I’m sorry that it took me so long to say them.” 

She swallows. “I know I can’t take back what I said when you told me about the manuscript- or, I guess, lied about the manuscript- but I’m sorry about that, too. You’ve felt comfortable enough to be vulnerable with me in the past, and I weaponized that information against you just like all those monsters from… from before.”

“You aren’t a monster, Cathy,” Katherine murmurs. “You hurt me, and I’m glad you’re apologizing, but you aren’t like them.” She takes a pause. “I… I think I know how to tell the difference now, between real love and what they all gave me.” 

Her gaze runs along a line of weeds growing against a building. “All of you have shown me real love- I know that you love me for real, and I know that you weren’t actually trying to hurt me by saying those things. Maybe in the moment, I guess, but by the time I had gotten to the park, I realized I wasn’t scared, at least not in the way I had always been scared of them. I knew that you were just upset.” 

She looks over at Cathy, and meets her eyes before continuing. “You aren’t a monster. You said some things that really hurt me, but you aren’t a monster.”

Cathy feels tears in her eyes at the girl’s calm, quiet explanation.

“I’m sorry for hurting you,” she whispers.

“I forgive you,” Katherine replies in a soft voice, and gives a half-smile to Cathy. “I’m sorry about…” She makes a sort of an awkward, flailing gesture with her arms to encapsulate everything that’s happened in the past twenty-four hours, and it makes the older woman laugh. “About everything.”

“I forgive you, too,” Cathy murmurs, surprised to feel the honesty in the statement.

“So what happens now? With the manuscript?”

“I’m going to figure it out,” Cathy tells her. “But I won’t abandon you, or any of the girls. That much I’m sure of.”

Katherine doesn’t say anything more, but when they finally make it back to the apartment, she wraps her arms tightly around Cathy and squeezes her into a hug, and Cathy knows that this hug is all of the things that Katherine can’t bring herself to say out loud, so she hugs the girl back and tucks her chin over her head, breathing fully in and out for what might be the first time in days.

Cathy ruffles the girl’s hair slightly after they pull apart, grinning, feeling like they’re settling back into familiarity with one another after weeks of being out of step. 

“Oh, thank god,” Aragon exhales as soon as the door is opened after Cathy knocks, pulling her goddaughter close. “Please never do that again.” 

She’s holding Cathy tight, and it scares her how she can feel Aragon trembling slightly- she knows Jane is ‘unshakeable’, as dictated by her song, but Aragon has always been the steady presence for Cathy through all of this, and the fact that Cathy caused her to break by leaving frightens her.

“Well, I’m here now,” Cathy assures her, wanting to lift the fear from Aragon’s eyes as she steps back and opens her mouth to speak further, but she’s interrupted by someone sprinting into the front hall, Jane appearing next to Aragon in the doorway with worried, tear-filled eyes.

“Is she-” Jane asks desperately.

 Katherine moves out from behind Cathy, and Jane’s whole posture shifts, walking down on unsteady feet to the girl, pausing and waiting for the nod before she steps into her space and tucks a piece of hair behind Katherine’s ear. “Are we okay?” she questions in a gentle voice, looking between Katherine and Cathy, the wind blowing down the moonlit street and rustling the trees, adding to the almost otherworldly atmosphere.

“We’re okay,” Cathy answers, after she and Katherine exchange a glance. “We’re all okay.”

“Come inside, it’s cold,” Aragon tells them, and after everyone’s safely inside she takes one more breath of the chilly night wind and sends a silent prayer of thanks up beyond the stars that the two girls returned home safely.

When Jane’s done making sure Katherine is completely unharmed, she lets the girl go back to her room, and Cathy just rests in her godmother’s arms for another few moments, content to just sit on the couch and relish the safety of it all for a while before throwing herself back into the complicated emotions of her manuscript.

Katherine walks into the room a little while later, and Cathy almost doesn’t look because she doesn’t know if she can face it but then she turns her head anyway.

There, in Katherine’s arms, is Cathy’s manuscript, tied together with her blue ribbon.

It’s not ripped up into pieces, it’s not lost in some remote corner of the city, it’s here, now, in Katherine’s arms.

Cathy stands and pulls the last page from her pocket, the one that was completed only last night, and slips it into its space at the bottom of the pile before setting it on the table in the middle of the living room, where it sits between the four women and commands all of their attention despite its unassuming appearance.

“It’s… but I thought…” Aragon starts, looking between the two girls in confusion and Katherine shakes her head.

“I know,” Katherine replies, having anticipated this reaction. “I didn’t destroy it. I… I panicked when Cathy stormed into the room. I was too scared to tell the truth because I thought she would leave, so I said it was destroyed when it wasn’t,” Katherine explains quickly, and Jane and Aragon’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise and shock, trying to process the information.

“So the story is done, then?” Jane asks softly. “It’s really done?”

“I just need to send it off to the editors before it goes into publishing,” Cathy tells them, in a little bit of shock as she looks down at her completed novel, feeling completely different from last night when she’d thought It’s done for the first time.

Now it’s truly done, all the parts reunited, and Cathy always wondered why an author’s novels all together are called ‘a body of work’ but she thinks she understands it now. Her books from her old life, the ones on her fiercely devout faith and the self-punishment that she thought was the way to absolution of sin, the beliefs that defined her, those live in her mind and her limbs and her lungs, although they mean something different to her now than they did then.

This new book will live in her too, as much a part of her body as her arms or legs, but she knows not to let it become all she is. Her body of work will always be close to her heart, but it won’t be her heart, not like it was before.

Her family is her heart.

She knows that now.

They won’t be forgotten by her- they won’t be lost to the wastes of time- because she doesn’t have to hold on to every tiny part of their history to know who they are.

She’ll always know who they are, by their laughs and the faces they make when they don’t like something and the life that they’ve all created together. They’ll always be with her, as sappy as that sounds- she knows that her heart won’t leave her, no matter what happens.

Anne and Anna come into the living room in a rush, having heard the girls come home. They give twin shrieks of excitement at the sight of everyone standing around the stack of papers, and then the silent stasis that the others had been frozen in at the enormity of the moment is broken at the exclamation so they all burst into chatter at once.

They all have dinner together, laughing about different stories from their old lives and things that happened at the show in the past week, and when Katherine sits between Jane and Cathy on the couch Cathy puts her arm around the girl’s shoulders. It feels good to be approaching normal, albeit a different normal than before.

Cathy reads to Katherine before she goes to bed like she always does, something the girl looks forward to each night no matter how much she denies it or calls the practice childish, but tonight there’s no protest whatsoever as Cathy reads to her from a modern book of fairytales, the ones that have happier endings than the older ones she remembers.

She figures they could both use some happy endings after today.

Cathy gets up from her chair when the story is finished, but she stays in the doorway as Jane slips into the room to say goodnight.

Jane makes sure her girl is all tucked in, brushes some pink-tinged hair out of her face, and kisses her forehead. She whispers something softly, smiling, and Cathy tries not to hear what’s being said because some moments need to stay sacred.

“Good night, darling- I love you,” Jane murmurs after, and she holds her hand over the light switch while she waits for Cathy to say goodnight too, watching her with a gentle expression on her face.

“I… good night, Kit,” Cathy says. “See you tomorrow.”

The room goes dark, but Cathy still hears Kit’s response.

“Love you, Cathy.”

She leaves the door open a crack, letting the light from the hallway fall into the girl’s room, hoping it does it part to ward off potential nightmares. Most of the other queens have nightlights, but Katherine prefers the light from having her door open instead. Cathy thinks it’s less about the light and more about being closer to those she cares about- to be honest, it helps her, too, knowing that Katherine can come find any of them if she needs to.

Cathy hums as she walks into her own room, opting for her small desk lamp rather than the overhead for light as she pulls the first page of her manuscript gently from the grasp of the tied ribbon.

She told everyone it was done, and it is, for the most part, but she’s been on a journey today, and she thinks that she needs to change a certain part of the book that’s been on her mind to reflect that.

Her dedication, the dedication that will appear just before the title page of the novel, is currently to the craft of writing and all it’s done for her. While poetic, and honest, it doesn’t feel real to her- it didn’t even as she was writing it.

She crosses out that line with a strong stroke of her pen and writes something else without hesitation, a true dedication that had seemingly been living in her subconscious for a while- it stirs something within her when it’s marked down on the page. She has to swallow a lump in her throat as she reads over it again.

Sitting back in her desk chair, she exhales, closing her eyes, and then there’s a knock on her doorframe.

“Hi, darling,” Aragon says gently, smiling. “How do you feel?”

Cathy makes an indistinguishable noise and gestures vaguely at her manuscript. “That’s how I feel,” she answers, laughing quietly. “That’s the best answer I’ve got for you.”

“I’m excited to read it all,” Aragon tells her. “You did kind of spoil the ending earlier, though…” she muses, fighting a laugh at the way her goddaughter rolls her eyes. “Well, apologies, I sort of thought that the entire thing was lost forever,” Cathy says sarcastically, but Aragon doesn’t respond, looking at something else.

“What’s this?” she asks, peering over Cathy’s shoulder at the updated dedication. “To-” she starts reading, but Cathy yanks it back.

“Not yet,” she says firmly. “You’ve got to wait until you read it in the full book.”

“But that’s such a long wait!” Aragon exclaims. “The curiosity’ll eat me alive!”

“I highly doubt that,” Cathy tells her, rolling her eyes again, but then the teasing tone ebbs away as she looks at the stack of paper with a sort of awe. “It’s really done this time,” she says softly.

“You did it,” Aragon responds in a whisper, echoing what she knows is going through Cathy’s head, and her goddaughter reaches behind her to take one of Aragon’s hands in her own and squeeze lightly.

“Thank you,” she says in a quiet voice. “For everything. Not just today, but for- you know what I mean. For everything.”

Aragon squeezes back before replying.

 “You’re welcome,” she says, because she doesn’t have as many words as her goddaughter to encapsulate all that she’s feeling so she just says it simply, hoping that Cathy can hear all the unspoken things.

There’s a stretch of silence that passes before Aragon speaks again.

“Do you know what your next story is going to be about?” she asks, and Cathy shakes her head and says that no, she doesn’t know.

She didn’t know how freeing it would feel until she said it. She doesn’t know. And she’s completely fine with that.

Cathy doesn’t know what the next story she decides to write will be, but she doesn’t need to know right now. She isn’t seized with the desperate need to follow a new narrative. She feels like she’s been doing that her whole life.

She’s all right with the uncertainty of what she’ll write next because she’s here- not lost in a story, but here, in the moment, holding her godmother’s hand and looking at the finished story in front of her.

And, for a short while, Catherine Parr can rest.

~

~

~

To my family:

May we always find our way back to each other, no matter what lifetime we are in.

-C

-Dedication inscribed in the novel Six Wives, Six Women from Catherine Parr, former Queen of England

***

taglist: @thenicestnonbinary, @soultastic, @thenoteworthyhelen

[chris-evans-indian-fanfic]

21st Century Vampire

One-Shot

Description: Marvel AU where Steve is a vampire who works at a blood donation centre. 

Warning: Just mentions of blood, nothing gore.

This one-shot is my entry for @caplanbuckybarnes writing challenge! There are some hilarious prompts on the list! Check it out now! 

My Main Masterlist

I don’t consent to have any of my work published or featured on any third party app, website or translated. If you are seeing this fanfiction anywhere but Tumblr, it has been reposted without my permission. In that case, please do share the link and let me know.

…

Steve Rogers was probably the world's worst vampire. Even after being alive for more than a century now, he was broke. And where did he manage to find work? At a blood donation centre! Disgusting! He was lucky there were very few vampires in LA, or his reputation would have been shredded to bits. A vampire working at a blood donation centre? Humiliating! Dishonorable! 

Steve hated working there. The stench of human blood was nauseating, the human beings more so. But unfortunately, the pay was decent and his colleagues were understanding. Nobody questioned his extremely pale skin, or found it weird that Steve never stepped out when the sun was still in the sky. Everybody quietly accepted that he was allergic to garlic without posing any further inquiries.

Working as a receptionist, he led quite a dull life work-wise. There wasn't really much for him to do except ask people to fill forms and sometimes calm down nervous first-time donors. He was generally patient with the humans, always biting back his wincing words, or trying his best to be as sympathetic as possible. Hey, after spending almost a 100 years on the planet, he could try to be a little more patient and a little less condescending.

But his calm and collected facade came crashing down the day you walked into the centre.

Flaunting a latest (and factually incorrect) vampire-teenager-love novel in your hand, you headed towards him and flashed a nervous smile. "Hi, do you guys take blood?"

Steve commended himself on the amount of self control it took not to roll his eyes. "You can donate blood here miss, if that's what you are talking about."

"Yes yes that's what I meant. I want to give blood. Where do I go?" you glanced towards the door beside the reception area.

"Kindly fill this form first ma'am," Steve pushed a familiar document towards you.

You filled it up pretty fast, leaving the space for your blood group blank. "I don't know what my blood group is. Is that okay?"

Calm down Steve, you can do this. "No ma'am that is not okay. When was the last time you took a blood test?"

You only bit your lower lip in response. 

"We will have to get a blood report done first, then you can donate ma'am," Steve explained irritably.

You nodded, "Ummm yeah, sure, absolutely. It's not like I am scared of needles or blood or anything. I read vampire fics for a reason, people!" you told a semi-empty waiting room.

Steve squinted his eyes at you, "Are you scared, miss?" 

You paused for a bit, then pointed at your book, "Yeah… But you know if I can handle the blood sucking scene in the book, I can surely handle a machine sucking my blood, right?" you tried laughing but only a dry sound escaped your throat.

Steve couldn't take it anymore. He hated novels that portrayed vampires as just human blood sucking creatures. He rolled his eyes at her, "That book is the worst kind of literature you can read. It is full of false information. Do yourself a favour and throw it in the bin."

A frown creased your forehead as you let his spiteful words sink in, "Who cares? It is still a great novel! And all the places that the author has mentioned exist in real life! So I don't know what you are talking about."

"Really? Just the real places are important to you? What about all the incorrect facts about vampires?" Steve replied hotly.

"What about it? The author has portrayed vampires in a completely different light!" you exclaimed.

Steve laughed an empty laugh, "Oohhh no! Vampires are NOT featured differently in that novel or in any other works throughout the world! They do not crave human blood. Infact, vampires hate human blood and everything to do with humans!"

"Oh yeah? And how do you know so much about vampires?"

On any other day, Steve would have backed down, claimed himself as a vampire enthusiast and accepted his defeat, but not today. Not on the full moon night he knew would turn Bucky into a tamed werewolf. He knew by the time he would reach home, Bucky would have eaten his carpets, bumped his head against himself in the mirror, ripped his stuffed toys and then cried over them. Today he had to deal with an emotional Bucky for the entire night. 

Then there was you. So stubborn to accept the truth that you were willing to argue with a complete stranger about your cursed book. 

The sheer stench of human blood added to the horrible cocktail of things that flipped off Steve.

Today would be the day Steve would lose his patience. 

"BECAUSE I AM A VAMPIRE!" he screamed at the room.

His announcement was followed by pin-drop silence. 

Unable to bear it anymore, he started his rant, "Do you think we vampires hunt humans? Of course not! There are so many of you guys in the world that it never was, is not and will never be considered as a sport! And no, our skin doesn't sparkle in the sunlight like freaking diamonds! Our sensitive skin gets burnt in the sunlight!"

His thin chest heaved as he struggled to maintain his breath, "No garlic and silver can kill us! We are all allergic to garlic. And silver gives us rashes on our skin. But do you know what is the worst part of being a vampire? The immortality! I am a 100-years-old vampire who is still somehow broke! And where did I finally manage to find work? At a freaking disgusting blood donation centre!"

You had moved away from his desk, afraid of his sudden outburst. 

The door next to the reception area opened as a tall, dark man poked his head out. "Is everything okay out here?" Dr Sam Wilson asked, taking in the scene before him.

Steve was still panting as the others in the waiting room just looked at him in shock. A few had their phones out and seemed to be recording something.

"Dr. Wilson," somebody asked, "Is it true what this man said? Is he really a vampire?" 

Sam looked at Steve, lines of exasperation evident on his face, "Ma'am, vampires, witches, wizards, werewolves etc do not exist in the real world." 

He turned to Steve, "Steve, what's going on?" 

"He just told us all that he was a vampire," you said, "Went on quite a detailed rant about it."

"Steve," Sam managed to say in a bitter tone.

"Why have you hired such wackos doc?" a man asked from the crowd.

"I am not a wacko!" Steve retaliated, "I am a vampire!"

"Then turn into a bat now!" the same guy challenged him.

"Huh! Vampires can't turn into bats. Some vampires liked to have bats as pets earlier," Steve defended his point.

"Steve, pack your things. You are fired," said a grim Sam.

"But I really am…"

"Steve, I have tolerated your outbursts in the past. I am not going to forgive you again. This is an highly unprofessional and unacceptable behaviour. You are fired effective immediately," Sam stood his ground.

Steve scoffed. So much for telling the truth.

He gathered his things and left, mad at himself, mad at the world, mad at Dr Erskine for turning him into a vampire just so that he could join the army.

Lost in his thoughts, he didn't notice as you caught up with him. "Hey," you softly said to get his attention.

Steve jumped. You quietly chuckled at his reaction. "Aren't vampires supposed to be aware of their surroundings?" 

He threw you a disgusted look and kept on walking.

"Hey wait!" you called out after him. "Are you really a vampire?" 

He looked at you at that moment. The sincerity in your eyes softened his. "Yeah," he muttered. 

"Can you keep a secret?" you whispered.

Steve leaned in closer to you. "I am a witch."

He looked upwards, rolled his eyes and started walking again. 

"Wait! Don't you believe me?"

"No I don't! And I really enjoyed the joke. So thank you!" he shouted back.

You saw his dark silhouette become a small dot on the horizon as a plan formed in your head. A vampire was maybe just the missing piece of the puzzle. You already had a speedster, a magician who practised the dark arts, a man with superhuman strength, another who could spin spider webs through his hands and lastly, a man who could fly.

You smiled at yourself. An army of some of the strongest men on Earth was just what you needed to start a revolution. An army of men, led by you, the Scarlet Witch.

Permanent tag: @donutloverxo

Taglists open!

[garbagevanfleet]

Learn To Leave A Room (series)

PART THREE

Pairing: Jake & female!Reader Warnings:  REAL ACTUAL SEXUAL CONTENT. 18+ ONLY. Summary: Balancing relationships is hard work - God forbid someone throw a wrench into it. Notes:  I appreciate everyone that likes, reblogs, and comments. There’s a special place in heaven for people like you. <3

MASTERLIST

“I am not ashamed, the story goes. I swear I will learn to leave a room without touching every part of your face.” — Marcelo Hernandez Castillo, “How to Grow the Brightest Geranium,” published in Breakwater Review

The cake is perfect. It’s exactly what you had ordered - a vanilla cake with blush pink, buttercream frosting. Little edible pearls spell out Lucy’s name. It’s uncanny how perfectly it mirrors her personality. 

It lives in your fridge for six hours before you head to the party, next to a carton of orange juice and a bag of baby carrots. You think about it periodically while you get ready, trying to remind yourself not to forget it when you leave. 

Lucy had requested that you wear something “really cute for pictures”, so you had gone and bought the most pastel dress you could find at Forever 21 and hung it in the back of your closet. 

You’re trying to figure out if it makes more sense to do your makeup first and risk smearing your foundation on the dress as you slip it on, or put the garment on first and risk dusting powder on it. You weigh the options as you lay out every product you want to use, but in the end, you decide to slide the dress on and then tuck an old t-shirt into the neckline like a bib. It looks stupid, but it gets the job done, because you do drop a pea-sized glob of concealer onto it, and it surely would have stained the lilac-colored fabric.

You run your fingers through the loose curls that you’ve shaped your locks into, and straighten your dress in the mirror.  When you’re finished, you grab your keys and your phone, and you do get all the way out to your car before you realize you forgot the cake. 

It’s only 6 pm when you pull up to the Kiszka house, but Lucy had texted you earlier asking if you wanted to come and help her put up decorations, so you agreed. You’re glad that you did because she’s hectically taping candy pink streamers around the supporting boards on the ceiling. 

“Lucy, wow,” you say. “You look incredible.”

And she does. Her long blonde hair is in a loose, fishtail braid down her back and she’s wearing a party dress the exact color of the cake you’d brought. She only turns her head to look at you and give you a smile. 

“Thanks, babe. I’d look better if I didn’t have to sweat my butt off rehanging these streamers,” she explains, shooting Josh a look, who you realize is leaning leisurely against a doorway instead of doing any work. He grins at you, feigning innocence.

“I don’t really feel like there’s a wrong way to hang them,” Josh argues lightheartedly. “I guess I just don’t know about taping shit.”

You breathe a laugh at him and cross the room to give him a one-armed hug, careful to not risk dropping the cake. He takes it from you and disappears with it in the kitchen. There are heart-shaped mylar balloons everywhere; across the ceiling, tied to the stair railing, framing the doorways. 

“It looks like Valentine’s Day in here,” you say sweetly and Lucy hums back at you.

“I have a lot left to do, but isn’t it pretty?” 

“It’s gorgeous,” you agree. 

You had been completely distracted by everything that you hadn’t worried about Jake once since you got there, so when he steps into the living room through the kitchen archway, it knocks the smile right off of your face. 

You are not sure of much in your life, but you’re positive you’ve never seen him look so good. He looks like the antithesis of this party, dressed in a ripped pair of dark-wash jeans and a button-down that’s undone down to the base of his sternum. An array of long necklaces rest over the exposed flesh. 

The nerve. 

Looking at him is like trying to look directly into the sun, so you try to keep your eyes trained on anything else, but it’s nearly impossible. Lucy is turned away, and Josh is still in the kitchen, so you steal a glance over again. Since you’re the least lucky person you know, he meets your eyes, and the smirk he offers you back makes you wish you could choke him to death with all his stupid jewelry. 

“Can I help with something, Lu?” you ask, snapping yourself back to reality. 

“Wanna spread the glitter?” she asks in a sing-song tone. 

You frown deeply at her. 

“Glitter?” Jake asks in a tone that mirrors your exact confusion. “You know this is a house party, right?”

She nods at him but doesn’t say anything else.

You know you can’t reason with her, but you also know that you should try. “Lucy, isn’t glitter going to be a little messy? How are you going to clean it all up?”

“I’m not,” she responds through a grin that shows her blindingly white teeth. “It’s my birthday, so you guys are.”

You feel your face fall into a sour look, but she just keeps grinning at you. After a good five seconds of silence, you sigh and she points at a gallon-sized bag of glitter on the coffee table.

“For my birthday, I’m going to make you fill this entire house with foam like a rave,” you threaten. “And then, the morning after, I’m going to make your hungover ass eat it.”

She lets out a genuine laugh that makes you feel warm, so you can’t stay mad at her. 

“Wouldn’t it all melt?” Jake asks, playing along. 

“Then she can use a straw,” you say, but you still end up spreading glitter across the tables.

Half an hour later, you’re trying to dust tiny reflective pink stars off of your hands when you hear Lucy gasp. She had been setting cups out on the table, but now she’s staring at you with wide eyes. 

“Shit, we forgot to get alcohol!” she squeals and turns to look at Josh. “Is there anything left from the last party?”

He shakes his head. “Definitely not enough.”

“Will you pretty please make a booze run?” she begs you, looking like she’s about to cry. “I’m not even close to done here.”

“Of course I’ll go.” You start heading towards the door when Josh calls Jake’s name and it echoes through the house. 

Jake calls back a “what” from his room, but you can hear him start to make his way down to the living room.

“I’ll send Jake with you,” Josh explains, and then to Jake as he reaches the bottom stair. “You’ll escort her to the liquor store, right?” 

You try to stop it but your eyes pop open wide. “No, it’s okay. I’m perfectly capable of making it there and back.”

“Just go with Jake so he can help you carry it all,” Lucy insists like you’re being stupid, which you are. “You know what I like, and we need at least the same amount we had for the last one.”

You watch Josh hand Jake his debit card and then he ushers you both along. 

He doesn’t say it, but you figure that Jake is driving when he leads you out to his car, and you clamber in. The bench seat is freezing against your bare legs, and you feel like it’s somehow gotten colder out since you left your house. He must notice you curl in on yourself because Jake flicks the heat on high as soon as the car is started. 

On the drive into town, you’re acutely aware of the small amount of space between the two of you. There’s no center console, so the only thing separating you is a couple of cassette tapes and an unopened pack of cigarettes. 

You chance a look at him and instantly regret it. 

His profile is so unbelievably beautiful, from the slope of his nose to the way his hair rests on his shoulder. It’s starting to get dark out, but what’s left of the natural light makes his jaw look knife sharp. He licks his lips absently, but you can tell he’s aware that you’re staring at him now. It feels safer here, without the threat of Lucy or Josh’s prying eyes. Just you two in a glass box. 

Once your brain gets the idea that you need to touch him, you couldn’t stop yourself if you tried, so you don’t. You reach over slowly and place your hand on his thigh, but you force yourself to resist the urge to slide it up any further. 

He looks down at it and then over at you, and he breathes a disbelieving laugh. 

“You know, you’re starting to give me whiplash,” he says, but there’s no malice in his tone. His eyes flick back to the road. 

Your fingers press tighter into the fabric of his jeans as you open your mouth to speak. “I’m sorry,” you reply, but you know you’re not, and so does he. You wish you could tell him what you want, but you can’t quite find the words, so you just settle for focusing on the feeling of his leg beneath your palm. You leave it there the rest of the ride into town, but you manage to rip your eyes away and watch out your window as the shedding trees pass you by. 

When he pulls into the parking lot and turns the car off, you share a blank look. He’s not wearing that cocky smirk anymore, and you think he’s truly trying to figure out what you’re going to do next. But the joke is on him because not even you know. 

You head inside with him close behind you and grab a cart. A bottle or two of every type of alcohol you can think of finds its way in and you pull a bottle of birthday cake flavored vodka off a shelf. You smile down at it as you set it in with the rest. After you pick out mixers, you’ve got enough to last through three parties, you think. The cashier gives you a look that makes you think maybe you’ve gotten too much, but he rings it up all the same. 

You’re about to ask him to split the tab up, but Jake shakes his head and hands Josh’s card over. 

“We’ll get it,” he says under his breath.

You’re more than grateful to have him along as you pack everything into the backseat because you can admit when you’re wrong, and there’s no way you’d be able to handle all the bags yourself. 

The sun is completely gone as you hop back into the front seat, so the ride back is pretty dark, and you’re a little grateful because it eliminates the temptation of stealing looks at him. However, that doesn’t stop you from placing your hand back on his leg, maybe a little higher up this time, but hey, who’s keeping track?

You keep thinking about his outfit. He normally dresses somewhat like that, doesn’t he? You can’t recall ever being quite so taken aback by his appearance. By the time you’re just a minute away from home, you’ve convinced yourself that he’s dressed like this deliberately, and it makes you wonder if he’d done the same for the last party. 

He parks the car, but you don’t make an effort to get out, so neither does he. He looks over at you expectantly, an eyebrow cocked slightly.

You hold his gaze and, heart racing, you start to slide your hand farther up his thigh. His eyes flick down at it, but it isn’t until your fingertips are brushing over his zipper that he grabs your wrist. The motion is so quick that it startles you a bit. You hold your breath, suddenly worried that you’ve gone too far. 

He looks like he’s considering letting you keep going, but after a few seconds he lets out a shaky laugh.

 “We need to get back inside,” he says, but his voice has taken on that tone again. The silky one that commands your attention. 

You laugh breathlessly back at him and he lets go of your wrist. You don’t let yourself feel like a scolded school kid as you get out of the car, but you can feel yourself blushing. 

Josh opens the front door and jogs out, Sam just behind him.

 “Where’d you come from?” you quip at Sam.

“I was napping,” he says through a goofy smile.

You feign outrage. “Are you telling me that I was spreading glitter and you were sleeping?”

“In my defense,” he starts and then brushes past you to open the back door to the car. “There’s no way I’d help with glitter. And being in charge of the music is a really exhausting job.” 

“I’ll gladly take it over for you,” you tease. It would be nice to be able to hear yourself think this time around.

 “You can pry it out of my cold, dead hands.” 

Josh ushers you inside empty-handed, and you smile gratefully at him. It takes the boys two trips to bring in the bags, but as soon as they’re set down on the kitchen counter, you start to unpack them. Lucy trots up to your side, giving you a hug.

“Thank you so much for going to get all this,” she whines and you hug her back. “You’re a great friend.”

“I know,” you tease. You can see that she’s been busy since you’ve been gone. There’s now little heart-shaped sugar cookies and chocolate dipped pretzel sticks laid out around the house for snacking, and you cannot imagine a reality where there isn’t pink and white frosting puked all over this house in the morning.

You grab out five shot glasses from the cupboard as the boys join you in the kitchen. Lucy looks absolutely delighted at the sight of her special birthday cake vodka, and after pouring you each a shot, you hold your glass up and turn to her.

“To Lucy,” you say and she beams a smile at you. “And to Valentine’s Day in October.”

The alcohol is so sweet that it makes you cough, but you laugh as Lucy picks up the bottle and takes another pull. She disappears into the living room with it under her arm.

As soon as people start arriving, they don’t stop until the house is packed. You get to catch up with old friends from high school, and you drink until you’re feeling nice and loose. This time when Lucy asks you to dance, you don’t put it off. You twirl around with her, and she doesn’t let go of the bottle of vodka the entire time.

The house is warm from so many bodies and it makes your hair stick to your skin. Luckily you had thought ahead to wear waterproof makeup, so when you find yourself checking it in the bathroom mirror there are no smudges to clean up - only flecks of pink glitter dusted across your nose like freckles.

The cake finds its way out unceremoniously and Lucy’s so drunk that she just swipes frosting off the top of her slice. You watch her lick it off of her finger and then offer it Josh to do the same and you shake your head. He laughs at her, but you look away before you see anything else, opting instead to make yourself another drink.

You wind your way through people, too drunk to care too deeply if you bump into anyone. The concoction you mix is a bit too strong, but the cup is too full to add more mixer, so you don’t make any moves to fix it. You’re thinking about trying to stir through it with a straw when you notice that Jake is standing feet away from you. Has he been there the whole time? You think yes, especially when you realize the girl that’s standing between you and him is having a full-blown conversation with him. You want to laugh at the lump in your throat that feels suspiciously like envy.

He doesn’t look deeply invested, but he’s nodding and laughing at all the right moments. You’re not sure he’s spotted you until he locks eyes with you over her shoulder. It’s only for a second, but it makes your face hot, so you rip away and weave back into the living room, praying that he doesn’t think you were eavesdropping. 

You sit with Lucy and Josh on the couch where Lucy is trying to talk with you about a conversation she had with a high school friend. You’re not sure if it’s because she’s too drunk, or because you are, but you’re having trouble understanding her, so you just nod along. You have no idea what time it is, but people are finally starting to leave, and it gives you the warm feeling of a successful party as people come and say their goodbyes to the three of you collectively. 

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t thinking about him before, but now for the rest of the night, you are hyper-aware of Jake’s presence. Every time he’s in the same room as you, your eyes are on him, and you have the sense to feel a little embarrassed about it. At first. But every sip of alcohol sees a fraction more of your inhibitions out the window. 

You should be at least trying to listen to Lucy, but out of the corner of your eye, you catch Jake standing by the staircase. He sets his drink down on the railing and goes to pull the pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket, and looking back at you, he flicks his eyes toward the kitchen - an invitation for you to follow. 

You go to excuse yourself, but Josh and Lucy are already standing to hug someone else goodbye, so you’re able to slip away undetected. 

The rest of the house is really starting to clear out, but the kitchen is still the most populated as people rush to get one more drink before it’s all over. You’re easily able to shoulder past them to make your way through, and you find that Jake is already waiting for you on the porch when you get out there. 

The October air is chilly, and you think you’d be colder if you weren’t so full of alcohol. Still, you wrap your bare arms around your chest to preserve heat, and you unabashedly watch his fingers as Jake pulls a cigarette out and slips it between his lips. You’re impressed with how sober he can act as he fumbles with his lighter, especially since you’ve been watching him drink all night. Once he gets it lit, you watch him take a drag. 

Neither of you says a word, but the silence is comfortable as you just stare at each other.  You wish you could play coy - pretend that you weren’t sure if you were going to end up fucking him, but you know, and so does he. 

The way his eyes rake up and down your body makes your breath catch. It feels like his gaze is touching you, leaving your skin to tighten in its wake. You think he might kiss you - you’re hoping - and you brace yourself for it, but he doesn’t. He just smirks at you, and a drunken worry that he can read your thoughts crosses your mind.

When he finishes his cigarette, he stubs it out into the railing, then he gestures you back toward the door and follows you in. You’d only been out there a few minutes - or at least you think it was only a few minutes - but when you reenter, the kitchen is nearly vacant. The only people still lingering are Sam and a girl under each of his arms, one of them brushing her fingers through his hair. You laugh at them on your way past and receive a grin from him in return. 

The living room is completely empty, save for Lucy, who has just shed her heels onto the hardwood and is currently pulling off her earrings. 

“Wow, everyone left so quickly,” you remark, and you have to tell yourself not to look as Jake slips past you and disappears up the stairs. 

“I kicked them out,” Lucy replies sweetly. “It’s pretty late. Hey, do you want me to stay down here with you?” 

You give her a questioning look before you realize what she’s talking about. “Oh, no. I’ll be okay. I’m pretty used to sleeping on this couch.” You pat the back of it, giving her a smile. 

“Are you sure? Or maybe you want to come sleep with us upstairs?” 

The look Josh shoots her makes you laugh a little too loud and you shake your head. 

“Lucy, go. I’m going to be just fine.”

Josh has to help her up the stairs, but as soon as you’re sure that they’re in his room, you slip into the kitchen. Sam (and his girls) have disappeared too, and you allow a sigh of relief. You fill a glass with water and sip at it with the weak hope that it’ll lessen the hangover you’re due for in the morning.  

Back in the living room, you pull a blanket out of the wicker basket by the tv stand and place it over the couch. You stare at it ruefully for a brief moment before roughing it up to look used, just in case someone happens upon it and wonders where you are. A pang of nerves feels like hot fluid in your veins as you flick off the lights. As you’re heading up the stairs, you try to be completely silent. You’re relieved that you can’t hear anyone throughout the rooms, but you also eye the bathroom door, just in case anyone pops out and you have to pretend that you’re too drunk to find your way around.

You pause a second in front of Jake’s door, your hand on the knob. It’s only after you take a deep breath and count to three that you can turn the knob, even if it’s frustratingly slow.

You’re praying that the hinges won’t squeak, so you aren’t expecting it when the door is pulled the rest of the way open from the inside. You gasp as his hand finds its way to your hip and he gently tugs you into the room. He is decidedly less quiet as he shuts the door behind you with a thud. 

“Jake,” you scold through a grin. You feel his fingers press into your hip just a fraction tighter.

His room is dark and your eyes aren’t adjusted yet, but you realize how close he is as he breathes a laugh and it’s warm against your face. 

“Stop worrying so much,” he says, and for the third time in your life, that silky commanding tone of his has you feeling weak. He presses you back against the door and instinctively, your arms wrap around his neck.  When he brings his face closer to you, the smell of smoke and cologne in his hair is intoxicating. You curl your fingers through the strands and press your body back against his until you’re flush together. 

You’ve been anticipating it for so long that the first time that he kisses you, you can’t help but let out a moan at how satisfying it is. He hums a laugh against your lips, but you’re too drunk to feel self conscious about it. He tastes incredible as you start to lick into his mouth, your lips slipping together. He slides his hands down your back, slowly enough that you’re anticipating what he’ll do next. Another, dirtier sounding, moan escapes you as he cups your ass, pulling your hips closer. His fingertips knead into your flesh through the fabric of your dress, and you enjoy the warmth that washes through you. 

Your heartbeat picks up as his right-hand starts to wander lower until it’s wrapped around your thigh. When he starts to wrap your leg around his waist, you think you might lose your balance, but he counters the weight flawlessly, pressing you tighter into the door for support. He situates you until his leg is between yours. Your dress is riding up high enough that your panties are what slides against the denim of his jeans. The breath you let out is embarrassingly shaky as he teasingly rocks you forward, grinding you against his thigh. It’s silent enough in the space between you two that he hears it perfectly, and your sound pulls a smug hum from his throat. You kiss him again, deeper this time because the nerves are melting away with the pressure against your core. He lets you work yourself against him, but between the feeling building in you, and the sound of his timed breathing, it becomes increasingly hard to focus on what your lips are supposed to be doing. Your face feels as hot as the point where you’re meeting his leg, and you don’t realize how wet you’re really getting until you can feel the slip of your skin against your panties.

You break away from his mouth to breathe the word “fuck” against his cheek, but before you know it, he’s pulling his leg away. You let out a whimper and mourn the loss of contact as deeply as you would a dead friend. He huffs a pleased laugh into your ear, making you shiver and when you realize he’s teasing you, you frown - even though you know he can’t see it.

“That’s fucked up.” You intend it to sound angry, but it comes out in a soft, pleading whisper. He holds you far enough away that you can see his face, and you can just make out his features in the dim light coming from under the door.

 When he speaks, it’s with his hand cupping your jaw. “What’s fucked up is the way you’ve been fucking with me for weeks.” His tone is serious, but you can hear a hint of a smirk under it. 

“I wasn’t sure what I wanted,” you explain through a breathy laugh.

 He shoves you tighter against the door, and it doesn’t hurt in the slightest, but the strength of it only turns you on further.

He leans in and takes your lips against his again. “Don’t lie to me,” he says directly into your mouth as he pulls you away from the door and starts walking you both towards his bed. It’s clumsy because of the state of your sobriety, but when the backs of your knees hit the bed, he pushes you down on it. The slight force of the action elicits a low moan from you.

Ever ready to push him further, you lay back and run your hands down your body, slowing over every curve, and you have to bite your bottom lip at the look on his face. 

There’s an old neon light plugged into the wall in this corner of the room and the dull red catches against the side of his face. The sight of him standing over you - you’re sure you’ve never seen anything like it in your life. He slowly pulls off his necklaces and they make metallic noises as he lets them drop to the hardwood floor. 

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” you breathe and he cracks a smirk at you. You absolutely can’t help yourself - you sit up and start helping him undo the bottom buttons on his shirt, and as soon as the skin is exposed, your mouth finds it. Wet kisses leave shiny marks along his stomach and across his hips. His hand rakes through your hair, tugging the strands lightly. You nip into the skin and the feeling of his muscles jumping at the touch makes you groan through your teeth. 

Your fingers dance along the hem of his jeans, and without warning, you cup his cock through the fabric with your hand. The denim is a little too thick to feel the exact shape, but you can feel it getting harder as you palm against it. His grip in your hair tightens, maybe involuntarily, as your free hand fumbles with the button and then the zipper. You peel the fabric back and mouth over his cock through the thin fabric of his underwear. 

The little noise that falls out of his open mouth makes you feel instantly wetter, and you try to grind down against the bed for some reprieve, but it’s not quite enough to be satisfying. Your fingers are dipped under the band of his briefs, just about to tug them down when he gently shoves you back again. 

Your expression, eyes wide with shock, earns you a deep laugh from him. He pushes you up until you’re both fully on the bed and then crawls half over you, his hair falling around your face like a curtain. 

You reach up and run your fingers through it, scratching your nails lightly against his scalp. He dips down and kisses you again, but this time, he means business. He’s got his tongue in your mouth almost instantly, and you lick against it, tasting him. He tastes like sweet alcohol, but you lose focus the second you feel his grip on your knee. 

He starts to move his hand up your leg, painfully slow. When he gets to the hem of your little dress, he slides it up. His fingers press into the skin of your thigh, lightly at first, but then deep enough that you pray they leave bruises. You gasp against his lips, so he pulls away and leans in to nip at the skin on your neck. 

By the time his fingers catch against your panties, you’re feeling starved for the touch. He’s not giving you any pressure - any friction. It’s feather-light, but when he brushes over your clit, your hips buck into his hand without your permission.   

“Sit still,” he instructs, and it’s so sexy that it makes your eyes roll back. When his fingertips press against you again you have to press your hips flat to the bed to keep them from moving. Goosebumps rise over your limbs as he pulls your panties to the side and you feel his fingers toy along your skin before they pause. 

The look on his face is a little alarming. His brow is furrowed and the area around his lips is all red from the friction against your neck. His voice is already a little gravelly from want, so his voice comes out deep. “You are so fucking wet.”

You purse your lips together and bury your head into his shoulder. You’re way past feeling embarrassed, but you absolutely cannot handle him looking at you like that. The obscene whine you let out would be a little too loud if it wasn’t muffled against his hair, but you can’t stop it as his finger drags over your folds. When it dips into you, you can feel just how truly wet you are - you let him work it into you and love every movement. At that moment, you decide that his fingers are your very favorite thing about him.

You completely forget where and who you are until you hear how ragged his breathing is getting. He moves to delve in to the last knuckle, but as his body shifts, you can feel the length of him against your hip. 

“Jake,” you whisper, past the point of caring if you’re begging. “Please.”

He must be able to hear the desperation in your voice because he sits up and pulls you along with him, your arms tight around his neck. He holds your hair to the side as he undoes the zipper on your dress, and lets you shrug out of the garment. It gets set aside with care before his hand is cupping your breast, thumbing across the nipple. They’ve always been sensitive, so when he leans in to suck one into his mouth, you give a high whine from the back of your throat. Your fingers thread into his hair as his tongue circles around it. You’re thankful that he doesn’t waste too much time on them, but you can tell that he wants to. You make a note that if you ever get another chance at this with him, you’ll try to be patient enough to let him. 

He slides your panties down and onto the floor before he starts fumbling with his pants. The denim is so tight that he has to work a little to get them off, and it doesn’t help that his hands seem to be visibly shaking a little. You give a half-hearted laugh at the struggle.    

You are struck completely breathless, however, when he slides his briefs down and his hard cock is suddenly right there. At that moment, you decide that his fingers are no longer your favorite thing about him.

When he catches you eyeing it, he grips it and he gives it a couple of slow strokes, making a show of it for you. The fact that the sight makes your mouth water is fleetingly concerning to you, but you add another thing to your “next time list”.

You’re more than ready as he parts your legs and situates himself between them. Leaning over you, he presses his lips against yours and as he slides in, he swallows the shaky breath that you let out. 

He pauses for a moment after he’s in to the hilt, giving you a chance to adjust to it. He seems to be fighting the urge to move, and you think the sentiment is sweet. So sweet, in fact, that you feel slight butterflies, their wings beating against the inside of your stomach. But you have never been so turned on in your life, and you want this. 

You grip his hair, maybe a bit too tightly and look directly into his eyes. “Fuck me,” you demand through clenched teeth. The proud feeling you get from the way his breath catches will live in your head forever if you have any say about it.

He grips your thigh and hitches one of your legs over his hip before he starts thrusting into you. It feels so good that you can’t even make a noise; your lips just part as your chest tightens. His fingers have done such a good job at laying the groundwork that you feel like you’re already peering over the edge. You’re wet enough that just him thrusting in and out of you is enough friction on your clit and it feels like absolute heaven. 

He’s undeniably handsome under normal circumstances but he’s so much hotter in this moment than you ever could have expected. You can’t stop yourself from playing your fingers along his clenched jaw and his pulse races under your touch as he picks up a rhythm. You have to close your eyes because seeing his face like this is too much. 

You can feel him breathing hard against your cheek, and the space between you is so hot that you’re starting to sweat. You drag your nails down his back and he lets out a low hum between pursed lips. You try to imagine the red lines your fingers leave in their wake but he’s fucking you so good that all of your thoughts feel like they’re melting away before you can realize them. 

“Fuck, Jake,” you whisper against his lips and he desperately kisses you, like he’s afraid that the sound of your voice is going to send him over the edge. 

He shimmies up until his hips are flush against you and when he thrusts in again you have to cover your own mouth to keep yourself from crying out. The slight change to the position has him in you so deep that he’s grinding against your clit with every stroke. You’re so wet that you can feel it dripping and that thought alone makes you bite against your palm.

You can tell that he’s getting closer as his rhythm slowly starts to fall apart. He leans back and places one hand on your hip for leverage as the other starts rubbing firm circles into your clit. 

A string of expletives fall out of your open mouth into your palm, and you rock your hips into his touch, desperate for more of the hot feeling building in you. You don’t have to tell him that you’re going to come - you’re sure he can tell when your eyes roll back. As a last coherent thought, you recall something about him playing guitar, and you think that's maybe why he’s so dexterous - his fingers working so precisely against your clit. 

Before you can overthink it, you rip his hand from your hip and pull it up to your face. There’s a wild look in his eyes as you suck his forefinger and middle finger into your mouth. His jaw clenches tight as he starts to work them past your lips in time with his hips. He pushes them in just far enough that you can feel your throat threatening to gag.

Between his touch on your clit, his fingers in your mouth, and his cock sliding into you, the sensation overload sends you over the edge. Your eyes roll back and you can feel yourself clench around him as you come. 

He fucks you through it, slowing until his thumb is just brushing over you and patiently switching to long, deep thrusts. You hadn’t realized that you’d closed your eyes until you open them again. You can tell he’s so close to coming that he looks pained, and your hazy mind takes a split second to appreciate how insistent he’s been on your orgasm. He slowly pulls his fingers from your mouth, and you make sure to tease your tongue along them as he does. 

“Come on,” you say, your voice a bit fucked out. “Come for me.”

“Fuck,” he breathes, but he doesn’t wait for you to ask again. He leans over you, hands on either side of your head and starts fucking you in earnest. The rubbing against your clit is beyond intense post orgasm and you can’t hold back a whine. He feels incredible inside of you, and the sound of his jagged panting is something you never want to forget for the rest of your life.

He’s shaking as he pulls out of you and slides his cock through a tight fist a few times. He comes across your stomach with a low growl through clenched teeth and strokes himself for a moment longer.

You’re both panting as you come down from the high and you’re drunk enough that when you stare into his eyes, you don’t feel embarrassed. Your fingers reach up to tuck his sweat-damp hair behind his ear. Smiling down at you, he huffs a laugh. 

He fishes a t-shirt off of the floor and gently wipes his come off of your stomach, pecking a kiss against your cheekbone as a consolation. You try not to feel too sentimental about the gesture.

He pulls on a pair of loose shorts across the room and you watch intently as the dim, red light catches the sheen of sweat across his back muscles.

“Do you want me to go to the couch?” you ask gingerly as you sit up and pull his sheet across your bare chest. 

He turns and gives you a look that’s near mortified. “What? Do you want to?”

You shake your head. “No, I just-” You trail off as you reach for your panties and slip them back on. “Didn’t know what the boundaries were.”

He laughs at you, low and under his breath as he thrusts one of his clean t-shirts at you, and you slip it on gratefully. “Don’t you tire yourself out worrying so much?”

You offer him a smile and a shrug.

He crawls back into bed and pulls you down next to him. You’re not sure whether or not you’ll regret it in the morning, but you lay your head on his bare chest and press a kiss into the skin. He rubs his hand across your upper shoulders and wriggles until you’re flush against his side. You’re drunk and exhausted, and still coming down from an immense high, so you’re not sure if you’re dreaming it or not, but the last thing you seem to remember is him nuzzling his nose into your hair.

PART FOUR

Taglist:  @myownparadise96

[jadeile-writes]

Fanfic Progress Update 134

Hello, everyone! Heads up, I’ll probably not do a progress update next Saturday, as I’ll not be home and doing it with my phone is annoying and dumb. Stay tuned for a spoilery glimpse into the next chapter of Adventure Gone Mini at the end.

Current WIPs:

Adventure gone Mini

Fandom: Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild / The Minish Cap

Summary: Sidon is given his very own Sheikah Slate, the first replica Purah has managed to make, and sets out to travel with Link with the intention of registering warp points for convenient travel in the future. However, when a malfunction shrinks them down to the size of bugs, and they meet little people called the Minish, they have to change their plans from “fun adventuring” to “getting out of this mess”. Not that those two have to exclude one another. Link/Sidon.

Progress: Chapter 55 is the current latest chapter and was posted on 18th of August. Chapter 56 is finally done, although unfortunately it wasn’t done for last Wednesday. I thank my readers for being patient and waiting yet another week for it<3 I’ll be leaving for a vacay on Monday evening, so I shall post the chapter on that day instead of making you guise wait another week until I’m back home. TL;DR: the scheduled posting date is 20th of September, and a bit earlier than my usual time too.

Only the epilogue left after the next chapter!

—–

Hah! Our afterlife is the most hilarious bushwa, dearest

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Summary: This is not a stand-alone story! This is a oneshot/drabble collection in the universe as “Shit, the Radio Demon is a part of my afterlife”. Read the main story before bothering with this one.

I decided to give my readers a chance to throw Radiohusk prompts at me, and had the Afterlife-verse as an option to set the stories in. Everyone liked that, so this fic is now a thing. Enjoy the extra mischief from these two dorks!

Progress: Chapter 28 is the current latest chapter and was posted on 27th of November. Chapter 29 is technically written, but I’ll need to look it over to see if I want to tweak it before I can call it done. The scheduled posting date is Some Friday, and there will be a sneak-peek on the Previous Thursday. Chapter 30 is half-done as well.

Note to new people who might be looking at this: I’m not taking prompts anymore. These will be the last chapters, and then the fic will be done.

—–  

Other WIPs I’m not currently working on but intend to get back to someday:

PoE Drabbles (Pillars of Eternity)

DC Drabbles (Justice League)

Diaphanous Relations (Forgotten Realms, R.A. Salvatore’s books)

Revalink chapter fic (Zelda BotW) (This is planned to be the next fic I’ll spend my writing hours on, once Mini is done)

A bunch of Hazbin oneshots and chapter fics, some started, some just on the idea phase. There’s… there’s a lot…

—–

That’s it for the WIPs! Here’s the promised sneak-peek into Adventure gone Mini (Note: the text may end up slightly different in the fic itself due to more editing happening before publishing). Enjoy!

Mini

Closer up, Sidon looked a little worse for wear. He had a fresh scratch on his left bicep, and there was a rip on the arm fin of the same arm. Link assumed he had fought back when the Vaatians initially attacked them, after Link ran. Sidon didn't have his spear or his fire rod, but his bag was still on his person. It made sense that his weapons had been taken, but Link was grateful they had let Sidon keep the rest of his belongings, because it truly would have stank to have to replace everything again. "Hi, Wildberry", Sidon said cheerfully once Link and the Vaatians with their prisoner stopped in front of each other. "I'm so happy to see you're alright!" Link smiled at him, then looked at the Vaatians. The swordsman stayed by Sidon, and the mage lowered their rod in order to extend a hand towards Link. "Give me the Cap." Link deliberately hesitated, gripping the rim of the Cap and biting his lip, before flicking his eyes at Sidon in a show of being unsure. He needed Sidon to act instantly once this Vaatian touched the hat, but he had no way to convey a message, not even with eye movements; not in the presence of enemies. He could only hope Sidon was ready to act on his own. He looked at the mage and visibly steeled himself before holding out the item-of-too-much-Hylia-damned-interest with his left hand. The Vaatian's fingers took a firm grip of shining cloth and the light underneath Link's fingers faded and migrated to the spot the Vaatian was touching.

—–  

That’s it this time. See you next Saturd- actually, probably not. But the one after for sure!

Links:

My AO3   My FFnet   My Ko-fi    Radiohusk Discord Server

[miracul0us-multishipper]

Welcome to the back (Part 15)

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

- - -

Adrien had never felt this afraid. He‘d been in this building countless times before, as both Adrien and Chat Noir, but he’d either been guided or had simply followed his Lady’s lead. Now he wished he’d paid more attention to the the layout of the building.

He had reached the main studio a minute after the ads had started - this place was a maze! - just to find all his friends gone already. A confirmation of his worst fears. They were up to something!

He had to find Lila! She could get them out of this mess, she knew how to talk her way to safety. If she were to be exposed... Earlier that week, it had only been their class’s harmony that had been at stake.

Now, she would take Adrien down with her. What had he been thinking? Why had he helped her, why had he lied for her? He’d only made everything worse! Damnit, Marinette had been right. This was his own fault- Marinette!

His thoughts returned to their encounter earlier, and he ran even faster, searching for the others. He needed to find her. How she had gotten her hands on his Miraculous, he didn’t know, but the fact it was inactive and on a string meant that she wasn’t using it - yet. Maybe she was simply waiting for the right time to steal his place. He growled and ripped another door open, revealing the room behind it to be empty.

Marinette wasn’t fit to be Chat Noir. She didn’t have what it took to be Ladybug’s partner, and she hadn’t deserved his miraculous like he did! He would convince her to give it back. Marinette wasn’t unreasonable, she’d understand. And she had liked him, Lila had told him once. Maybe if he promised to be a better friend now, maybe even go out together, she’d realize this was his destiny.

His thoughts began to spiral down a slippery slope. He needed Plagg, needed his miraculous. He’d do everything that was necessary, for Paris’ sake, for Ladybug’s sake!

But no need to do something rash, he’d try it the nice way!

Adrien knew this would work.

Adrien knew that it had to.

Adrien-

“...really is a bitch.”, a familiar, although muffled voice declared from somewhere in front of him. Felix! With his last bit of strength, Adrien pushed the doors to Jagged Stone’s studio open. His eyes widened when he saw what had happened.

He was... too late.

Lila stood in the middle of the room, together with Felix and a man he didn’t recognize, even though he looked vaguely familiar. She was frozen in fear, and she had every right to. There were cameras pointed at her from every side, and her classmates stood at the walls like angry bulls. Jagged Stone was patting a smugly grinning Marinette on the shoulder, and Nadja Chamack held a microphone out to the unknown man.

“This is Nadja Chamack, life from the TV tower, 21st arrondissement!”, she almost screamed into her microphone in excitement. “We just witnessed Chief Editor René Bordeaux admitting to have actively and willingly spread false accusations about an aspiring designer, specifically to harm her career. Will you give us a statement about your conspiring with a minor in order to blackmail your son, famous model Felix Leanne?”

The man - René Bordeaux, he remembered him from the fashion show, now! - backed away, arms raising to simultaneously hide his face and gesture through the air

“Y-You’re not allowed to publish that!”, he yelled at her, panic and wrath merging his voice into a shrill shout. “I have not consented to any interviews! As your superior, I order you to stop!”

“Actually, since you are a public figure and I am a journalist investigating your case of corruption, everything that has just been published is perfectly legal.”, Nadja informed him with a wink. “And it doesn’t look like your position as my superior will last much longer.”

”Also, since Lila has signed a declaration of consent just this morning,” Alya chimed in, holding up a document, “she’s fair game as well! Maybe you should’ve read the damn thing, Liar.”

Lila was only now recovering from the shock.

“Y-You guys did so great!”, she tried to fake a smile. “We finally busted that evil producer! I knew you were there, of course, I was just acting to make him spill his deeds-“

“Oh, shut up.”, Felix rolled his eyes at her and walked over to Marinette. “It’s game over for you, so save your excuses!”

Tears welled up in Lila’s eyes, and this time Adrien actually believed they were real.

“I-It wasn’t my idea! He forced me to, René Bordeaux forced me to help him!”

“I deny any involvement in this affair! I want to speak to my lawyers!”

“Come on, guys, you know me! I-I did so much for you, didn’t I?”, Lila whined on. That’s when she spotted him in the door.

“Adrien!”, she all but sobbed. “Tell them! Tell them I’m innocent; I’m the g-good guy!”

He backed away, wishing she hadn’t brought him up. Now the others had noticed him too.

“Is it true what she said?”, Nino said, brows furrowed in frustration. “You knew everything? And you just... did nothing?!”

“What the hell, Adrien?!”, Chloé spat, towering over him like a hawk. “I thought I was the jerk between the two of us!”

He fell to his knees, exhaustion catching up with him. His legs were wobbly of shock.

“No! No, I... I only wanted... I was just trying to protect you!”

“Protect us?”, Alya snarled. “By leaving us at Lila’s mercy, completely unprepared?! I uploaded a shit ton of fake news on my blog thanks to her! If it hadn’t been for Marinette, this could’ve ruined my entire career!”

“I thought we were friends, dude!”, Nino agreed, looking as betrayed as Adrien felt. “But friends don’t lie to each other! And you sure don’t help others with lying to your bro!”

No, no! This couldn’t be happening, no! Not like this, not now, not him!

“Please...”, he whispered, his hand clutching around the lucky charm in his pocket. “I wasn’t... Lila just...”

He couldn’t think of any excuse that wouldn’t sound hollow now. His friends didn’t care as they turned back to Lila, ignoring his slumped figure on the floor as they continued their petty fight.

Adrien didn’t listen to them, too busy with his own despair. He had... failed. At everything.

At being a good friend in the first place. At being there for Ladybug. And now at stopping Marinette from exposing Lila. Everything he did went wrong, everything he put his mind to-

“Cathexis”, a deep voice called and a purple glow illuminated the darkness of his mind. “I am Hawkmoth.”

Adrien froze. The lucky charm beneath his fingers had grown cold, and he couldn’t lift a finger to throw it away. Its cool prickle travelled up his wrist, his arm, into every cell of his body.

“I will give you the power you need to achieve your goals.”, Hawkmoth whispered into his head. “To keep your loved ones close, and your enemies even closer.”

No. No, he was a hero. He couldn’t let himself be turned into another one of Hawkmoth’s monsters.

“You’ve been wronged, haven’t you?”, Hawkmoth continued sweetly. “Ah, you have tried so hard, yet they keep ignoring your advice.”

His fight with Marinette flashed through his mind.

“Rejecting you, even though you have done so much.”

Ladybug pushing him away, again and again and again.

“If they cannot listen...”

Lila had continued to lie, Marinette had kept on plotting against her, Felix just wouldn’t stop being rude...

“...they must feel.”

Adrien’s head lowered and his lips moved on their own, whispering a word he didn’t mean.

“Yes, Hawkmoth.”

His eyes closed as the purple smoke covered him entirely.

“I will reign them in.”

Cathexis smiled.

“And be the hero they deserve.”

-

“You did it.”, Felix beamed at Marinette and pulled her aside. “I don’t know how, but you did it.”

How had she gotten everyone involved? Their oh-so skeptical class, Nadja Chamack, even Jagged Stone! It seemed impossible, but she had succeeded. He was free, from his father’s lingering shadow and Rossi’s obsessive manipulations. Free, once and for all.

“Of course I did!”, she played it off, cheeks as pink as Rose’s shirt. “I promised you, didn’t I? Besides...”

Her eyes wandered to her classmates.

“It was more of a group effort.”

Felix followed her gaze to the others, who were gathered in the middle of the room. Alya eagerly assisted Madame Chamack in pestering Bordeaux with one cutting question after the other, Nino cheered her on. Chloé led the others in their rage against Lila, who had started to spout every lousy excuse in the book. Sabrina was calling her father at the Police to arrest Bordeaux, who would have a hard time getting out of this one. Juleka and Jagged Stone were comparing the hues of their hair dye, Rose being their obviously biased judge. They were chaotic and loud and ruthless and absolutely amazing.

“I guess I should thank them.”, he said, a smile creeping onto his face. “They’re not so bad, after all.”

Yes. Annoying maybe, but full of loyalty and love for their friends. For Marinette, and after some time, perhaps even for him.

“Still”, he insisted, not here for Marinette not giving herself enough credit. “You are the best. How do you want me to repay you? I could invite you for dinner!”

She shook her head, smiling ironically.

“I think we are past favors and debts, aren’t we?”

Favors and debts, like on their very first day. No, they really had moved on from there. He had moved on, from his obsession with owing nothing to anybody. When he thought back, he could only see fear. That Bordeaux had been right, and every nice thing done for him came at a cost. Now though...

“Then let’s not call it favor.”, he suggested softly. “Let’s call it... a date?”

Part of him was shocked to hear himself even propose that, but rest of him was tired of hesitating. He wanted every second of Marinette’s company he could get, to make up for the days of Lila-induced isolation.

He watched every movement in Marinette’s face, every minute twitch of her lips and eyebrows. At first, her eyes widened and her cheeks turned darker. (Was she blushing? She was blushing! That was a good thing, wasn’t it?)

Then her fingers bolted up to her face, as if to hide it, only to settle for brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

“I...”, she started, voice two octaves higher then usual. Until finally, her lips curved into a smile. “I’d like that. And I know just the place!”

A mischievous glimmer appeared in her eyes.

“You’ll see when we get there, it’s-“

A scream drowned her voice out and they jumped back. Felix felt his blood run cold. The door had been slammed shut, chained and locked. Where Adrien had kneeled when he’d last checked, a gloomy figure hovered over the floor. It was held up by heavy metal chains that crept over the ground like snakes, apparently not bound by any law of physics. Defying gravity, some of them simply floated next to their wielder, waiting for orders.

The wielder himself looked monstrous enough on his own. His skin was devoid of any color, lifeless and dull like bleached bones. Black stripes ran down his face, like tear stains from his wide, eerie green eyes. His hair shared the stripes’ unsettling color. On top of his head rested a spiked, golden crown that reminded him of a halo.

Knight-like armor adorned with an upside down paw-print protected his torso, and around his wrist was a beaded bracelet of some sorts. From a chain around his other hand dangled a heavy, spiked Morningstar.

The akuma - because what else could he be? - chuckled.

“Much better.”, he sighed. “Now, let’s see... who wronged me the most?”

Without any visible sign, his chains bolted towards Lila, who screamed when her waist was seized by the animated metal. Instinctively, Felix’ hand grabbed Marinette’s. Any fast movement might draw the Akuma’s attention to them, but he needed her to be ready to run as soon as there was a chance.

All eyes were fixed on Lila and her captor, who tapped his chin as the girl quivered before him.

“Oh, you look so scared.”, he gasped. “Poor Lila. It’s just me, good old Adrien! Or... Cathexis, to be exact. Why would you fear me?”

He hummed.

“Maybe... because you know that you used me? Or because you lied to me? Or because you stalked me?” His voice grew louder and louder, and his soothing smile turned into a malicious grimace.

“Or because you ruined my friendships? My school life? My everything?”

Cathexis laughed joylessly, eyes so wide they looked as if they might pop out of his skull.

“Please!”, Lila pleaded desperately. “It wasn’t my fault, I-I only wanted the same thing as you! I promise-“

“SHUT UP!”

Everyone in the room startled, frozen in fear. Marinette gripped his hand more tightly as the chain holding Lila started to glow in the same, cold light Cathexis’ bracelet radiated. It began at its root somewhere behind his shoulder, and slowly spread over the links towards its victim. Lila whimpered.

“See, I am tired of waiting for you to change.”, Cathexis lamented. “I gave you so many chances, but you just won’t listen! So I’ll have to make you a better person myself.”

He grinned, revealing a mouth full of sharp teeth.

“Let’s call it one last emotional investment in you, okay?”

Lila trashed and trembled in her restrains as the glow came closer, tears in her terror-stricken eyes.

“Stop! I’m sorry, but whatever you’re doing, please stop it!”

Marinette twitched, but Felix held her in place. He wouldn’t let her endanger herself for Lila of all people! They could only watch as the light reached its prey. A white flash blinded them, then the chain dissolved and Lila dropped to the floor. She breathed, and her eyes were open, but her gaze was lifeless and empty.

Cathexis sigh broke the silence he’d shocked them into and he looked around.

“So...”, he said with an innocent smile. “Who’s next?”

-

Cathexis felt strong. He felt quick. He felt ready.

His chains dashed through the room the second he thought about giving the order, and as the people in the room broke out in panic, they seized them with ease. Nino, Alya, Chloé, all immobilized and chained to the ceiling with nothing more than a thought. The chain he had lost by fixing Lila was regrowing, and he directed it towards Marinette. His dear friend had started to guide the others to the back of the room and behind a curtain, cherishing the hope they might find safety there. Felix was next to her, but he could wait. For now, his ring was priority number one.

With a flick of his wrist he send the chain flying. It wrapped around Marinette’s wrist before she even noticed he was targeting her, and he had pulled her into the air in a heartbeat. Ignoring Felix’s scream, he retreated to the other side of the room.

Hawkmoth’s approval humming through his head, he sunk on eye-level with her, dodging the punch she’d aimed at his face. Another chain wrapped around her, fixing her arms at her side.

“Marinette!”, he rebuked her with a raised finger. “You should never react with violence, don’t you know that?”

“Let me go!”, his mannerless friend snarled. “What did you do with Lila?”

He knew the question sourced from fear for herself rather than concern for Lila, but he pretended otherwise for the moment. Soon, she’d care about Lila for real. And about him. And about any other person he chose to fix. They’d be a big happy family, with no problems or flaws under his watch. But first...

“You know what I’m looking for, Marinette.”

She froze and his eyes darted to the bump in the fabric above her collarbone.

“It’s fate that brought it back to me, so soon after I lost it.”, he whispered with a blissful smile. “You have it, don’t you? I saw it on you. My little secret, I want it back now.”

Marinette’s eyes narrowed in confusion.

“Lost it... wait, your secret?”

Her jaw dropped as her mind caught up.

“You!”

“Yes, me.”, he admitted happily. “You understand, don’t you? I need it back. Once Hawkmoth is done with it, I’ll be Chat Noir again. It’s my destiny! Surely, you wouldn’t want to stand in the way of a hero.”

Marinette looked absolutely shocked. Devastated even - hopefully at the thought of hindering Chat Noir. But the way her face hardened told him otherwise.

“It’s no longer yours!”, she hissed. “And you’re a fool if you think Hawkmoth would just give it back to you, once he has it.”

He sighed.

“The hard way, then.”

The chains tightened around her as he concentrated, focusing his energy on her. She was his friend. He’d done so much for her; he deserved something in return. But before he could conjure the light into his chains, pain flared in his right cheek and he was thrown sideways.

“Argh!”

More startled than hurt, he rubbed his cheek and looked around. The moment of distraction had been enough to make his chains go slack, enough to let Marinette free herself. His eyes fixated on the culprit. Felix stood in the middle of the room, arm still raised from the punch he’d given.

“Ah.”, the stubborn annoyance of a boy sighed, despite his obvious fear. “That was cathartic.”

“You!”, Cathexis growled, summoning his chains. “I’ll make you regret ever coming to our school.”

Oh, he wouldn’t fix Felix, no, no, no. The rude bastard didn’t deserve this mercy, and Cathexis wouldn’t invest his emotional energy in a guy whose akuma had cost him Plagg! No, Felix would meet a far harsher fate. Cathexis raised his Morningstar and swung it through the air to gain momentum. With a battle cry, he hurled the spiked sphere at his enemy, who threw himself aside just in time to avoid getting turned into a pancake. Again and again Cathexis took aim, using his sentient chains to block Felix’ path. Finally, when he had nowhere left to run, the Akuma called his weapon back to attack one last time.

“I should’ve done this sooner!”, he cackled gleefully. “It would have saved me so much trouble, you living nuisance!”

He swung the Morningstar, blind and deaf to anything except his target. A mistake, as it turned out. He couldn’t hear the creaking of metal over his own laughter, couldn’t see the beams for the cameras at the ceiling move. Only when they crashed down on him he realized he should have payed more attention to Marinette.

“No, no!”

Trapped beneath the crashed metal structure he could only watch as Marinette - the crafty pain in the butt - climbed down from the bars of the supporting column, pulling Felix with her. The two of them vanished behind the curtains at the back, and when he send out his chains to rip the fabric apart, he understood why.

“A backdoor!”, Hawkmoth growled. Of course, that’s why no one had been inside anymore. “Idiot! Now the girl escaped with the ring, our ring!”

Groaning, Cathexis pushed the beams and bars off of himself and stood up.

“I’ll hunt them down!”, he swore and called his chains back to him. “They can’t run from me!”

“No.”, Hawkmoth stopped him. “No, wait. The Cat Miraculous is already close, but Ladybug is still missing. Call her here, then go after the ring.”

Cathexis nodded as the violet glow faded from his face. His Lady would be here shortly! Until then, he could bring Chloé, Alya and Nino under his contr- supervision. They were still struggling with their restraints, but not much longer.

“Lila!”, he barked for his new ally and the brunette stood up. “Get the camera working. I need to alert Ladybug.”

“Of course!”, she obliged with a smile. “Then I can apologize to her. We’ll be great friends, with your help!”

Cathexis grinned and bared his fangs as she got to work. Soon, he told himself. His chained friends looked at him in fear.

Soon.