#sorry for not being very all audiences right now its just been weighing on me

[void-hugs]

we owe it to ourselves and to others to be authentic and united

it's not only how we survive but how we thrive

- 🧡

[you-know-honey]

Tower of Cups

Copia x Fem!reader

3/4

Summary: The most romantic acts are the most painful goodbyes

Word Acount: 6615

🚩Mention of saints of the Catholic Church, read at your own risk. This was not intended to offend anyone, remember that it is only fiction.🚩

For de Reader: English is not my first language, mercy please. Sorry for the delay but as you know if it is not perfect I will not publish it, I just want to offer you quality.

You couldn't stop looking at yourself in the mirror, no matter how much effort the make-up artists had put into giving you a happy face, something inside you had simply changed and you missed it, there was a strange emotion in your chest, a pressure that weighed like a curse, it stole your breath, slowed down your heartbeat and if you concentrated too much on it the world would end up being a dirty echo in the back of your mind. You had kept yourself as busy as you could, you had been involved in every little detail of the runway show and you could bet that the whole team secretly hated you, but you couldn't afford to be alone or idle for even a second. In fact that was the reason you accepted the interview.

You had never been in front of a camera before, you liked how it felt just watching the world admire your work without giving them a face to put on the covers.

"We go in in ten seconds ¿are you ready Miss?" A boy rushed into your dressing room, he looked like he was on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

"Sure." Your voice came out barely a whisper as you stood up and walked to the main course.

You heard a few whispers when they saw you, and for your own sake you wanted to think it was only because of your dress, it was the only thing that had made you smile that day. A beautiful navy blue evening gown and yet it wasn't enough to make you wish you were there instead of your bed.

"Hello everyone! The Fame Factor is here now. My name is Jacob Lamar and tonight I'm not alone, I'm well accompanied by this glamorous jewel, T/N!" A bunch of applause from the audience broke through like a crushing wave.

The spotlights had blocked you from seeing all those people, you smiled as you had taught yourself in front of the mirror and acted as calm as you could. There were more people than usual at that kind of show.

"Hello everyone" you greeted shyly "Thank you for inviting me Jacob, it's a pleasure to be here." In fact it was quite the opposite, you felt a little bad for lying so blatantly but it's not like the host was being honest either, it was the same basic crap he would tell any of his guests.

You shook her hand, it was damp with sweat and reeked of garlic bread, you tried to disguise a grimace of disgust as you tried to wipe your hand on the uncomfortable leather couch.

"Honey, I hear you're back in the fashion world and I'm not the only one here wondering when we get to see your art in all its glory?" The petname made you uncomfortable, all of him made you uncomfortable, there was something in his eyes, like he was trying to hide something.

"In fact, my new runway show will be ready soon. I've missed being back in the ring."

"Tell us why now? All this time you've been anonymous, what motivated you to come out of the shadows?" The man settled back in his seat, leaning toward you as he fiddled with his hands.

"I think it was time, I mean, I wanted everyone to know who was behind all those looks. I just deserved it."

"And you're right honey, I can't wait to see the new designs, I'm willing to spend every penny of my children's inheritance for just one piece from your collection, beauty." He laughed and the audience laughed with him, you liked how all that praise felt to your ego, you weren't silly, you knew it was banal and not very honest but you liked it and it mattered.

"Thank you Jacob. You know this industry, if you don't make an impact you go down, my best work will be exposed there. I promise you won't be the only one." You played with your hands, trying to keep up with the excited interviewer.

"There are rumors that you bought an abandoned church on the outskirts, is that true?" I questioned with a knowing, mischievous look.

"Yes, it is" the audience echoed in amazement at your words "It was the right place, besides it was in decay, you could say I saved it" In fact that place had given more trouble than likes, repairing it was a dry hit to your pocket and dealing with the pesky villagers was a blow to your patience, but you had coped with that and now it was ready.

"Will you model any parts?" She asked getting up from her seat and approaching in front of you "You can't keep hiding that beautiful body Will someone please focus on her! Look at that sexy body ¡God! juicy indeed." Before you knew it he had wrapped his arms around you like an octopus, sticking against your body and sliding his hands up to the opening of your dress, letting your legs and thighs show off for the cameras, thankfully there were no glimpses of your underwear.

"What wrong with you…?" You couldn't even complain when he pushed you back onto the couch with admirable stealth and opened his mouth again.

You could still feel his hands on your body, you were stunned, this wasn't supposed to happen, he wasn't supposed to touch you. He wasn't even supposed to talk about your body, you couldn't fully process what had happened. Out of the corner of your eye you saw a small disturbance in the audience, from the little that the spotlights let you see a trio of girls had gotten out of their seats and were being ushered back in by the security guards.

"Oh my god, or should I say oh my satan?" The audience laughed as if that had even been a decent joke, as if what happened just seconds ago was part of the show and not something totally inappropriate. "Honey, I know you hate this question, but my job is to keep the audience happy. Tell us, what happened?"

"What?" You said, somewhat lost in the conversation.

"Yes, tell us. Tell us your dirty secrets." The interviewer's face formed a huge smile, a dirty smile. "I know breakups are painful, aren't they?" The audience chorused a loud agreement. "Don't you feel humiliated, you giving everything and him giving the prize to someone else?" A raised eyebrow made clear the lewd and uncomfortable reference.

"I don't…no I…I don't have any relationship." You tried to hide your confusion but the words were absorbed by a tornado of thoughts that went nowhere.

"Don't be shy Y/N, did you really see that guy?" That offended you, Copia wasn't a 'dude' you wanted to contradict him but you couldn't, that relationship that you were suffering from today and the memory of it constantly hurt you was supposed to have never existed. "Although you know what they say guys, a good manhood keeps the girls' mouths busy." He gave the camera a wink while your mind was still trying to decide if that trash was just a disgusting guy.

"I don't know what you're talking about…" you said through your teeth, your hands formed fists swirling the dress, holding back the urge to knock out a couple of teeth from that confident and stupid fake smile.

"Oh… then this must be very humiliating for the old man, bring in the guest!" That stupid cheap show music resounded through the room and she entered from one of the doors. "Come honey, join us." Once again, and clearly without your permission, she dragged you into a trio of high chairs, making you feel tiny and self-conscious.

You tried to act as little awkward as possible, but seeing her face definitely broke something inside you. Your heart suffered a small attack, a sharp pain that ran through your soul until all the air was taken from your body, freezing you in place with your hands on your chest to confirm that it was still beating, holding yourself up only with the faith that your legs would give way to us, you couldn't even feel them at this point.

"Please anything but this…" you murmured bewildered.

"Welcome Mary!" The applause broke out and there she was, sitting in front of you.

It was her, there was no doubt, those eyes and that smile that once again mocked you. It was impossible for you to forget her face, she was wearing another dress as short as the one you had seen her wear when she was practically on top of the one who had been the love of your life, the shame you had seen when you discovered them had vanished from her face, now she looked at you over her sunglasses as if you were a candy that she would destroy in her dirty mouth.

A cold air ran through you from toe to toe and your stomach turned into a black hole that swallows all the words in your mind.

"Hello Y/N, it's nice to see you again." Her mouth spilled venom in the form of kindness.

All the words entered your ears in a distant echo, your hands approached your stomach praying that the nerves would not make you spill your insides on the floor.

"This beauty has some juicy gossip for us, right sweetheart?" The interviewer seems delighted with Mary, he looks her up and down and savors her with his gaze, although this matters little to her as she keeps her gaze directly on you, you know that everything she will say is only for you.

"That's right Jacob. God! I'm so lucky to be here with you and with her, Y/N I'm a big fan of what you've managed to achieve… seriously… everything." His hand rushes to his face trying to wipe away an obvious fake tear.

"Oh come on girl! Tell us already and exaggerate." the interviewer squeals with excitement and with him the audience.

You automatically shake your head in a hidden way, hoping that she will pity you even a little, but she only lets out a mocking laugh and starts talking.

"Oh, you see Jacob. It was that amazing party a few months ago, everyone was there, you know? The music blasting, the lights up, the drinks flowing non-stop. And there he was, Copia I think his name is, looking so handsome and charming as ever. I couldn't resist." He winked at the camera with such confidence that you wondered if he wasn't even into entertainment. "So, with my best smile and these girls," he said in a flirtatious tone and shook his shoulders making his boobs bounce, making his charms very clear, "I approached him. I told him that he looked amazing that night and that I was honestly dying to hang out. He smiled, so innocent, can you believe it? It was like he was waiting for someone to tell him."

You couldn't take everything she was saying, how she added detail after detail to prolong your pain, you didn't want to know more, if you be honest with what you saw that night was more than enough.

But she didn't stop there "After too many drinks and his stupid attempt at making small talk, I mean man you're in a bar who cares about the lore of an old video game? I moved closer. I touched his arm, I whispered in his ear. I told him I'd always felt something special between us, he tried to deny it but no one says no to me. And you know what, in the end, he didn't pull away. In fact, he leaned closer can you believe it?" The audience murmured amongst themselves, surprised by her words. "We went into private, away from prying eyes. The tension was palpable, guys. We were just a breath away from… you know, having fun. But right then, she interrupted us. What a bummer! But, let me tell you, he didn't resist. He was completely under my spell, he sighed like a complete novice, seriously, he was a fucking submissive."

She laughed loudly, you felt nauseous, you knew you should be upset and you were but it hurt you more than making fun of the man you loved and yes, although it wasn't easy for you to accept, you still loved Copia. And seeing her degrade him like that made you sick.

"For God's sake Mary! Little rascal, let it all out." There was a kind of complicity between the duo, and it was clear to you, the only person who had been so innocent as not to imagine that this was always the plan from the beginning was you.

"Now, I'm not saying anything happened, but we all know what could have happened if we hadn't been interrupted. Y/N you should thank me, actually, because now you know that your boyfriend isn't as faithful as you thought. It was a help between friends" she tried to reach out for your support but definitely didn't find it "And well, I had my little moment of fun. Next time I'll take it all the way. How hard can it be? I mean look at me."

The huge screen lit up behind you, earning a sigh from you as the image flashed before your eyes.

The photo wasn't very good quality, but the image was clear. The girl had taken a photo while basically shoving her tongue down Copia's throat. It was an obscene image where both of them showed a lot of skin, it was like reliving that horrible moment over and over again without stopping. Only for the satisfaction of an audience that enjoyed the pain of others.

By the time the screen went black again, it was too late, the damage was already done. Your shaking hands clench into fists against your chest, as if you were trying to contain an internal pain that threatens to overflow. You breathe quickly, barely able to take a breath, while your dilated eyes stare at the screen, but without really seeing it, hearing its words over and over again in your mind.

"Are you ashamed that you trusted someone so famous and were deceived Y/N? It must be very humiliating…"

Cold sweat covered your forehead and hair, sticking to your damp skin, you move with every involuntary spasm of your body. Your heart beats hard, as if it were trying to escape from your chest, and each beat resonates in your ears, drowning out the sounds of the interviewer and the outside world. Your legs seem weak, unable to hold you up, they wobble, and end up giving way, hitting the floor unable to get up. An invisible knot tightens your throat, making every attempt to swallow painful and impossible. Your thoughts were a chaotic whirlwind of pain and anxiety unable to find an outlet or a moment of calm. You felt trapped in shock, as if the giant screen in front of you was an insurmountable barrier, amplifying your anxiety and reflecting your most vulnerable self in front of hundreds of people. Your gaze glazed over, tears beginning to pool in your eyes, and a feeling of suffocation washed over you. Everything feels unreal, distant, like you're trapped in a nightmare you can't wake up from. In the midst of it all you catch sight of the cruel smirk of satisfaction from the interviewer and the girl, they sneer and puff out their chests with pride at leaving you vulnerable and exposing your heart to the world, while you desperately struggle to regain control over your mind and body.

"I'll kill her!" a voice rose above the rest. "NO ONE is going to humiliate her like that."

The security guards did their best to keep three girls in their seats, but their strength was impressive. The voice was familiar, and between tears and the annoying lights of the set you could see a white mane that was shaking roughly between a long blonde hair with pastel pink streaks and a shiny black hair that led a violent revolt against the guards until the girls left they out of the way. They jumped the security fence and advanced with a firm step to the set, the rest of the audience tied themselves to their seats as if they were living an iconic moment.

"Cumulus..?" you muttered, extending your trembling hand as a plea for help.

"Who are you guys?! Someone stop these bitches now!" The presenter shouted, standing in front of Mary as if he were trying to protect her.

You clearly knew it was a mistake when Cirrus' hand hit his throat and left him begging for air, kneeling on the ground and not letting go she kicked him until he was nothing more than a baby crying for mercy. You came back to yourself when his cries were as loud as a newborn's.

"Come help me!" Aurora shouted to Cirrus "We have to get her out of here." Aurora leaned towards you, taking your hand "I'm here, come on Y/N we have to go, please get up."

"Girls..? What…what are you doing here..?" You spoke in a sigh as you dizzily dropped your head on Aurora's shoulder.

"We girls support other girls. We're not going to let that damn bitch humiliate our girl." The three of them gave you a smile so sweet it was like a warm hug on your aching heart.

"Get her out of here! I'll take care of this bitch…" Cumulus winked at you and as if he were prey he walked towards Mary who was trying to crawl away and soon began to cry when she discovered that there was no escape.

Cirrus carried you on one shoulder and Aurora on the other, they basically dragged you out as carefully as possible. No one got in the way, everyone was still in shock from everything that had happened and if we're honest they don't get paid enough to intervene.

"You had to open your disgusting mouth…" Cumulus' heel crashed into Mary's face, bathing the sleep with blood and a couple of teeth "I warn you bitch that this…" The ghoulette took one of the chairs and with superhuman strength tore off one of its iron legs "It's going to hurt you a lot."

You weren't really aware of what was happening, but you knew you were safe now, that your girls hadn't left you, that they had come for you to save your skin, your true friends…

"We'll take you home…" Aurora whispered before a strong lavender scent filled your nose.

The only thing you could hear before you fainted was Mary's desperate screams, that put a satisfied smile on your face.

"Girls, I don't want to be indiscreet, but what the hell happened? There are patrol cars roaming all over the city." Rain drove carefully through the streets, smiling at each patrol car that looked at him suspiciously.

The girls were hidden in the backseat, whispering to each other proudly. They weren't supposed to be there, and they weren't supposed to have been at that stupid show. But everyone had hidden the truth from them and unlike the rest, they wouldn't sit back and do nothing.

You had just disappeared from one day to the next, without saying goodbye or giving a reason for it, it broke their hearts. But given everyone's discomfort when talking about you, they understood that something had happened and they didn't rest until they made Swiss spill everything he knew. None of they could believe it and for days it was a total shock. So when they announced your presence on The Fame Factor they didn't hesitate to spend their savings and steal some coins from inside the couches to get the tickets and go see you, they missed their favorite human. You had made their capes as a special gift that made them stand out on stage, you always highlighted how important they were on stage even though not many Sister of Sin did, they felt at home with you, your workshop was their little rabbit hole for girls' nights. They had an eternal debt to you.

"Y/N was invited to that silly show you watch with Phantom" Cirrus clarified while looking surreptitiously out the window, as they drove away from the city.

"Hey! Don't talk about talent shows like that. Pulling 91 pickles out of your body is a very respectable talent." Rain had quite a few guilty pleasures when it came to entertainment.

"What? No, not that one!" Cirrus shook his head.

"The hidden camera one?" he asked again.

"NO! I can't believe you're watching something like that." Cumulus exclaimed, settling into the backseat. "The stupid show where you interview celebrities."

"Oh!" he exclaimed happily until he remembered that this show was basically about directly or indirectly humiliating the guests and that it was only on because people like to see other people's pain. "Oh…"

"Can you believe they invited the girl who made out with Copia?" Cirrus claimed. "She started telling everything in great detail and even bragged about it!"

"I took care of her personally…" Cumulus clarified with his head held high pretending to clean fake dirt from his nails. "It will be a lesson that she and her plastic surgeon won't forget."

"Those are my girls!" Cirrus high-fived each one. She was more than proud of what they had done, nobody hurt their own. "Y/N is okay?"

"I handed her a lavender breeze and we left her in her apartment. She was so helpless… we wanted to stay but she begged us to leave her alone, we couldn't refuse." He felt guilty, Aurora had wanted to stay by your side, you were in a vulnerable moment and at that moment the bad decisions sounded like magnificent ideas.

"She's strong. I know she is…" Rain said it more to himself than to the girls, he wanted to be sure that tomorrow your essence would not have abandoned this earthly plane.

"Let's go back home, I have a bitch's blood to clean from my hair." Cumulus commented.

You counted the exact days until this moment. After that disastrous interview, everyone left you alone. More attention was drawn to the strange attack suffered by one of the guests at the hands of three spectators who, for strange reasons, could not be identified or seen by the face and whom no one present could remember.

You had felt so humiliated that you had not left the house for days, you had cried, screamed and although it was not something you were proud of, you had to replace some windows and decorations that you decided to break and which you still remembered because of the cuts on your hands covered with band-aids, but you could not and did not want to give yourself the luxury of rejoicing in your pain, more sentimental than physical.

You were at your desk, looking at all the chaos in which the models were involved, being moved from one side to another by the stylists, makeup and hair artists and wardrobe assistants. You followed the movements of each of them like a snake, hoping that everything would be done as you wished and for now everything was going as planned. The stage was ready, there were torches outside that simulated a burning church thanks to what the stained glass windows allowed to see, in addition to candles that ran all over the stage where the models would pass and the light focused perfectly where the models would walk giving them the aura of superiority that you were looking for.

It had been a last minute problem to solve the problem with the closest townspeople, money was not a problem for you but of course that was not what bothered them, they had a hurt ego and in that you could understand them so you came to an agreement. When everything was over the church could be used as such again. You were not stupid, you would not give it to them but it was a simple loan that would keep them from trying to spoil your event.

"All the guests are here, waiting." one of your assistants for the event called your attention.

"Perfect. Is the stage ready?" You said as you stood up from your seat and looked at the thick curtain that separated the busy world behind the scenes from the place where everyone was sitting and talking to each other, too peacefully.

"All set," the girl said, checking her notes over and over again.

"And the models?" you asked again, scanning the faces of everyone in the audience.

"Only one of the models' makeup is left pending, but they're taking care of that."

You frowned in a grimace of disgust, something that raised your assistant's nervousness even more. It wasn't something you had done with that purpose, but if you were honest there was a lot of pent-up anger that was overflowing the dam of your patience. Some of the guests were people who you didn't like but they were influential and well… that's how the world works. You wanted even the smallest of details completed and ready at the promised time, after the embarrassing moment on TV you had to make the show draw more attention than your sad unresolved love problems.

"Resolve it quickly." You looked at her and walked towards the dressing room, leaving your jacket on the chair you had occupied previously. "Tell the singers to start please," you said from inside the dressing room.

You hadn't lied when you said you didn't skimp on expenses, you had hired the best of the best to carry the show and your best creations, you had great singers waiting for your command to start with a mournful Gregorian chant to start the event.

Your assistant made a silent call and from the other end you could hear the sad chants that accompanied your equally sad feelings on a pilgrimage. This had always been your dream, to present something that would impress the world, something of your own. At that moment, emotion and happiness invaded you just thinking about the organization and Copia had taken charge of feeding your ideas excessively. You didn't know how, but without realizing it, in each of your steps, in each of your dreams, he was there. You had thought that he would be with you all the time and that when it was over, you could celebrate each of your successes together. Now it seemed that everything was incomplete, as if a small but important part was missing that didn't let you rejoice in your pride and joy.

The theme of the event until now had been a mystery and the photographers played with the cameras in their hands and they whispered each other. It seemed a little silly to you that they didn't even have a clue, given the whole setting, but you assumed that they preferred to let themselves be surprised and speculate rather than take things for granted.

You finished dressing yourself, it wasn't a big deal for you, you had designed the costumes so you knew exactly what to do. As you walked to the makeup and hair area you ordered your assistant to start the show and to order each of the girls. You felt the nerves moving deeply in your guts, but you couldn't afford to give in to the feeling, you had no support if you fell prey to nerves and anxiety no one would get you out of there.

When the curtain opened and the first models went up on stage, sighs of amazement came out of everyone's mouths like a chorus, and the flashes of the cameras didn't take long to appear, some even let their wine glasses fall to the floor adding more emotion to the scene, you didn't even blink, your eyes smart and that didn't matter as you watched each of those present cover their mouths with their hand, look at each other in search of answers or extend their hands as if a prudent distance was not understood between them and the models. The Gregorian chants added more drama to the matter.

"Saint Rita of Cascia… Patience has a limit and some acts are unforgivable." A voice murmured from the speakers hidden in the ceiling.

One of the models wore a fine short-sleeved dress with embroidered flowers that at first glance emulated very well bruises and blows covered by armor with elaborate and intricate details like rose vines that ran through her body, stained with the blood of a violent and abusive man, with makeup that made her face look tired and at the same time strangely satisfied, like an oil painting and behind her being dragged by a heavy and noisy chain crawled a half-naked man with his head hooded moaning and crying with his body full of small cuts… as if made by rose thorns.

"Blessed be the ignored woman who takes justice into her own hands."

The flashes flashed one after another and the murmurs rose one after another. It was the expected reaction, the surprise was palpable and you could feel the thorn of rejection sinking into them but the euphoria of morbidity that made them continue to look expectantly at each one of the models was more acclaimed, one saint after another went by and the expectations of the public rose more and more.

"Saint Mary of Egypt…Who punishes the one who enjoys freedom lives in envious agony"

The model made her way covered by a black velvet tunic, tasting a pomegranate with desire, the red juice of the fruit slid down her throat and stained her hands full of gold rings full of jewels, she took a step further and the flames of the candles on the stage devoured the velvet with fervor, revealing long, chestnut hair that somehow managed to merge with the revealing amber corset, the sleeves were a shower of small pieces of obsidian hanging with small threads of rubies that also gathered in the skirt that was transparent from the hip to the barefoot, combining perfectly with the brown skin of the model, evoking the same feeling as the veins of an active volcano in its maximum splendor, the peak of power and the climax of an unprecedented event.

"Blessed is the woman who desires with joy and acts for her own pleasure."

The eyes of the women in the audience sparkled like diamonds as enthralled as the men were in such awe that you could safely say their jaws were on the floor, you could hear their hearts being devoured by adrenaline at the amazement of the masterpieces in front of them. Creations so perfect that they didn't seem made by human hand.

A few more models walked by, the grand finale was coming quickly.

This was your moment, you didn't need a model for what you were going to do, it may have been a bit selfish to offer yourself up for the main design of the night but it was too late to regret it, it was now or never.

You breathed one last sigh as the curtains opened and all eyes and cameras were on you, your gaze was blinded by the flash lights so you were basically alone on that stage, as if the world was yours for a moment.

"Holy Virgin Mary…always a woman, eternal mother."

You took the first step onto the stage, with uncomfortable heels with inverted crosses under your feet, a white and translucent dress with a thousand and one laces dressed you, fresh blood stained your face artistically made up with tragedy and sadness and created a puddle under your feet that stained the skirt of the dress, leaving a crimson path in your wake, beneath this, scarlet patent leather harnesses ran over your body, revealing very little or almost nothing of the skin of your abdomen and becoming less tight as they went down your legs until they were left hanging, on your shoulders you wore an infinitely long vaporous robe with detailed embroidery in gold thread, telling the story of the tragic mother. On your head rested a crown of obsidian thorns that really cut into your skin and your fresh blood stained the sweet and small veil that the crown held.

You finally raised your gaze in a pleading to heaven with a grimace of absolute happiness and complacency, so that eyes and cameras could admire the beautiful makeup that rested on your face, the tears that came out of your eyes at that moment were real, because for once the physical pain could be stronger than the pain that corroded your soul.

In your right hand you held the sacred sword of Joan of Arc, stained and dripping with fresh blood, and in your left hand the extremely realistic head of Pontius Pilate. The perfect example of how far a mother's love can go to protect her son, regardless of the punishment or the outcome. Because love can carry you in its arms and throw you into the abyss of madness if those you love the most are endangered. And if women are known for anything, it is for loving too much, loving without limits and without fear.

Everyone fell silent, even the singers stopped, a strong and powerful aura emanated from you, from your tears. One by one they stood up with their gaze completely lost in you, their pupils grew until they completely darkened their eyes, time seemed to have stopped, the camera flashes did not stop but neither were they activated by the photographers who were still in their place admiring the person on the stage like a divinity… YOU.

One by one they knelt down with their hands extended towards your figure, their heads touching the ground. You looked at everyone surprised, they were paying homage to you, submitting voluntarily as if before them was a vision.

"Ave mulier...ave mater...ave prime mover."The chants began again, this time driven by the mesmerized audience.

Just as they stood up again and some of them broke the distance to get to you, everything went out and a firm arm pulled you back into the wings. By the time the lights came back on everything was over, and people looked at each other confused at what had just happened. They were quickly taken by the staff back to the reception, where they would have their courtesy gifts and be escorted to the exit.

"What…what happened? I…" you couldn't find the right words to explain what had happened, your intention had been to surprise the public but in the end they surprised you too.

"Are you okay, miss? Are you okay? Please tell me something." Your assistant was shaking your body to get you out of the shock, she seemed worried.

Quickly and as if the air you were breathing injected adrenaline into your body, you came back to yourself in such a painful way that you felt your heart stop.

"Did everything go well?" was the only thing you managed to ask.

"Miss, it was a total success! This will be talked about for centuries!" said your assistant with extreme joy, joined by the rest of the staff, both models and technicians. Everyone knew it had been a complete success and could sense the thousand opportunities that would open before their eyes.

But the celebration was shorter than expected, one of your networking agents moved through the crowd with her tablet in hand and with a worried face she approached you and immediately you knew that something terrible had happened.

The excited and exalted scream of hundreds of fans entered your ears from the tablet's speaker, when the cameras moved you were able to see clearly what it was about. Ghost was in concert. And for the first time in months you heard his voice again.

"You guys are fabulous!" Copia shouted to the audience who was totally crazy seeing him. "It's great to be with you, here and now." You couldn't help but smile, he was always so charming with the public but there was something in his countenance, in his way of acting, as if something wasn't right. As if it was a strange bye.

He wasn't wearing one of the shiny suits you had made for him, he was only wearing a gloomy black shirt without many details or ornaments. Something like that was definitely not his style at all.

"I'm going to tell you something… it's a little secret that you can't tell anyone, okay?" The audience promised in shouts of joy "I never understood why you dedicated our songs, I didn't understand why you guys saw romance in the lyrics. I confess I thought you were a little weird, you can blame me for that." The Dance Macabre intro started playing and her voice seemed to break a little "Tonight is not just about music, tonight I need to bare my heart in front of all of you." His eyes became moist as he looked directly at the camera "I need you to know this." He walked to the center of the stage before the expectant gaze of all the fans "In the midst of the music, the lights and the energy, there is a pain that has overshadowed my existence. I have hurt someone very dear to me, someone who is the light in my soul."

A shaky sigh left your throat and a nervous smile formed on your lips, those sweet words touched and hurt you at the same time.

"I'm not supposed to do this, but, fuck it all! I can't leave without her knowing. Y/N…" you felt your eyes burn when your name left his lips, with that classic sweetness and tears were quick to spill. "I have inhabited the abyss, feeling the flames of regret, tearing my heart out for having hurt you, and I realize that without you, my life is a starless night, a complete torture. Forgive me." Tears rolled down his eyes. "I fell from your grace and I deserve it, there was reason in each of your words. But, amore mio, I am willing to crawl through the depths of Hell to earn your forgiveness. You have always been my salvation, my eternal love. Let me hold your hand again, let me show you that I am still the Copia you know, I am totally and hopelessly in love with your essence, with everything you are. Punish me if you want, but I will never stop being yours, you possess me in body and soul, before you I put my absolute devotion. I do not want everything to end like this, that cannot be our last night… If I could turn back time… I would do everything right.

The ghouls began to play and just when his voice was about to start the song the lights went out completely and white letters were projected on the stage, to the bewilderment of everyone. Thanks to the lights on fans' phones, you could see hooded men dragging Copia off the stage, and he didn't put up any resistance.

Your hand went straight to your mouth. You knew what it meant, they had done it with Terzo and now they were repeating it with your beloved Copia, but he had already accepted his fate…

"This is over…" A deep voice from beyond the grave was heard from the speakers, the annoyed tone in his voice raised the hackles of the audience.

[jamiesfootball]

i literally broke out the pen and paper (made a list and checked it twice) trying to find numbers for the ask game you hadn't been sent yet!

as many or as little as you feel like answering!

4, 17, 19, 30, 35, 56, 74

💚💚💚

Thank you thank you! Sorry for the delay, but I had to set these aside so that I could give them the proper time and focus they deserve!

4. what is the plot bunny you’ve been carrying for the longest? optional bonus question: do you ever wonder why you haven’t written it yet and experience deep existential dread?

It's got to be my original work space thing A Robot Named Future. Specifically there is A Scene in it that I first came up with back in...2014? It's loosely based off the robot interrogation scene in the Will Smith movie I, Robot. Except in my book it doesn't involve a robot, its actually about [redacted].

Then later the robot shows up.

It doesn't fill me with existential dread though- it fills me with excitement. Of all the original works I have spinning around in my brain, this one is 1 out of 2 that are the predominant ones I spin around and I've written a few scenes. One of my goals for this year is to actually sit down and outline both of these stories. I'm quite looking forward to it.

17. what is your favorite line you’ve ever written?

Oooooooof. Uh. Honestly I feel I bang on about this line too much, but of the published stuff it's still:

He wondered if maybe he wasn't Sisyphus but the goddamn boulder that kept pushing everyone down the hill.

Bonus runner up because it always makes me laugh is this entire exchange:

“Hold on, now, Rocky didn’t go around tying dicks together, bruv.” “That we know of,” Moe retorted. "Yeah, I haven't seen any of the new ones," said Colin. “Creed was dope,” said Declan. “Michael B. Jordan pulled a plane in that one.” Jan scoffed. “You mean his stuntman pulled it.” “I don’t like Rocky,” Richard added, though no one had asked. “Guys, we do not have time to argue,” Sam implored. He worried the spool between his hands, turning it about like a puzzle. “We have to be on the pitch soon.” “Sam’s right. We’ve got to make a decision,” Isaac said authoritatively. “What do we think? And it has to be unanimous, it can’t just be a few of us out there with strings tied to our willies.”

19. what are some books or authors that influenced your style the most?

Ooooh, there's more than a few. Different authors taught me different things.

First, I think I would be remiss if I didn't mention all the art history courses I've taken in the past. Poetry may have given me the vocabulary to describe a scene, but writing about artwork I think is where I learned how to paint an image of a scene. Where to put the highlights and shadows, what objects get brought into focus. One of my old art teachers would remind us that 'all lines are not equally important', and when I'm describing, say, a room or a setting, I try to keep that thought in mind. I don't need to describe everything, I just need to emphasize the important and leave the obvious vague (another one from an art teacher.)

I have to give a special shout out to Terry Pratchett, specifically in regards to how he brings focal depth into consideration when writing very emotionally wrought scenes. It is the instinct of most writers to push inwards when describing horrible things, to focus on the effect they have on the individual. But after being blistered by T-Prat time and time again, I saw a post that pointed out how at some of his most emotional scenes he actually pulls backwards, leaving the audience to bare witness and fill in the blanks with a purposefully distanced grief we couldn't possible understand. This definitely shaped how I approach emotional scenes; I try to be intentional and weigh where that depth of focus should land.

Not to bang on this gong forever, but I have a deep and abiding love for Kurt Vonnegut. His prose style is so interesting to me in a sort of 'you can write things however you want, actually' sort of way. He'll be halfway through showing you a deep examination on the human psyche and then he'll leap into omniscience to make a joke about how aliens would find this part of the human experience very stupid and needlessly complicated.

So it goes.

30. most inspirational quote you’ve ever read or heard that’s still important to you.

Not sure if it counts as inspirational, but there are two quotes from completely different series that sort of twined together in live on in my head:

One is from Discworld, where the dwarves have a saying: All things strive.

The other is from the manga Saiyuki: Even a one-inch worm has a half-inch soul.

35. tell us about a character who’s very different than you who you love a whole lot

A lot of characters are very different from me. In terms of characters, I would be Higgins. So any character who you would say is not at all like Higgins is very different from me.

Though in the spirit of answering I'll say Keeley. When I was watching Ted Lasso casually, there would just be times when I would blurt out 'I love her.' She's so wildly endearing to me.

56. five years from now, where do you see yourself as a writer?

Hopefully at a point where I am still writing and where some of the longer things I'm working on have been finished!

74. are you a planner, pantser, or planster?

All of them. Whichever the story calls for.

[notsocheezy]

Brain Curd #45

Brain Curds are lightly edited flash fiction - practically first drafts - posted daily and sometimes written with the express intention of being terrible… but, you know, in an endearing way. Please enjoy.

The chains weighed down my bony wrists as I awaited my public execution in the town square. Too weak to stand, I sat there on my knees, my head lowered. I couldn’t bear to look at the audience. Frankly, they were very ugly.

I could very much bear to stare daggers into the hooded executioner, however, who approached with a padlocked wheelbarrow.

“Hey, snake-fucker!” I said. “I thought I was supposed to get a last meal!”

He grumbled, setting the wheelbarrow down. “Ye did.”

“No!” I protested. “I haven’t eaten since last week before you locked me in these chains!” I rattled them around to punctuate my point. They were nearly loose enough to fall off.

“That must’ been yer last meal, then.”

I rolled my eyes. These people had no decency. What, you may ask, had I done to deserve the pain of death? I ‘stole’ a loaf of bread from a garbage heap behind a bakery so that I might feed myself.

I turned around and got a glimpse at the crowd. I was angry now, as one gets when so famished. Angry and justified in it, righteous in knowing that all I had done was steal rubbish from a bunch of purple-shirted blueblood fuckwits who had more money than they knew what to do with and less sense than the blind and deaf.

The mayor approached the podium to my left. It showed a real trust in these chains that he was willing to be so near me - near enough that I could get at his neck in an instant if I could only slip out of the shackles.

“Good morning, all,” he said, raising his hands in the air. “Today we are gathered to present yet another wretch with the Sword of Legend - the sacred artifact which needs no introduction.” He chuckled. “We’ve all seen what it can do.”

I rubbed the sweat and oil from my forehead onto my wrists as the sun beat down on me. The executioner unlocked the wheelbarrow and removed its lid. Inside was the most immaculate, perfectly polished sword I had ever witnessed. It was adorned with rubies and emeralds on the hilt. Clearly, great care was taken to keep it in such a condition.

“Isn’t it a bit gauche to decapitate me with a damn sword?” I asked the executioner.

He did not answer. He stepped back, out of my reach, and pushed the wheelbarrow just into my radius of bound movement.

I looked around. Everyone was staring at me now - the mayor included. I was supposed to do something. A duel? Was this meant to be a duel?

“Take the sword already, ya idjit!” screamed a woman in the audience.

I got up from the ground to stand on my feet, though I was weak from starvation. “If a fight is what you want…” I paused to let the blood flow back to my head. “It seems just a little unfair. After all… none of the rest of you brought a weapon.”

With the grease on my wrists, I slipped out of my restraints and took hold of the blade in one quick movement. Before anyone knew what was happening, my left hand tightly gripped the mayor’s hair and the right held the sword to his throat.

I breathed heavily, full of adrenaline. “I suggest you all think very carefully about what you do next if you’d like to see your mayor still living, come noon!”

The crowd was shocked. Clearly, no one had ever tried this before. I must have been the first with such a fast metabolism to go down a whole shackle size.

“You…” the mayor choked out. “You couldn’t be…”

“Couldn’t be the one to end your sorry excuse for a life? Afraid I can, if you don’t give me what I want.”

The crowd murmured. They were as confused as I was.

The mayor spoke slowly and chose his words carefully. “You wield the Sword of Legend. No person has ever done so before, and all who have tried have died a gruesome death at its touch. You are the chosen one.”

My stomach grumbled. “Can the chosen one get a fucking sandwich?” I pointed the tip of the sword at a spectacled man in the front row. “You! Yes, you! Get me a sandwich!”

He shook and nodded, running to a nearby shop.

“And don’t forget the pickle!” I yelled after him. “So…” I turned the sharp edge back to the mayor. “What’s the pay like for this ‘chosen one’ gig?”

Anyone who tried to wield the legendary sword would instantly turn to dust. Your country uses this as a method of execution. Little did you know, you were the chosen one it was waiting for.

[thefanficmonster]

Love For The Faceless

Corpse Husband x Youtuber!Reader(Female)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: Fluff 

Summary: Y/N is a YouTube gamer who has recently gained a much larger following thanks to the streams she does with her friends. Naturally, considering her faceless and bodiless nature, people are starting to get curious about her. When she finally follows her friend Corpse’s example, a lot more than her hands is revealed.

Requested by anon, you know who you are 😉 Thank you so much for placing a request and hope this fic fulfills the expectations you have for it.

“Hey!“ I greet the lobby as I finally hop into the Discord call after quickly saying ‘hi‘ to my audience.

I’ve been a YouTuber for four years now and I’ve only recently started streaming, encouraged to do so by my best friend Rae. She’s the one who got me in multiplayer games such as Among Us and Phasmophobia which led me to meet her amazing gaming squad that consists of some of the most famous names on the platform. They are all wonderful people and I will forever be in Rae’s debt for introducing me to them. However, becoming friends with Felix, Sean and the rest of the team brought not only a more fulfilled life, but also a small boost in following. Who am I kidding, it wasn’t small. It was overwhelming, terrifying even.

My YouTube channel had a little over a million subscribers at the start of quarantine and now....now it’s closer to three million. Speaking of three million, I’m about to reach it any day now and it’s really hard to believe. I’m a gaming youtuber and I’ve never considered changing my genre despite expecting to not get any attention whatsoever, with all the big names on the platform. I was convinced not even as many as a hundred people would stumble across my videos and now here we are.

My OG subscribers are very supportive of my sudden growth and are defending me when my newer fans ask for a face reveal or whatnot. While we’re on that topic I might have to mention that not even my YouTube friends, and that includes Rae have seen my face. I’ve been faceless and bodiless for the entirety of my time on social media. Some claim I do it to grab more attention or for dramatic effect, but the reason is beyond that. I’m not shallow. Actually, shallow people are the reason I don’t show my face. I’ve never been the prettiest, but my middle school bully thought that I wasn’t lacking self confidence enough. As a result, I ended up with a not so handsome scar on my right cheek that starts from the corner of my mouth and nearly misses my eye. Yeah, it’s a long and pretty noticeable scar that has thankfully become less and less obvious as the years have progressed. Still, it’s not something I’d like to show to my viewers.

Eight ‘hi’s greet me back, each making my smile grow wider. “Sorry I’m late guys. Technical difficulties.” 

“Don’t worry.“ Rae’s voice dominates over the rest, “Corpse still isn’t here so we’re waiting for him.“

I mute myself on the Discord call and take a look at my comments. I’m most flattered by the comments about my voice. Seeing as how they don’t have much to compliment about me other than my content, they make the nicest comments about my voice, personality and humor. Those comments are the ones who warm my heart most. Even when people in my day to day life compliment my appearance I can’t find it in me to believe they are being genuine. I’d like to believe these amazing people are being one hundred percent honest when they tell me they like me for who I am and not for what I might look like.

“Sorry I’m late guys.“ A deep voice causes me to even physically jolt, switching my focus from the comments to the Among Us lobby where my eyes land on the newly materialized black avatar.

“Hi Corpse.“ Rae greets him.

“Hello mister who broke Twitter!“ Sean laughs, provoking the laughter of the rest of the players.

“Yeah, congratulations man. That’s a big deal.“ Felix chimes in.

“Thanks guys, but I think you’re forgetting we’re talking about a picture of my hand.“ Corpse chuckles timidly. I have noticed how shy he gets when someone gives him a compliment - like a snail slowly withdrawing in its shell. I find it adorable.

“That’s what makes it even better!“ I unmute my mic, sending my own congratulations.

“While we’re on that topic...“ Rae begins, waiting for the rest of us to shut our traps, suggesting she has something important to say. “Y/N, do you ever plan on doing a reveal like that? Not a face reveal. Just a body part reveal.“

I have no problem talking about the subject with friends but I get nervous when I’m supposed to discuss it with my fans. Seeing as how everyone, including myself, is streaming right now, I get a bit of a stutter in my speech. “Haven’t thought about it yet. But I guess a body part reveal is harmless.” I cringe immediately after letting the words leave my mouth, “That sounds so weird.”

Rae knows that I’m not too fond of my face, but I haven’t told her about my scar yet. I let almost all people I’ve met online think I’m using my lack of appearance for effect. For the mystery of it all. Mysteries attract people which equals attention. Attention equals views and the domino effect continues.

“Just a suggestion. No pressure.“ Rae adds quickly, knowing full well I get anxious when the subject is brought up in front of cameras. “Let’s get this game started, shall we.”

                                                          * * *

The idea dwells in my mind, sitting on the back burner even after I disconnect from the Discord call. I’m sitting in my gaming chair, which was a gift for my two million milestone, and weighing out the pros and cons of the action Rae suggested I take.

“It’s a picture of your fucking hand, dummy. How bad can it turn out?“ I say out loud, shaking my head at my indecisiveness. “You’ll be fine.”

In a blur, two pictures are already posted on my Instagram. The first one captioned ‘Took a leaf from my friend’s book. Did I do it right @ corpsehusband?’ and the second ‘Thanks, Rae. These are on you.’

Rae’s POV

As I’m watching a movie in my living room, I get a notification from Instagram, informing me that Y/N has posted for the first time in a while.

I scoff, “More like the first time in forever.”

The first thing that comes to my mind is the possibility of her reaching that three million milestone that’s been long time coming. I bring the glass of water that’s sitting on my coffee table to my lips, taking a sip as I tap the notification. The picture I see makes me hurry to put the glass back down so I don’t drop it. Y/N’s hand. Her fingers are covered with several thin rings each. And here I thought Corpse had too many rings, this girl has at least two on every finger! 

Then my eyes land on the second picture she has posted only minutes after the first and my heart drops. I struggle to get the water that’s been sitting in my moth down my esophagus while my mind is struggling with the task to comprehend the picture I’m looking at. 

Another hand is resting on top of Y/N’s. A hand also covered in rings but fewer and larger. The nails are painted black. 

I think I know who it belongs to.

Before I can even finish the thought, I’m dialing Y/N. She picks up after the second ring, sound cheery as ever as she greets me. “Hey Rae!”

“Don’t you ‘Hey Rae’ me!” I practically scream. I hate being kept in the dark about anything ever so this is just driving me mad. On top of all, she’s my best friend, for fuck’s sake. “Is that Corpse in the photo with you?!”

“Ugh....“ the cheeriness to her voice is all but gone now.

I go on with my rant, not giving her the time to reply. Not that she would reply. I bet she doesn’t know what to say. “So he knows where you live?! Or was the picture taken at his place?! He knows what you look like?! You have seen him! He has seen you in real life but me, your best friend, haven’t!!! You are breaking Covid 19 protection laws to take pictures?! Are you fucking serious, Y/N?!”

There’s a long moment of silence which frustrates me even more but I literally have run out of things to yell and the power to be angry. I mean, I still am, I just can’t express it.

“Rae, sweetheart, please calm down. You’re scary when you’re mad.“ This girl has some fucking nerve! She’s on the verge of laughing!

“Listen here you...“ 

“Rae, please stop scaring my girlfriend.“ That oh so distinguishable, oh so familiar voice interrupts me.

I am flabbergasted, for a lack of a better term.

“Now that we’ve got you quiet, I can explain.“ Y/N pics up the conversation, “Corpse and I have been dating for six, almost seven months now. We started dating around Easter after talking for quite some time. We moved in together at the end of September. All thanks to you, Rae. You’re the best.” She pauses to breathe in real quick, “There, all caught up?“

I’m in no less shock than I was before she explained. Actually, I think I might be even more confused now. It all just feels like a fever dream. “Yes...no. I don’t fucking know! I need details, Y/N!”

“Details later.“ Corpse makes his presence known once again, “We’re watching Family Guy right now. Talk to you later.“

“Love you, Rae!“ Y/N calls out before the line goes dead.

My arm goes limp, dropping my phone on the couch next to me. 

“Motherfuckers” I mumble under my breath.

Y/N’s POV

It’s been a week since Rae has stopped talking to both Corpse and me. I know she just needs some time to cool off. In the meantime, the rest of our friends were informed and, as oppose to Rae, were nothing but supportive and overjoyed. I bet Rae feels the same way though. Sean, Dave and the rest of the gang have confirmed that she’s incredibly happy for us and says she noticed a spark between me and him since day one, but she can’t help but be mad at us, and especially me, for not telling her sooner.

“Any regrets?“ I remember Corpse asking me when we hung up on her after dropping the bomb.

“Not being able to see her face when she saw the picture.“ I beam at him, feeling as content as ever.

He laughs, agreeing with me before leaning down to kiss me.

@susceptible-but-siriusexual  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @hacker-ghost  @itsminniekat  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios

[violetlilysunshine]

Late Night

Chris Evans x Female Reader

Summary: You meet Chris working in a bar, before he invites you to his house after closing.

WC: 3,525

Warnings: maybe a quick make out?? idk if I need to warn that, but better safe then sorry. Fluff, fluff, fluff 

A/N: I’m sort of feeling a part two, because I’ve been in such a fluffy turned smutty mood recently. Anyone down?? Lemme Know :)

Tagging the lovelies that wanted this! @maximeevansblog @saltyflowermakertaco

MASTERLIST

You’ve been working in this small bar for years now; it mainly catered to older folks, the owners having fallen in love with the 40s and 50s and themed their bar after that. You quickly fell in love with the decades as well, hearing the old music and seeing all of the older people’s faces light up, reliving their glory years. However, usually, there were a couple younger groups there to relish in the theme a bit.

You started as a waitress at 18, trying to work your way through college. Quickly, you moved up to bartender, before one slow night when you randomly decided to sing along to one of the songs that the Thursday night live band always played. They were a pretty good group, and you soon found yourself listening to the songs they played in your free time. After you sang with them, the owners decided to add you to the regular Thursday night entertainment, still bartending on other nights.

You were nearing the end of your set, just two more songs to go before you could take off the heels you had ridiculously decided to wear tonight. They were very 50s and you loved the look, but, carelessly, you hadn’t broken them in yet. You thought you would be fine, but your typical little dance during Fly Me to the Moon had suffered greatly. However, they matched your midi-navy-polka-dot dress and your pin-up style curls, so it wasn’t a total loss.

“Alright everybody, we’re getting close to that time of the night,” you hummed into the microphone, “for this next one we’re gonna slow things down a bit. To those of you I’ve been watching sit in your chairs all night, you’ve only got two more chances to ask your ladies to dance. Even if you don’t know how, ask her anyway, she'll love it.” you joked.

The band started to play Paul Anka’s Put Your Head on My Shoulder, a personal favorite of yours.

“And remember, if anyone needs a partner, I’m ready and willing,” you joked as the intro played. Quite a few times, older men who no longer had a partner took you for a spin for a song or two and you loved it.

You hummed a bit before you started singing along.

As you were singing, you watched a few of the younger guys in the back finally bring their girls out on the floor. Smiling as you watched them, you swayed back and forth.

You kept going with the song, almost at the end, glad that someone hadn’t asked you to dance, because your feet were really killing you.

You finally finished it off, earning a small applause as you twirled with the mic.

“Alright y’all, last song of the night and you know what that means as well,” you spoke to the crowd, “last call for alcohol,” you sang out.

You pointed back at the bar, and your friend who was tending tonight, before she waved at the group. A few people left the dance floor to get a drink as you continued your end of the night spiel, “fellas still sitting by themselves, last chance to take a spin on the floor. I see you still sitting there in the back! It’s a short song, I promise,” you chastised the last table you saw still sitting there.

Two couples from that table got up to dance, leaving one man sitting by himself. You felt kind of bad for turning everyone’s attention to him, but you had offered earlier to dance if anyone needed a partner, so the ball was in his court.

You signaled to the band to start up and spoke, “alright here we go,” into the mic.

It’s Been a Long, Long Time kicked off, and you instantly swayed. The band didn’t usually play this song, but after your Marvel obsession kicked in, you convinced them to add it to the set list.

You sang away, loving life, but your eyes didn’t leave the man in the back. He was obscured by shadows - probably purposefully - but you felt drawn to him already. Something about him sent tingles down your spine.

Before you knew it, the song was over. You took a small bow before turning and pointing at your band, getting the audience to applaud them individually.

“Thanks everybody, have a good night and drive safe. Hope to see you next week!” you spoke quickly and everyone filed off the dance floor to collect their things.

“Thanks, you guys, that was a good show!” you spoke to the band before you rolled up your mic cord and packed it away backstage. As soon as it was safely in its case, you took a seat on one of the saxophone cases and started rubbing your feet.

Soon, the band came back to put their instruments away and you reluctantly gave up your seat. You headed to the bar to sit with your friend while she finished cleaning up; this gave you a chance to rest your feet a little more before attempting to maneuver yourself home.

You glanced around the room quickly and everyone had cleared out except the back table. They were all standing, putting on jackets, and just beginning to file out the door. The couples went first hand-in-hand, followed by the single man. You looked back at your friend and began to make small talk about the next night, seeing as you were off, before you felt a tap on your shoulder.

“That was a great set,” the man spoke out in a low raspy voice, “I wish I had a dance partner.”

“Thank you, but if I remember correctly, I did offer to dance with anyone. Anyone included you, Chris,” you quipped back lightly, chuckling.

“Well, doll, the way you were stumbling about up there, I didn’t want to risk it,” he joked back, “and you know who I am?”

“I’m gonna head in the back to finish cleaning up and then we can go,” your friend spoke, gently tapping your forearm. You usually carpool to work because you live a few houses down from each other and it just makes sense.

“Alright, sounds good,” you answered her before turning back to Chris, “well I did just sing Steve and Peggy’s song. I wouldn’t be doing it justice if I didn’t know at least its major history. And I don’t think I was stumbling.”

“Okay, fair,” he answered, “maybe stumbling wasn’t the right word, but I can tell your feet hurt in those shoes.”

A small silence settled between the two of you as you got lost in his eyes, barely registering what he had said. His lips curled into a small smile as he gazed back. His eyes darted from yours to your lips for only the slightest second, before wandering down to your feet, which you were rolling slightly on the leg of the barstool, attempting to massage them a little. He looked back into your eyes again, his smile growing. The tension in the room rose quickly, and you began to get a little hot under his gaze. You were wondering how you ever got so lucky to have Chris freaking Evans looking at you like that.

“I’d offer to get you a drink, but you did say last call a little while ago,” he spoke slowly.

“That I did,” you answered, “maybe next time.”

“Or, I could take you somewhere else,” he offered lightly, his voice raising in pitch.

“Hmm, I don’t know if my feet are up for it,” you said softly, “and I don’t know where else we would go on a Thursday night. Everyone is probably announcing their own last call.” You were surprised by your own confidence in front of him. You had no idea how you were keeping it together, let alone flirting.

“Another option,” he suggested, “I could offer you a nightcap at my place. Or maybe coffee? A glass of wine?”

“Eager there are we?” you quipped.

“Well, what can I say, that last song did it for me,” he chuckled, “but really, it would be totally casual, no expectations.”

You thought for a moment, weighing the options. He probably wasn’t a murderer, or a kidnapper. He was probably one of the gentlest guys you could go home with, and lord knows you’ve taken a few risks with others.

“Totally casual doesn’t sound too bad.”

“Really?” he asked, “great! Do you have a car here?”

“No, we carpool,” you said, gesturing at your friend who had just walked back into the room.

“Ready to go?” she asked.

“Actually I was going to head out with Chris,” you said, looking at him while you spoke.

“Oh, okay,” she said, her voice dropping slightly, “well, I’ll lock up the front and we can head out the back together then.”

“Great,” Chris answered, his eyes never leaving you.

You slipped your shoes back on and stepped down from your stool. You grabbed your purse from next to you and turned to grab your jacket, which was no longer on the back of your chair. You looked up and saw Chris holding it open for you and you slipped your arms in, your heart swooning wildly. You smiled at each other and followed your friend out the back.

You hugged her quickly, whispering “I’ll send you my location,” in her ear. After all, a girl can’t be too careful.

You followed Chris to his car around the front of the building, where he opened the door for you before jogging around to the driver’s side.

His car was nice, as to be expected, but not flashy and you enjoyed his modesty. It smelled freshly cleaned - a big plus - but also rode incredibly smoothly. You were more than content to drive around with him, listening to pop songs and belting out musicals, but before you knew it, he was pulling into his driveway.

He got out first, stepping out quickly. You waited half a second, sending your location to your friend quickly. As you were reaching for the door handle, it was being pulled from the outside. Always a gentleman, he is.

Chris flashed you a charming smile as you stepped out, swinging your purse over your shoulder.

“This way, darlin’,” he spoke lowly, shutting the car door. His hand was quick to find a home on your lower back, gently guiding you towards the front door.

Once up the stairs, he crossed in front of you, unlocking the door and slowly pushing it open. The alarm on the wall chirped, signaling the opening of the front door. Chris quickly bent down with his hands in front of his knees, preparing for the impact. Dodger came flying around the corner having heard the chirp, and slammed right into his dad’s hands before jumping onto his dad’s legs begging for pets.

“Hey bubba, how you doin’?” Chris spoke to his best friend, rubbing his ears, “this here is Y/N, be nice to her buddy, no jumping.”

Dodger quickly took notice of you and immediately tried to jump onto your legs, a greeting you weren’t necessarily against, but since Chris said no, you quickly pushed your hand down and met him on the ground. He sat at your feet, immediately accepting your presence.

“He never does that!” Chris spoke, shocked at how quickly Dodger took to you.

“What can I say? I must be magic,” you joked and shrugged at him, making him laugh.

“Well let’s move out of the doorway, yeah?” Chris asked before closing the front door behind you.

Chris moved to the side of the hallway quickly; he kicked off his shoes and encouraged you to do the same. You happily followed suit, aching to get those damn heels off again. You sighed in contentment once your bare feet hit the cool hardwood floor, throwing your head back slightly, closing your eyes, and breathing deeply.

“That bad, huh?” Chris chuckled, waiting for you at the end of the hall.

“Oh yeah, I definitely have to get used to those before I try to wear them again,” you answered back.

“Well, follow me and we’ll figure out that drink I offered.”

You set your purse on the bench next to your shoes before following him into the kitchen. He strolled around the island, resting his forearms on the island.

“Take a seat, doll,” he encouraged you, gesturing to the barstools on the other side.

Usually you wouldn’t have obliged so quickly, offering to help him make whatever, but given the state of your feet, you hopped up quickly.

“Alright, so you have a lot of options, water as always, coffee, beer - my personal favorite - tequila, a slew of other liquor, juice, soda, milk, - which would be weird but whatever - wine, take your pick,” he said smiling at you.

“Coffee sounds good to me, to be honest,” you answered quietly. You would’ve chosen beer simply because it was his favorite, but you weren’t a big fan if you’re being honest.

“Coffee it is, gorgeous,” he answered, filling the pot with water and loading in the grounds, “milk, creamer, sugar, black? What do you like?”

“Milk and sugar would be good.”

“You sure? I’ve got peppermint creamer,” he coaxed you.

“On second thought...” you chuckled, taking him up on his offer.

“Alright, doll, peppermint it is,” he laughed.

Soon the coffee was ready and as excited to try the peppermint creamer as you were, you could’ve watched him flutter around the kitchen for days. He handed you a sleek navy blue mug, taking a red one himself.

“Shall we head to the living room?”

“Whatever you want, it’s your house,” you laughed.

“Alright, follow me,” he said, leading the way, “you too, Dodge,” he called over the island. Dodger had been sitting at his feet the whole time, watching his dad.

He settled into one arm of the couch, pulling the coffee table closer to rest your mugs on. He placed his mug down and gestured for you to join him. You sat on the other end of the sofa, gently, looking over at him. He threw an arm over the back of the couch, kicked his feet out in front of him, and turned his body towards yours. Dodger watched you sit down and looked at you, almost saying “you’re in my spot,” before turning around and going over to his bed by the fireplace.

“How’re your feet doing now?” he asked you.

“They’re okay, it may take a few days to recover,” you laughed back, turning to face him as well. You held your mug in one hand, bringing the other to your foot as you swung your legs up at your side.

Chris reached over towards your feet, pulling them into his lap, “here let me,” he spoke.

You blushed lightly at the very domestic action, but who would say no to a beautiful man rubbing their feet? He massaged them gently and you let out a little groan.

“You really don’t have to do that, but you’re so good at it I don’t want you to stop,” you told him.

“Well then I won’t stop, darlin’.”

He looked at you from across the couch, making your heart swoon again. You let out the quietest moan, enjoying the work of his hands, and closed your eyes.

Chris laughed lightly, whispering something to himself under his breath. You were a little lost in the moment, so you didn’t hear him.

“Sorry, what was that?” you asked him.

“Oh, nothing, just talking to myself,” he answered. You knew that wasn’t the case, but let it rest anyway; it couldn’t have been too important.

Chris started asking you about your work and friends and family, what kind of movies you liked, and music preference of course. You asked him as well, really getting to know each other. He had stopped rubbing your feet a long time ago, but kept them in his lap, an arm thrown across them, rubbing your shins and ankles lightly. Dodger was snoring loudly across the room, and had been for quite a long time. The both of you were so lost in the conversation, that you didn’t realize how late it had gotten. You glanced out the window behind him, beginning to see the sunrise.

“Oh my goodness, what time is it?” you asked him, chuckling.

He glanced at his phone quickly, “almost 5:00,” he said with wide eyes, “I didn’t realize it had gotten so late.”

“I’m so sorry,” you said a little embarrassed, “I’ve stayed way too long, I’ll just get out of your hair.” You began to pull your legs out of his lap, but he locked them down.

“You don’t have to leave if you don’t want to,” he spoke quietly, “I’ve really enjoyed your company.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to overstay my welcome…” you trailed off.

“Positive, sweetheart. Please, stay.”

“Okay, if you’re sure,” you asked him, raising an eyebrow. He nodded slightly at you. “Then I'll stay,” you said, settling back into the couch.

“Can I get you another cup?” he asked, gesturing to your mug.

“Sure,” you answered lightly, handing it to him. He got up and trailed into the kitchen. You waited half a second before following him.

Chris heard you walk into the kitchen, turning around to look at you quickly, “sorry, can I get you something else?”

“No, I’m fine,” you answered.

“Oh, well, uh… I would’ve brought your mug back to you,” he chuckled.

“Oh that’s okay, I felt weird just sitting there,” you laughed lightly.

“Oh, okay,” he chuckled back, “well, since you’re here now, can I offer you breakfast?”

You didn’t realize how hungry you’d gotten until he offered, “only if I can help,” you responded.

“Oh well, that’s a deal breaker, darlin’,” he answered, almost seductively.

“Well then no breakfast for me,” you laughed.

He was starving too, only having had a small dinner before he went to the bar last night. He didn’t know when you’d eaten last, so you must be hungry as well.

“Well, maybe there is one way, you can help,” he said in a high pitched voice.

“What can I do?” you asked quickly.

“Come here,” he said.

You walked around the island you had been leaning on, joining him between it and the cabinets on the wall. Chris extended a hand towards you. You took it quickly and allowed him to guide you closer to him. Once you were fully in front of him, he dropped your hand and grabbed both of your hips. He picked you up quickly, surprising you, before setting you on the counter.

You laughed lightly at him, “okay, now what?”

“Now, you sit there and look pretty while I make breakfast,” he chuckled out, standing between your knees, keeping a little distance between the two of you.

“Chrissssss,” you whine out at him.

“What, doll?” he asks, taking a step closer to you as you wrap your hands around his shoulders.

“I can do more than just sit here.”

“Oh, really?” he asks, taking another step towards you, now standing between your thighs, almost flush to the counter.

“Yeah, I can,” you breathe out, barely able to contain yourself now that he’s slotted between your legs.

“Nope, darlin’, this is enough help. Promise,” he says quietly.

Chris glanced down at your lips quickly before looking back into your eyes. He ran his hands up your thighs, starting at your knees, before settling onto your hips again. The temperature in the room seemed to rise at an unbelievable rate as you stared into each others’ eyes. You could feel his breath on your lips, you were sure he could feel yours as well, the smell of coffee and peppermint radiated between you. He slowly leaned in and connected your lips.

It was like time stood still. He moved one of his hands around to your lower back, pulling your body to the very edge of the counter and flush against his chest. The other hand stayed firmly on your hip, digging in just a little. You wrapped your arms around his neck even tighter as you molded your lips together. He licked your bottom lip slightly, asking for entrance, which you granted. He explored your mouth just a little bit before pulling back, breathless, and resting his forehead against yours.

“Well, that was, uh…” he spoke.

“Yeah,” you answered, breathless as well.

You held his gaze for another second before moving forward and kissing him once again. You pecked him sweetly, before mumbling against his lips.

“I’ll let you cook, as long as you let me clean up,” you laughed a little before connecting your lips again.

Chris let the kiss hang just a little longer than a peck before pulling back completely. He pecked your forehead quickly, before answering.

“No,” he said firmly, turning around and letting out a loud laugh, one you knew so well.

You laughed right back at him, watching him start to cook and shaking your head to yourself. How did you get so lucky?

[mikauzoran]

Lukagami: Symphony (One-Shot)

@steelblaidd requested Lukagami

Summary: When Luka reminds Kagami that she’s welcome aboard the Liberty any time, she begins to see him in a new light, and spending time with him brings all kinds of discoveries.

Read it on AO3: Lukagami: Symphony

It was a typical Friday evening as Kagami climbed out of the car as gracefully as she could manage and bid Tatsu farewell.

The computerized voice wished her a pleasant fencing lesson before the door automatically shut and the vehicle drove off.

Kagami began her ascent up the Collège Françoise Dupont’s steps, mentally preparing herself to act with dignity and poise around Adrien.

She’d mostly come to terms with the end of their relationship, and she had half a mind to not-so-subtly nudge him towards Marinette, but things were still awkward, and she keenly felt the necessity of putting on yet another mask in public to deal with the situation.

A cheerful voice shook her from her reverie: “Hey! Kagami!”

She paused on the steps, turning to see Luka Couffaine as he broke away from Juleka and Rose and strode towards Kagami.

“How have you been?” he inquired amicably.

“Fine, thank you. Yourself?” she replied, keeping a polite emotional distance.

“Good. Hey, you know, you’re still more than welcome to come hang out on the Liberty.” He smiled shyly, reaching up to finger the drawstring of his jacket. “If you ever want to. …I just wanted you to know that.”

Kagami blinked, caught off guard by the offer.

She had never been close to Adrien’s friends and hadn’t expected to be wanted at their gatherings now that the link between her and Adrien had weakened.

“I… Thank you,” she managed to respond.

His smile gained some confidence, growing wider and more brilliant. “Sure thing. Well…have a nice day.”

“You as well,” she replied, nodding in acknowledgement as he turned, giving her a little wave as he did so.

 She hadn’t actually intended to stop by the Liberty, but, in the end, the draw of making friends on her own was strong.

The band was taking a break in the main cabin when she arrived, and everyone greeted her warmly, as if she had every right to be there.

It was nice in a slightly disconcerting, unfamiliar way.

“You came,” Luka noted, beaming as he motioned for her to come inside and make herself at home.

“I did,” she affirmed, thinking that she could get used to his smiles.

They disarmed her and, at the same time, put her at ease.

“Glad to have you,” he assured. “…You play the violin?”

He pointed to the case strapped to her back.

Shyly, she nodded. “I’m supposed to be at my lesson, but I’m skipping.”

Luka nearly choked on a laugh. “Rebellion at its finest. Nice.”

She made a playful curtsey and smiled in satisfaction when it only caused him to laugh more.

She found she liked his laughter too. It shimmered like sunlight on the Seine.

“Do you like the violin?” he inquired once his laughter had died down.

She pursed her lips and really considered the question. “…Yes. I do. At times, anyway. When I get to play what I want. I don’t think anyone enjoys it when they’re forced to do something, but when it’s my choice…then I like the violin.”

Luka nodded in solidarity. “I can understand that. I like the violin too.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. “You play?”

He grinned, an impish twinkle in his eyes. “I do. I know I seem like more of a rock-and-roll type, but I promise my tastes are extremely eclectic.”

“What do you like to play?” she pressed with interest.

He shrugged. “This and that. Saint-Saëns’s Introduction and Rondo Capriccioso…Sarasate’s Carmen Fantasy…Beethoven’s Kreutzer Sonata. You know.”

She gave a startled laugh. “You must be very talented!”

He shook his head, demurring. “Not at all. I’m just a hobbyist.”

“Go get your violin and play something,” she demanded. “I’ll be the judge.”

Luka tried to protest, but Kagami insisted, and the scene drew the attention of the others who all weighed in on Kagami’s side.

Obligingly, Luka got out his violin, quickly tuned and warmed up, and began to play Ysaÿe’s Sonata No. 3: Ballade for a stunned audience.

The melody was haunting and nebulous at first, like fog rolling across a moor.

Slowly, the notes coalesced, and the song gained a solid form.

With new direction, the melody line soared until the violin alternated between crooning a sweet, plaintive tune and shrieking with passion at the double stops.

The tension and urgency kept ratcheting up and up near the end as the notes flew by as if chased by the devil.

Kagami was on the literal edge of her seat, her heart pounding as she watched Luka’s fingers moving swiftly over the strings.

He lowered his bow with a flourish and a smirk, and Kagami could finally catch her breath.

Luka’s friends all crowded him, so Kagami didn’t get a chance to speak to him again until the end of rehearsal.

On her way out, she remarked, “You sold yourself short saying you were only a hobbyist. I’ve been taking lessons for years, and I couldn’t play that piece like you did.”

Luka shrugged sheepishly. “Sorry. I don’t like to brag. The truth is, if being a rock star falls through, I think I’d like to take up violin professionally. It speaks to me, you know? Guitar is my main love, but sometimes I can only express certain feelings with a violin.”

Kagami nodded, thinking that she did understand, at least a little.

“I’m sure you’re being overly humble about your own abilities, though,” he hurriedly added, not wanting to dwell too much on himself.

She bit her lip. “I could show you sometime. Maybe…we could play a duet?”

“I’d like that a lot.” His earnest smile brought a grin to her own face.

“Good,” she chuckled, pushing a stray lock back behind her ear. “I’d like that too.”

[nozomijoestar]

Cannot get this out my head so just remember what I said about these two becoming more like each other and turn that into an entire piece, if you think abt it they're the same character interpreted two ways as is (tws for one sentence of body horror)

The philosophy of the Trikaya came to mind so I tried to embody it in sections and at times blurring together; my paragraph length is deliberately formatted to show the differences in character, have fun trying to decipher what the paragraph lengths mean for each character mindset

I couldn't decide 100% on what Susumu Hirasawa song fits them best so for now (lyric index) I'm considering Moonlight/Shadow of the Moon, The Master's Mountain, A Strange Night of Omnificence, and Venus

Individually Reina's Hirasawa character song is Day Scanner, Kumiko's is Snow Blind

For non Hirasawa music there’s You by Kazami off the Samurai Champloo ost / Eternal by SCANDAL (lyrics)

Also Yūko is listening to Tupac's Life Goes On & Me Against The World

There was something different. Not a bad thing surely, but different all the same. Was it Kumiko standing straighter than usual? No perhaps it was the way her jaw set while weighing decisions. Maybe it had to do with ease of her touch, or the resolve that could flash like lightening through slow motion at random in her gaze. 

Whatever it was and why didn’t change its singularity against all else. It was a difference. The concept sent a chill rippling through her; she imagined a figure being peeled back then rearranged before being resewn. A terrible nausea took her then and her playing faltered. Her fingers may as well have become lead on the trumpet valves. She stopped and lowered her trumpet ever so carefully. Change. Would Kumiko one day forget her sound?

Why had Reina stared at her like that after practice? Was there something in her teeth today? No she couldn't be silly. Reina would never see through her over anything trivial. If you asked Kumiko, that intensity easily took its place as the scariest feeling anyone worth more than five minutes of effort had shown her. But she wasn't saying Reina, or anybody, came off as some pet project! It was just...she couldn't give everybody equal time. There were only so many pieces of herself to split for everyone. There were only so many Kumikos before she burst at the seams. At least, these days there were. She preferred that; she knew what the alternative made her.

If you asked her to rank them though, Reina had a slice so huge it was unfair. Kumiko was sure she knew it too. So why had her eyes grasped her heart? She felt a repeat of the feeling now as it struck her even in memory. She was naked before that stare- like her whole being had unfurled the moment Reina's presence approached. Like she saw herself outside her own body. Like Kumiko could die fulfilled.

Her fingers slid over the cool brass of her euphonium. The way the sensation prickled her skin made the air sharper, let it flow through her touching everything before she exhaled. It didn't come frantic but steady and coaxed.

She brought the mouthpiece to her lips and played. Her eyes closed amid the cicada calls in this familiar nook under the shadow of Kitauji's building. Her feet planted easy on this ground that'd received her sweat and blood without complaint season after season. She played.

She played a note for everything, for every breath gave rise to a memory. High notes lifted joyful moments like bubbles meeting the sky. Low notes spiraled their way up beside them in hesitation, but rising nevertheless. Soon the divide blurred and she no longer knew where the two separated.

Together they soared from her; the music a tapestry woven in on itself over and over. The feeing was older than her, older than anyone she knew living. Notes wandered, whole passages surged endless. The piece that wasn't a piece vibrated her blood. The sound rattled her bones. She played.

Her fingers burned exhaustion asking so much of the euphonium. She didn't dare stop. A little more and it'd take a true shape and-

From everywhere a calm that stood side by side with anticipation washed over her. There came the sound of footsteps. Reina turned the corner eyes widened by a hair and lips barely open. Her cheeks had gone flush coloring her like a human sized red crayon. Seeing her in shock drove Kumiko's mind frantic and buzzing until all she blurted out after scooting backward was-

"Do you have a fever?"

"........I could ask you the same thing. Here."

The water was cold and the bottle sweating condensation. Drinking it melted her adrenaline into lava. Her body aches as if scrubbed raw beneath the heat under her skin. The world spun just for an instant before Reina pressed a second water bottle against her neck.

Kumiko yelped, jumping out her chair and scrambling to keep her euphonium from crashing to the floor. Her shoe trips but in an instant Reina is behind her holding her upright. Water from the bottle Kumiko clutched splashed across their skirts and sleeves. When she registered the cold dripping down her knees the picture of what she'd done snapped into place. Before she could control it her voice stuttered out.

"T-T-thanks. Sorry for the mess."

"It's fine. Come and sit."

She let herself be guided by Reina's hand. When they sat side by side the world became right again. Kumiko still gasped and wheezed as she let Reina's fingers tidy her hair. Over time the motions had graduated from bumbling to meticulous; she couldn't clearly remember a time Reina hadn't been doing this anymore.

"What were you playing? I've never heard it."

The tone to her words made Kumiko's stomach sink a little. It wavered between curiosity and scolding; yet at the same time found itself half smothered by her quiet voice. Had she been at it that long? Her body certainly said more than either could.

"Nothing. Was just free-styling and stuff...practice."

"Practice doesn't almost give you heat stroke."

"Maybe not for you, but if I'm special too now then I have to catch up. If I don't there's no point."

Reina's laugh burst from her clear and free. Kumiko's eyes widened. She knew exactly what was coming. The way Reina's black hair draped down her shoulders, the way this angle teased at her nape, the crinkle of her eyes and wiggling eyebrows as her head was thrown back; everything was Reina, and it emptied her mind. She remained staring with her mouth slack like an idiot when she heard it. Now Reina's voice became love.

"You're awful." 'Don't you know we're already alike?'

Reina had finally deciphered Kumiko's new attitude three days ago. Perhaps. Almost. Maybe. Her hunch was solid. Now she needed proof. She wanted proof so bad her blood boiled. Voices leaked through the band room doors. Picking out Kumiko's laugh was child's play. It had a warm quality she couldn't describe even as it calmed her heart.

She entered and wrestled the surge of emotions she couldn't pick apart coursing through her. Her expression remained flat. Calm. Centered. Reina Kousaka did not roar at the world before an audience.

For whatever reason Kumiko had yet to notice her in their crowd of bandmates. She slowed her steps, kneeled near a wall pretending to search her bag. Kumiko sat with Midori and Hazuki today. Their conversation filled her ears, stoked her irrational fear. That fear which hung over her heavier than a headman's axe. That fear who's tendrils constricted her heart at its leisure.

'You wouldn't abandon me without a word would you?'

Childish, Reina Kousaka!

"That part is so tough. My mom's been putting dinner aside when I come home late."

"You always practice real hard Hazuki. It'll be worth it. That's what Nationals are all about! Don't you think so Kumiko?"

"Lately it sounds like my breath control's gotten stronger. When I play the sound is talking...or something like that. I wanna give it all I've got. So I'm glad we're going for it."

"Who're you now? Reina?"

They giggled even as they complimented her after. It didn't matter, her mind raced. What emotions had coursed now rose to a flood. She felt her heartbeat through her tongue. Pride? Kumiko felt...pride in playing...because of her? At the very least with her as a reason?

"Kousaka what're you doing?"

Yūko loomed over her causing Reina to smack into her pink headphone wire when she turned. She flinched and rubbed her nose. She looked up at her; her mind blanked.

"Checking my things."

"You must have a museum in there to be checking your bag for three minutes straight. You look super weird, what's going on?"

No quips or barbs loaded in response; nor could anything dampen the joy already swirling in her head. Besides, any qualms with Yūko were long outgrown. Why dwell on what was settled? Her body still tingled. Kumiko was proud because of her.

Yūko kept staring in anticipation as the song blaring through her headphones faded into another. Reina noticed that little twist of the mouth she did whenever she got impatient. Reina's lips moved to answer her but Yūko cut her off.

"Fine. You don't have to tell me. It better not divide the band though."

"...It's between me and Kumiko. No one else."

"Oh. In that case uh...if you want to talk to someone..."

Watching Yūko look away and scratch her chin awkwardly made her swallow a laugh. Instead she smiled and nodded. Maybe she should blame her mood but a calmness settled her back into reason. Like a bridge connecting, a hand outstretched, she grasped Yūko's kindness. It was good to be alone, not lonely.

"I will. Thanks."

Nights on Mount Daikichi were more natural for them than breathing. Cloaked in the silver and blue of moonlight they glowed at first glance. Countless lights below lit the city like a map of stars. Like gazing up at the sky on Tanabata to find Orihime and Hikoboshi. The cicadas buzzing filled in their silence that wasn't silence. They held their breath even as they breathed.

"When you think about improving, what does that really mean?"

Reina inched her pinky atop Kumiko's. Kumiko did the same. Her head went back as she watched the sky.

"Hmmm...probably a road. There's a place far away just enough for me to see. I don't know everything it has; I know because of that, chasing it makes me better. I used to think it had to stay straight once I started. Kinda stupid, 'cuz I take turns on it all the time. You?"

Reina paused a moment, face contemplative.

"There are stars. Most despite sitting in the sky are far from the moon. Most burn out. Some fall. Fewer get their chance beside the moon. Their light shines the longest. Their light inspires people."

"Pft hehe, there you go saying stuff like a book character again. That's just like you. Is there any room for the band up there?"

"...Maybe..."

"Is there any room for me?"

Without warning Reina leaned closer; her expression went stern. Her voice faltered though it tried being firm. It was the softest tone Kumiko had heard in her life.

"Don't ask stupid questions."

"Ok. I won't."

Their foreheads touched and the cool breeze turned warm on their skin.

"What do you think of the others then...past and present?"

Kumiko shut her eyes. Aoi. Haruka. Kaori. Natsuki. Shūichi. Nozomi. Mizore. Midori. Hazuki. Yūko...Asuka.

The faces of all who's paths intersected and footsteps left prints as guides, tethers connecting her to the universe, appeared in her mind. Each had drawn on a blank sheet of her soul. They were nowhere near her yet she felt them echo. They were her as she was them.

"Unrivaled under Heaven."

"Now who's talking like a novel character?"

"Cut it out." Kumiko replied through a chuckle.

Their eyes met. Reina smirked but only for a pause. She inched forward, asking a question. Kumiko shut her eyes again.

The kiss was unlike anything before and possibly after. An explosion of sensations though they didn't move a muscle. There was no time to remember it yet each second couldn't be forgotten. Feelings of melting, soaring, absolving, each melded and surpassed bliss. The result transcended any name they could give it. A release.

They pulled away. Both panted for air then examined each other as if for the first time. They no longer looked; they saw. They no longer knew, they understood.

Many questions were on the verge of pouring; instead Kumiko cupped Reina's cheeks and smiled. Her thumbs brushed off the forming tears. She didn't say a word when Reina fell into her arms. She simply rested a hand on her head and held her trembling body.

The moon's brightness peaked. If you asked her, it'd moved a little closer.

[samwrights]

I’m sorry but ukai with a breeding kink😳yes PLEASE

I swear I saw another ask that asked for Ukai with an impreg kink

*ahem* anyways—WOW this one was a doozy but holy shit did I have fun writing it. 11k words you guys. 11. K. It is a lot so grab some cocoa or coffee and a blanket because this is a read. It even has to be split into two parts because I hit the fucking text limit, BUT this also means there is no actual smut in this portion. You can find that here.

If you guys need some ear candy, I recommend the following:

Day N Nite (Crooker’s Remix) by Kid Cudi

Pursuit of Happiness (Extended version with Steve Aoki) by Kid Cudi

Breaking Me by Topic

C’Mon by Ke$ha

Flannel by The Cardboard Swords (it has to be sad somewhere)

Magic in the Hamptons by Social House

Fun fact: Ke$ha was actually the primary inspiration for this fic and for DJ!Ukai. God bless her.

Warnings: language, nicotine and alcohol consumption, implied drug use, implied emotionally abusive relationship, breeding/impreg kink, dirty talk, rough sex, risky sex, road head, slight dub-con, praise, multiple smut scenes, 3rd person POV reader-insert—because the word ‘you’ just didn’t seem to fit.

Without further ado, please enjoy the filthy depths of my brain followed by a relatively happy ending that I’ve titled, “Between the Lines’” :-)

“You’ve been more tired lately, and you’re showing up right when practice starts. Is everything okay?” Was the question that Takeda had asked Ukai Keishin that haunted him for years to come. Sure, he had wanted to gain more independence from his parents, wanted to start being more adult-like and take over the mortgage and the bills so his parents could finally rest. At the age of twenty-six, it seemed like a good idea at the time. With four years passing, however, Keishin was so damn tired, but it wasn’t like he could just stop working.

He was still tending to crops every morning, tending to the shop, coaching for Karasuno, but in the four years time, he had adopted one more job on the weekends—Ukai Keishin was a local nightclub DJ. He’d discovered the job opportunity one fateful night that he was out with his friends from the neighborhood association. To this day, he was still unsure of why he was approached with the job, especially considering he didn’t know the first thing about being a DJ, but the woman who had offered him the position had taught him everything he needed to know.

It turned out that he had a natural affinity for the position, seeing as he was still at it years later under the alias Spira. Ukai kept telling himself that he would quit the gig eventually because there was no way he could continue working four jobs—it was inhuman and the money didn’t even really matter to him. Okay, that last one is a lie; his DJ gig has been a substantial contributor to his savings funds to the point where he was even able to afford a newer, larger, (and slightly) used SUV in full compared to his tiny, old yellow beater. Even his mortgage bills were starting to look less daunting with the current cash flow.

Who needs sleep anyway? Ukai survived and thrived off of nicotine and caffeine anyway. Besides, sleep was the last thing on his mind whenever he set foot into the club. It was impossible to think of anything other than the writhing bodies of sweaty, young adults that were already drunk or high or were practically fucking each other with their clothes on. Perhaps that was part of the reason Keishin felt the need to quit this job—he was envious. Envious of the fact that he never got to indulge in his youth like these kids did; he started working and helping his family out right away after college. Sure, he went out here and there, but these twenty-something-year-olds were living their best life, while he was thirty and catering to their whims.

To say he was a bit bitter would be an understatement.

Bitterness aside, however, it did him good to see the youth enjoying exactly that—their youth. They got to do as they pleased between exams and becoming functioning members of society and, while he was jealous, Ukai was proud to be able to contribute to their pleasure.

He’d arrived to the club early, as he often did, to try to grab a drink before he was due for stage time. Ukai was thankful the bartenders knew him enough that he didn’t have to verbally order considering the music was too loud to hear him in the first place. A rum and coke manifests itself in a small, plastic cup that the blonde raises in thanks before weaving and bobbing around the various partygoers. For the most part, he’s successful in dodging the flailing bodies as he mutely notes the very upbeat remix of some female pop artist playing.

But only remotely successful as Keishin attempts to salvage his drink from spilling as he raises it over his head as one of the partygoers is pushed into him. “Hey, careful!” He snaps toward the younger, [hair color]ed woman. She only looks half-offended by the scolding, but otherwise unperturbed. If anything, the dominating expression on her face was confusion.

“Coach Ukai?” He’s surprised to hear both his given name and his title, let alone coming from a club patron, as they all knew him as Spira. Recognition slips his mind entirely—he’s never met this girl in any way that he can remember. Certainly, he would never forget crossing paths with this beauty, even if she was dressed in a similarly juvenile fashion to the other ravers. Tight crop top tee cinched together by a knot at the midriff, with army green high-waisted shorts attempting to cover the bare skin, face painted with makeup, glitter, and sweat; even underneath the garb, she brought forth no recollection. “Uh, d-do you remember me?” It’s a challenge to hear over the music, but she presses forward close enough that her lips are right in Keishin’s ear.

“Can’t say that I do,” he yells right back into hers.

“Karasuno class of twenty-twelve, I was Sugawara’s girlfriend.” Oh.

Oh.

Now he remembered, vaguely, but he doesn’t ever remember her looking like this. The last four years had been incredibly kind to her, in more ways than one. Back in her Karasuno days, [name] had always looked pleasant, for lack of better term. But there was always a lifeless, matted, dull glaze to her eyes that screamed she was searching for something more. While it was still somewhat present, there was a substantial joyous air around her. It looked good on her. However, as much as Ukai wanted to stay and admire, he had to go get set up for the evening. Or rather, that was the excuse he used when he said he would catch her after the show. “[name], did you know who that was?” The woman in question gives a nod, confused at the sudden star struck gawks that her friends held.

“Uh, yeah? My ex-boyfriend’s volleyball coach?”

“No dude, that was the DJ, Spira.”

“What?”

Being the closing act meant a lot of different things to Ukai Keishin. On the negative spectrum, it meant he was going to have to tend to crops as soon as he finished cleaning up his set. That also meant he wasn’t going to get to go to bed until nearly eight in the morning after his shift at the farm. Yet, for him, the positives greatly outweighed the negatives. For Keishin, watching the audience lose themselves in euphoria, albeit probably a drug-induced one, just hit different for him. It was a sense of satisfaction that only came from a select few activities, with coaching volleyball being the other major contributor. There was just something about the way the crowd was overwhelmed and screaming the second underground remixes of old Kid Cudi tracks with his own twists overtook the speakers that granted Keishin a sense of enlightenment.

For him, being a DJ allowed an audience to flow and vibe with the journey of his life and all its constant up and down motions while under the guise of anonymity. As Spira, Ukai opened up the complexity and conflicting feelings of his inner mind and brought it to fruition through his mixes. He felt that in his soul, he’d done his art of storytelling justice. The audience felt it. Hell, his mom at home probably felt it. Perhaps it was one of the main reasons this dingy, hole-in-the-wall club kept asking him to come back every weekend.

His mind wanders further as he clutches an electronic cigarette in his hand, mixing beats on the turntable while taking hits of nicotine in between. He wonders if the girl he had ran into just a few minutes prior had been frequenting here as often as he had. Then, thinking back to what little information she supplied earlier, Ukai’s mind drifts off to the former third-year setter from when he first started coaching. Sugawara was a nice boy with a firm, almost parental, hand that walked dangerously along the lines of being a partner and being a control freak. When it came to his relationship, things had to go his way. And while his girlfriend that came to every tournament was much more outspoken yet easy going, she was opinionated and didn’t shy from confrontation.

Now that the coach had given it more thought, it was a wonder that one tolerated the other at any point in time. If anything, Ukai imagines the two of them would typically be at each other’s throats. From the few times he had interacted with her, she was always more free spirited and couldn’t be weighed down by any one else’s opinion, but seeing her now was different—she was in her element in the dingy, dark club with the glitter on her cheekbones refracting light off of her face. There was laughter and true, unabashed joy on her face. She had a light of her own—like she was ray of sunshine in the center of a storm.

Three hours past midnight when the club closed was always Keishin’s sign to leave, regardless of the countless attempts to attend the after party he’d been invited to. He had to go to work, after all. Sure, a part of him had always been a little green with envy at all the DJs that got to hook up with club patrons after, but after being at this gig for a few years, he figured that the right girl for him would eventually come to him if he continued working on himself. After all, he didn’t want to just have a string of one night stands with a bunch of fresh adults that could barely function after the small drop of Malibu rum—he was too old for that.

“Uh, coach?” [name] felt strange calling him that, but she didn’t feel familiar enough with him to address him otherwise. He was halfway in his car, the blonde ready to leave for the weekend to go back to his regular day-to-day work. “You coming to the after party?” [name] asks when Keishin only looks at her in question, cigarette hanging betwixt his dry lips.

“No, I actually have to go to work right now.”

“Oh,” she doesn’t mean to express her disappointment, but it slips anyway, “guess I’ll catch you later then?”

“Uh, yeah.” A tight lipped hybrid of a pained grin and grimace crosses her wet, gloss covered lips. Without another word, Ukai closes his car door, a little more brusquely than he intended to, before backing out and leaving the young woman to her own devices. His mind wanders once again with him humming absentmindedly to the soft acoustic punk playing over the car radio. His eyes are focused on the passing greenery, the cars that are weaving and bobbing off the freeway—hell he even noticed the way the tendrils of the sun are just barely starting to peak over the horizon because it reminded him of her. A thought he banishes immediately because he feels creepy for even thinking that.

Yet no matter how much scenery flitted through his honey eyes, his mind keeps traveling back to one thing, or rather one person, only.

Goddammit.

On Monday’s practice, Ukai Keishin’s mind is flooding and drowning in memories of his first year as the volleyball club’s coach. It was as if his mind was coercing him to attempt to reach out to the girl that plagued his mind for the last forty-eight hours or so. Though, he had no way of contacting her. Instead, with every step along the wooden floors, he can remember the way she would walk Suga to practice, almost physically seeing her standing in the doorway to kiss the third-year setter goodbye. As if he could see her sitting underneath the third window from the left, quietly doing homework and exchanging small talk and airy laughter with Kiyoko and Daichi. As if he could see the same sunny smile she gave in the audience from Saturday night at the club between the lines of the woodwork in the floorboards.

It was a repeating pattern day in and day out that was beginning to make Ukai question his sanity.

“Hey, man,” his assistant coach and fellow Karasuno alumni, Tsukishima Akiteru, places a hand on his shoulder and looks at him in worry. “Are you okay? You’ve been out of it all week.” In what world did a week translate into three days, the older blonde coach didn’t know.

“I’m fine, just tired,” Keishin all but bites back. He didn’t want to admit his conscious had been running rampant with thoughts of a girl he’d briefly met at a club. It felt almost as disturbing and perverted as it sounded in his mind.

“The team’s worried about you. Why don’t you take an early weekend and get some rest? We’ll see you back on Monday, yeah?” Normally, Ukai would have vehemently refused. However, his circumstances were far from normal and he was gracious for an assistant coach he trusted wholeheartedly to do the work that needed to be done. And so, Ukai heeded Akiteru’s advice and went home before practice even began on Thursday afternoon.

It was slightly disorienting for him to go home and nap, but he was incredibly thankful for the gift. Waking up just before he was technically supposed to start his shift at the shop, Keishin jumps into a cold shower to bring him to life before heading downstairs. A bellowing yawn passes his lips through his teeth as he starts his evening. Maybe his team was right—he really did need a break. Thankfully, he knew that the second the doors to the Sakanoshita were locked, he was done for the evening and wouldn’t need to reawaken until three the following morning. Just a few more hours until then, he thought.

With it being a slower evening as well, Ukai was able to kick his feet up on the counter as he always did, pull open the newspaper from earlier in the morning and casually flip through. Briefly, he considers giving up one of his four jobs because this was something he missed doing. But consideration aside, he was far too in love with the cash flow and the thought of paying off his mortgage to entertain the thought for long. Maybe one day, he would finally sell the Sakanoshita store or quit helping on the farm—

“You still work here?” Huh. Her voice sounds different when it isn’t drowning under the speakers of a nightclub.

“I do own this place, you know.” Ukai snarks at the woman who’d been consuming his brain for the last week. She looks different without glitter reflecting off of her unreal cheekbones or the heavy layers of foundation and eyeshadow. Even more than before, Keishin definitely recognized [name] now. “What are you doing here anyway?”

“Shopping,” she snorts as if it were the most obvious thing, “why else would I be at a store?”

“Dunno, maybe you’re just here to see me.” Ukai responds without skipping a beat, turning the page of the paper to play into his guise that he wasn’t the slightest bit surprised at [name]’s presence.

“Uh...actually...” her voice is quiet, prompting the coach to quirk a brow and fold up the paper he was now pretending to read. It wasn’t like he could focus on anything right now outside of the woman standing before him, spearated only by a thin counter. Without talking again, his brown eyes lock with hers, silently goading for her to continue speaking. “I-I just...I don’t know. It was just really weird to see you at the club and then to find out that you’re Spira on top of that. I haven’t seen anyone from Karasuno since I graduated and—“

“Woah, kid, breathe.” Ukai interrupts her before she can continue spewing word vomit at a hundred miles an hour. “So what if I’m Spira? Though, you better not tell anyone that. My stage name is a secret between us, alright?” For a moment she’s quiet, gears turning in her head. The secrecy didn’t make sense to her because, if anything, he should be proud of the fact that he’s rather well known in the underground electronica scene. Or at least, she was in his stead, because [name] would have been proud of Ukai regardless of whatever occupation he held.

She supposed it came with the territory of having an unrequited crush on the coach years ago, that continued well beyond high school and even university, back when she was still dating Sugawara Koushi. It was the reason she had even bothered to come sit in on his practices and partially the reason she would come to his tournaments and matches. Not that she didn’t want to be supportive of her then-boyfriend—it would have been a fight had she not—but seeing the hot older coach was definitely a bonus in her book. “But why?” She offers, not wanting conversation to end despite her not having actually bought anything.

“If the school ever caught wind of me doing that, I could lose my position as the coach. Some shit about Karasuno’s image or whatever.” [name] gives a small nod, fidgeting subconsciously, as an attempt to shake her nerves and anxiety, by sifting through various candy bars that were in front of her before grabbing her favorite. Without a second thought, she peels the wrapper before placing the candy between her lips, the puffy pink skin greatly contrasting the chocolate coating. “Ya gonna pay for that, kid?” Ukai irks, his honey brown eyes steeling over in irritation. The nickname she’s given hits the final nail on the coffin and seals away [name]’s trepidation. Instead, her own sass comes out to join the fun.

“Nah,” she hums playfully, the chocolate-covered wafer cookie crunching between her teeth. “Quit calling me kid, coach. I’m a lady,” the irony isn’t lost on either of them as she speaks with her mouth full.

“Still a kid, kid. And quit calling me coach, I’m not your damn coach.” The familiar, grumpy attitude of his brings [name] back to the Ukai she knew back in high school. In a mix of nostalgia, warmth washes over her as the haughty tone in his voice sent shivers down her spine like it did a few years back.

“Sure thing, coach,” she teases again before tossing the wrapper of the stolen candy bar into the nearest bin. “You’re at the club tomorrow, right?” The question adds a bit of context and confirmation to Ukai—it seems she knew when Spira was performing, meaning she must have been a patron for a decent amount of time. Part of him wonders how she never realized who he was before, another part wonders how he’s never noticed her considering she could make all traffic stop if she stood in the middle of a freeway. At least, that’s what looking at her did to his heart.

“Yeah?”

“Maybe this time, you’ll join us at the after party.” Without another word, [name] pushes herself away from the counter she’d been leaning on while talking to the blonde man. With Akiteru giving him the weekend off, he actually entertained the thought of attending this time. Even if her invitation was rather blasé and indirect, he didn’t see the opportunity of him attending one presenting itself any time soon. He may be old, by his own standard, but there was a unknown allure to the thought of showing up to a wild party with a woman that was so adamant of his attendance.

Or rather, adamant in his mind. Whether she actually wanted his company remained to be seen, but the curiosity was gnawing at him, and was something he would have to unearth sooner rather than later.

Having an entire night, or a day’s worth, of rest was a rather disorienting, yet pleasant feeling for Ukai. After tending to crops and returning home in the early hours of the morning, the blonde coach was able to catch a solid nine hours of sleep before his shift at the Sakanoshita store with another chance to nap before he needed to head to the club. Despite knowing he had the ability to do so before another restless night, his mind felt the need to keep him awake and alert. Even after showering and styling his blonde tresses into their usual mane—mundane acts that usually came to him automatically—he was hyper aware of the slightest unruly flyaways.

Ukai Keishin was nervous.

He didn’t know what to wear or if there was a dress code or if anything he typically wore would be deemed worthy of an after party. A part of him wanted to leave it alone and let him sport his usual white track pants and tight, maroon muscle tank, but that part of him immediately drowns in the ocean of his anxiety. Another string in his brain prompted him to dress up just a little bit to help him look the part—it had nothing to do with impressing a certain club patron, no—he tried to convince himself. A miserable attempt, but still one nonetheless.

Eventually, he settled on crisp, dark-washed jeans that hugged his muscular legs without being suffocating, paired with a vibrant, crimson muscle tee that hugged his biceps all the same. Ukai still felt a little out of place in the attire, as he often had back when he first assumed the alias Spira, but headed out the door of his apartment before his conscious could dispute it.

He was early again, even more so than normal. Desperate for a drink to calm his nerves and replace his blood with liquid courage, Ukai worms his way around to the bar, signaling the attendant for his usual. Rum and coke in hand, the DJ stands off to the side, hiding like a wallflower, while he studied the sweaty, dancing bodies. Did he know why he was looking for her—no. Maybe partially to tell her she owed him for the candy bar, maybe to tell her he was joining in on the after party this time around.

Maybe to just see her.

Keishin banishes the last thought with a shake of his head before skulking off to the attached patio to smoke. Pulling a cigarette from his pack and a lighter from his pocket, the flame torches the end of the filter at the same time the blonde inhales. Forcefully pushing the smoke out past his lips, Ukai takes a hearty sip of his drink until it’s nearly gone. He was going to need something stronger tonight.

“Is it that time already?” The older man’s head snaps to the voice that had been haunting him subconsciously.

Part of him wishes he didn’t look.

As if to play into her question, [name] checks the large, rose gold watch on her right wrist—an incredibly stark contrast to her outfit for the evening. Maybe it was a hunch when Ukai felt that he had been underdressed, as if his intuition knew that she was going to be dressed to the nines in a black skater dress. Even with a modest neckline, the lace cut out detailing on the sides of the dress accentuated her curves impeccably, playing well with the volume of the skirt, while the open back she was sporting dipped dangerously low.

It took everything in Ukai to not throw every milliliter of restraint and inhibition out the window and fuck her right then and there.

Taking a lengthy drag of his cigarette to hold himself back, Keishin inhales deeply, the smoke billowing past his lips emerging densely and grey in color. “I’m a little early—needed an extra drink today.” The man manages to choke out, downing whatever is left in his little plastic cup for added emphasis.

“Need another?” [name] chirps politely; almost too politely as if to deliberately dispute the salacious thoughts flooding the coaches mind.

“I can get—“

“I owe you anyway,” she reminds him, alluding to the candy bar she had eaten without paying for from the previous night. “Pick your poison.”

“Double rum and coke.” He concedes. [name]’s lips twitch upward slightly at the corner before she plucks the empty cup from Ukai’s hand. He doesn’t miss the way the shellac on her nails grazes against his skin, leaving the whispers of contact to run warm. Immediately, the blonde man uses the nearly dead cigarette between his teeth to light a fresh one—heaven or hell knows he needed the nicotine right now.

Given the silence, Keishin takes the opportunity to absorb his surroundings. From the general direction that [name] initially came from, she wasn’t around any of her friends or really anyone that he knew. That was good at least; there wasn’t anybody else that knew of his presence. [name] returns, two clear plastic cups in her hands and surrenders the darker of the two to the man awaiting. “Hold mine for a sec?” Without thinking, Keishin holds his cigarette between his left index and middle fingers, his drink in the same hand, while taking hers. To his surprise, she pulls out her own pack of menthols and a torch lighter, setting the leaves ablaze before taking her obvious vodka cranberry back.

“You took up smoking?” The older of the two asks in surprise, noting the way her lipstick leaves the slightest bit of residue along the brown filter. [name] gives a shrug.

“Surprised you didn’t notice it sooner, coach. I’ve been smoking since second year.” Ukai gives a roll of his eyes at the use of this strange pet name he’s been dubbed by her. But he thinks about it, thinks about how Suga must have felt probably knowing that she did. Thinks how it just added to this strange, sassy yet happy, wild and free exterior she now had. And [name] notices instantly the very same look Ukai had in his face when he was trying to strategize, trying to figure out a way to navigate a conversation with his team about becoming better—she knows what’s coming next. “Yeah, yeah, I know I should quit or whatever. Suga lost that argument a long time ago.”

“Can’t really tell you what to do when I’m just as guilty.” Ukai gives a laugh—one that is embedded with bitterness and envy at the mention of the third-year setter—yet is just as vivacious as he is. A sound entirely different than she’d ever heard leave his lungs before. She likes it.

After finishing his smoke, Keishin gulps down a hefty swig of his drink before patting [name] on the shoulder before announcing his departure. “I’ll see you inside,” the girl, woman, calls out thoughtfully as she gives a small wave with her cigarette filter between her fingers. Ukai doesn’t verbalize the same sentiment. He doesn’t want to slip up and admit he’ll be looking for her.

But it’s painfully obvious that he is when he takes over the booth. Unable to hide the fact that with every chance that he looks into the audience, he’s searching for that black skater dress that hugs her all too perfectly, [hair color] locks swaying as she moves in the crowd. Ukai can’t hide it at all—not behind the turn table or new remixes meant to get the crowd moving.

He can’t hide the urgency he feels to find her outside in the crisp evening air, smoking on the back patio of the club after his set. [name] is talking and laughing with her friends while thin grey smoke billows from her open mouth before her eyes land on him. Some of her friends take notice to the tension and their shared gazes, some of them whispering his alias in excitement. But [name] just smiles knowingly, if not a little cocky, because she can see that urgency, that desperation, that Ukai was trying to hide. “Wait, [name], do you know Spira?” A bystander asked. Clearly, they weren’t present the last time this was brought up.

“Yeah, I may have met him once or twice,” the woman in question snickers as she strides over closer and closer to the aforementioned DJ.

“Cute,” Ukai sneers teasingly at her jab before instinctively reaching for the half-gone cigarette she pulls to her stained lips. At first, she thought he was going to put it out, considering their little conversation from a few hours ago. Instead, the volleyball coach puts the filter to his own lips, noting the damp fabric probably from her freshly applied lipgloss, and takes a drag. It tasted like watermelons and mint.

“Cheeky,” [name] returns, plucking her cancer stick back from the blonde man. While her friends are still behind her murmuring about the familiarity between the two of them, Keishin and [name] are lost in their own little world. “So since your set is over, and considering you’re still here, I’m assuming you’re joining me for the after party? Or do you have to go to work again?”

“I told them I’d be out of town this weekend,” Ukai tries to play it off as nonchalantly as he could, ties to swallow it down his nerves with rum and nicotine. It proves rather difficult considering the coy smile on [name]’s face is wearing and cracking through his resolve rather quickly. But at least, to him, he could confirm his mind was not playing tricks on him and [name] was just as adamant about his attendance as he initially thought. Even more so with her next statement.

“Cool. Your car or mine?” It took him a minute to process her words even—lust thickening and constricting the flow to his brain at the vague question. Ukai was getting far too ahead of himself, but goddammit how could he focus when the fabric of her skirt hit her mid-thigh and framed her like a Venetian goddess—“I don’t mind driving there.” She adds to coax him away from his silence.

“Nah, I got it. We’ll take mine.”

“Lead the way,” [name] chimes sweetly as she wraps an arm around the coach’s forearm. The physical touch is everything he’s been fantasizing about for the last few days—hellfire and brimstone and sunlight and goddammit why did he wear jeans that were only getting tighter and tighter?

Ukai opens the passenger door to his SUV, supporting the woman as she clambered in cautiously so as not to stumble from her heels. Getting settled in, the coach surrenders his unlocked phone to allow her the entirety of his music library. The irony of the DJ surrendering DJ rights to the passenger was not lost on either of them. Much to his surprise, [name] put on soft acoustic punk as he usually did on his way home from the club. The kind of softness one would turn on to accompany the fragile pitter-patter of rain against the windshield. “Cardboard Swords?” Ukai asks in surprise, more than familiar with the band.

“Flannel is a favorite of mine. I’m kind of surprised it’s in your library.” She adds after she begins directing him to this evening’s party location. From the corner of his eyes, he can see the way her full lips are moving along each word with expertise. He sees the way her [eye color] orbs soften slightly and he can tell this song hits home for her.

She’ll never say why—she’ll never tell him this was the song that helped her move on from Sugawara Koushi while restoring her inner peace.

But Keishin is no fool. He can tell that this is physically hurting her—crushing her soul into the leather seat of his car and, instinctually, he wraps a large hand around hers that’s resting in her lap. “I came out tonight to have fun with you, so don’t you go getting sad on me.” He means each word with innocent intent, yet he cannot ignore the almost hidden, salacious drip to each syllable and neither can she. How could she when his touch sent volts of electricity through her skin?

“Right, right,” she says in a conceding tone, switching the audio to something much more upbeat and a little flirty. “Why did you agree to go out tonight?” If Ukai had an answer, then it died on his lips as he let go of [name]’s hand to reach for another cigarette. The process of lighting the tube, inhaling, and exhaling bought him an extra minute to come up with an excuse; her doing the same giving him another thirty seconds.

“I don’t know.” It’s a blatant lie—a lie that [name] believes all too easily—but Ukai can’t bring himself to admit the truth. He can’t admit out loud that she’s the only thing that’s been on his mind all week or that he jumped at the opportunity, created one even, to be able to have a one-on-one moment with her. Keishin can’t admit that he can tell there are intricate webs spun in her mind and that all he wants to do is untangle them one by one.

And he certainly can’t tell her that even the mere sight of her sends his brain into overdrive and all he wants to do is repeatedly fill her over and over with his seed until she is entirely his, inside and out in mind, body, and soul. There was no way in the nine circles of hell that Ukai Keishin was going to admit to his sinful thoughts.

“It’s just up here.” [name] points with gaunt fingers, cigarette between them as her voice is half choked from inhaling her own smoke. Mirroring the man’s actions earlier, she indulged in her own nicotine habit to quell the budding disappointment from Ukai’s lackluster response. They drove up a slight winding hill and as the trees pass by, the itch for her truth and her history was gnawing at him. He wanted to know why this rambunctious party girl invited him all week to these elusive after parties. Why Flannel ate away at her insides like it did his. Why did her and Sugawara breakup?

But he decides against it for the moment.

“Where are we?” Ukai asks. There’s cars all lining the sides of the road of varying worth—he felt even more out of place than normal with his older SUV, even if it was an upgrade for him, considering the large number of luxury vehicles.

“Bevelle’s house.” [name] says simply, pointing to an empty space in the streets as she throws the butt of her cigarette into the road. The casual way she name drops the owner of the club makes him gawk, catching flies in his mouth had there been any at the hour. With a satisfied, cheesy grin, she hops out of her seat and walks in the grass to meet Ukai on the other side as he clambers out of the vehicle as well. In familiarity, she grips into his forearm once again as they walk towards the forest mansion.

Keishin wasn’t sure what to expect when the two of them walked in, but a home full of people screaming his pseudonym and her name was not on that list. Younger hordes had surrounded [name], greeting her warmly and telling her how glad they were to see her again for the evening. Others were approaching Ukai, telling them how rare and a momentous occasion that the infamous artist Spira was amongst their midst.

“Glad to see you could join us, Spira.” His boss and club owner, Bevelle, approaches the mismatched couple. Bevelle was an alias used by the middle aged woman, her real name unknown to those that didn’t know her know her, and was once upon a time her stage name. While she had chosen a quiet location in the Miyagi prefecture, Bevelle was quite known in the underground scene. Granted, Ukai didn’t know any of that when he’d taken the job. If anything, it was all thanks to her that he was able to learn for his own success as well as granting him the opportunity to learn in the first place. “Good to see you too, trouble.” Bevelle affectionately goes to muss at [name]’s hair, to which she only replies with a cheeky grin.

“How do you know Bevelle?” Ukai presses his lips towards the ear of the woman still hanging onto him as she expertly leads the way to the kitchen. The car ride left her feeling slightly uncomfortable, ashamed even though she would never admit to that, and she knew she definitely needed a drink after it. Part of her was heavily rebuking herself for trying to pry into his mind by asking why he came along, even more so when she put on the one song that shattered her heart every time she heard it. It just excited her that he had it in his library, that he even knew who The Cardboard Swords were, and that he enjoyed the same obscure taste in music as much as she did.

“She’s a close family friend!” The chirp that [name] gives isn’t entirely convincing, like she isn’t telling the truth. Regardless, Ukai washes down his doubt with the beer he was handed, figuring she probably had her reasons. And as soon as the plastic is in each of their hands, [name] downs the contents immediately, hoping to drown out the nerves ebbing from her stomach with vodka. She should have been ecstatic—her old high school crush, her unrequited crush, was here with her, drinking side by side but she can’t help but feel the tension between them—sexual or otherwise.

Just as the two of them down their second round, a piercing voice cuts through the thicket of the masses, calling out her name and capturing her attention. “It’s your song! Come on!” A shrug and a smile crosses [name]’s features as she’s all but dragged away to a different part of the mansion. Much to his surprise, she grabbed onto Keishin to drag him along as well.

The two of them are presented with a myriad of sweaty, rolling bodies—much more gone than Ukai had ever seen at the club itself. It was oddly...sensual, if it could be called that, to see the fluid movements between party goers. Sensual, intimate, strange—all of them could be used interchangeably at this moment.

[name] is dancing with another woman, mouthing all of the words to the current pop song while bobbing and jumping around excitedly before her eyes lock on his. She’s in her element now. All sunshine and smiles like Ukai had seen from on occasion from years ago or most recently at the club, but they’re directed at him for once as she pulls him closer onto the dance floor. The taunting beats and repetitive call of “come on” and the way [name] loosely wraps her arms around his neck as she dances brings Ukai to the realization that this was the end of the line.

The end of the line, because Keishin can’t hold himself back anymore.

Not with the way her hips are grinding against is and she’s laughing warmly and heartily at his slight discomfort and her teeth are glittering off the lights in the dark room like stars in the night sky. Not with the way her head is thrown back and her dress drops low enough to flaunt the expanse of bare skin of her neck and collar bones that are just begging him to sink his teeth in. Not with the way her [eye color]ed orbs are locked with his as she sings along with the music, oddly enough alluding to some form of confession of her feelings.

He can’t fucking take it anymore.

The large hands he has on her hips move just under her arms to hoist her up, [name] instinctively wrapping her legs around his waist to keep her balance. Their eyes are locked, honed in on each other with the rest of the party melting into the background. With her deepest, most wild high school fantasy driving her actions, she grins. “Hi,” is all she says before Ukai cranes his neck back to cover her lips with his.

His kiss is everything she imagined it would be after years of pining. The smell and taste of smoke and wood floods her senses as his tongue laps at the watermelon lip gloss on her bottom lip before seeking refuge within her mouth. His hands, now wrapped around her thighs give intermittent squeezes, either to keep them grounded in reality or just because he needs something to clutch at—she’s unsure of which. In response, her manicured fingernails tangle into his messy blonde locks. Their kiss pours out their desperation, laying it all out on the table for the both of them to see clear as day.

The only thing that prompts them to break apart is the ending of the song.

“You wanna get out of here?” Ukai asks as he tenderly puts [name] back on the ground. As if he weren’t just making out with her moments ago, the motion is delicate and gingerly and almost loving.

“Not yet,” there’s a knowing, smug lilt in her voice as she turns on her heel and throw herself back into the throng of party people. Or rather, attempts. While she’s attempting to flee, Keishin snatches her wrist, pulling her closer until their chests are flush against each other.

“Nuh uh,” the blonde man tuts, “you’ve been asking me to join you at a party all week, now here I am. The hell makes you think you’re leaving my side tonight?” [name]’s grin only grows wider.

“I’ve waited for years for this opportunity, coach, so if you think I’m not gonna have fun with it, you’re dead wrong.” The word ‘years’ constricts the man’s heart—forces his pupils to blow into dilation with her modest, yet blunt confession.

“Years?”

“Years,” she repeats, “ever since that first practice you stumbled into the Karasuno gym as the temporary coach. Why do you think I came to every single exhibition match and tournament? Or came to study and do homework while you guys had practice?” This girl was grinding at every steel line of self-control that was left in Ukai’s body because every word spilling past her lips added an additional ten volts to the sexual tension between them.

“We’re leaving.” He bites out despite the delicate tone. Wrapping his hand around hers once again, Keishin tugs her along time dodge the party goers that threw the two of them curious glances, wondering why they were quick to leave shortly after their arrival. Just to tease him further, [name] almost wants to offer a rebuttal and tell him that they should stay longer and enjoy the show. However, she knows she’s done enough waiting and if he was taking her home, she wasn’t going to argue.

While urgency and desperation was their game, Keishin didn’t cut corners when it came to presenting himself as a gentleman as he helped [name] back into the car. Hormones be damned—he was still going to help a lady into the passengers seat. “You never did tell me why you finally agreed to come out tonight.” She says quietly, as if the two of them hadn’t been making out and dry humping a few minutes prior. “And it’s clearly not because you knew I had a crush on you all throughout third year—“

“Don’t act like you’re the only one with feelings in this.” Ukai grits out, speeding much faster back home than he did on the way to Bevelle’s house. Paying that no mind, [name]’s ears perk up at his own wayward confession. When she asked for clarity, a rumbling groan shakes his chest as he patted down his pockets in search for his nicotine sticks. “I didn’t recognize you the first night at the club because you look different now. Happiness looks good on you.”

“Happiness?” She echos confusedly, turning to face Ukai fully after lighting her own cigarette.

“You used to always look content back then—just barely content and nothing more. And I can’t stop thinking back to those days because you’re this ball of sunshine, kid, and I can’t stop wondering what the hell Suga did to you to dim your shine that badly. I haven’t stopped thinking about you all week.”

[name] is quiet for a moment at his own rendition, his own version, of a confession and she’s stunned. And she can’t tell if she wants to cry or kiss him because this is not that way she ever fantasized this conversation going. It was going better than she dreamed. Better, because the words that Ukai is saying adds an entirely new layer to his amped up personality—he wasn’t just the sexy volleyball coach that she used to pine over. He was a person with deep rooted feelings for justice in the sense of wanting to understand how someone could inflict damage to the innocent and he wanted to rectify said injustices. He wanted to know how someone like Suga could try to dampen her sunlight instead of allowing her to thrive and bloom.

She wants to kiss him, she decides, but since he’s driving, she settles for placing a chaste one on the corner of his mouth. “Serves you right,” she jokes when she pulls away, “it’s been a long four years for me. It’s your turn to suffer.”

“Trust me, this car ride is torture enough.”

[ next ]

[tirednotflirting]

show's over, the same old story now

hi i wrote a fic based on ‘moon in the morning’ by adam melchor. objectively this is very much not a happy fic am very sorry (but also not bc i think it’s good lol)

if you’re not comfy with reading stuff about infidelity this one is not gonna be your jam just fyi

thank you to @reveriesofawriter for giving this a read for me this morning <3

you can read it on ao3 here

He’s never given Alex a key. Jack figures he has to draw the line somewhere so he’s never given Alex the spare key to his place. 

Instead, the key stays just beneath the flower pot beside the front door and it stays there rather than under the mat because the first place someone would go looking for a key is below the mat, Jack. So really, the line is more like faded chalk on a sidewalk after a summer rain and Jack can’t be bothered to fix it with something more permanent.

It’s around midnight when Jack hears the lock turning and the front door open and close. He’s been sitting on the floor in front of his coffee table working on a research paper for the last several hours, late night talk shows play from the TV for some background noise. Without lifting his eyes from his laptop screen, he listens to Alex kick off his shoes by the door before wandering into the kitchen. It’s a well rehearsed routine. He doesn’t need to look across the room to know that somewhere on the other side of the wall Alex is plugging his phone into the charger by the coffee maker before checking the fridge for leftovers. (They’re aren’t any in there tonight since Jack finished off the last of the chicken parmesan for his own dinner. There is some watermelon on the top shelf though.)

Given the time and the fact that it’s Friday, Alex must have been picking up someone’s shift at the bar so Jack isn’t surprised when he hears more soft footsteps head in the direction of the bathroom. A few moments later he hears the sound of the spray from the shower. Jack figures that’s another ten or so minutes he’ll have to work on his citations so he gets back to the task at hand. 

Almost exactly ten minutes later, Alex wanders into the living room wearing a pair of sweatpants pulled from Jack’s closet but his own flannel. He hasn’t bothered with the buttons and Jack does what he can to ignore that observation. Alex takes a seat on the couch just behind where Jack sits and again, in an all too familiar routine, Jack sighs at the feeling of Alex’s fingers pressing into the tension he holds in his shoulders. 

“You’ve gotta stop sitting on the floor when you’re working,” Alex says. “You’re going to graduate with a masters in back pain otherwise.”

“I’m comfiest on the floor.”

“I promise you would be comfier at your desk, Jack.” Alex says with a laugh before he leans forward and presses his lips against Jack’s hair like he always does. Before he sits back up, Jack catches the faded scent of Alex’s cologne on the collar of the flannel and it’s enough motivation to reach forward and quickly hit save before closing his laptop for the night. Jack pushes himself up onto the couch beside him and their brown eyes meet for the first time since Alex let himself in twenty or so minutes earlier. Alex looks tired (he always looks so tired) and Jack can’t help but lift a hand to cradle his cheek, his thumb brushing gently below the dark circles he can see in the glow from the TV. 

“I’ll be fine,” Jack finally answers after a few beats of silence pass between them. 

“Just trying to take care of you,” Alex mumbles as he drops a hand against Jack’s knee and his thumb traces circles against the bone there. There’s some kind of emotion Jack can’t quite place in his tone. He’d question what to call it but they both know that’s not where this is headed.

“You always do,” he replies instead and moves his hand to the back of Alex’s neck to pull him closer to bring their lips together. Alex catches on quickly enough and sighs against Jack’s lips before climbing into his lap and winding his arms around his shoulders, his fingers tangling into the ends of Jack’s hair.

Jack smiles into the kiss when Alex gasps at the feeling of Jack’s fingertips skating their way up his back below the worn flannel shirt. Jack has perpetually cold hands meanwhile Alex’s skin always feels like he’s on fire. There’s probably something poetic in that but Jack ignores the dreamy thoughts and words in favor of pushing the soft material away from Alex’s shoulders until he briefly removes his hands from Jack’s hair to shake the shirt the rest of the way off. He tosses the shirt behind him before wrapping himself around Jack again. Jack feels goosebumps rise against where his fingers brush against Alex’s chest and he knows it’s something he’ll never get over the thrill of being able to do.

Alex’s lips travel down Jack’s jaw to the tattoo on his neck that Alex has always been fond of. “Let’s go to your room,” Alex mumbles in a lower voice, his lips brushing against Jack’s ear. He all but falls out of Jack’s lap before grabbing his hand to pull him in the direction of the hall. The flannel is left forgotten on the back of the couch and the TV is left on with some random late night show host still telling bad jokes to a studio audience. 

As they pass the kitchen, Alex’s greedy lips pressing against whatever skin he can find as he pulls Jack toward the bedroom at the end of the hall, Jack swears he can hear the sound of Alex’s phone buzzing out a rhythm against his kitchen counter. 

And unlike Alex’s melancholy tone or the poetry told by the temperature of their skin, Jack doesn’t have to question who’s trying to call Alex after midnight on a Friday night. Jack already knows the answer. But as he takes the final steps into his bedroom and lets Alex kiss him against the closed door, he once again chooses to ignore the truth and the buzzing beside his coffee maker in favor of falling into bed with a boy he knows will be gone by sunrise.

*

A few hours later, the sound of the sink running wakes Jack from his sleep. He’s always hated how lightly he sleeps. He knows he’d be far more well rested just in general if he could stay unconscious through the sound of thunderstorms and his late night companion leaving in the earliest hours of the morning. But he figures for the universe to stay balanced he has to be punished for this somehow and maybe this is the best the universe can do at this kind of hour.

His eyes flutter barely open, just enough that he can make out some of the details of his bedroom from the tiny light provided by the moon shining through the curtain he hadn’t bothered to close before falling asleep a few hours earlier. As he listens to the sounds of Alex brushing his teeth and wandering around Jack’s apartment to find the clothes he arrived in, Jack takes in his open closet and the mussed up other side of his bed. It’s reached the point in the year where Jack only sleeps with a sheet because he can’t rest when he’s too warm. A long time ago Alex told him something about how he’s never been able to sleep without something weighing down over him. Jack had started keeping a quilt in the chair in the corner soon after that. It’s already been folded up again and placed back in its spot.

He hears the familiar jingle of Alex’s keys that he dropped in the bowl by the door on his way in a few hours earlier and exhaustion starts to settle back over Jack. He pulls the sheet up over his chest and turns away from his bedroom door and lets out a long breath before closing his eyes. 

He’s just started to tumble back over the edge toward sleep so he can’t be sure it wasn’t the beginning of a dream but Jack swears he hears the soft sound of footsteps on the carpet and feels a pair of lips press against his temple. It’s probably easier for everyone involved to assume it’s only his subconscious playing tricks with him again though, he figures, and then he’s asleep. 

*

It’s a couple weeks later on a night that follows the same routine as all the others. But for some reason they’ve both chosen tonight to pull a wild card on each other. Rather than forcing his eyes shut and his breathing to steady out after listening to Alex shuffle around the small apartment before heading out, Jack lets himself stay awake. He sits up against the headboard, the sheets falling to pool around his waist. He feels himself shiver in the cool air. He always keeps his place fairly cool at night but he stopped noticing it when he so often is sharing a bed with a human furnace.

Alex steps back into the doorframe, his arms crossing against his chest as he leans his shoulder into the wood, his dark eyes falling to meet Jack’s. He doesn’t look all that surprised to see Jack awake, his eyebrows only barely lifting in recognition that they’ve gone off script a bit.

“You should get some rest, Jack,” Alex says in a voice that suggests he should take his own advice. “You’ve got a busy day tomorrow.”

“Does he make you happy?” Jack asks, his tone all curiosity. Jack is a student before all else; all he wants to do is understand, really.

“He doesn’t make me unhappy,” Alex answers as though the answer should be that obvious. “I wouldn’t stay with someone that makes me miserable.”

“Then does he know you come here? Does he never question why you come home two hours after closing smelling like another man?” Jack isn’t sure who he’s judging more out of the two of them with the questions. He watches Alex take a moment to sigh and scratch at the back of his neck.

“Jack, we can’t have this conversation right now,” Alex says, his eyes floating around the room from his spot at the door in an attempt to avoid Jack’s gaze. “I need to get home. It’s late.”

He shoves his hands in his pockets and turns then to leave. Jack holds his breath until he hears the front door open and close and the lock slide into place. He takes a deep breath then and lets his body fall back against the mattress. Jack closes his eyes and pushes aside the ache in his chest at the silent reminder that despite how often Alex makes his way into Jack’s apartment and heart at the end of the day, home will always be within a different collection of four walls and with a different boy.

*

It’s a creak in the mattress that wakes Jack up this time. For a moment he’s confused at the warm body still pressed against his back. He’s worried his mind is starting to play even more cruel tricks on him in his dreams but the fingertips pressed against his middle tell him their current position is a reality. He lets his fingers fall into the spaces between Alex’s and he feels a sigh against the back of his neck. But he also doesn’t miss the way Alex pulls him impossibly closer against his chest.

“I need to leave soon, Jack,” he states quietly, another emotion hidden in his tone since Jack can’t see Alex's face. 

“Can you stay until the morning?” Jack asks the question before he can stop it from leaving his lips. He squeezes their hands together. The action feels somewhat clumsy, it’s not often that they hold hands. “We’ve both gotta get up for class. I’ll make coffee, you can borrow a shirt.”

“He’ll wonder where I was,” Alex answers though there isn’t anything combative in his voice.

“Will he?”

They’re both silent for a few moments but they both know there’s an answer that’s been said regardless. Alex presses his lips against the back of Jack’s neck and it feels like he’s struck a match against the skin.

“Goodnight, Jack.”

And as both of their breathing evens out while they stay pressed against each other under the sheets, Jack’s final thought before stumbling into sleep is that maybe he wouldn’t mind getting burned. 

*

[afni-fics]

In Hindsight: Chapter 5: In the Present... At Face Value

In Hindsight: Chapter 5: In the Present... At Face Value by C_R_Scott

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Tim Drake/Tam Fox, Jack Drake/Janet Drake, Janet Drake & Tim Drake, Jack Drake & Tim Drake, Lucius Fox/Tanya Fox, Tim Drake & Tam Fox

Characters: Tim Drake, Tam Fox, Janet Drake, Jack Drake, Lucius Fox, Bruce Wayne

Additional Tags: Tim Drake-centric, Family Drama, Family Secrets, Family Feels, Childhood Friends, Childhood Trauma, Childhood Memories, Childhood Sweethearts, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Good Parent Janet Drake, Bad Parent Jack Drake, no beta we die like robins, Bruce Wayne Tries to Be a Good Parent

Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter

Story Summary: What if Tim Drake was originally raised by his maternal grandmother for the first eight years of his life due to "circumstances" involving his biological parents? What if Tim's grandmother was also the next door neighbor and occasional sitter for Lucius Fox's family?

Chapter Summary: When Tim was a child, his father Jack had told him and his mother that his beloved grandmother had passed away while she was in the hospital due to pneumonia. But eight years later, a trusted family friend is telling him something very different.

"Is that what Jack told you and your mother? He told you both your Nana was dead?"

Out of all of Bruce's Robins, past and present, Tim was proud of having the distinction of being known as the best detective out of all of them. His mind was as nimble as Nightwing was agile. He had figured out Batman's true identity at age nine. He discovered his father was lost in time when everyone else thought he was dead. He successfully routed Ra's al Ghul and prevented him from stealing Wayne Enterprises out from under the family.

Unfortunately, having such a nimble mind meant that the moment Lucius Fox's words left his mouth, Tim was already more than halfway to formulating a theory based on the statement he heard and the context of the conversation that immediately preceded it.  However, it was the horrified tone of Lucius's voice, the appalled expression he saw on the elder man's face, and something deeper in his subconscious that slammed the brakes on his thought processes and caused his brain to short circuit before it could reach the conclusion they had been barreling towards.

Tim froze. He felt his heart stutter in his chest. Outwardly, he clamped down on his composure before daring to add his voice to the air.  He took a deep breath and released it slowly. 

"I'm fine," he thought to himself. "This is all just a misunderstanding."

Everything Jack told him that awful day was burned into his memory. It was the very first death of a loved one in his life and his first experience with grief. However, it endured it. He accepted it. He moved on.

"Everything is fine."

"Of course he did," Tim said matter-of-factly with a slight tilt of his head. "Nana was sick. She passed away in the hospital. Dad told us the day he got the call."

However, Tim felt a churning start low in his stomach as he observed Lucius's reaction to his words. The sensation was faint at first, but grew slowly in intensity as he watched the man on the other side of the desk. Lucius's expression was stricken as he shook his head.  "No. Timber..." he started tentatively, as if trying to speak to a spooked animal. "That's not... Your grandmother isn't--"

"She had pneumonia," Tim interrupted with a shake of his head as he turned away from his old family friend, from the man who had been like an uncle to him once upon a time. "And she never got better." He closed his eyes as he clung to his faded memories from that horrible time so many years ago. "Mom was so depressed because we couldn't go to the funeral. She and Dad had a job in Cairo the same--"

"Timothy--"

He felt Lucius's hand settle on his shoulder. It should have been a comforting gesture, along with the elder man's gentle but firm expression of his full name. Instead, it caused of army of goosebumps to race across his skin and seemed to disconnect his brain from his voice box. Lucius waited until Tim hesitantly turned to meet and hold his gaze before continuing.

"--There was no funeral." 

The muscles beneath Lucius's hand tensed immediately. 

"It took a few months, but she recovered. She went home. She's alive."

Tim shook his head again before finally finding his voice. When he spoke, his tone was strained and brittle. 

"No. That can't be right," he said. "Dad said... He told us she died. Why would he tell us that if it wasn't true?" 

"I'm sorry Tim, but Jack lied to you and your mother."

The faded memories in Tim's mind began to crack. The aborted theory his brain had been processing earlier suddenly re-asserted itself and reached its logical conclusion. However, it was not a conclusion that Tim was in any frame of mind to accept.

Not in that moment.

"I'm sorry Lucius. I... I need to go."

Before Lucius could say anything more, Tim shrugged himself out from under the older man's hand and slipped out of the office, shutting the door quickly behind him.

As soon as he was in the relative privacy and safety of the elevator, he used his security clearance to make sure it would go straight to the garage where his car was parked without stopping on any other floor. As the elevator descended, Tim backed himself into the corner and buried his face in his hand while his mind ran a mile a minute. 

"Nana can't be alive. Dad said she died...

"But Lucius would never say something like this if it wasn't true...

"But it can't be true...

"If Nana's alive, then that mean...

"No! That makes no sense... 

"Dad wouldn't have lied to me about Nana...

"He wouldn't have lied to Mom...

"He couldn't have...

"He didn't...

Tim lifted his head from his hand and stared at hand, which was trembling slightly.

"Did he?"

   It was a little nearly ten in the morning when Bruce's cell phone started ringing, the light from the screen illuminating the nightstand that rested next to his bed in the otherwise pitch black room. A weary arm snaked its way out from beneath the thick comforter on the bed. It took several tries, but finally the hand landed on the phone and pulled it toward the head still lying on the pillow.

Bleary eyes squinted as they peered at name on the too-bright screen before reluctantly pressing the "Accept" button. 

"Yes Lucius?" Bruce mumbled, his deep voice weighed down by the bone-deep fatigue trying to drag him back into slumber.

"Is Tim at the manor?"

Bruce's brow furrowed. There was an edge of distress in his old friend's voice that managed to shove some of the lethargy out of his mind with a small spike of adrenaline. He pushed himself up into a seated position. "He shouldn't be? Last I saw him was around five am in the Cave before I went to bed. Did he not make it to the office?"

"He did," Lucius confirmed as Bruce put on his bluetooth headset so he could pull on his housecoat. "But something happened in the office that upset him, and now he won't answer my calls and the tracker in his work cell has been shut off."

It didn't take long for Bruce to leave his bedroom and go a few doors down the hall to Tim's bedroom. As he expected, the room was empty. The bed itself was still perfectly made with Alfred's usual attention to detail, but his closet door was open and there was a notable gap where one of his spare business suits was missing. His bathroom door was also ajar. Tim may not have slept at the manor, but he did shower and change there before heading to work. 

"What happened at the office?" Bruce asked as he left Tim's room and made his way downstairs to the kitchen. 

It took longer than it should have for Lucius to answer. "It's complicated."

Bruce frowned. Something was wrong. He could feel it in his bones. "One moment Lucius." He'd just entered the kitchen and zeroed in on Alfred, who was sitting at the breakfast nook sipping a cup of tea. 

The old butler was startled at the sight of the Wayne patriarch awake and out of bed before noon. "Master Bruce? What on earth--" 

"Has Tim come back from the office this morning?"

Alfred shook his head. "No. I haven't seen him since he left the manor around eight am." He set down his teacup and immediately got to his feet.

"Can you check the Cave and make sure he didn't return when no one was looking? Also, if he's not there, can you activate the tracker in his personal cell and find out where he is right now?"

"Of course sir." With a crisp nod, Alfred went to the library where the entrance to the Cave was hidden.

Finally, Bruce turned his attention back to Lucius. "I'm back, so explain. What happened at the office?"

"It actually started last night when Tim got hit with Crane's new fear toxin..." Lucius told Bruce about the encounter Tim had with Tam after crashing into her apartment, and quickly explained how Bruce's adopted son was actually the same boy who used to live next door to him for several years as he was raised by his grandmother.

Bruce absorbed the new information with confusion. "Ok... That's definitely surprising, but doesn't sound bad at all. Why would that upset Tim?"

On the other end of the phone, Bruce could hear Lucius groan in frustration. "When Tim was eight, his grandmother got sick and ended up hospitalized so he had to go back to living with his parents. Then Jack told him and his mom that his Nana had died."

"I remember. Before I adopted Tim, he told me all his grandparents had passed away, and he had no other living relatives."

"Jack lied."

Bruce's blood ran ice cold in his veins. "What?"

"Tim's grandmother never died. Her name is Susan Klein and she still lives next door to my family. I tried to tell Tim his Nana was alive, and that's when he ran off. I think he's in denial."

Bruce had to sit down as he processed this information. For years, he'd cared for Tim while his parents were out of the country, and then after his mother died and his father was in a coma. And then when Jack died, he adopted the boy he'd grown to love as his own son... But it was all under the assumption that Tim had no one else in his life. Tim had believed he had no one else.

And it was all a lie?

"Why?" Bruce asked, confused. "Why would Jack lie about that?"

Before Lucius could offer any explanation, Bruce saw Alfred emerge from the library. "Timothy is not in the Cave, but I did track his phone. Right now he's stationary in his new house in Gotham. He's logged into his workstation in the Nest." The old man's brow furrowed. "I've tried reaching out to him both by phone and computer, but he's not responding to anything."

Bruce got to his feet. "We can talk more about this later, Lucius. Tim's at his new place in the city, so I'm going to check on him now."

"I'll have Tam meet you there."

"That's not necess--"

"Do either you or Alfred have a key to the front door, and have your biometrics been programed into the house security system yet?"

Bruce and Alfred shared a glance, but said nothing, much to both of their mutual surprises.

Lucius apparently took their joint silence as a negative. "Tam was present while the theater renovations were in their early planning stages, and her biometrics were preinstalled into the security matrix while Tim was programming it. She can get you in without the Nest locking itself down." Bruce could hear the sound of Lucius's computer shutting down as well as the rustling of an overcoat being pulled on. "I'll call Tam on my way home."

"You're leaving the office?" Bruce asked as he went to his bedroom so he could change out of his nightclothes.

"This is a family emergency, and Susan has been like a grandmother to my own kids for nearly twenty-five years now. She needs to know her grandson is alive and well."

Bruce had just gotten back to his room, though he paused at the door. That feeling of ice in his veins had reasserted itself. "Did she think Tim was dead?"

In the background, Bruce could hear the sound of Lucius taking the elevator. "Honestly... we didn't know what had happened to him," Lucius admitted in a low tone. "We weren't sure exactly what Jack was capable of back then."

Once inside his bedroom, Bruce immediately began to quickly gather his clothes to change. "Please Lucius. I want to help my son, but I need more information. Tell me what you know about Tim's parents and grandmother."

Author's Notes:

At first, I was going to make this a much longer chapter. However, midway through writing it, I decided to split this chapter into two parts, with another chapter taking place in the past splitting the differences. I really hope everyone is enjoying this tale so far. If anyone has any questions or comments, please feel free to post them. I'll do my best to answer them.

#tim drake#tam fox#tim/tam#red robin#fanfiction#wip#rr: in hindsight#batfam#batfamily#lucius fox#bruce wayne

[jawritter]

30 minutes til midnight....

Happy Birthday Dean pt. 2

A/n: whew this one took on a life of its own for me, hope you guys enjoy it! As always all mistakes are mine! If you want to be added to my tag list just let me know! Feedback welcome!!

**Warning** Smut, unprotected sex, language, angst, mean reader, heartbroken Dean. That’s about it I think...

Pairing: Dean x Reader eventually, Mentions of Sam x reader.

Word count: around 3970

Cross-posted on Wattpad.

Part 1! In case you missed it!!

You'd been sitting looking at your phone since you hung it up. Dean's deep rumble still ringing in your head. It was now a little before 1:30 am on Dean's birthday. You convinced yourself though, that it was just because you wanted to make sure the boys got home safe. Dean did say that they were only an hour out... It would only be right to wait up for them. Right?

You could almost hear your Uncle Bobby yell bullshit Y/N from the other side, and much as you didn't like to admit it, it made you smile. You missed that old man, especially on nights like this, when you stupidly let yourself get all in your feelings, and get yourself all wound up. He always seemed to know the right thing to say, just what you needed to hear to make your heart stop feeling like it weighs 200 lbs. 

Still, Uncle Bobby isn't here, and you got yourself in this mess, and now you're going to have to figure out what to do about it. 

You wouldn't believe how deep in denial you were in before tonight. Now though, now that it was out in the open of your attention span, it was like you just couldn't see around it to focus on anything else. 

Getting up to go and make another pot of coffee, and possibly spike it because you weren't even remotely tired, you staggered into the kitchen of the bunker. It was dark, and cold, and lonely. Much like your whole life seemed to have been. 

"Fitting," you thought to yourself as you put the coffee grounds into the pot and turned it on. 

That had been the majority of your life, cold and lonely. The thought of what it might feel like to have Dean's arms wrapped around you, warming you in a way you'd never been warmed before slipped past your fifty-foot thick walls into your subconscious. 

Thinking of Dean that way was something you had never allowed yourself to do before, but here you were, standing in the middle of a cold, dark kitchen of a decades-old building alone. Picturing yourself melting into the arms of the Adonis that was Dean Winchester. His thick strong biceps flexing as the wrap up around you. The tense of his upper arms as he pulled you impossibly gently into his tick, strong chest. Shoulders slightly hunched, holding you close.....

"Stop it Y/N!" you mentally slapped yourself hard enough to derail that train of thought before you could get carried away any further. 

Pouring the hot liquid into the cup you had waiting on the counter, you watched as the steam of the warm drink drifted up into the cold room. Sitting in the coffee pot back down, completely wrapping your hands around the cup, so wrapped up in the fact that you had zero fucking clue what to do with these newly discovered feelings you had for the eldest Winchester that you didn't even realize you had an audience. 

Turning around you walked face to mid-chest into Sam Winchester... 

"OOOF," was all you could say at first. Trying to get your rapidly speeding heart rate to slow down. "Jesus fucking Christ Sam! Warn a girl you standing behind her!" 

Sam laughed a little, sitting down his bag on the floor. 

"Well we yelled when we came in like you do, but you didn't say anything. So I thought were in bed. I just walked in when you ran into me." he said, sitting down at the table and patting the seat across from him so that you would join him.

You took your seat silently, you had a feeling you knew what was coming.

"So, you wanna tell me the real reason you called my brother's phone to 'check-in' tonight instead of calling mine like you usually do? 'Cause we both know you've never even called Dean to tell him to pick up something on a supply run, you have me text him. Spill Y/N, what's wrong? Dean broke every speed law in Kansas and the surrounding states to get here because you scared the fuck out of him." Sam said, watching you like a detective looking at a criminal at the other end of a questioning stand. You seriously felt like you were on trial right now...

"Sam, it was a mistake, I dialed the wrong number, it's late and I'm tired," you said, standing up with your coffee in your hand, planning to make a quick exit before this conversation could get any more incriminating on your end. 

"Bullshit Y/N. That's bullshit, and you and I both know that it is. We've been friends since you walked into our lives. You owe me the truth. That's my brother in there. My brother who you've been a total ass to since we stepped foot into your Uncle Bobbies that day all those years ago. You've made cracks at his ego, you walk around like his very presents disgust you, you kick him when he's down, or more hurtful than anything you act like he doesn't even exist." Sams's face was hard as stone, and that scared the fuck out of you, Sam had never talked to you this way. 

"Sam, I don't understand what your talking about. Dean hates the very air I breathe. He doesn't care whether or not I ignore him, or whether I insulted him. I'm just another mouth to feed, just another burden he has to take on to raise. Nothing more. Hell, I'm not even considered a friend!!" you say, feeling your temper getting the best of you, and you didn't want to yell at your best friend. Sam and yourself had never gotten in a fight. You didn't want to start now.

"I know you're smarter than that Y/N, I know your not that fucking blind!" Sam whisper yelled, slamming his big hand down on the table, making you jump. In an instant, he was in your face, looming down at you over the table. 

"Listen to me, and you better let this sink in because I won’t say it again, and If Dean knew I was talking about this to someone who hates him he'd be humiliated, and embarrassed beyond forgiving me. Dean walks around with this overly strong, man's man personality. Like nothing can hurt him, nothing can touch him, but he fucking hurts too! For years now you've pushed him away to the point that he walks around like he doesn't like you because he's trying to hide the fact that you're hurting his feelings. Feelings he likes to pretend he doesn't have to protect himself! Protect himself from people like you! Dean's been in love with you from the moment he met you, and you never even gave him a chance! The first thing you ever did was insult him about the shirt he was wearing being wrinkled! For the first time in his life, he started to iron his clothes before getting dressed in the morning! Then when he was standing in your way in the kitchen in Bobby’s, you accused him of being an egotistical dick, and shoved him out of your way!” Sam took a deep breath, attempting to calm himself down. 

“I gave you the benefit of the doubt because Dean doesn’t exactly have a great reputation with women, and I’m sure living with hunters you’ve heard the stories, so I just overlooked it, even though I’ve never liked it. Now though, when you called his phone tonight, he tried to hide it, but for a moment his face lit up. When you told him that you were just checking in and called the wrong phone, you should have seen the heartbreak. He even admitted to me that he thought you were calling to tell him happy birthday Y/N!!!!” 

You sat there in stunned silence, your mouth hanging open silently. You didn’t see that coming. 

You had called him to say happy birthday, and chickened out… Shit…. Your brain just couldn’t compute what it was hearing, and you just sat there staring into the angry face of Sam Winchester. Literally feeling like you’d been punched in the gut. Like the floor dropped out of your whole world. 

Dean was in love with you? How did you never see it?

“S…. Sam…. I really didn’t know….. I…. I was going to wish him a happy birthday, but I chickened out,...... I thought Dean hated me… I thought he… fuck I never saw it…. I didn’t know!” 

Sam raised his hand to silence you.

Well, you better figure it out, because Dean doesn’t deserve the way your treating him, and I for one am tired of watching it. So I’m only going to say this one time. Don’t fuck with my brother’s emotions, or Bobby’s niece or not you will be looking for somewhere else to live, and don’t you dare get his hopes up just because you feel sorry for him. If you start something with Dean Y/N you better mean it, because I will…..” 

Balling his fist up he walks away out of the kitchen, down the hall to his room where you heard the door slam. Tears falling freely down your face. 

You didn’t know what hurt more. The fact that you had hurt Dean, the fact that Dean had been in love with you for years, or the fact that you were in love with him, and to damn stubborn and stupid to know it. 

You couldn’t leave it like this, and you couldn’t stand the thought that you had hurt Dean. So you stood up slowly, resolving in yourself that you were going to handle this like an adult. You were going to face your feelings for Dean, and if he rejects you, as he rightfully should probably. You were going to deal. ‘Cause after the way you treated Dean all these years, you deserve nothing less. 

Letting your feet carry you down the hallway to Dean’s room you stood outside the door, you couldn’t hear anything, but you knew that Dean wasn’t asleep. He never went to sleep directly after a hunt. Usually, he had to drink himself there…

Raising your hand slowly you knocked lightly on the door. Your resolve already weakening. Fear gripping you whether you want to admit it or not.

You could have sworn your heart stopped beating when you heard the door open and saw Dean standing there looking at you. He looked tired, which he usually did after a hunt. His eyes traveled you up and down in disbelief you were really standing before him, and that alone stung. The fact that you had been suck an ass to him, that he was shocked you knocked on his door when you lived in the same house burned deeper than you wanted to admit to anyone. Even yourself. Especially yourself. 

“Y/N? Is everything okay?” he asked, not really knowing how to even talk to you, now that it was pointed out to you it was all you could see. You mentally kicked yourself in the ass for what you had done to him.

“Hey, nothing wrong, mind if I come in?” you asked, and he backed up cautiously, letting you into his space. The one room in the bunker that you had never been in before. 

It was very military, very little life to it all. It was cleaner than you would have expected it to be. Weapons lining the walls. A picture of his mother and Sammy along with John from all those years ago on the nightstand, then there was another picture, one you didn’t expect to see there, and one Dean scampered to put it face down before you could see it, he was too late though… 

A picture of you sat in the picture frame, one he’d obviously snuck and took when you were doing research unaware…. Fuck..

You had to bite your lips to keep the tears from falling, Dean was watching you quietly, you could see now that what you had mistaken for being a jerk, was really Dean being nervous.

How have you been so blind for so long?

“Dean,” you say, taking a tentative step forward. He took one back. Like a hurt animal, and you got to close. You took a deep breath, looking at him, trying to figure out where to go from here, what to say. Is there even a way to fix this? Have you let it go too far? 

“Dean,” you try again. “Dean, can we talk? There’s something I need to say….” 

Dean sat down on the foot of his bed and looked at you quietly. You knew you were going to have to choose your words wisely. If you didn’t you were going to lose him for good, you could see it now. 

“Okay, shoot…” he said, looking you up and down suspiciously. Guarded. You recognized those walls because you normally wore them pretty high as well…

Making your way over to where he was sitting you sat down next to him slowly. His face was almost comical as he looked at you, sort of like his eyes were about to bulge out of his skull from the shock. 

Reaching over you deliberately grabbed his hand in yours, kind of like if you had your hands on him, he couldn’t run. Stupid logic yes, but when your as scared as you were right now, you wanted comfort. His comfort, even though you didn’t deserve it. 

“Dean, I’m so, so sorry,” you say quietly, looking deep into his breathtaking olive-green eyes. Eyes you felt like you were looking into for the first time. They were as deep as oceans, and you wanted more than anything to drown in them.

His plump pink lips parted slightly in shock, man you wanted to kiss those lips. Now that you have realized how bad you want this man, it’s almost a need…

“I have done nothing since the day I met you but be a total bitch to you, and it took me until tonight to admit and see it, and I’m so, so sorry. I was afraid of the way you made me feel Dean, so I was using insults and things to subconsciously push you away ...”

Reaching up you wipe a stray tear away that slipped past your defenses, you didn’t even care anymore that Dean saw it. 

Dean on the other hand just sat there and watched as one by one your walls started to crumble… Walls he didn’t even realize you had. Walls that looked so familiar to himself, because he had been hiding behind the same walls.

“I know there’s really no way to apologize for years of me being a total bitch. Not really; but I wanted you to know. Tonight I didn’t call your phone by accident…”

Standing up from the bed and turning his back to you, you barely heard his voice that wasn’t even a whisper….

“Why did Sammy tell you…. He said he wouldn’t tell you…”

Feeling like you were instantly fucked and screwed this up you started to panic. So you jumped off the bed, and grabbed his arm, he turned around harshly. A single tear streaming down his perfectly chiseled, Godlike face. 

“Dean, Sam has nothing to do with this, I’m glad he told me. Please just let me explain!” you half yelled at him, he stood silently, you couldn’t tell whether he was angry, or not…

Stone. The face Dean had perfected over the years of trying to protect his emotions.

“I was sitting on the bed logging onto my laptop to watch Netflix like I do every night, and I noticed the date. It was 30 minutes until midnight… In 30 more minutes, it would be your birthday, when I saw it; your face was all I could see Dean.  I remember thinking ‘if he lives for 30 more minutes he will have made it 41 years.’ I started to think about how rare that was in the life that we lived in. I started to think about how just in 30 minutes I could get a phone call that a hunt had gone to shit, or how some monster had finally gotten. Then I started to think about a world that you weren’t in.. I never realized it, Dean, I swear, but at that moment I realized I didn’t want to live in a world that you weren’t a part of…” 

You took a step closer to him, stealing yourself for the inevitable rejection, but you just had to get this off your chest. Regardless of the consequences. This time he didn’t step back. He stood still. 

“All these years I’ve been such a fucking idiot Dean, I don’t hate you, I loved you, Dean, I love you so fucking much, and I’m so afraid of it that I built up these stupid walls, and made fun of you and tried to hurt you and push you away because I am a fucking worthless coward… I’m so sorry Dean. I’ll never be able to say it enough. I know you probably don’t feel the same way, I don’t blame you if you hate me now, you have every right to, but I will spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you…” 

You stood there in silence now with battered breath. The air between the two of you thick with tension… You couldn’t take it anymore. The silence hurt worse than the rejection you had prepared yourself for. You turned to leave. 

You felt his hand reach out and grab your arm, much like you did his. Stopping you in your tracks. You turned on your heels to face your punishment. Dean could be cruel when he wanted to be, and you deserve that and more.

Instead of mean words, or hatred, you saw something you hadn’t expected. Tears. Flowing freely down his face. 

“De….” 

His lips landed on yours in a heavy kiss. Bruising almost. Like everything he’d pent up all these years, everything he wanted to say and couldn’t hold back anymore, because Dean was never good with words, was put into this kiss. Taking you by complete surprise.

It took you a moment, but not long to catch up, His lips were rougher than you expected but still soft. Dominating, demanding…. You felt his tongue trace over your bottom lip, asking for entrance that gladly granted him. 

His tongue quickly dominated your mouth. His taste filling you, whiskey and spearmint gum, and something that was just uniquely Dean… His cologne intoxicating you. Kissing you literally drunk.

When he finally pulled away you bother were panting. 

No words were spoken. You just stood there looking at each other for a moment. He said everything that needed to be said without saying a word. Dean was good at that.

Dean’s arms wrapped around yours. Strong, Powerful, everything you had imagined they would be. Pulling your body flush against his chest. His lips leaving little butterfly kisses on the corner of your mouth and down your jawline. To the spot behind your ear, you didn’t even know were there before his teeth pulled lightly against your ear lobe. A shiver ran down the course of your body. 

His hands felt like they were everywhere all at once. Making their way up to your oversized shirt, grabbing your bar breast in his powerful calloused hand. Massashing it lightly. Twisting your nipple that was standing on end between his thumb and index finger. Drawing a moan out of you both. 

Dean quickly started to back you both up to the bed that thankfully wasn’t that far away, letting you fall back softly when the back of your knees hit the mattress. You backed up the bed making quick work at removing your shirt, shorts and favorite underwear while you watched him rid himself of his layers quickly. His eyes ever leaving yours. Emotions so thick in his eyes that he looked like he might cry again…

Crawling over you with his perfectly sculpted body, He stopped just long enough swirl his tongue around each of your nipples. Making your arch into him. His hand tracing up your side while his other hand traced it’s way up to your thigh. Meeting your already dripping core. Your body literally aching for him. Finally letting you feel what you should have been feeling all those years. Passion burning hot as fire in your veins. Want, no need, Drawing you lips to his again as he slipped two of his thick fingers inside you, while his thumb made delicious circles over your swollen clit. His tongue finding places in your mouth you didn’t know existed. 

You could feel his swollen length throbbing against your inner thigh as he rocked himself against your skin. Desperate for friction he so desperately needed. 

You reached for him, but he pushed your hand away from you, his thick voice making you shiver underneath him 

“Not tonight sweetheart, I can’t last if you touch me like that….”

He ran his tongue lightly over the shell of your ear again as the coil in your belly tightened to a painful point. Ready to snap as white-hot pleasure threatened to take you over.

“Dean, I’m gonna….” 

You couldn’t finish as your eyes rolled, a gasp escaped you as he pick up the pace of his hand.

“I know baby, let go…” 

Just like that, you fell to pieces, your body jerking underneath him as he worked you through your high. Wave after wave of sheer bliss rolling through your veins. His lips finding yours once again. 

Kissing you lightly while he lined up his thick length with your soaking core..

“Your so beautiful Y/N… You have no idea how long I’ve wanted you this way…” He said. His thick voice barely above a whisper as his hooded eyes searched yours… Bring your lips to his again softly in a chaste kiss he didn’t let you respond as he slowly pushed his way into you, making you gasp at his girth and length. He was more than you could have ever imagined he’d be.

When he finally bottomed out he stilled inside of you, kissing you softly, lovingly until you nodded at him. Letting you know you were ready for him to move..

Over and over again he pushed and pulled himself into you, each drag of his tick length against your walls, hitting spot deep down inside of you that you didn’t know existed. His pace quickened as you both became a moaning, grunting mess. The sounds of skin on skin filling the room as he was now driving into you with a desperation that you couldn’t describe. 

“Not gonna last long…,” he said between pants, his thrust being to break their steady rhythm.

You couldn’t respond, only moan his name louder as you were pushed over the edge again. He did his best to work you through your high before spilling deep inside of you. Something between a cry and a whine leaving his perfect lips that were buried against your neck. Kissing you as he finally stops twitching inside of you, giving you everything he had to give. 

Brushing your hair behind your ear he looked deep into you y/e/c eyes, stealing your breath away again with just a look. Still buried deep down inside of you…

“Y/n I love you…” He whispered. His eyes searching yours.

“I love you to Dean, Happy birthday….”

Tag List:

@deanwanddamons​ 

@imabitch4jensen​

Happy Birthday Dean Tag List:

@spngirl05​

[quirkydahlias]

Aizawa Shouta, Enji Todoroki, Hawks, and Hizashi Yamada Comforting Their S/O Headcanons

I know you're probably waiting on the Aizawa fic but I think you need this a lil more. I hope you feel better lil sis and that you know I’m always gonna be here for you if you need it.

Aizawa Shouta

Working with a lot of different students over the years has made this pro hero experienced in picking up even the slightest change in behavior.

However, it didn’t take years of teaching for this pro hero to figure out that you weren’t at your best.

You weren’t communicating as much as you normally did, instead, pulling from him and others socially- closing yourself off from the world. On top of that, you were also showing physical signs that something was wrong.

Baggy eyes from lack of sleep

Discomfort

Periods of irritability that was symptomatic of - well, something...something he didn’t understand yet

Keyword being yet

Keeping all those things in mind, the pro hero takes the time to talk to you when he can get the two of you alone. If there truly is something wrong, the last thing you’d want is an audience to overhear anything.

Now, he can’t presume to know what you’re thinking, nor would he ever claim to know what was best for you, but what the hero could do was provide a shoulder to lean on, to cry on.

Because no matter what you’re going through, you should never have to go through it alone.

And in the end, you know yourself far better than he ever will, so the only thing he can do at the moment is to be there for you and give you the strength you need to take those steps to feel better

To be better

If there are issues in your household, he offers up his own apartment as a place of refuge you can take until you feel better.

Hell, if things are truly awful, he’ll just let you move in with him.

End of story.

If there are relationship issues, he does his best to listen and provide his perspective if needed.

And if there’s anything he’s done to upset you, he knows better than to argue about whether you should feel the way you do, putting aside who’s right and wrong for now in order to simply...listen.

If there are financial issues, he has enough money to spare that he can help you back on your feet if needs be.

Regardless of what weight weighs heavily on your shoulders, understand that this pro hero will do what he can to be there for you not only because it’s the heroic thing to do for one’s partner

But because its the right thing to do

“I know you haven’t been feeling yourself. There’s something wrong and whatever may be happening, you know you can lean on me, got that, (Y/N)?”

Enji Todoroki

Enji Todoroki is an asshole.

His inability to console others and control his fiery temper, if anything, has helped his career by branding him as a violent and relentless hero.

So why change?

Being as stubborn and forward-thinking as Enji is, chances are he’s seldom ever given his demeanor a second glance

Unless he’s being compared to All Might, of course.

However, as he sees you, his partner, breaking down in front of him

A part of him wishes he had worked on his people skills

He couldn’t understand at all, why you could be feeling awful.

Any and all finances in your life were taken care of by the pro hero, so with no real need to do anything, why were you upset?

Was there something happening in your life without him noticing?

Was he neglecting you just as he did to his children? Like his ex-wife, Rei?

What should he do?

Should he even do anything?

Quickly and rather aggressively stomping out the storm of thoughts raging in his head, he simply takes a seat next to you.

Forget it. If there was something wrong, something about him or your relationship. You’d tell him.

Or rather, you should tell him.

So as the pro hero slides his muscular arm around your shoulders, pulling you awkwardly against him he also sends a message.

Something that he never did in his previous relationships with his loved ones

Something that would feel alien...new to his lips if he ever tried to say anything.

Something he could never hope to find the words to say himself

“I’m here for you, always...if you'll have me.”

Hawks (Keigo Takami)

Hawks has always had an effect on others.

Whether it was his casual and friendly outward appearance, an outstanding reputation as a pro hero, or just plain good looks, people just naturally seem to lower their guards around him.

But you know him well enough to know that it’s all a big front for the most part, and as silly as he can be, the pro hero is in reality...a rather serious man.

So when he sees that you’re not being yourself, that you’re hurting and that there’s something up with you, he knows that he needs to act.

First thing Takami tries is just getting you a small gift to lift your spirits. Flowers, chocolates, maybe a sports car if you’re really into those.

You know, small things.

And while it does seem to make you smile, the smile he coaxes from you doesn’t quite meet your eyes like it normally does.

You’re not happy.

Not truly.

And really...there’s no use trying to lie and wave it off when he pushes you on it

After all,

You can’t really lie to the best liar there is

Taking another approach, Hawks takes you on a whirlwind of date, doing whatever comes to mind first. Whether you two take to the skies, to a movie theatre, or just roam the streets for something to catch your eyes, Hawk’s true attention is glued on you.

Or rather, your reactions.

Huh.

Something is still bothering you it seems.

So if quality time and gifts won’t help solve whatever problem you’re feeling, what will?

After a long bit of time in the skies thinking, Hawks finally figures out one last thing he can do.

He can be real with you

Leaving his happy-go-lucky persona alone for one night, the hero approaches you with a soft smile, subtle...but genuine.

“Hey, (F/N). You up for a flight?”

And so the two of you spend a night in the skies, the pro hero lending his emotional support to you as both a friend and a lover, doing his best to be as real and genuine with you as he can

And also physical support since, you know, he’s the only thing keeping the two of you up in the air...

That too.

Hizashi Yamada

Hizashi is awfully observant.

Far more observant than people give him credit for. 

Although it’s not like a lot of people give him much credit for anything really...

But if there’s one thing Mic has learned from his years being best friends with the most emotionally constipated and straight-faced person in the world...it’s that the smallest changes can mean a lot.

Sure, you may not be as good at hiding how you feel like Aizawa is, but at the same time, Hizashi is quick to pick up when you’re starting to feel bad even before you know it yourself.

If he sees that you’re getting more anxious than normal, fidgeting more or close up to him, the pro will do his best to get to the root of why you feel anxious and move from there.

Nip whatever problems you have in the bud

But say that his busy life draws his attention, that without his notice, you aren’t feeling your best and you aren’t in the right state of mind

The hero is thrown for a bit of a loop

The first and initial reaction Hizashi feels is guilt.

He’s been through this before, though not with you.

But there’s just something about watching the ones close to you fall apart that hits him somewhere deep inside his heart

Old memories aside, the pro hero focuses on the present. (Pun so intended)

He gets the two of you alone, somewhere you both feel relaxed and safe together. 

Whether it’s your home, or his, the place where you had your first date or just a quiet area on the boardwalk, the hero finds a place where just being there can help ease your stress

And it’s when you get there, situated and feeling a bit better, the two of you begin to talk.

Or really, it’s mostly you

Sure, Mic can talk for the both of you, many, many times over.

But he’s not the one with the weight on their shoulders and the words building up in their chest.

So instead, he listens.

Those vibrant eyes of his glow as you speak, the pro hero giving you the most loving gaze you’ve ever seen, something so uncharacteristically soft and kind for his usual DJ persona

And in that very moment, the world just seems to melt away

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for you, (Y/N). But it’s okay because we can take care of it, together! How about it?”

[weshallc]

Thank you so much for putting up with me, I feel back in a Bernie state of mind now (I was far too chilled). Let’s see where we go from here.

BERNS NIGHT (revisited)

This has been a Poplar-on-Tweaven production brought to you by the Crown Inn and sponsored by Mount Busby Farm based on original characters from Call the Midwife.

CHAPTER FIVE: Ae Fond Kiss.

“Who Shall Say That Fortune Grieves Him. While The Star of Hope She Leaves Him?” Ae Fond Kiss, Robert Burns 1791

“I Pictured A Rainbow, You Held It In Your Hands.” The Whole of the Moon, The Waterboys 1985

Bernie grabbed Val’s arm to steady herself. Paddy stood in front of her fidgeting with the cobalt blue fabric with a wide green check overlayed with a thinner gold and black one. His fiddling pulled at the kilt pin weighing the piece of cloth down at the knee. The tiny silver dagger bearing his clan crest caught the light from the hall where Bernie remained stood stock still in the doorway.

Paddy then reached for the frilly white lace jabot fastened around his neck, pulling at the lace with one hand, as if it was choking him. The other hand straightened the black waistcoat with the three silver buttons, matching the three on the sleeves of the Montrose jacket. They in turn matched those perfectly polished down the front of both sides of the centre of that waist length black jacket.

Bernie’s dropped jaw started to quiver as a chuckle threatened to emerge. Paddy shot a look of accusation at Val who intern nipped Bernie’s arm. Her friend regained her composure.

“I told you she would think I look ridiculous,” Paddy spat at Val as if Bernie wasn’t in the room. It was however Bernie who responded as Val’s confidence appeared to waver.

“No, you don’t. It’s just a bit of a shock. I am not quite sure what’s going on.”

“We..well some people thought it might be nice to put on a Burns Supper. Like we used to...before-” Paddy started to falter as he noticed Bernie’s eyes mist over.

“For your birthday.” Piped in Val, trying to help Paddy out and regaining her confidence. “I will leave you to it, I’ve left Jack behind the bar and well he is still pretty green, if anyone asks for a cocktail we may be in danger of losing our licence.”

On Val’s departure, Bernie moved towards Paddy. The forgotten scarf Trixie had placed around her friend’s shoulders fell to the floor. Paddy bent down to pick it up.

“Oops, be careful, good job there is no-one stood behind you.”

Paddy straightened up swiftly and stroked down the back of his kilt. Bernie allowed a relief filled giggle as she saw Paddy’s frown soften. Taking the scarf from Paddy, she sighed. The pattern matched the tablecloths downstairs. “My mother’s tartan, they haven’t missed a trick, have they?”

“Trixie was most put out when her attempts to discover the Mannion tartan drew a blank.”

“Mannion is an Irish name, sorry.” Bernie wasn’t quite sure why she was apologising for her name, but it felt appropriate.

“We all know that now,” laughed Paddy.

“How did you find the Home clan tartan?”

“Violet and Evie poured over hundreds of samples and narrowed it down to a few which they matched to old photos of Wilf’s kilt. They figured that was how the wily old bugger had got round it, using your mam’s tartan.”

“Everyone has gone to so much trouble, I feel like such a fraud. I just wanted an evening alone with you in Appleby Thornton.” Bernie blushed, feeling even more guilty.

Sensing her confusion, Paddy cupped her cheeks in his hands. “We can go out any night.” 

Bernie raised an eyebrow at Paddy’s optimism. Even though Jack had turned eighteen and could now serve behind the bar, Paddy still found it difficult to let go. Most of their evenings were spent working or propping up the bar.

Any further discussion of their work-play balance would have to wait. The sound of familiar footsteps running up the stairs alerted them their presence was required in the bar. Paddy and Bernie followed Tim into a cacophony of noise, the sound of fiddle, banjo and accordion mixed with laughter and the pounding of feet on the wooden floor.

Tim grinned and nodded as Bernie asked, “Isn’t that the Bridges that come in on a Thursday night?”

“Apparently, before they were married, they used to go to Scottish dancing on Thursday nights.”

Kevin and the Tweaven Folk band sounded like a group of musicians who were enjoying a successful long awaited reunion, rather than strangers that had only met a few days ago. Apparently Kevin didn’t just play the Bagpipes but was going to town on the harmonica.  Mac had found refuge in Reggie and had settled on a bench seat with the dog's head resting on the lad’s lap.

Alan Bridges and his wife Yvonne broke from each other and flew off in different directions to persuade, grab and drag the people sitting at the tables onto the makeshift dance floor. Fred was up first, taking hold of Vi who had pushed her nose out of the kitchen to sneak a peek at the fun. She protested, explaining she couldn’t leave her post, but Evie chased her onto the dance floor with a tea towel.

Bernie smiled at Patsy and Delia. She had never seen anyone quick step to the Gay Gordons before. Phyllis’ face was flushed as she tried to stay in time, partnered by a very light on her feet Lucille. Bernie grinned as Paddy dug his son in the ribs and Tim scowled, shaking his head in protest. Her smugness was short-lived when Alan Bridges took hold of her hand and dragged her onto the floor. She groaned to herself, realising she should have seen it coming. But she knew she wasn’t the only one who had been distracted and let their guard down. As Alan swung her around, she glimpsed a determined Yvonne pulling a very reluctant Paddy to the centre of the room. A massive cheer went up, and it wasn’t for his dancing prowess, but the first view of the crowd of Paddy in his Highland Dress.

Bernie couldn’t deny she felt a tingle as the lights dimmed and Paddy stood behind the tressel table. She could see how nervous he was, his thumb working against the forefinger of his left hand, the right hand turning over his phone on the table. Voices were hushed, sensing a level of anticipation in the air. She hoped he could see her reassuring smile. When he returned her wink she knew he understood.

Everyone instinctively got to their feet as the sound of the pipes flooded the room. Kevin slowly marched into the bar from the kitchen playing, Mac following at his feet, ears pricked. A few steps behind walked Violet, beaming proudly, carrying a silver tray with her pride and joy in prime position. She placed the dish in front of a very pale but focused landlord. Bernie noticed Vi gently touch Paddy’s hand after she had laid down her burden.

Paddy cleared his throat, and everyone sat. Bernie held her breath, she was relieved when he started reading from his phone in his own soft Northern English twang and didn't attempt a Scottish accent. He did struggle a little with more than the odd word and she noticed it was in parts an English translation of Burns’s Address to a Haggis. She did think her dad would be shaking his head and laughing if he was watching these antics held in his memory. As a shiver left her, she wondered if Marianne was also looking down with pride and amusement.

Bernie bit her lip. This was the difficult bit, if trying to read a 18th century Scottish poem out loud wasn’t hard enough. She knew from years of experience Paddy had to keep reciting while removing the Sgian-dubh from his woolly knee-length socks. He then had to pull the small dagger out of its black leather holder and plunge the blade into the Haggis at just the right moment in the text. She went to hold on to her chair but was surprised when a long thin hand grabbed hers. Tim’s hand was cold, but sweaty at the same time, and she squeezed it back.

The verbal response of the audience to Paddy whipping the blade out of its sheath made Bernie giggle, and she heard a snort from her neighbour. The following stab and slash into the unsuspecting pudding received equal responses of gasps and murmurs. She felt the boy’s hand slacken in her own and his breath released from his chest at the same time she let her lungs relax. Bernie felt Paddy was doing the same, pausing as the crowd regained its collective composure. He dared to give her a quick glance, and she beamed in approval. She wished she could go over to him and push back the wayward kink of hair that had fallen over his face during the dramatics.

Paddy finished the poem with ease following the tricky bit. He didn’t seem to mind stumbling over some of the unfamiliar words. It wasn’t like anyone was going to correct him. There was much relief all around when he finally toasted the Haggis, and everyone could raise the complimentary whisky they had been nursing since the beginning of the festivities. Not everyone had been patient and some found they were toasting with an empty glass, supping air. A nervous Bernie would have been included in this number, but Trixie had passed on her dram so she could at least properly take part in the toast. Paddy received a standing ovation. He wasn’t deceived it was for his faultless performance, but more for effort or maybe they were just hungry and glad it was finally over.

The assembled guests ate their fill of Scottish Fayre. The whisky sauce may have proved more popular than the spicy offal and oatmeal pudding. Although Violet did remark that Poplar’s vegan population had seemed to increase dramatically overnight. Buckle’s Breweries Burns Bernie Beers proved very popular. Ale Fond Kiss, Red Red Rose Ruby Ale and Auld Lang Stout all sold out.

The dancing recommenced to the Tweaven Folk band and its newest member. The Bridges and the lead singer tried to engineer a ceilidh of sorts. This resulted in a room full of mostly English people flinging themselves and each other about in an attempt at the longest communal twizzy world record. The highlight being every time Paddy spun around in his kilt, a large cheer went up as it splayed out.

Eventually he refused to dance and Bernie gave up too. She found him outside smoking one of her roll-ups. She just grinned, knowing he deserved one. Bernie hugged Trixie’s scarf around her.

“Aren’t you cold in...erm that?”

Paddy smoothed the kilt under him, between his bare legs and the cool wood of Peggy and Frank’s memorial bench. Bernie grinned and went back indoors.

She returned with two Abhainn Dearg malt whiskies and one of the tartan tablecloths. She wrapped it around Paddy’s shoulders before perching herself on his chilly knees, flipping his sporran up out of the way. Paddy took over the blanket duties and wrapped the cover round her.

Cold fingers fumbled over sharing the dying cigarette and they sipped from the same whisky tumbler. From where she had placed them, Bernie could only reach one glass without leaving the warmth of the tablecloth and Paddy’s arms. Paddy had long since dispensed with the faffy lace ruff and wore a cream open neck Jacobite shirt, again courtesy of connections of Patsy. As Bernie playfully twisted the string ties around the fingers of one hand. She slowly ran the fingers of her other hand along the hem of the kilt.

“Is this Turner tartan, then?”

“No, the Turners are from Liverpool, probably some Irish in there somewhere too, but my mother’s family hailed from Fife.” Paddy softly answered.

Bernie wriggled on his knee, trying to gain a bunch of the fabric of the kilt in her hand, as the band broke into Deacon Blue’s, Dignity.

“So which clan...ayyyyyeah!” She quickly jumped up vigorously rubbing the flesh between her boot and the hem of her dress on her right thigh. Paddy stared at her in confusion and concern.

“Something bit me.”

“It’s January.”

“Am I bleeding, is there a bump?” Bernie turned her back to Paddy and lifted up her skirt. Paddy started to wonder whose birthday it was. He used his phone as a torch and took his time giving a thorough examination of her right thigh. The eventual diagnosis was no injury to her person, but there was a nasty snag in her new-on tights.

Paddy also identified the culprit pointing to the clan dagger attached to the front of his kilt. “I think you sat on this?”

“You stabbed me.”

“You stabbed you.”

She leant down and carefully unfastened the pin from the front apron of the kilt. She recovered her position now free from hazards. Scrutinising the tiny weapon in her hands under the light of Paddy’s phone,

“Aww, the crest is the world below a rainbow between two clouds. What does the motto say?”

“At Spes Infracta.”

“Oooh, you're getting the hang of these ancient tongues, aren’t you?” Bernie giggled, “what does it mean in boring old English?”

Paddy, who had been laughing with her, fell serious.

“It means Yet My Hope is Unbroken.” He gently tipped her chin forward with his thumb and forefinger and kissed her.

“That’s beautiful.” Bernie caught her breath. “What was your mam’s maiden name?”

“Hope.”

“Home and Hope,” smiled Bernie, partly to herself.

Paddy reached inside his sporran and handed Bernie a small tartan box with a gold bow on top.

“But this was my present.” She smiled, pulling on his shirt strings.

Paddy shone his phone torch on the box as Bernie opened it and carefully took out a silver brooch. She got hold of Paddy’s hand and shone it on a silver V bending inwards to make the shape of a heart with an emerald at the base just below the Home clan crest.

“That is a very fierce looking lion, why am I not surprised.” Bernie didn’t need the torch to see the glint in Paddy’s eye as he spoke. “I nearly got you the Hope rainbow one instead....but I wasn’t sure.”

Bernie smiled, “Maybe next year?”

“You are still very presumptuous after all these years. This was a one night only kinda thing,” Paddy choked, then swiftly changing the subject, “I liked the motto on the Hume crest, anyway.”

Bernie was impressed with his correct Scottish pronunciation of Home. She read aloud the words around the lion's head A Home, A Home, A Home, that is the slogan, but the motto is actually True To The End .”

“Well, I think the matriarchy has it tonight.”

“Do you know Robbie Burns was a great supporter of women's rights as well as being a romantic? He wrote a poem about it.”

“From what I’ve heard, he was very fond of women indeed. Counting the number of children he fathered.”

“Yes, that as well,” muttered Bernie, “but just for tonight I am going to be Shelagh Bernadette Mannion-Home and you can be Patrick Turner-Hope.

The traditional music of the Corries was now interspersed with more recent Scottish poetry, as the band played tunes by the likes of Travis and Franz Ferdinand. The Proclaimers, I’m Gonna Be 500 miles, filtered through the door leading to the beer garden. The accompanying laughter, the sound of leather and man-made sole stomping on polished oak convinced the two in the beer garden they weren’t being missed.

“One thing I can’t get my head around is how Val convinced you to do this?”

“She just reminded me of every time you have stepped out of your comfort zone for me. How many times you have had to embrace a part of yourself that you didn’t know existed or had thought you had left behind.”

Bernie rubbed her thumb over the slogan on her new brooch as Paddy continued.

“Basically how many times you have put me, us, our hope of a life, a home together before the person who you thought you were and believed yourself to be.”

“Val said that?”

“Sort of, maybe a bit more colourful and there was some violence involved, but I did agree with the sentiment.”

“I think our mams would have approved of Val.”

“Are you true to the end, Shelagh Bernadette?”

“Well, you just better hope this isn’t the end, Patrick.”

The sounds of Auld Lang Syne filled the night and Paddy leaned forward for another kiss, suddenly aware Bernie had very cold hands and had chosen not to replace the kilt pin.

[marshmallow-phd]

Midnight Hours

Part of The Untamed - EXO Wolf Universe

Genre: Wolf!AU

Pairing: Sehun x Reader

Summary: For you, being a good witch was easier said than done. Something dark was lurking inside of you and the others knew it. When you’re forced to tag along with Soomi and help a local wolfpack face a coming evil, you’re sent on a path that breaks into a crossroads. While you struggle with your inner demons, could the wolf Sehun be the key to your ultimate fate?

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I 11 I 12 I 13 I 14 I 15 I 16 I 17 I Final

**

You didn’t speak to Sehun as he pulled into the garage and shut off the engine. Hell, you were half tempted to jump out of the car when he’d first rolled onto the grass, but you thought that might be a little overdramatic. Besides, slamming the door to his “baby” as hard as you could was much more satisfying. You caught the flinch as soon as the metal hit and echoed through the building. Yes, satisfying indeed. 

“(y/n)….”

Nope. You were not in the mood to listen to anymore of his doubts or his tries to persuade you out of your opinion. 

Your anger and frustration must have been written all over your face. As soon as Soomi saw your face, she jumped up from the couch. 

“What’s wrong?” she asked. 

You glanced over your shoulder as Sehun’s sour face before replying. “Nothing.”

Clearly ignoring the hint that you didn’t want to talk about it, Soomi looked to the wolf behind you. “What happened?”

“(y/n) thinks she knows who the woman is, but I disagree,” he said in a very simplified version. 

Soomi’s eyes lit up with hope. “You do? Who?”

You swallowed thickly. What if she had the same reaction as Sehun? What if absolutely no one believed you? “I think,” you said quietly, “that it might be Mina.”

“Mina? Dana’s friend? Why?”

“Because she looks like the woman in my visions,” you explained confidently. 

“Whose face you’ve never seen,” Sehun argued as he stepped up next to you, an annoyed glare in his eyes. 

You didn’t even look at him. “No, but I am the one who has had the visions, so I have the clues, as I said before.”

“But there are millions of people with blonde hair and pale skin,” Sehun pushed further. “That’s hardly enough to go by.”

“I don’t know,” Soomi muttered, her eyebrows knitted together as she weighed the issue in front of her. Just when it seemed that you would be on your own once again, she surprised you. “The timing is suspicious. For her to show up now and look so similar….”

“Oh, come on, Soomi, not you, too,” Sehun whined. 

“What’s going on?”

Junmyeon entered with Kita by his side and several others behind him. Why did every little happening in this house have to have an audience?

“(y/n) thinks Mina might be the woman from her visions,” Sehun grumbled. It seemed he, too, was a little irritated at how big this was scene was getting. Since you saw it as his fault, you didn’t feel the least bit sorry for him. “I’m trying to make her see that there’s no way it could be Mina.”

“You don’t know that,” Hae In interjected. Oh thank god someone had some sense. 

“She’s Dana’s friend.”

“So?” Hae In snapped. “We don’t know her. I’d trust (y/n) over Mina.”

Sehun rolled his eyes. “It’s not that I don’t trust (y/n). Of course I do. But I don’t think we should be jumping to conclusions. Blonde hair and pale skin? That could describe you, Hae In.”

“Maybe it is me,” she smirked. “Maybe I got sick of you and decided to form a rebellion and take (y/n) with me.”

“Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised,” Baekhyun muttered. 

“Kyungsoo would kill you if he heard that,” said Jongin. 

Luhan shrugged. “I doubt it. He’s not a big fan of Mina either.”

“But Mina is still Dana’s friend,” Kimberly argued. “I don’t think we should be singling her out off of circumstantial evidence.”

“Another wonderful sentence from the future crime reporter,” Jongdae grunted. Jongin didn’t take too kindly to the remark, a deep growl rumbling in his chest. 

“Okay, that’s enough!” Junmyeon barked. Shifting his attention to you, he said in a calmer voice, “(y/n), thank you for bringing this to our attention. We’ll keep a close eye on Mina. I’ll go call Kyungsoo. It’ll be difficult, but he should be able to keep this from Dana for the time being. We don’t want to cause her unneeded stress.”

You nodded, accepting that answer for now. It felt nice that you were being taken seriously by at least one of the alphas. But that didn’t make the initial betrayal hurt any less. 

Pushing past the crowd, you took the stairs two at a time until you reached the second floor in record time. You should have known better than to try and use this place as an escape, but there was no turning back now. 

“Hey, wait-”

“I don’t feel like talking to you right now.” You tried to open the door to the bedroom, but Sehun put his hand over yours, holding it shut. Damn the contact, you snatched your hand away. You were sure the boys used the hormonal seizure that happened in the mates’ body at the skin to skin contact to their advantage. This would not be one such occasion. Not on your watch. 

“Well, I do,” he grunted as he pushed himself between you and the door. 

“Unless it’s a genuine apology, I don’t want to hear it.”

He sighed heavily. “I’m sorry that I can’t believe that it’s Mina.”

“Wrong kind of apology.” You tried to shove passed him, but the big lug wouldn’t budge. 

Sehun roared. “Why are you so difficult?”

“Why can’t you just trust me?” you fired back. 

“It’s not that I don’t trust you! I just don’t want you to jump to conclusions!”

“I’m not jumping to conclusions, I’m following the clues!” You wanted to rip your hair out. Why wouldn’t he just take you at your word? “I can’t change what I saw in my visions!”

Sehun shook his head defiantly. “Sometimes I really hate that you have those.”

Knife? Meet heart. 

Yes, you hated them sometimes, too, but at the end of the day they were still apart of you. They were a part of your gifts – gifts that frustrated you and put you on the outside, but still yours. You couldn’t get rid of them, you couldn’t just make them stop, so you accepted them. It was one thing for you to have animosities about the visions, it was another for him to. Saying that he hated your visions made you feel like he hated a part of you. Those visions were the reason you were here in the first place. They were what brought you to the farmhouse where you could meet this so-called love of your life. This was the man who was supposed to stand by your side and accept every part of you. Apparently, nice things didn’t last too long in your life. 

“Excuse me, then, I’ll just turn them off for your convenience.”

Sehun groaned. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what could you have possibly meant, Sehun? Huh?” You didn’t really give him a chance to reply. “Why don’t you just admit that being mated to me wasn’t all you thought it would be?”

Sehun’s eyes widened in shock. “(y/n), where is this coming from?”

 A million little facets of insecurity and doubt, that’s where. But you decided to throw his behavior in his face instead. That was a less vulnerable - and not as truthful - “Oh, I don’t know. How about the fact that you’re fine until the topic of my powers come up. Then you start acting weird and change the subject. Everyone else wants to see them, but you just sit there with this sour frown on your face. You used to be fascinated by it too, you know.” Tears pricked at your eyes. Fantastic. There was no way for you to hide them, so you just let them collect and pool. “You used to stare at me in awe when I used my powers. It’s part of why I fell for you in the first place, before knowing I was your mate. But now I just feel like a burden to you.”

“You have never been a burden, (y/n).”

“But it’d be easier, right?” you snapped back. “Now that the shine is gone, it’d be easier if I were normal, boring human like the others, wouldn’t it? Less complicated that way?”

At first, he said nothing. He stared at you with his mouth pressed in a tight line, the same look he always had when he was thinking hard. His hesitation wasn’t doing your self-esteem any favors. Air blew out of his lungs, ending the pause. 

“Yes, it would be, but-”

You shook your head almost violently. “No, thanks. I don’t need any explanations. Not from you.”

“(y/n), listen to me-”

Slam! You’d made it to the bathroom down the hall and locked the door behind you before he could even finish his sentence. 

You hated him. You hated him more than the ones who used to torture and bully you for being different, for being more. It was idiotic to feel accepted and at peace around him. You’d settled into content and it’d blown up in your face. He’d backed away as soon as things didn’t line up for him perfectly. 

“(y/n)! Open the door, please! Just let me explain!”

No. He didn’t give you the benefit of listening to your suspicions, why should you listen to him now?

You didn’t yell at him to go away or to shut up or any words at all. Instead, you sat there on the cold tile silently, legs folded and back against the wooden door. Each time Sehun knocked against the thin barrier with his fist, you felt the vibrations through your shoulder blades. Still you didn’t moved. 

Eventually he gave up and you listened to his footsteps fade away through the hall and down the stairs. 

Now would have been the time to cry. Now would have been the time to let out all the tears. The wall of hurt that had built up inside you, each brick of molded out of the words and doubt given by Sehun, would easily come crashing down upon if you simply tapped on it with your finger. But you never touched it. 

Sitting there you were just… existing. Time no longer felt real the longer you stayed in that small room. You could almost imagine yourself living inside a bubble connected to another dimension, another world. If only you could really escape to another place and no longer have to deal with the happenings of this place. But that wasn’t possible. Even magic had its limitations. 

But you could do something. 

You needed space. You needed to get away, have some time to yourself, and maybe even find some proof that you weren’t crazy. Maybe if you could connect more dots between the visions and Mina, you could-

You weren’t sure what you wanted at this point. To be right? To get back at Sehun? There was no telling what currently drove you. 

Leave. Now. 

It almost felt like a whisper in your ear, urging you to get up and go, to not waste time, but no true source could be found for the urge. 

Taking a risk, you peeked out the bathroom to check that the coast was clear before scurrying to the bedroom. You didn’t stuff much into Soomi’s knapsack she packed for emergencies as you figured you’d only be gone for a day or so. It was fully your intention to be back before the blood moon. So with the pull-string bag slung over your shoulder, you checked the hallway once again and headed back for the bathroom. 

You knew that your best bet of getting away was to make them think that you were still locked away in the bathroom throwing a tantrum. So you headed back, locking the door once again as quietly as you could before going over to the window.

The drop didn’t seem that bad, but it would have been dumb to jump and hope for the best. To your luck, however, there was a bush off to the side. Closing your eyes, you concentrated on the leaves and branches of the plant, imagining them growing and expanding into a pad that was safe to land on. By the time you opened your eyes, your imagination had become reality. 

You gritted your teeth as you swung a leg over the sill. And then another. 

Were you really about to do this?

Sehun’s face floated in your mind. 

Yes. Yes, you were. 

Shoving off, you twisted your body so you landed on the oversized bush on your side, rolling off the branches and landing a bit hard on the grass beside it. But you didn’t have time to think about the pain as you jumped up to your feet and ran for the forest. Breathing grew difficult the farther you pushed yourself. However, slowing down was not an option. 

The closer you made it to the treeline, the more your determination grew. You were going to show him and you were going to do it on your own. 

**

Sehun sat at the breakfast booth, staring at the glass of alcohol he’d poured with himself. He hadn’t touched it. The ice was melting and small dots of condensation were building up on the side of the cup, sliding down the surface before pooling on the table top. He’d poured it more out of habit, like a ritual that would suddenly make him feel better. But he knew that was a crock. The only thing that would make him feel better would be you talking to him again. 

He knew he messed up. He should have just kept his mouth shut no matter what he thought. How could he explain that he didn’t sense any danger from Mina and that’s why he didn’t think she was behind the coming danger? Wolves had a knack for this sort of thing. 

In the end, he figured that you needed space. After you’d calmed down, you’d let him explain what he meant by the words he’d said. Especially the stupid response to you being a witch. 

He loved that you were different. He loved that you grew up in the same world as he did. It was a connection that was missing from the other couples. But you didn’t know how worried he was. You didn’t know that the reason he made that face every time you used your powers in front of the guys was because he was worried about you. He worried about you losing control and hurting yourself.

The fire still haunted him, even though he’d never admit it outloud. He’d been able to sense the danger and make it to before the flames got out of control, but who could say he could it again? He needed to protect you. It was his very instinct.

He wouldn’t change a single thing about you. And you needed to know that. 

Sliding out from the booth, Sehun headed back up the stairs. It was worth another shot getting you to talk to him. 

With an unsure fist, he knocked against the door. “(y/n)?”

No answer. 

He tried the handle, but it was still locked. So you were still in there. “(y/n), can we please talk now?” You still didn’t reply. Wow. You were really going to keep going, weren’t you? “Okay, fine. Keep the door between us, but please listen. I didn’t mean to upset you. I just didn’t want to rush to judgement. Dana’s been through… a lot. And Mina’s been her closest friend for years. I didn’t want to ruin that without being absolutely sure. Of course I trust you. I know that you’re the only one who has seen - well, what you’ve seen.”

Still nothing. What was he going to have to do to hear your voice again? Keep apologizing was the only thing he could come up with. 

“And… I know that you said you didn’t want to hear anymore excuses, but I have to say it. I don’t care that you’re a witch - no. I love it. I love how special you are. I wouldn’t change that at all. It- It’s just complicated. If you were human, I could protect you differently. I could make sure that you’re out of danger. But with as powerful as you are, I know I can’t keep you out of the fight. I can’t sideline you like Evie or Jiyeon or Kita. And… I’m scared. I’m scared to death to lose you. But I think I might have done that anyway.”

He waited. With no air leaving or entering his lungs, he waited. But no response to his confession came. In fact, no noises whatsoever came from the bathroom. Now that he was concentrating, he realized that not even your heartbeat was reaching his ears. 

“(y/n)!” 

Screw propriety. Kicking his foot out, he broke the lock and swung the door open. 

It was empty.

[gustafsnightangel]

Shattered Lives Ch 31 Pt 2

The room erupted and Sildie was stunned, it was never supposed to be her. She looked at Gustaf and then Oliver.

“Sildie.” Gustaf’s quiet call of her name snapping her out of her shock. Everyone was on their feet as he stood and held out a hand to help her stand. “Breathe love, let the lawyer shine though.” He said quickly as he hugged her.

“Shit.” She breathed. “Fucking shit.” She muttered looking at him. Gustaf grinned as he heard the irritation in her voice. That tone of ’for fuck sake really?’ He watched his courtroom lawyer get a grip and knew she’d be fine until she sat down again.

She slammed the tears down, now was not the time to lose her shit. She took her award from Oliver, the weight of it in her hands oddly comforting.

“It’s not often you catch me without a legal pad full of notes for closing arguments but it seems Oliver has the upper hand tonight.” She smiled and the entire room laughed and took their seats. “And although I’m not one for skewing holes in defense counsel cases, I do tend to like roasting them over an open fire.”

Opposing counsel included Gustaf thought with a grin and glanced at Lucas remembering the day she wiped the floor with him.

She was going to have to dig deep and wing it. She focused on Gustaf, the calm in her storm. He subtly pointed at his heart and mouthed two words that made it easier. ’From here’, from her heart.

“I never considered myself a recipient when the Bar Association approached me to help create it. In all honesty, had Oliver told me I’d be receiving it I probably wouldn’t have turned up tonight.” She chuckled, the light chuckle from those in the audience that knew her made her smile. “My brother was a bright light. Full of life and love, an untapped soul of compassion that ran deep. Oliver had it right, he was ruthless in the courtroom as most of us can attest, but the one thing he would never waiver on was his humanity. We are all human he would say, and we all deserve respect and compassion, no matter our lot in life, no matter our station, no matter our past doings. Always innocent before proven guilty.” She looked at Gustaf to ground herself and took a breath. “Dana was my brothers better half.” She said sarcastically. “Literally.” She chuckled and the laughter rippled. “Dana was an old soul, her kindness unfathomable, her compassion for families, especially children, incredibly strong. Her mission in life was to mend as many families as possible, to help them reconcile or resolve their differences with as little disruption to the children’s lives as she could accomplish.” She looked at Gustaf his gaze hadn’t left hers, his love giving her the strength she needed. “The loss of two beautiful souls has left its mark on us all. The void they left behind can never be filled. I miss them.” She said simply. “I miss their laughter, their strength, their compassion, their counsel. But most of all I miss what they gave to the world, what they gave to their children, honesty, commitment, respect, love.” She choked on the last word and the room was silent. She had almost lost it.

“I’m honored to have been chosen to receive this prestigious award. I only hope I can continue to be worthy of it, to strive to be a better attorney, a better person. Thank you.”

As the room erupted in applause again she stepped away and sat back down as Oliver continued with the program.

“Breathe love.” He murmured. “Breathe and relax, it’s done.” He rested his arm along the back of the chair again and held her other hand in his lap, his thumb caressing the inside of her wrist, her hands were shaking violently.

She was a wreck on the inside, that hot prickle under her skin trying to gain the upper hand, on the outside the lawyer reigned supreme. Gustaf kissed her temple and stayed close, grounding her, making sure she knew she was safe, that she was loved. Oliver finished up and the band started, classic jazz and Christmas carols.

“Your boss has great taste in music.” He chuckled. “Come dance with me love.” He said gently. He didn’t want to push or rush her, but he wanted to get her alone, hold her close, and have her anxiety drop to a more manageable level.

“Sure.” She breathed, that tell tale wheeze starting to make its way out as she forced in oxygen. He helped her stand.

“Sildie?” Gustaf and Sildie turned to Lucas, hand in hand with his date.

“Not now.” Gustaf said flatly. He turned his back on them, using himself as a shield, and led her to the dance floor, pulling her in close. “I’m sorry, that was rude, but you need a moment to collect yourself.” He said gruffly.

“Thank you.” She sighed, and rested her head against his and closed her eyes. “I can’t deal with him yet, with anyone.” She’d never been more grateful to have him close to her, than right at this moment.

“That’s it love, relax. I’ve got you.” He murmured and danced her around the room, the movement and closeness leveling out her breathing. Occupying her mind with steps so she didn’t crush Gustaf’s toes helped. After the third song he felt her body yield, felt the calm settle over her again.

“I’m proud of you.” He said gently. “So very proud of you.” He kissed her temple, the slower song allowing them to dance cheek to cheek.

“I never wanted that damn award.” She chuckled. “It seemed a little silly for them to give it to me seeing as though I helped create it.”

“I don’t mean about that, though it’s very fitting and well deserved.” He said honestly. “I’m proud of you for coming here tonight, for saying what you needed to say to honor your brother. For being so damn strong. You’re incredible Sildie, don’t let anyone tell you different.” He kissed her, that slow loving kiss that blanked her mind. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” She kissed him. “And thanks. I don’t think I would have made it through without you.”

“Together love, you and me. I think we make a pretty good team.” His smile was the one that made those crows feet at his eyes crinkle. She brushed her thumb over it.

“I’m so in love with you.” She kissed him, slow and sinful not giving a flying fuck who saw them. He loved her, why should she hide it? They were going to stare at them anyway.

“When would be a respectable time to leave so I can peel you out of this stunning dress and do wicked things to you?” He growled as he spun them, wondering if they could get back to the table to collect their things and disappear before Lucas caught up with her.

“A few more songs, I like this.” She said softly. “Being in your arms.” Her smile widening into a laugh as he dipped her.

“Fuck me you’re beautiful.” He murmured at her ear as he danced with her. “We can stay for however long you want, it’s all you love.” He wouldn’t let his ex get in the way of her happiness and right now this was making her happy, he’d deal with the other shit later.

His mind chewed over it as he danced. Hadn’t he spent enough time letting that bitch worm her way under his skin? Hadn’t he just spent months purging her from his life, his soul, his apartment? If you have then why the fuck are you letting her get under your skin now, that annoying voice in his head quipped. Don’t give her what she wants, that voice shouted, don’t let her see how much it hurts you, it’s what she wants, she wants a reaction. You promised Sildie to fight for her, for your relationship with her, well pony up. Don’t let Ana get between what you have with Sildie, again. He had to admit, that nagging little voice in his head had a point.

True to his word at the beginning of the evening, he danced for most of the night with her, keeping the rest of the room at bay. The music had slowed, her feet were starting to hurt but she was happy and relieved it was done. As the last song of the night started he kissed her, seductive, longing. As it ended he dipped her low and planted a kiss at the base of her throat, that peal of laughter making him smile.

Once upright they walked to the table and said their goodbyes. It looked as though Lucas had long since gone. Good, Gustaf thought, as he took a relieved breath. She didn’t need his crap tonight.

“Hang here I’ll get our coats.” He said softly and kissed her neck as she continued to talk with Elsa and Oliver. Her gentle squeeze of his hand telling him she was ok.

“Sildie, finally.” Lucas said with a smile as he brought his date over, he looked happy, happier than she’d seen him in ages. “I thought you’d never stop dancing.” He grinned.

“Hello Lucas.” Her tone cordial. She would not embarrass herself or the firm by making a scene. She would keep it all business. “It was good music.” She shrugged with a smile, trying to keep it light.

“I wanted to introduce you.” He said pointing at the blond by his side.

Then it clicked as she studied the woman up close, it was the smug smirk, the same one in the photo, the photo he burned along with the notebook. Oh fucking fuck, she thought, here we go, shit was about to get real.

“This is...”

“Ana.” She said keeping her voice even, plastering a polite knowing smile across her face. She would not play into their sick game, whatever the hell it was, and she would not jump to conclusions. There was something not quite right here, she could smell it.

“You two know each other?” Lucas looked at Ana, then Sildie, and she saw the genuine confusion on his face.

Ana hadn’t told him, interesting, she thought. What else hadn’t she told him, what else had she twisted around to paint Gustaf in an ugly light?

“Mutual friend.” Sildie said locking eyes with the woman that had caused her sweet man so much grief, so much pain. “Never had the pleasure of actually meeting in person.” Her tight smile fixed on her face as she saw the panic in Ana’s, the woman had visibly paled.

Yes, Sildie thought, you’re terrified I’m going to link you and Gustaf and your entire little facade with Lucas is going to crumble right before your eyes.

“Oh.” Lucas said a little surprised. “Mutual friend of mine or yours?” Lucas smiled, still clueless.

Sildie weighed her options and kept her eyes fixed on Ana. She saw the silent plea in the woman’s eyes for her not to voice that connection. No, Sildie thought, no you don’t get to play Lucas like this. He maybe an asshole sometimes but deep down he’s a good guy and doesn’t deserve the same fate as Gustaf at your hands.

“My mutual friend actually, Gustaf.” She said gently and looked at Lucas. The poor guy looked as if he’d been slapped in the face with a speeding freight train. He looked to Ana with bewilderment, those eyes searching for an explanation, and Sildie prepared herself for the cluster fuck that was about to unfold. The guy had to know what he was getting into with Ana. Oh the irony, she thought bitterly.

“They were together for a few years and split last year I believe.” She said simply. She didn’t want to drag out Gustaf’s dirty laundry and shove it in Lucas’s face but she’d give him the cliff notes if pushed.

“Oh, you exaggerate, it was nothing more than a quick fling.” Ana passed off nonchalantly, that saccharine sweet tone grating on Sildie’s every nerve, her glare death incarnate.

“No.” Sildie said calmly, she knew the game Ana was playing and wouldn’t partake. “No exaggeration. You dated him for three years.” The facts, facts and truth always triumphed over lies and deceit.

“You’re mistaken.” Ana growled between clenched teeth.

“No, I’m not mistaken about anything, Ana. I’m well aware of who and what you are.” She said calmly, poor Lucas was hanging on every word out of Sildie’s mouth. They’d known each other for a long time, almost 25 years. Lucas knew she didn’t bullshit or exaggerate anything, in or out of the courtroom. “The lies, the deceit, the pain you caused his sister, his brother, the phantom miscarriage, your own drug use, and the attempt at destroying his sobriety and his career.” She continued as she saw the realization hit home for Lucas, his eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. “Yes, I know exactly who and what you are, Ana.” She said evenly and then looked at Lucas. “Is she the reason you think he’s no good for me?” She asked gently, the guy looked ready to crumble. Or is it because you’re jealous and still in love with me, she thought?

“He’ll cheat on you. Keep things from you.”Ana said coldly and all Sildie could do was smile as she started to play the victim of an unhappy relationship, each word from her lips embellished to suit the situation and her own twisted version of the truth. “He’s screws around when he’s on set. He’ll be done with you at some point and move on to the next just like he did with me. He’s a drunk and an addict.”

“He’s a former addict, and his sobriety is still intact, regardless of your attempts to alter the fact.” Sildie snapped, her courtroom lawyer mode well and truly engaged, she would defend her man. Gustaf had given her no reason to doubt his sobriety or his former drug use, he’d been open and honest with her about it right from the beginning.

“You haven’t answered my question Lucas.” She stated, her tone equally abrupt, her eyes still on Ana.

“He’s not good for you.” Lucas choked, his world was falling down around his ears.

“That’s still not answering the question. Is she the reason?” She asked pointing at Ana. He looked at her blankly, not sure who to believe or what to say.

“So you’ll take her word over the truth? That’s not like you Lucas.” She shook her head, she couldn’t believe it. Was he going to throw away everything he believed in over this vindictive, conniving bitch? It wasn’t easy to fool Lucas, there was a reason her brother got along so well with him, both were ruthless in the courtroom, facts and truth, always. “You know when you’re being fed bullshit. Open your eyes Lucas she’s playing you, just like she played Gustaf.”

Gustaf came back to find her in a heated conversation with Lucas, Ana at his side, that smug smirk on her face. He calmed the sudden urge to walk up and wipe that smirk off her face with his fist. “That won’t solve anything.” He muttered under his breath. “Although it would feel really good for the few seconds, right before you landed your ass in jail.” He sighed to himself.

Sildie’s body language alone told him she was well beyond pissed. “Just fucking perfect.” He muttered and his long strides ate up the floor as he surged toward her.

She saw him approach and knew she had maybe five seconds to step between both men before Gustaf lost his shit, she knew that look, lethal fury. She shook her head subtly, he had no clue what was going on or what he was walking into the middle of, and she would protect him at all costs.

He saw her shake her head and slowed, he’d promised to let her handle Lucas. That of course had changed once Ana became involved, but he gave her the floor. As he got closer he could hear their conversation, content to stay far enough behind Lucas to hear what was going on and close enough to kick his ass if necessary. He wasn’t blind drunk but he was under the influence.

“He’s not right for you.” He snapped again. “Or for the kids. Your brother...”

“For the record, in case you didn’t hear me the first time we discussed this, my relationship with Gustaf is none of your god damn business, that stipulation hasn’t changed. And you are not my brother so stop trying to assume the role.” Her tone flat. She locked eyes with him. “And pay attention because this is the absolute last time I tell you. Don’t you fucking dare bring the kids into this.” She snarled. “They are not, nor will they ever be your concern.”

Lucas blanched at her tone, he’d stepped over a line and he knew it. Even Gustaf took a small step toward them hearing that tone, wondering if he was going to have to restrain Sildie. Never bring the kids into it idiot, that was just asking for it. You may as well declare open fucking season on your ass.

“Let me make it perfectly clear to you. I don’t love you Lucas, I never have. That’s not ever going to change despite what you tell me regarding Gustaf and you need to find peace with it.” She was ready to unleash if he kept pushing her. “You need to move on.”

“It is my business when he’s deceiving you.” He seethed and she could see the pain in his eyes, she’d seen it mirrored in Gustaf’s.

“He’s deceiving me? I think you need to look a little closer to home.” She said glaring at Ana. Gustaf frowned, what the fuck did she mean by that?

“He’s an addict Sildie.” Lucas spat.

“Form...”

“I’m a former addict.” Gustaf said flatly cutting her off as he stepped to Sildie’s side. Taking her hand in his, he placed himself solidly between her and Lucas. Enough he thought, she’s taken enough shit from this guy. “And my sobriety is none of your damn business.” He added, his tone dangerous.

“Hello lover.” Ana smirked.

Gustaf, to his credit just glared at her, didn’t even utter her name. He wanted to, he wanted to rage at her for being anywhere near Sildie, but held his tongue. She wasn’t worth the effort, she wasn’t worth Sildie, because that’s the price he’d pay if he retaliated.

“Lov...” Lucas choked, looking at Ana eyes disbelieving. Her quip had been to her own detriment, confirmation that sent the poor guy into a tailspin. Sildie watched something inside Lucas snap.

“You asshole.” Lucas looked from Gustaf to Ana. “He’s the one that...” Ana played him like a fiddle and nodded, her face that of the wounded girlfriend. He looked back to Gustaf.

“So you finished fucking her up and moved on to the next one. I won’t stand by and watch you do the same to Sildie? No fucking way.” Lucas spat, suddenly turning on Gustaf drilling a finger into his chest as if this was somehow all his fault.

“Lucas!” Sildie snapped harshly, her tone telling him to get a grip as he looked at her. Ice cold fury nothing short of murderous looked back, she was beyond livid. Ana was playing him and there was nothing she could do to make him see sense.

Gustaf looked down at the finger still pressed against his chest. “You’re going to want to remove that finger before I do, permanently.” His tone was dangerously calm. Gustaf had a few inches on the guy and pounded a bag regularly, he wasn’t opposed to the idea of kicking his ass into next week. Lucas was one step away of finding out Gustaf’s absolute threshold for bullshit and invasion of his personal space. Gustaf knew the guys head was conflicted, scrambled by whatever this conversation had dragged to the surface kicking and screaming, he was also half full of alcohol, which was why he kept as calm as he did.

“You don’t deserve her, she deserves better. Not some fucking junkie who goes screwing everything in his path.” He snarled again and pushed that finger in a little harder before removing it. It wasn’t the worst Gustaf had been accused of. Sildie knew what he was before they met and Gustaf knew what he’d lose if he ever relapsed. She also knew the truth. Gustaf saw the heart wrenching pain in his eyes, the guy had just had his world turned upside down and shaken violently, he knew that feeling well.

“What Sildie deserves Lucas, is to be respected enough to make her own decisions, her own choices.” He said calmly, cutting Sildie off before she could unleash. He held out her coat so she could slip her arms in. He needed to get them out of here before he did something he’d regret and Sildie decided to redecorate the floor in crimson.

“An observation? A word of advice? You can do better.” He said nodding his chin toward Ana, the bitch just smiled that smug smile as if this was exactly what she’d planned. “You’re a good man Lucas, she doesn’t deserve you.” His tone had Lucas snapping his eyes to his and Gustaf let him see it, the grief that bitch had caused him, he let Lucas see it all.

“Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have children to get home to and a babysitter to relieve.” He didn’t give Lucas or Ana an opportunity to respond, Sildie snatched her bag up and left.

There was more to this conversation he hadn’t heard and wouldn’t give Ana the satisfaction of being part of her game any longer than he already had been. They’d been pawns in her sick little charade with Lucas and he felt for the guy. He kept his body between Lucas and Sildie and steered her toward the door.

“I’m sorry.” He said softly as he turned the key in the ignition. “I know you said you’d handle it, but my sobriety is no ones business but ours and I do not expect you to have to fight or stand up for me, ever.” He spat, he was furious. Not at Sildie but at the entire fucking situation. “Especially when Ana is pulling the fucking strings.”

“I’m sorry that you had to.” She said quietly. “I’m sorry she was there, I didn’t know.” She took a calming breath as he pulled away from the hotel lobby, she was almost in tears. It wasn’t the confrontation, or the fact Ana had been there, it was what it would do to Gustaf, what it was already doing to him. She knew this could spiral him and he’d come too far to let it claim him again so soon.

“Hey.” He took her hand and kissed her knuckles as he drove them home. “I had a great night, I’m not going to let that confrontation ruin it. You know my history, the shit with Ana, you know of my sobriety, staying clean, that’s all that matters to me love.” He was not going to let Ana in, she was just a name and he was past all that, he had to be.

“But you shouldn’t have to defend your sobriety to anyone either.” She wasn’t sure if she wanted to cry or seethe. “It’s none of their damn business.” She picked at her dress suddenly wishing she’d never gone tonight.

“No it’s not, but I’ll defend it, especially when it’s being thrown in your face or used as a manipulative tool. We know the truth, that’s all that matters to me love.” He kissed her fingers and held them there. He’d keep reassuring her, himself. He wouldn’t let this get to the point it did last time.

“Did you know it was her when Lucas sat down?” She asked and then snorted a chuckle at how absurd her question sounded. “Of course you knew you’re not fucking blind.” She muttered. She felt stupid she had been so caught up in her own head she hadn’t picked up on his emotional swing.

“I knew.” He said quietly, kissing her fingers as he pulled up at a stop light.

“Why didn’t you say something?” Her tone injured.

“Sildie, you had enough going on tonight and you needed me to help get you through, you were my focus, and to be honest she’s just a name.” He kissed her fingers again as the light turned green. “Sure I was shocked to begin with. But then saw it for what it was, nothing but manipulation and vindictiveness. I don’t know what his motives were. To maybe get me to take a swing, shove some proof in your face to show you that I’m the asshole he was trying to make me out to be. I don’t know. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to tell you, I just knew it would have sent you spiraling and you didn’t need a panic attack on top of everything else tonight. I didn’t want to turn it into a big deal.”

“He didn’t know.” She said softly.

“What do you mean?”

“He didn’t know about the connection until I told him.” She sighed. Squeezing his hand she gave him the recount of the conversation before he’d been close enough to overhear it.

“Well shit.” He blew out a breath. “Now I feel like the asshole.” His huff making her smile. “I thought he already knew until I saw his reaction, I wondered how authentic it was.”

“Authentic as it gets, and I’m sorry I had to drag it all up and tell him, but he needed to know what she is. Lucas is a good guy, he doesn’t deserve to be fucked over by her.” She felt like she’d betrayed him, his pain, his grief, airing his dirty laundry for all to see. “It wasn’t my story to tell and I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok love, I’m glad you told him. Asshole or not he doesn’t deserve what she’ll do to him.” He murmured as he pulled into the garage. “Already has done to him.”

“My only fucking regret is I wasn’t there to see her face when you slapped her with the hard truth. It gives me such a petty satisfaction that it sort of blew up in her face.”

He pulled up next to the minivan and turned the key, the car falling silent.

“Look at me.” He said gently, his fingers stroking her jaw asking, pleading. “I let her get between us once.” He started when her gaze locked with his. “I’m not letting it happen a second time.” He leaned across the center console and kissed her sweetly. “Did it piss me off? Sure it did, but there’s no point in me getting worked up over it and dragging it back into our life, back between what we have together.” He kissed her, lingering to nip her bottom lip. “I’m so in love with you.” He murmured, kissing her deeply.

“I love you too.”

He helped her out of the car, pressing her against it gently.

“Let it be done. Put it in the blip column for the evening.” He shrugged. She breathed out and looked at him.

“You’re really ok?” She asked gently, her finger trailing his scruff.

“I’m just fine love. I was more concerned for you.” He kissed her tenderly. “Still am. I never wanted her or any part of her to touch you.” He wasn’t just talking physically.

“She gets off on it, the pure satisfaction of playing with people’s emotions, their lives.” She said disgustedly, it made her feel ill.

“And she was high.” Gustaf murmured softly, kissing her brow.

“I wondered, but couldn’t be sure.” She watched him carefully, she was devastated Ana had been shoved in his face.

“Does or has Lucas used? Apart from alcohol?” He asked carefully.

“Not that I know of. And it’s none of my business.” She shook her head. She couldn’t go poking into his life when she’d unequivocally told him to butt out of her own.

“No, not our business, but just be careful when you’re around him.” He kissed her temple and lingered. “Especially if he continues to be with Ana. She’s a junkie Sildie, she’s into the heavy shit, or at least she was. She’ll try to bring him down with her to her level.” She nodded and his kiss was tender. “Just be careful.”

“Always love.”

“Now.” He breathed out. “Can we get back to the wonderful evening we were having? Where we’re were dancing and kissing? I remember lots of kissing.” He murmured and kissed her temple, lingering to breathe her in. “Let it be done.” His sigh shuddered as he let it all go. He didn’t want to take it any of it upstairs until he could get alone with the bag. He had some shit to deal with but it wasn’t as all consuming as before, he needed to get it right in his head.

“It has been a wonderful night.” She said softly. “And yes, let it be done. You’re right, we can’t let her get between us again.” She looked at those Viking blue eyes. “Can we go to our room?” Her voice sultry as she ran a blood red nail across his bottom lip. “I don’t think there’s been enough kissing.”

“We can.” He growled and devoured her mouth. “Come with me kitten.” He took her hand and led her to the elevator, his hands diving under her coat as soon as the elevator doors closed. He needed to feel that body he’d itched to touch all night.

***********

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