#these last few chapters have plot points that have me biting my nails about actually sharing them because i'm afraid everyone will hate me

[socially-awkward-skeleton]

excited yet dreading wip wednesday. GOD the snippet I have of American Beasts chapter 56 for y'all...

I have to remember that for those of you who have read the fic you know about the blood eagle, so this is tame in comparison, but all the same, there is fire involved.

[tamagochiie]

pairing: timeskip!kenma x fem!reader

synopsis: You come home late from your cousin’s funeral, and though Kenma didn’t expect much from you but perhaps a few leftovers you’ve managed to steal away from the dinner, he finds you with a surprise: a sleeping child cradled around your neck and a teenage boy hovering behind you.

Your poor boyfriend wondering what in the hell it is you’re plotting…

tags: angst and fluff, time skip!, slight spoilers if you squint

warnings: mentions of death, mentions of depression, cursing 

w/c: 2.5k

a/n: welcome to the first chapter of this series! i’m very excited to start this, and i hope everyone who reads it enjoys it as well! i got the idea from a manga i was binge reading a while back, so the themes and a few of the plot points are different, but as it progresses, i’ve made it my own. 

anyway, happy christmas! see you next week! 

master list

life as she’s known it >> 

You notice the subtle clench of Kenma's jaw beneath the warm glow of the hallway's light. His hooded gaze strained by hours upon hours of gaming meets your wavering grin. The gears in his head are turning very slowly, and since silence has fallen upon the atmosphere of your shared apartment, you can actually hear the little squeaks as your poor boyfriend tries to fathom the sight before him.

You have quite a knack for bringing peculiar things home without permission; the little frog you adopted on the side of the road during your commute home one stormy night, the mud pie your nephew made for you that stunk the entire apartment for weeks because you didn't have the heart to throw it away—at least not immediately; and the dinner you brought home from the self-proclaimed "legitimate" kebab restaurant that resides in the sketchier side of the city.

All quirky things that Kenma had accepted and grown used to.

But this? This was so far from the bar you had set for his expectations, he can't help but wonder if you're pulling a prank, or maybe even actually committing a crime. But the glint of guilt and sorrow painting so deep into your face tells him otherwise.

Oh, how the poor gamer wishes it was a prank.

You swallow your fear, forcing it all the way down to the pit of your stomach. You've practiced all you've needed to say in the ride home, but all you can manage is stuttering, "I-I can..I can explain," in rather hushed tone.

There goes all my practice, you think to yourself.

Kenma raises a brow, still peering at you with the driest expression. The child in your arms begins to weigh heavier than the pressure placed upon your chest.

Ah, he just might break up with me after this...

"This is—uh, this one behind me is Eiji—Ejij say hi." The young boy behind you bows shyly, his greeting softer than a whisper it feels like you imagined it. "And this little one—sleeping soundly—this one's Yuki..."

Kenma blinks away at your words, face unamused. You regret not even trying to bring home some cake. Maybe if you did, he wouldn't be so...upset? Is he upset or is it just his face again? You can never really tell.

You huff, quietly jumping to the harsh conclusion this'll be the moment he ends things with you. But you won't go down without at least a little fight.

"Look," You sigh, shifting your hold beneath Yuki's tiny bum so he doesn't slip away, "They needed a place to stay, and no one was willing to take them!" Your lips fall dry and the more you speak, the more your words come out strained. "In a room full of people who—who called themselves your family for so many years fall silent the moment they needed help! No one spoke up to help them! It was so bad, Kenma! I-If you were there you—"

You bite your tongue, catching yourself before you're swept away by the current of your rage.

A deep, shaky sigh escapes him. His eyes finally tearing away from you as he cranes his head back, seemingly accepting his temporary defeat. "Let them sleep in the spare room and we'll talk after," is the only thing Kenma says to you before turning around walking away.

The constricting feeling in your chest eases and you sigh in relief. You mentally high five yourself for your momentary win before twisting your gaze over your shoulder to look at the young boy towering over you, motioning him to follow you.

You never noticed how wide the apartment actually is. Maybe its because of the emptying feeling you were left with back in the hallway, but it all seems so eerily wide. Like, what are two people doing with such a big space?

He'll definitely break up with me after this.

There's still a lingering prickly feeling in your heart; a mixed emotion of a win and a loss. You try your best to prepare yourself for whatever the outcome may be, but deep inside you're already prepared for a break up.

The young boy trails behind you all the way into the bedroom, leaving a considerable amount of space between the two of you.

You switch the lights on, revealing a room big enough for more than just two kids. A desk on the side, a king size bed at the center, and a window with a good view of the city. It was usually the room Hinata crashed whenever he came back from traveling with his team, but he hadn't been here in months. Traces of him were left in the form of dust.

"Will this be good enough for now?" You ask Eiji as you shrug Yuki's backpack to the floor before making your way over to the bed.

His head is lowered, eyes still failing to meet yours. He's been like this since you pulled them from under the gossiping gaze of your family.

Family, you think. The word seems so meaningless now.

"When someone speaks to you, you ought to look at them," You say it with a genuine smile, hoping that the little warmth you have left in your heart radiates off you and onto him.

God knows he needs it more than you.

"Y-yes, you're right. Thank you." He stammers, "I'm-I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude—"

"Hey," You say, gently cutting him off as you hold your smile. He's still as soft and shy as the day you first met him. You can't help but smile at the thought that he never changed. "I'm not mad or anything...Its just a teaching moment. Remember it."

You watch as Eiji slowly shifts his gaze away from the floor, slowly raising his head to meet your eyes."There you go. You've got pretty eyes, you shouldn't hide them."

He hums a quiet thank you before turning around and shifting his attention to his backpack. You take care of the little one still hanging onto you, pressing a kiss onto his little forehead and rubbing his back before settling him down onto the bed.

You're careful not to stir him as you slip his shoes off. You tuck him in, brushing his hair away from his face to reveal his long lashes and puffy eyes.

Ah, there goes the heaviness in your chest again; a recurring feeling for the day. You wonder when it'll end and your heart sinks even deeper when you remember Kenma waiting for you.

Hesitantly, you excuse yourself and make your way to the door. You let Eiji know where the bathroom is and tell him not to be scared to ask you for anything, "Please don't scared," is the last thing you mutter before leaving the boys to rest.

You tiptoe across the living room, down the hall and towards your shared bedroom. The wooden floorboards creak beneath your feet whispering, "You've done it now", "You've crossed the line", and "He's definitely going to yell at you".

You clench the knob of your bedroom door. The thumping of your heart deafens your ears and your throat grows too dry for you to swallow your fear.

You shut your eyes and pray to the deities, hoping for a good outcome—hoping for any outcome than the one you're expecting.

It takes a moment—five minutes to be exact—but you muster a sliver of courage to push the door open. For some odd reason, you imagined Kenma would be sitting at the edge of the bed, silently brewing in his anger. But instead, he's on the floor, knees up to his chest as he fiddles with his Switch.

And you can't tell if you're annoyed or relieved.

You shut the door behind you before joining him on the floor. You keep your head down, picking off your nail polish while you wait.

Kenma pauses his game, setting it down to the side before completely leaning against the bed, lulling his head back to take a breath. You shut your eyes and you take a deep breath when you feel him shifting in his place to face you.

Here it is. He's going to yell at me, you think.

"What are you plotting?" He asks, not a single trace of irritation found in his voice but rather sheer curiosity dripping from his words. You keep your head down and eyes shut. "You ought to look at someone when they're speaking to you," Your name rolls off his tongue playfully, covered in nothing more than love and sincerity.

You peak an eye at him, lifting your head. "You're not gonna to yell at me?"

"When have I ever yelled at you?" His face contorts in judgement and a little concern, wondering if his girlfriend's broken or just completely stupid. "Why would I yell at you now?"

"I brought home two stray kids..."

"Yes, you did," He says matter-of-factly, "and we need to talk about that. So, can we please talk about that?"

You nod slowly, bringing your knees up to your chest before turning your whole body to face him.

Kenma sinks his elbow onto the end of the bed, cupping his chin for support before he speaks, “Who are those kids and why did you bring them home?"

Kenma looks at you directly, his face emotionless, but a bit softer compared to when you were first standing in the hallway. He blinks at you, waiting patiently till you're ready to speak.

"They were my cousin's kids," You say in a strained whisper. "The—The one that died in the accident." Kenma hums in response, signaling you to keep going. "We weren't close—as you know or else you would've heard a lot more about him—but we felt close enough...given what our family's like..."

Growing up with the kind of family you had and having met everyone from your extended family was kind of like living in a block of ice that never melted; solid in their beliefs, slippery with their anger, and had no room for any other emotion.

You made this very clear to Kenma when you first started dating, especially when he had asked to meet your family. He wasn't one to socialize or even initiate it, but he would do it if it meant doing it for you. But you turned the idea down fast, warned him that there'd be no reason to have to go through all that stress just for you; and though he was just as stubborn as you, Kenma gave in and never brought it up again when he saw how upset you had gotten.

But in chest full of ice cubes, there was your cousin, Akihiro-san. Like you, he was different. He wasn't cold, but he was so genuine and real, you couldn't help but doubt his kindness.

A kindness you failed return when he needed it most. So, when you saw your moment of opportunity, you snatched it, regrettably leaving your boyfriend as an afterthought to your decision.

"I owe it to him, Kenma..." You plead in whisper. "I owe to him because he was the only one who was ever nice to me..."

"These are kids," He counters, dipping his head to meet your glossy eyes. He takes your cheek into the palm of his hand, his thumb tracing circles over your skin. "This would be different if it were a puppy or a plant—but these are living and breathing kids and we know nothing about raising kids. My love, we're only in our twenties..."

"But—"

"You should've called first." He cuts you off, his tone still soft , but firm. You’re at least grateful he’s called you your pet name. "You should've called me and asked."

"You would've said no..."

"How do you know? You never called me." There isn't resentment in Kenma's words. Its still  playful and light, but you can feel his hurt and you feel dumb because you know exactly why. "I would've liked to have been included in this decision...especially since this is my home and you are my girlfriend, and you promised that we would make decisions together."

You frown, tears brimming to the surface as you realized what you've done and how you've probably made him feel.You denied him of his choice, and you were silly to believe that it was okay to go over his head and behind his back.

As you whisper a string of apologies, Kenma presses his forehead onto yours, smiling at you. He was angry at first, but not so much anymore.

"Are you going to break up with me?" You sniffle, voice breaking at the thought. "I'd understand if you wanted to break up with me...But I just—I really wanted to help them. I'm so sorry I didn't ask you first, I couldn't just leave them—"

"Shhh," His breath fans against your skin, "I'm not breaking up with you, stupid. Given, this is probably the biggest wild card you've thrown at me by far, but its not enough for me to break up with you."

You hide your face into dip of his neck, sobbing into the material of his sweater, letting go of the strength you had from holding back and stain it with your tears. You had always been reckless, but it never turned him off. He never raised his voice, he always heard you out, and even when you slipped up, he always forgave you in a heartbeat.

It makes you question if you’re deserving of such a love as this. 

“I was very angry and very offended,” Kenma begins, “I didn’t like what you did. It made me feel like you couldn’t trust me, and it made me feel like you saw me as some kind of terrible person that would turn away kids that need a home...”

You shake your heard, muttering a “no” to his assumption. 

Kenma runs his fingers through your hair and down to your back, soothing you until you've caught your breaths. He'll soft press his lips against the crown of your head, discreetly swiping the little sweat off his lips to keep you from being offended.

"S-So, what do we do about the kids?" Your question muffled but Kenma can hear you just fine.

He sighs, and as he's about to pull you away from his chest, you tighten your hold around his waist. "Please look at me," Your shoulders fall and you pout when you come face to face with him. He chuckles at how ridiculously childish you look, "Do you really want to do this?"

Your eyes widen, "Y-yes. I want to do this, but if you don't want—"

"Better us than anyone else, right?" You blink at him, processing. "I don't know shit about kids, but if you really want to do this, I'll support you. But you can't expect me to be good at this."

Kenma falls onto your shoulder and rests all his weight onto you, letting out a sigh. Panic envelopes his heart, his stomach flipping and churning as he stresses over all the things that's yet to come.

“We’ve been dating for four years, and I’ve just only gotten the hang of you now...” He admits in a heavy sigh.

I'm still a kid, he thinks, groaning. He's plays games all day, forgets to shower, and doesn't know how to cook either. He works from home, rarely goes out unless he needs to or if you want to. Out of the both of you, you're--surprisingly-- more put together than he is.

Can he really do this?

"Please don't expect much from me," He begs, "I don't do well with kids, and you even took in a grown one. What if it doesn't like me or if it forget to feed it?"

You chew on your lip, holding back a laugh and quietly smile to yourself. Vulnerability paints well on your boyfriend, and you wish for even more moments like this.

“I promise it’ll only be until we kind find some other arrangement for them...Something better." You’re not entirely confident in your words, but you understand the idea of having them stay with you isn’t the most sound solution. 

"I suppose if we mess up, we'll mess it up together." He says in defeat, sprawling his legs open before wrapping it around you, pulling you as close to him as possible. He cradles your body tightly just as Yuki had done. "You don't understand how unbelievably lucky you are that I love you."

[twistedtummies2]

Descending From the Sky - Part 1 (500 Followers Special)

IN CELEBRATION OF 500 FOLLOWERS...! (freezes as someone whispers in my ear) ...Eh? You...say I have 509 now? ...Frick. WELL, BETTER LATE THAN NEVER! Something a lot of people have wanted me to write - on this site as well as an alternate site I frequent - is a “rampage story.” You know the type: macro-sized predator goes stomping around eating people and causing destruction in their wake. I have several ideas for such tales, though most of them are still in the “pre-production” stages.  I decided to go with the one that could offer me the clearest possible plot, and which I know a few people were hoping to see: this is the third chapter in my Giant AU for My Hero Academia, based on Jack and the Beanstalk. In the past two sections, Midoriya and Kaminari went up to see the Giants. THIS time, however, one of the giants comes down to Earth themselves.  I mustn’t say more though, or I shall spoil the fun. This is a two-parter; part two will be up tomorrow. As is typical, this first section is mostly just expository stuff and...well...actual STORY than anything else. Most of the “fun stuff” will be in tomorrow’s second half. Keeping this in mind, I hope you all enjoy, and thank you for the support!

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Three months had passed since Izuku Midoriya and Denki Kaminari had descended from the beanstalk with the Golden Eggs.

The result of their fortunate adventures were plainly visible: the farm where they both lived had become far more prosperous. The fields had been able to widen, as their master, Aizawa, had been able to hire new farmhands, buy new equipment, and even purchase a new cow for milking! (Although Izuku couldn’t help but notice how much whiter Milky White’s output had always been.) The farmhouse had been repaired, and plans were in motion to construct a larger building, all while a second barn was being built to house all the new supplies. Over all of this rising splendor towered the magnificent beanstalk...and on the unusually hot morning where our story begins, the boys were very glad about that. Kaminari sighed as he paused in his work, wiping his brow with a spotted handkerchief before stuffing it back into his pocket. Though the boys could afford nice clothes, they usually wore their old peasant garb while working After all, there was no point in ruining the good stuff. “Y’know something, Midoriya?” he mumbled out, looking up. Midoriya paused, putting down his hammer and looking down at Kaminari. His expression was wide-eyed and attentive. Kaminari huffed, leaning against the side of the shed the two were in the process of building. “Life doesn’t make sense sometimes.” “Yeah, that’s a fact,” Midoriya said, with a small smile, and chuckled, turning his freckled face back towards his work. He was standing on a ladder and tapping nails into place to hold the roof boards. Kaminari was holding the nails in a jar, and passing them up, and was supposed to be holding the ladder. In that moment, however, the distracted blonde was more focused on the jar, biting his lip as he stirred the nails boredly. The pair had been alternating positions every couple of boards, since, obviously, it was a lot more work to hammer than to hold. Not that the heat made either of the stations particularly fun. Kaminari tried to get a bit of shade from the side of the shed, but as the Sun was facing in the wrong direction, there was no shade to be had. “What I mean is,” Denki went on, “I thought all this extra stuff would make our lives easier: a little less of a workload on us. Instead, it feels like we haven’t a chance to just...you know...breathe.” “I know,” Midoriya murmured, pausing in his work and dipping his head. “Nor a chance to visit our friends ‘upstairs.’” “Friend. Singular,” Kaminari corrected. “Unless you count that mean man-eater as a friend…” Both of the teens shuddered, and Kaminari even crossed himself. Midoriya shook his head and refocused on hammering as Kaminari passed up another nail, and made sure to grab hold of the ladder with one hand. He didn’t want Midoriya to fall over. For one thing, it would be kind of embarrassing if either of them broke an arm falling from a ladder after managing to climb up and down a mammoth beanstalk and never tumble once.

“Mr. Aizawa says that after this is built, we should be able to rest a bit,” Midoriya said, with a bright-eyed smile that made his green irises look like emeralds. “Maybe we’ll get to go back up there in a couple weeks.”

“Maybe,” murmured Kaminari, and frowned. “Hey, do you think he’s giving us extra work to keep us from going up there?” Midoriya frowned and turned carefully on the ladder, looking to the beanstalk, then looking over the farmland...and shook his head again, this time in disagreement. “No,” he answered, and continued hammering; the boards were hard and the nails long. “With everything going on, I think we can give him the benefit of the doubt there. There’s just...so much expansion, with all the buying and selling we’ve been doing…” “I’m glad he let us keep those Golden Eggs!” grinned Kaminari. “They look cool in the bedroom.” Midoriya nodded wordlessly in agreement, and began to descend the ladder. It was Kaminari’s turn to take care of the next few boards-and-nails. “We’ll get back there soon,” he said. “Things just have to get harder before they get easier.” “That’s one way of looking at it,” shrugged Kaminari, giving Midoriya the nail jar as he took the hammer. He bit his lip and looked off to the side. Midoriya tilted his head, concerned by the unhappy expression on his friend’s face. “Hey...something else wrong?” he asked. “Just...when I went up there last time…” Kaminari trailed off...took a breath...and shook his head. “Never mind,” he said, and smiled. “Let’s just get back to work. The faster we finish, the faster we can get inside where it’s cool.” Midoriya looked skeptical, but before he could answer, a voice interrupted the pair… “It’s going to take a little longer than expected to do that.” The boys looked up. The baggy-eyed figure of Aizawa was approaching the pair. The teens stiffened, almost as if standing at attention. “Good morning, Master!” they chorused, as if speaking to a drill sergeant. Aizawa rolled his eyes and made a grumpy sound. He made a lot of those. “Relax, you’re not in trouble. Yet,” he mumbled, then went on a bit more clearly: “I need you two to stop work on the shed today. There’s another job for you both now.” The teens looked at each other, then back to the head farmer. “Um...no offense, sir,” Midoriya spoke up, and sounded sincerely polite and curious as he spoke, “But why not get one of the others to do it?” “Or do it yourself?” suggested Kaminari, in the same tone. Neither sounded defiant, just a little confused. Aizawa crossed his arms and sighed through his nose, looking out over the farmland, watching the new helpers hoe and shovel and rake away… “I have to stay,” he said, simply and strictly. “And as for the rest of the farmhands…” He looked back to the pair somewhat earnestly. “...I trust you both more than most of them.” The two boys practically had stars in their eyes. “You...you trust us?” peeped Midoriya. “Really?” Kaminari gasped. Aizawa narrowed his eyes. “Don’t let it go to your head,” he droned, drably. “I trust Mineta more than you both, and he’s a donkey. And I trust my dog more than I trust him.” The pair ducked their heads with nervous, bashful smiles. Kaminari scratched the back of his head, kicking an imaginary pebble, while Midoriya rubbed one arm, trying to look anywhere but into Aizawa’s face. Aizawa rolled his eyes and then cleared his throat. “Ahem...the new help has loaded the wagon with produce to take to market,” he informed the pair. “Change clothes and hitch the horse up, then take it all. And this time, PLEASE don’t try to trade anything on the way for Magic Beans. One big green liability is enough.” He looked to Midoriya pointedly with those words. Midoriya gulped guiltily. “We’ll do our best, Master,” Kaminari promised, and slung an arm around Midoriya as he gave a cocky grin. “Just leave it to us! We’ll come back with more money than you can shake a stick at! Although I don’t know why you’d want to…” Aizawa just made another grumpy sort of sound and paused before going on… “Mind your way through the forest. Don’t stray from the path. Keep the cart moving on its course: some of the new boys have said they’ve encountered robbers in the woods, ever since…” He pointed up towards the clouds indicatively. “We’ll be careful, Mr. Aizawa,” vowed Midoriya, then looked to Kaminari. “C’mon, let’s get moving!” The duo folded up the ladder, and darted off to put away their tools before getting ready for the journey to market. Aizawa watched them go, then looked back to the partially finished shed, then turned his gaze heavenward. He glared as he looked at the top of the beanstalk...or, at least, the furthest point he could see, as it disappeared beyond the blue sky’s crest. He shook his head and pinched his brow as he walked off to see about feeding the chickens. “This place has never been the same,” he whispered. “I wouldn’t mind so much if I could decide if that was good or bad…”

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Meanwhile, in the Land of the Giants… “Sure you’ll be okay while I’m gone?” The red-haired, fang-toothed giant known as Kirishima looked with concern to his friend. His fellow titan, Bakugou, narrowed his own crimson eyes, a sour expression on his face as he lounged on a sofa in their living room. “Hell’s that s’posed to mean?” he sneered. “What do you think’s gonna happen while I’m here?” Kirishima opened his mouth to answer...then closed it again. “...Never mind,” he shrugged, and gave a cheerful smile as he slung the leather backpack over his back. “Anyway, I better get going. Tamaki’s probably gonna get all anxious if I’m late; start thinking if I still wanna be his friend, and so on…” “Tch,” Bakugou scoffed, and took a sip of the coffee he held in his hand. “How come you hang out with that wuss anyway? He’s softer than you are!” “Hey, you can’t pick your friends!” “Yes, you can,” droned Bakugou, boredly. “It’s family. You can’t pick your family.” “That, too.” Bakugou blinked slowly, his expression tremendously dull as he took another drink. “Whatever. It’ll be nice to not have your dumb hair poisoning my vision,” he grumbled. “Yeah, I’ll miss you, too,” Kirishima chuckled. Bakugou just grunted, taking yet another drink. He licked his lips thinly as Kirishima tilted his head. “Hey...you certain you’re alright?” “What makes you think I’m not?” “I dunno...just...you’ve been a lot quieter lately. And you haven’t gone down to mess with the little guys in a couple of months. Not that I mind that at all…” He grinned. “Am I rubbing off on you a little, maybe?” “Dream on. I just haven’t had an appetite for ‘em.” “Uh-huh. Sure,” Kirishima mumbled, sounded unconvinced, and gave a smile. “Well...anyway, I’ll be back by tomorrow. Guard the house well!” “The fuck do you mean ‘guard the house well’?!” snapped Bakugou, barking out his annoyance. “DO I LOOK LIKE A DAMN GUARD DOG TO YOU?!” Kirishima sniggered, and responded with a jaunty mock-salute. Whistling merrily, the friendly giant thus left the house. Bakugou growled (ironically sounding VERY much like an angry guard dog), his fingers twitching around his coffee cup as he finished his drink. He stifled a burp in his ballooning cheeks - “HHHMMMRRRLLLRRRPH...grm…” - and swallowed the excess gas back down, thumping his bare chest with a beefy fist before rising to his feet. The Barbarian-garbed colossus then tromped back to the kitchen, cleaning his cup and putting it aside to drain and dry. In truth, there was something on Bakugou’s mind. Something that had been buzzing around in his brain for months, and had become increasingly more annoying. I climbed a beanstalk to the top of the sky...I befriended a giant, was able to hide from another...and I was able to make my whole village happy, and even the king...do you think anyone who’s ‘just meat’ could even think of all that? The giant ground his teeth together, fingers twitching again. “Worthless little runt,” he growled to himself. “What does he know?” The little one Kirishima called “Midoriya” wouldn’t leave his mind. He kept trying to force the small one’s words aside, but the pathetic rat wouldn’t get out of his head. It was starting to drive the titan insane. He’d spent his whole life eating humans. He was bigger, stronger, faster, and all around better than they were. It was the law of the jungle: they were SUPPOSED to fill his belly. It was just their fault they were so small and tasty! That’s how he’d always justified it. That’s how he’d always felt about it. And it wasn’t as if he ate indiscriminately. But now… Someones gotta knock some sense into you, Bakugou! You can’t just eat people, it’s...it’s not right! And if one of my friends is in danger...I’ve got to do whatever I can to help them! No matter what! Bakugou snarled, clenching his fists at his sides. The little vermin had guts. What he wouldn’t give to introduce them to HIS guts... Still...he hadn’t been down to eat in months now...and the truth was, what he’d told Kirishima was true. He just...hadn’t been in the mood to eat little people in a while. It was really starting to piss him off, because this had never happened before. They were his FAVORITE food...so what was holding him back? GRRROOORRRLLLB… Bakugou winced and hissed through his teeth, clapping a hand to his belly. His fingers rubbed over his bare, strong, well-sculpted abs as his stomach gurgled and “brumbled” noisily. So far, all he he’d had that morning was coffee. It seemed his gut was demanding something more substantial. For a moment, the thought of dozens of squirming little morsels flashed in his mind...but he shook that thought away with a toss of his messy blonde locks, and instead relaxed slightly as he stomped towards the icebox. “Something light oughta kill those damn noises,” he muttered coarsely. “Where’d I put those cold cuts…?”

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The wagon full of pumpkins, apples, cucumbers, potatoes, corn, and all sorts of other home-grown delights rattled along the semi-level road that twisted and twined its way through the forest. Kaminari sat beside Midoriya, who held the reins, while an old gray mare hauled the cart along at a steady trot. “Easy there, Chiyo,” Midoriya smiled gently, as the horse huffed softly, ears flicking at a noise from somewhere in the underbrush. “Just a jackrabbit.” “Hopefully,” mumbled Kaminari, then cocked his head to the left. “Say, Midoriya? Do you think we’ll run into that Yagi guy who gave you the Magic Beans?” “I doubt it,” Izuku said wistfully. “I get the feeling that was a one-time deal, or something.” “Hm. Got it,” Kaminari grunted, looking away again, a somewhat pensive, pondering look on his face. Midoriya’s smile faded. “Kaminari...seriously, what’s been bothering you?” “What do you mean?” “You’re thinking. A lot. That’s...very unusual for you.” “Hey. Thinking is dangerous. It can lead to headaches.” Midoriya smirked and chuckled, then paused, pulling the horse to a stop. “Come on,” he said, gently, placing the reins at his side nad putting a hand on Kaminari’s shoulder. “What’s wrong? Tell me.” Kaminari squirmed a bit uncomfortably. “We should keep going,” he said, quietly. “Aizawa said there were-” “We’ll be fine. Talk to me. We’re friends, right?” “Right...well, um...it’s just…” Kaminari took a deep breath, and let it out before speaking. “...I’ve felt...really bad ever since I went up the beanstalk.” “Bad as in sick?” “No, just...bad. Emotionally. I really messed things up, and I almost got killed for it. I was being greedy and stubborn and selfish, and...look, I still love money-” “And girls.” “Well, duh, girls are what make life worth living, and money helps there.” Midoriya sighed and rolled his eyes, still smiling. “But seriously,” Kaminari went on, shifting his position so he could look Midoriya in the face, “What I did was wrong and...well...kinda stupid, even for me. I wanna make up for it somehow, just...I don’t really know what to do. And with all the time that’s gone by-” “I forgive you.” Kaminari stopped short. “I forgive you,” Midoriya said, his smile gentle and friendly. “And I know Kirishima forgives you, too. If it makes you feel so bad, we’ll find a way to go up there and see if you can do something more. I wanna go back up there just as much as you do. But work’s gotta come first.” “Yeah, yeah, you’re right,” Kaminari sighed...then smirked, and adopted a dramatic pose, pointing forward. “Well...drive on, my good man!” Midoriya snickered at Kaminari’s over-the-top impression of a pompous nobleman. “Yes, My Lord,” he winked, and whipped the reins, clicking and calling out Chiyo’s name. Chiyo let out a soft whinny and began to move forward again. Kaminari paused to adjust his clothes: both he and Midoriya were dressed in sharp-looking coats and breeches, so they could look more presentable at the market. “Yellow and black are good colors,” smirked Kaminari, admiring the golden lining of his jacket. He grinned somewhat sneakily. “Hey, think I’ll impress a few ladies while we’re out?” Midoriya was about to respond...but before he could - and after the pair had only traveled about twenty or thirty yards - Chiyo suddenly let out a sharp cry and came to an equally sharp stop. “Whoa, whoa, girl!” called out Midoriya, and as the horse settled, he and Kaminari frowned and stood up in the wagon to see what was the matter. The pair were surprised by what they saw: a small girl, dressed in a somewhat ratty-looking white dress. She had metallic-colored hair, almost the color of steel, and red eyes that looked like a couple of fresh, ripe cherries. The girl was trembling slightly. Her eyes were wide and unblinking as she stared up at the pair. She didn’t move off the path, even as she stood. The two teens looked to each other, then back to the girl, and smiled. “Hello there!” Midoriya said kindly, and stepped down from the cart, while Kaminari stayed aboard and took the reins, just in case the old mare got a bit fidgety. The girl didn’t answer. She stayed still as Midoriya approached. His smile remained gentle and good-natured as he got down on one knee, bringing himself to the little girl’s height. “What is your name, little girl?” he asked, sweetly. The girl paused, blinking just once, before answering in a plaintive, soft voice: “Eri.” “Eri,” repeated Midoriya. “That’s a nice name.” He looked back to the wagon. “Don’t you think so, Kaminari?” “Oh, yeah. Short but pretty,” Denki nodded. Midoriya smiled a little wider, and looked back to Eri. “What are you doing out here, Eri?” he asked, carefully, and looked about with some small amount of worry. “Are your parents around?” Eri bit her lip and squirmed where she stood, looking away and hugging herself. “My...my papa needs help,” she admitted quietly, sounding almost ashamed of the words. “I...I heard your cart coming, and...c-could you...could you help me?” Midoriya frowned with concern. “Of course we’ll help,” he promised sincerely, and looked back to Kaminari. “Stay here with Chiyo and the market goods. I’m gonna see what’s going on, then we can figure out what to do.” “Gotcha,” Kaminari nodded. “Be quick though.” “I’ll try,” Midoriya said, then looked back to Eri with another kind, sweet smile. “C’mon, Eri...let’s go, okay?” He extended a hand...and to his surprised, Eri stepped back, letting out a tiny, timid whimper, as if she expected to be hit. Midoriya looked at his palm, then up at the little girl. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “I won’t hurt you. Just...take my hand, and tell me where to go. Alright?” Eri blinked a few times, looking between Midoriya’s face and his hand...then, her own tiny, trembling fingers clasped about his. Midoriya smiled and stood up, holding firmly but carefully onto the young lady as she led him off the path into the forest. Kaminari, for his part, watched them go. Once they were out of sight, he reached into the cart and picked out a juicy yellow apple. No reason he couldn’t have a snack while he waited: there was plenty in the cart to sell at market, anyway. He checked the surrounding trees as he took a crunching bite from the fruit. He made sure to be alert; he didn’t want to make any mistakes. After all, if Aizawa was right, it wouldn’t be a good idea to let their guard down in the forest… While Kaminari dutifully and calmly guarded the wagon, Eri led Midoriya deeper and deeper into the untouched woods, away from the road. Midoriya looked back and frowned; the cart disappeared from sight behind him. “How far away is your father, Eri?” he asked. “And what happened to him?” Eri bit her lip, and paused, keeping her head down. As they stopped, Midoriya looked to her with concern. “Eri?” he checked, quietly. “Please answer me.” Eri let out a whimper...and, without warning, pulled her hand away from Midoriya’s, as if his touch burned her. He stepped back with some alarm as her tiny, frail shoulders began to shake. He could hear her starting to cry. “...You’re nice,” she said very, very softly. “No one...no one has been nice to me...in such a long time…” She gulped and looked up to the teen with misty eyes. “I’m so sorry.” No sooner had Eri uttered the words...then suddenly, someone leapt out from the bushes behind Midoriya and grabbed hold of him. Midoriya gasped and whirled to try and fight back...but another figure lunged from behind a tree and grabbed hold of his other arm. Izuku’s eyes widened: both of his attackers were strapping, masculine figures, dressed in long black robes, with plague doctor’s masks upon their faces. “Wh-What is this?!” he shouted, and struggled to break free. “Let...LET GO OF ME!” “Good work, Eri.” Midoriya froze as he heard the words...and his eyes widened as a third figure stepped out from behind another tree, moving over to Eri’s side. They placed a dark-gloved hand on the girl’s shoulder; she whined like a kicked puppy and shuddered, clearly repulsed but unwilling to move away from the figure’s touch. This figure wore a long green coat, lined with unusual violet fur. He, too, wore a plague doctor’s mask...but this one was not the plain ivory visage the two strikers wore. His was decorated in red and gold, and covered only everything below his eyes. The golden eyes in question narrowed, a supercilious gleam in them. “Very good work, my daughter,” the voice behind the mask intoned. “Thank you for helping us, Izuku Midoriya. We have much to discuss.” The figure then pointed off in another direction, and uttered one command to the two cloaked men: “Take him!” “KAMINARI!” Midoriya yelled at the top of his lungs, struggling harder as one of the two attackers pulled a short club out of their robes. “KAMINARI! KAMINAR-!” WHACK! The world became fuzzy and filled with plain. Midoriya’s voice slurred unhealthily. “...K-Kamin-ar-i…” WHACK! Izuku knew no more. However, his cries had not gone unheard. Kaminari jolted as he heard Midoriya call to him with what sounded like real panic, the apple dropping from his hands and rolling across the dirt. It stopped right in front of the gray mare, who, thinking it was a treat, nibbled it happily. It was a lucky thing the apple distracted the horse, because the moment Kaminari heard the calls stop just as suddenly as they had come, he was on the move. He bounced off the wagon and bounded into the woods, calling back as he ran in the direction he’d seen Eri taking Midoriya. “MIDORIYA! MIDORIYA, I’M COMING!” Naturally, he was too late. Kaminari skidded to a halt, his expression horror struck, as he saw a second wagon not so far ahead...but this was no produce cart drawn by a farmer’s horse. Instead, it was a prison wagon, a cage-cart drawn by two black horses. He saw the driver’s plague doctor mask glint in the sunlight, and heard them laugh jeeringly as they whipped the horses up...then, the wagon rolled out of sight. Just before it disappeared, he caught sight of Midoriya, slumped over in the prisoner’s cage...alongside Eri and another figure he couldn’t rightly make out. Once it was gone, Kaminari stood stock still for several seconds, processing with dread what he had just witnessed...then, cursing under his breath, he dashed back through the woods to his own cart. Chiyo had just finished her apple, and let out a startled sound as the blonde-haired, yellow-eyed youth leapt back into the driver’s seat, tugging and cracking the reins. “C’mon, old girl!” he shouted. “We have to get back to the farm! This is an emergency!” The horse neighed, and the cart was soon turned around. Then, with another crack and a click, Kaminari rode the rattling wagon back down the road towards Aizawa’s farm as fast as he could…

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“Kidnapped?!” “Yeah!” Kaminari confirmed, emphatically. “I saw it happen, Mr. Aizawa! They were riding off with him; I couldn’t hope to catch up in time!” Aizawa grinded his teeth; a look of intense worry burned in his eyes. “Which way were they going?” he demanded, standing up from his desk in the room Kaminari had found him in. “South? West?” “East,” Kaminari replied. “Due East, no doubt of it.” “And you said the driver of the cart wore a plague doctor’s mask?” “Yes, sir!” Aizawa sighed. “There’s no doubt of it then,” he murmured, in an ominous tone of mortal dread. “He’s being taken to Yakuza.” Kaminari gulped nervously. Everyone in the Kingdom of Ua knew about Yakuza: it was one of two neighboring kingdoms, which had been feuding with the land for years on end. It was ruled by the evil King Kai; its armies were ruthless, and its defenses plentiful. While outright war had not been done in many years, relations between the kingdoms were still intensely...well...tense, to say the least. No one in Ua ever went to Yakuza...and lived to tell about it. “Wh-why would they take Midoriya?” Kaminari almost whimpered. “I can make a few guesses,” growled Aizawa curtly, as he dressed himself in his best hat and coat and looked to Kaminari. “I’m going to to take the new stallion to the castle. I have friends among the King’s Knights, they might be able to help us.” “I’ll go with you!” “No,” ordered Aizawa. “You stay here. I already have one of you in danger. I’m not getting you into any more trouble, and I don’t want you causing it, either.” “But I want to help!” “I know,” sighed Aizawa. “But this is no time for rash action!” “This is the PERFECT time for rash action!” Kaminari almost screamed out. “They took Izuku, and who knows what they’re gonna-?!” He stopped short at a burning, searing glare from Aizawa. He ducked his head and looked away. “...I’m...I’m sorry…” “Stay. Here,” Aizawa commanded, then added more softly, “Please.” Kaminari said nothing, but remained where he was. Aizawa looked the blonde haired boy over a time or two...then sighed again and shook his head, before hustling out of the house. There wasn’t a moment to lose. For a time, Kaminari stayed perfectly still where he stood. He listened. He waited. And the instant he heard the sound of Aizawa whistling to his horse, and the sound of the horse hooves galloping off into the distance...his eyes lifted. He looked to the beanstalk outside...and then moved to Aizawa’s desk. He hastily pulled out a small piece of parchment, and scribbled a message onto it. You said to leave you a note next time, the message read. I’m sorry, Master. I have to help my friend. I have to make up for my mistakes. Signed, Kaminari. With this managed, Kaminari clambered out of the open window, and crept towards the mighty beanstalk. He glanced from side to side, to make sure no one was looking...then, without another thought, he latched onto its based, grabbed hold of its stems and leaves...and began, once more, the long climb up...Up...UP…

“I’ll save you, Midoriya,” he promised, as he soon climbed up past the roof of the house, and kept right on climbing. “I’ll save you...one way or another…”

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“UUUURRRRRRRROOOORRRRRPH...mph...weak…” Bakugou snorted as he lounged back on the couch in the den of his and Kirishima’s home. His stomach was ever so slightly distended; just enough to make the strong, deep crevices between his six-pack muscles a little less well-defined, a clear but very small curve of fullness along his middle. One of his hands was resting upon his gut, covering his deep, black navel. He didn’t rub his stomach, didn’t scratch it...simply let his hand rest there, the limb rising and falling as his gut moved with his breathing. The ogre’s other arm was slung behind his messy-haired head as he glared with his usual, grouchy scowl at the ceiling, red eyes smoldering as he seemed to look through the ceiling itself...thinking and thinking. The (relatively) light meal he’d enjoyed left a pleasant warmth in his belly...but was not truly full yet. It barely made the slightest dent in his gut, and he knew he could fit more. But nothing around the house seemed to his satisfaction...and he had a feeling he knew what he wanted. What was stopping him? He knew what his stomach desired. He’d never denied it before. So why was he purposefully avoiding it now? He couldn’t even blame his appetite: he clearly wanted it, so what was holding him back? He didn’t know. This was...annoying. “Pissing me off,” he all but hissed to himself, fingers curling over his bare belly and twitching slightly with his ever-present anger. “Damn that little snack-rat...how’d that little fucker get inside my head anyhow…” He growled and shook his head, trying to push away the thoughts and the ever-repeating words. But they wouldn’t go away. He covered his ears, snarling and pulling at his hair. “Die, you stupid thoughts!” he snapped, trying to think of a way to force them out of his mind. He couldn’t take this much more…! He froze in the middle of his thoughts. His eyes widened as his ears pricked up. The giant listened closely. He could have sworn...he’d heard the scampering of tiny feet. He sniffed the air...and growled again, almost like a wild bear. “Fee, Fi, Fo-Fuck it. I don’t have time for this shit…” The giant swung himself out of his seat and onto the floor...but he didn’t stomp his way towards the source of the sound and scent. Instead, he cautiously began to prowl towards it, moving almost like a giant cat. He was fairly certain the little rat hadn’t realized he was around, and he wanted to keep it that way… The giant tip-toed out of the living room and towards the main hall. He peered around the corner, and his red eyes widened at what he saw. He looked both surprised and angry at the same time. Creeping across the floor was a familiar little fellow - no bigger than a mouse, compared to the man-eating man-mountain - with yellow hair and matching eyes. He nervously moved across the floor, peering from side to side and looking all around. “Kirishima?” he called out. “Hello? Is anybody home?” “Yeah. Someone’s home, little snack.” Kaminari jumped...then squealed with fright as he saw Bakugou step out from hiding. The giant’s teeth were bared in a vicious snarl, his fists clenched and visibly shaking. With a comical holler, Kaminari flailed and turned around, trying to make a mad dash back the way he had come… “COME BACK HERE, RAT!” Katsuki roared. “I’LL KILL YOU!” “That’s not a good incentive for me to come back!” Kaminari called back. Bakugou just let out a wordless shout of anger, and lumbered forward. In three long, strong strides, he moved in front of Kaminari. Kaminari skidded to a halt as the Giant glared and lifted one massive boot over him... “DIE, RUNT!” “YIPE!” Kaminari barely had time to scramble out of the way before the giant’s foot slammed into the floor. THOOM! Denki stumbled as the floor shook with the force of the stomp. He hit the floor was was briefly winded...and barely had time to lift a hand in a pleading gesture, a futile attempt to stop the inevitable, as Bakugou’s own giant fingers came swooping down towards him and snatched him. Kaminari cried out as he was hoisted into the air; vertigo hit him in an instant, and he felt woozy...but only for a second or two. He had much worse things to worry about as he was soon held up to the giant’s face. “What are you doin’ back here?” sneered Bakugou. “I...I was lookin’ for-GACK!” Kaminari choked and gasped as Bakuguou gave him a squeeze. His ribs felt nearly ready to cave in, and his spine creaked forebodingly. “I don’t give a damn,” Katsuki snorted, then smirked. “Guess it’s my luck you decided to try and rob us again. This time...you’re not goin’ home, runt.” Kaminari let out a terrified moan as Bakugou licked his lips. “I haven’t had a human to eat in months,” the ogre rumbled, his free hand rubbing his belly up and down. “Now, I’ll finally get a small taste again...thanks for comin’ to me, meat.” So saying, Bakugou closed his eyes and opened his jaws. Kaminari cried out as he was brought closer to the stinking hot maw of the man-eating monster, the tongue twitching as the teeth parted to reveal the slimy chasm of pink, soft flesh that would consume him. “W-Wait...WAIT, JUST A MINUTE! WAIT, PLEASE!” Kaminari yowled as the mouth loomed closer and closer, and he struggled in the giant’s grip. “I DIDN’T COME HERE TO STEAL, I PROMISE! PLEASE!” Bakugou stopped. His eyes opened...and he pulled Kaminari away from his jaws, closing them and glaring at the small morsel. “You’re...not here to steal?” he repeated, skeptically. Kaminari - relieved to be away from that mouth and the odor of digesting meat that came from it - sighed and nodded in confirmation. Bakugou glared darkly. “Why should I believe you?” “Um...b-because it’s true?” Kaminari eeped out. Bakugou’s glare did not soften. “Listen,” Kaminari said, and took a breath to steady himself before going on, still wiggling to try and find some semblance of comfort between the boa constrictors that were Bakugou’s mighty digits. “L-Listen, I...I’m sorry. For what I did last time. I know it was wrong, a-and I won’t do it again.” “Apology not accepted,” sneered Bakugou. “And if that’s all you’ve got, I’m eating you.” “It’s not, it’s not!” exclaimed Kaminari, desperately. “Please...wh-where’s Kirishima? I need his help!” “Stupid hair’s not here. He won’t be back till tomorrow,” shrugged Bakugou, carelessly. Kaminari looked mortified. “But...but...oh, no...now what do I do?” the human worried, speaking more to himself than the giant. “By tomorrow...b-by tomorrow, he could be dead…” Bakugou looked the tiny morsel up and down, and tilted his huge head curiously. “What do you need that extra’s help for, anyway?” he groused. “Midoriya. My friend. He’s been kidnapped.” Bakugou’s eyes widened anew. “Kidnapped?” he repeated, voice soft and somewhat shaky. “Yeah,” Kaminari nodded, his expression dour. “He...he was tricked…a-and a bunch of creeps from a rival kingdom took him away. I...I was too late to stop them. I though...maybe Kirishima could...you know...help me rescue him. Being a giant and all. But...without his help…” “Without his help, you’ll be better off,” snorted Bakugou. “Where is this kingdom?” Kaminari looked up, seemingly stunned. “Wait...you mean...YOU’LL help me?” “Psh. Don’t think of it as me helping you. I’m just helping myself,” Bakugou snorted, and smirked cruelly as he jabbed his free thumb to his chest, head held high. “No one’s gonna kill that green-haired, worthless idiot except ME. Besides, I’ve been on a ‘diet’ recently, you might say…” He licked his teeth as his stomach let out an excited burbling noise. “...I think it’s time I broke it. So...where do I need to go to eat?” Kaminari gulped nervously. “Um...uh...y-you need to go due east, f-from our home. I...I can point the way if you...um...maybe...p-promise not to eat me?” Kaminari smiled hopefully. Bakugou glared. “I don’t make promises to snacks,” he growled...then paused before going on, slowly: “Still...it’ll be hard to find the place without a guide...I guess I can let you live a little longer.” Kaminari sighed with even greater relief. “Thanks,” he breathed...then squeaked like a rodent as the giant quickly tucked him into his vest pocket. “Stay right there, and if you do anything stupid, I’ll squash you flat,” Bakugou grunted. “Now come on, snack. You’ve got another annoying bug to save…” He grinned viciously as he began to march out of the house. “...And I’ve got dinner waiting for me now. Heh heh heh…” Kaminari shuddered as he heard the giant smack his chops hungrily, and looked out over the white and blue landscape of the Kingdom Above the Clouds as his “ride” stepped out into the daylight and went on his way. “I hope I don’t live to regret this,” Denki murmured to himself. “Hang on tight, Midoriya...I’m coming…” “Ahem!” “Uh...oh, uh...w-we’re coming.” “Hmph. Better. Don’t make me regret not eating you…” “I’ll try...h-heh…”

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Izuku Midoriya groaned; a splitting headache greeted him as he opened his eyes. Breathing, itself, required great focus, which only made the throbbing, stinging pain in his cranium worse. Something prickled like nettles inside his nostrils - it smelled like ammonia - rousing him from the bleary, black haze he’d been in for some time. He could still feel the weight of the club against his skull, and hoped he didn’t have any lasting damage to worry about. Midoriya sneezed as the odor became stronger, and shook his head with a louder groan, trying to clear it and focus on the fuzzy, faded-out world around him. “That’s enough,” a voice grunted. “He’s coming to.” The scent went away, and that’s when Midoriya became aware of a few things. One, his hands and ankles were both bound with what felt like rough hemp cord. Two, a large wooden post or pole was against his back, his arms wrapped around it behind him. Three, as he shifted his bound feet he realized they brushed against splintery wood. Finally, vision and total awareness returned to him...and Midoriya felt a chill go up his spine. The location appeared to be a city square, a huge black castle not so far in the distance, and various buildings all around him. This, however, was no city square he’d encountered before...and the people around him were the most unsettling part of all. There were hundreds gathered all around him, and while many of them looked perfectly ordinary in dress and appearance...at least a third of them were wearing dark robes and bone-white plague doctor’s masks, thee black lenses blankly staring at Izuku upon the pyre he was stationed on. At the base of the pyre, Midoriya became aware of a flicker of flame. He looked down and gulped nervously: one of the Plague Doctors carried a torch. Beside him stood King Kai: his purple eyes peering over the crest of his ruby-and-gold mask, dressed still in his expensive-looking green and purple coat. Half-hidden behind the King was Eri, who was visibly shaking, eyes darting about to look anywhere except at Midoriya. Midoriya blinked at Eri...then looked up with a glare at King Kai. “Where am I?” he asked, bluntly. “Wh-What’s going on?” “Welcome to Shie, the capital city of Yakuza,” King Kai answered, and Midoriya could sense the smirk behind the mask. “I am-” “I know who you are,” Midoriya said, trying to sound as brave as he could, but unable to stop shaking. “What do you want with me?” Kai blinked slowly. “Why don’t you guess, filthy Uan?” he responded, his voice cold and cutting. Midoriya bit his lip. “In the past few months, the Beanstalk you grew has helped make your kingdom’s capital all the more prosperous,” Kai decided to explain, his voice business-like. “I would like to know how you were able to create such a thing, and where all the wealth came from.” “And why should I tell you that?” Kai narrowed his eyes, and with a slight motion of his head, the robed figure holding a torch stepped forward. Midoriya shuddered, but held up his head, straightening against the post as he glared defiantly. “Y-You can do what you want to me,” he said softly. “I’ll never tell you anything. If someone like you figured it out, who knows what you could do!” “I can already think of a few possibilities,” Kai said, coolly. “But I would recommend reconsidering. Burning to death is a TERRIBLE way to go. Trust me.” Midoriya’s defiant expression did not shift. “Please don’t hurt him…” Both Kai and Midoriya looked down at the furtive little voice that spoke. Kai’s eyes widened as he found Eri tugging on his pant leg. “Please...j-just let him go,” she pleaded. “H-He’s nice, he didn’t-AH!” Kai sneered as one of his minions struck the girl across the face, knocking her back. Kai checked his leg and sighed with relief when he saw nothing wrong. “Never touch me,” he said, in a soft, warning tone. “How often do I have to tell you, Eri? You. Do. Not. TOUCH ME.” Eri sniffled and whimpered, holding her cheek; a bright red mark was visible upon it. “Leave her alone!” snapped Midoriya. “She’s your daughter, isn’t she?” “She’s useful on occasion,” Kai answered, in the same icy tone as before. “But she’s very undisciplined. A father is supposed to discipline his child when they misbehave, yes?” Midoriya looked ill. He looked to Eri with sympathy. “Are you okay?” he asked, gently. Eri blinked, clearly not sure how to respond to the question under the circumstances. “She is far from your concern,” Kai intruded. “I’ll ask again: will you tell us where you got those so-called Magic Beans that brought that stalk to fruition? This is your last chance.” Midoriya struggled against his bonds for a moment, but the knots were strong and taut. He heard several in the crowd snicker. Sighing in defeat, he glared at Kai, who stared up patiently. “Even if I knew where you could find them,” he said, firmly, “I would never tell you.” “Very well,” shrugged King Kai. “In that case, you are of no use to me.” He held out a hand, twitching his fingers in a beckoning gesture. The minion holding the torch handed it over. Kai then turned to address the crowd. “Citizens of Yakuza!” he thundered. “The enemy agent has refused to tell us the secret of the Magic Beanstalk. Today, we burn him, and purge his sorry existence from our clean and well-ordered society. Tomorrow, we shall treat those who live on his farm the same way...and then cut down the mighty beanstalk itself!” The crowd cheered, lifting their fists and shouting jeers at Midoriya. Kai smiled darkly behind his mask, amethyst eyes glittering maliciously as he turned back to Izuku. “Any last words?” Kai hissed. Midoriya blinked once...and gave his reply quickly. PHUT! Kai stumbled back...and his expression became one of livid horror as he felt the slimy substance on his cheek...felt his face burning, felt the hives itch and puff up… He glared with psychotic, feral fury at Midoriya, who smirked back with undying defiance after spitting in the evil king’s face. Kai snarled, and without further hesitation, hurled the torch onto the pyre. The kindling at the base of the pyre began to crackle and burn in an instant. Midoriya’s smile faded, and he began to struggle again. The crowd cheered louder than before, laughing and mocking Midoriya’s struggles as he fought for dear life. Smoke was wisping up, and growing rapidly in density...the fire would be burning fiercely in a very short while. If smoke inhalation didn’t kill him, the flames themselves would. Either way, it would be a lingering, painful demise. “HELP! HELP ME!” he called out, struggling to loosen the knots. Kai glared with triumphant anger as his robed minions taunted Midoriya by mockingly screaming for help, and the crowd pointed and hollered. “NO! NO, LET HIM GO! STOP!” Eri cried out, as two of the masked men held her back. “Perhaps you’ll scream out the answer while you burn, you diseased piece of trash,” sneered Kai. “If not...at least tomorrow we’ll make sure your family suffers the same fate.” Midoriya struggled harder in response, which made Kai chuckle. He crossed his arms, the dark king patiently watching the fire rise and the smoke billow, quickly growing into thicker and thicker curls of vapor...it wouldn’t be long before Midoriya began coughing and wheezing. He was going to enjoy every last second of this he thought, shuddering with revulsion as he touched the stinging portion of his face the boy had spat on. “Bring me my balm,” he muttered, looking towards one of his minions. “I need to-” THUMP-A-THUMP-A-THUMP… Kai froze...and the crowd soon went silent...as a huge, pounding sound echoed through the air. The ground began to tremble, and all across the city went very quiet, confused and frightened as the noise grew steadily louder, and the vibrations more intense… Midoriya blinked, and looked upwards, as did Eri and Kai and nearly everyone else gathered in the city square. Midoriya saw a huge, towering silhouette - at least as large as the castle itself - approaching the area… “Kirishima?” he whispered to himself hopefully, with an optimistic smile.

“A Giant!” exclaimed King Kai, and barked orders to some of his soldiers as he moved a few steps away from the pyre, the people of the city clutching each other, their chatter turning into frightened noises as the King shouted and cried out: “Get to the edges of the city! Fan out! Do everything in your power, but don’t let that...that THING pollute my capital!” The soldiers hurried to move, forgetting all about Midoriya, whose pyre still burned. Midoriya himself had almost forgotten, himself, given the circumstances.: the adventurous lad’s smile quickly faded into a look of confusion and fear as he realized the hair didn’t look like Kirishima’s...and as the giant moved closer and closer, and people in the city began to fretfully murmur, he soon saw the glare of two glowing red eyes. So like Kirishima’s, yet so unlike them. A flash of green and orange caught his eye...and that’s when Midoriya knew. “B-Bakugou?!”

To Be Continued...

[lilyharvord]

The Chain (Part 11)

Hello Darlings, it’s been a long time coming, but here is the next part of The Chain. (: Please know that there is a little bit of forcing in this chapter to make things work, but its called a plot hole, not a plot no (((: Also, she is nice and long for you guys since it has been sometime since she got some TLC. 

I’ve got two words for you all: Time Travel.

Main concept: Two love struck idiots get sent back to a pretty UGH time period in their lives (that required me to reread all the books again) and have to hide the fact that they know everything. Stupidity ensues.

Enjoy

Find the rest of the fic here: Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10

tag list:  @delilahlbard, @king-maven-calore, @thatoddgirl777, @elliekratzzz, @evangelineartemiasamos, @evangeline-of-montfort, @scxrletguardsdawn, @freaky-freiday, @petergrantkavinsky, @kuwei, @whatsup-gorls, @katiemoore,  @redqueenetwork, @tranquil-dusk (I’m trying to add you but for some reason it wont @... the same problem happens with @thatoddgirl777 and I have no idea how to fix it)

(/Mare/)

The barge glides through the murky water of the river and beyond the polished silver railing I rest my hand on, the shore of the Stilts rolls by like a faded oil painting. Ahead of me, hanging over the water, is an old tree Bree once dared me to crawl out on. The branches skim the water like skeletal fingers. I curl my own fingers around the railing in response to the memory of Bree’s laugh. I hope I get to hear it again, echoing in my parent’s town home. 

           The footsteps behind me are too light to be Cal. Even with all the work he has done to learn subterfuge, he is still a large human being. He’ll never be very good at sneaking up on anyone. I force an inhale when warm air washes over my side though. 

           Maven rests his forearms on the railing to watch the Stilts with me, his jaw tight and his eyes dark. I didn’t see him earlier today before we cast off, and I made sure he had no reason to speak with me now. I left nothing in those cells when I rescued Farley, not even a dusting of blood for Elara to use against me. Whatever he has come to discuss, it will define every point from now until the end.

           “Have you heard of the chess move known as the King’s Snare?” His voice is softer than I thought it would be, given how hard the planes of his face are.

           I glance at him warily, chewing on a response. I don’t want to talk to him about chess. I know he’s a master of it, that in all the years they played, Cal never beat him. Cal, the future general and war strategist who could throw together a plan in minutes with nothing but a handful of Reds, Ardents, and Silvers, never beat the boy before me. I don’t know why I think I have a hope of beat him or Elara.

           “No. I don’t play chess.” I murmur letting the wind shift the loose hairs hanging by my cheeks. It plays in his curls too, tussling them like a loving hand.

           The corner of his lips quirk up in a ghost of a smile before he turns to face me. He doesn’t flinch from my gaze, but that smile does fall. Pressing off the railing to stand at his full height, he tilts his head to the side as if in thought. “It’s a complex maneuver, and requires turns upon turns of preparation. It is the only strategy you can play once you initiate it. In each step, you make it appear as if you are losing. You let your opponent think they have won, and in the final step of preparation, you let your queen be taken and your king be cornered in a check mate.”

He shrugs before looking back onto the bank. His eyes sweep along the shacks on their tottering stilts. “Then, you take the opposing king with the only piece you have left. A pawn.”

           I raise a brow at it before saying, “sounds complicated. I don’t have the patience for playing the long game, and I especially don’t like playing with people’s lives like they are pieces in my game.”

           A fire lights in his eyes as he drags them over me, his expression hardening again. “I’m not so sure that’s the truth.”

           His words are a warning in and of themselves. Squaring my shoulders to him and stabbing my nails into my palms, I purse my lips in a line to swallow my retort. We stand in a stalemate for a moment before he reaches a finger out to let a strand of my hair curl around it. His expression crumbles for just a moment before that mask slides up and hides the wounded boy underneath.

           “Let’s not play this game Mare.” He bows his head and his lips almost ghost over my brow. I turn my head to the side to avoid the touch.

           “I just told you I’m not playing games.”

           His chuckle is humorless. With a quick step he closes the space between us completely and I have to crane my neck to meet his eye. 

           “You’re still useful to me and mother, but Cal has overstayed his welcome by a few years. His whole life actually, if I’m being perfectly honest.”

           No more dancing around it then, we are going full in with the truth. I twist my lips to the side, letting my sneer finally grace my features. “If you think for one second I’m going to let you two get away with what you did a second time, you’re wrong.”

           “Even if it means you lose everything you have coming?” He asks me that as if he actually cares. It makes me reel back while he smiles like a wolf. “We know Mare, and while it’s adorable watching you attempt to play against us, you played your final card last night.”

           My lightning dances on my fingertips. What I wouldn’t give for Tyton’s brain lightning, so that I could turn Maven’s insides into jelly and leave him on this deck before going after Elara. I should have ended all of this weeks ago. I could have, I know that for a fact. 

           “I haven’t played any of my cards yet.” I warm Maven with a raised chin. I let the mask of Mareena disappear and I let him see Mare Barrow, the girl who bested two kings, the woman who has seen more than enough front lines, and who was born in a storm on top of a mountain. She has been broken and put back together so many times that she knows every piece of herself better than she ever did before. She thrives in storms and turns them to her will like this boy turns words to his.

           “You haven’t seen anything Maven. Don’t for one second think you have cornered me.” My lips curl into a small smile as I look him over with a critical eye. “Besides, while you’re playing chess, I am playing another game entirely.”

           A muscle in his jaw flutters when I speak, and his eyes darken further.

           Pressing to my toes, I let my next words caress his lips like a kiss. “And if you two do know everything, I’m surprised you haven’t removed any and all letter openers from my reach while we’ve been together.”

           His face pales in a flush, and the air around us climbs in temperature so quickly beads of sweat begin to prickle on my brow. Ignoring the monster I’ve obviously poked awake, I set my hand on his chest right above his pounding heart and drop my eyes to his lips before looking back up to meet those icy blue eyes.

           “And as for your mother, I think I killed her too quickly the first time.”

           His tongue darts across his teeth for a second before disappearing as his lips pull back in a sneer. There is a flash of something akin to uncertainty in his eyes though. A thrill rushes through me. She didn’t tell him that part, and she might have even kept his own death from him. Interesting.

           Sliding back away from him and dropping my hand, I take in his flittering emotions he desperately tries to keep under control. I can’t image what is passing through his mind. If Elara didn’t tell him about their deaths, what else has she kept from him? It might be worth it to poke a little more and find out.

           Even as the thought of prying him open and exposing his hollow insides thrills me, I can’t help thinking of how he spent hours near my bedside after Samson had turned me inside out and left me a bleeding corpse. Nor can I ignore that once upon a time, a part of him had loved me.

           “Oh Maven,” I breathe, my chest aching once more as I look him over. “You could have been something wonderful if you had been anyone else’s.”

           His inhale is sharp, and the heat around us vanishes as he sucks it in to fuel the furnace of his emotions. The next words that leave me are as much a truth as they are a weapon that I use against him.

           “I might have loved you too, you know. I might have been happy with you.”

           His entire body goes taut like a rubber band pulled too tight. I can’t imagine what those words have done to him, I know what they do to me. They relive the ache and chase away the cold bite from the autumn breeze that cuts through my loose shirt. I have known for years that he would never truly leave me, that I will always love him in a strange way. But seeing all of this, and discovering that even when I might have had a chance to save him, there was no chance so long as Elara loved him too.

           “The game is beginning. Line up your pieces if you want to play chess.” I murmur to him before stepping around him and heading for the viewing deck. I pause long enough to glance at him over my shoulder though and say, “but just know, it’s hard to beat an opponent that knows every move you will make.”

(/Cal/)

           Mare finds me between meetings. Her dark hair is swept up in an elaborate hairstyle she picks at nervously, drawing strands out to frame her face. Glancing over my shoulder at the remainder of the council as they pass, I pause before her long enough to say colorlessly, “Is something wrong Lady Titanos?”

           The few sets of eyes that watch us look away with shrugs. Their ears are probably still tuned in, but as far as they are concerned, she is probably looking for Maven and happened to find me first.

           “Farley made contact. The Hexaprin Theater just like before.”

           She’s been gone most of the day with Maven, making appearances and smiling like the dutiful princess she is. I’m not sure how Farley could have possibly made contact with her during all of that, but it’s a relief she didn’t contact Maven first. Meanwhile, I’ve been locked up in Whitefire. My father has hardly let me out of his sight, which I suppose should be understandable. The attempt on my life shook him to his core. Even though I push back, insisting they wouldn’t try again, he refuses to let me leave the castle walls. I don’t know how I will get out to join Mare in this endeavor like she wants with the Sentinels that trail me almost everywhere I go. I guess it now truly understand how Mare felt during her time with us. I don’t blame her for constantly being irritable now. 

Still, my brow rises as the name of the theater. I know it well. When I was younger Julian used to take me to plays and tried to pique my interest in the art form. I had squirmed in my seat the whole time, eager to get out of the dark space and run outside. He gave up once I turned ten, realizing I didn’t have much love for the arts. I knew it saddened him, that he had hoped I shared the same soft spot for them that my mother did. 

My chest tightens at the thought of my uncle. I got him out of Archeon earlier than before, helping him and Sara smuggle away in the dead of night after he got Farley and Kilorn out of the cells. I sent him to Montfort with instructions to speak with Dane Davidson as soon as possible. To try and get him in contact with Guard. There’s no telling if they made it. I can only hope they managed to cross the border.

“It’ll be tough for me to get out.”

“This will only work if you come with me.” Mare insists, her eyes darting past my elbow to the doors of the council chamber. I know who she’s looking for, but she won’t find him.

“He’s seeing to something with his mother.” I instruct, even as I glance around just to be certain. Only a servant passes in a flutter of skirts. She curtsies to me and Mare before hurrying along, obviously loath to be around us any longer than necessary.

“The bloodbase.” Mare’s voice drops to a worried waver as she sets her hand on her pocket. I know she has the book hidden in the pocket of her jacket, the one Julian gifted her with the name of every Ardent he found within Norta’s borders. She sleeps with it under her pillow, her fingers curled around the faded cover as if Maven will creep into her room at night and steal it away.

Shaking my head, I grab her elbow and pull her into an alcove when I hear the sound of more steps approaching. I squeeze into the space between the pillars with her until our bodies almost have to become one to fit. Her hands rest on my chest as she evens out her breathing, recognizing a hiding place when she sees it.

A group of nobles pass us, Osanos and Iral judging by the colors of their clothes. I purse my lips and wait until they leave the hall to look back down at her and whisper. “I took care of it. I printed out all their names and wiped them from the database. They’re safe.”

“Unless Maven is already going after them.” Mare mutters bitterly.

“He hasn’t. I checked last known whereabouts too. Everyone is accounted for.”

“People lie on those stupid records Cal.”

“Not when you’re the first person in years to click on the page.” I let my lips curl into a knowing smile. She can think I’m stupid and hardheaded all she wants, but I do know my way around my own world. “There is a clicker at the bottom of each record to indicate the last time it was opened. I am the first one to look at them in years. You can’t lie to that program.”

           She expels a breath, before look up at me through her lashes. “You’re too stubborn for your own good. We’re meddling too much now.”

           “At this point, does it really matter?” I ask, repeating words I spoke to Julian in the dead of night when he questioned my decision to send him to Ascendent.

           Her lips draw into a tight line that pales her already painted lips. “No.” She agrees before sliding out of the alcove so I can follow her.

           When we step into the light, I watch the shifting sunbeams as they cut across her face. She crosses her arms before looking down the hallway and saying, “We need to get into the afternoon showing. Can you do that?”

           I grimace thinking about my father and the hawk like eyes he has kept on me recently. “It’ll be difficult, but nothing I can’t handle.”

           “Do you want to rehearse with me?” She teases, eyes lighting with laughter when she notices how I chew on my lower lip.

           “I think I’ll tell my father that I’ve decided Evangeline can take a long walk off a short pier and that I much prefer you and I plan to make heirs with you as soon as we enter than theater box.”

           Her eye widen and a blush paints her cheeks. It’s so ferocious the makeup almost can’t hide it. It makes me chuckle before reaching a hand out to cup her jaw and stroke a thumb along that warm puddle of red staining her skin. “Kidding love. Although I think that he’ll be so surprised and horrified that he lets me go just to see if I’m serious.”

           “Mess up my nice skirts Tiberias and I will take your hands for it.” She snorts before pulling away and throwing a smirk over her shoulder. “Get us tickets to the show and be there with me. Also, it might be a good idea to assign Walsh to a... different part of Whitefire.”

           I grimace, remembering the last time I saw her foaming at the mouth while I tried to close her throat to keep the poison from spreading. I sent her for Mare, trusted her with the secret that I met a Red girl in the Stilts and cared. Regardless of what Mare might have thought of me before when that moment passed, I did care. A part of me had been horrified to watch the light leave Walsh’s eyes.

           “I’ll make sure of it.” I whisper.

(/Mare/)

           The theater darkens, and I sink back into my chair, keeping an eye on the Sentinels standing in the doorway. They are here to protect Cal. Allowances had to be made so that he could leave Whitefire, but its an allowance that may cost us our meeting with Farley. There are more of them than before, but they’re simply a hinderance, one that will have to be dealt with at some point very soon.

           Honestly, Maven and Elara trying to kill him has simply become an annoyance now. If they hadn’t, it would be so much easier to sneak around with Cal.

           “They have to go.” I murmur, letting my eyes flint to them as I edge a little closer to the railing of the box and glance over it into the crowd below.

           With a quick nod, Cal leans back in his seat. Before Maven gave the secretary that came with us a mischievous smile and quick order to get rid of our tail. Cal can do no such thing without raising suspicion. It’s already gotten out that I am the one that shouted his name and stopped the bleeding during the Sun Shooting long enough for Sara Skonos to get to him and save him. But Cal spread a faster rumor behind it, his words burning like wildfire through the High Houses, erasing the rumor I know Elara started about us. My shout hadn’t been in fear according to his account, it had sounded like nerves. Maybe I’d lost Maven in the crowd and gotten overwhelmed by the proceedings, and when I had seen Cal I called to him for help. Because of that, I had been close enough to stop the bleeding when the gun went off.

           I had been shocked at the lie he told with an abandon to his father and the court, and how well he crafted it on a moment’s notice. Perhaps he needed to stop spending so much time around Dane. I had noticed that crafty man spending a suspicious amount of time trying to craft Cal into a better Statesman in the recent years.

           “Sentinel Osanos, if you could take the others into the antechamber.” He nods over his shoulder to the small sitting room attached to the box. “I doubt you and the others have any interest in this show and your presence is unfortunately ruining Lady Mareena’s first impressions of it too.”

           “I have my orders, sir.” The Sentinel warns, his eyes darting between the two of us.

           “I can handle anything that comes.” Cal lets his lips quirk into an arrogant smile. I haven’t seen it in a long time, but it’s one of the few soldiers masks in his arsenal. It still makes my stomach flutter. “Besides, Lady Mareena has proven herself quite capable of saving my life if need be.”

           Osanos debates it for a very long second as the murmurs below us quiet and the curtain rustles with the start of the performance. During that second, my heart pounds. I don’t dare look up at the grating above out heads where I know Will Whistle will appear.

           “Of course, Your Highness.” The Sentinel bows his head and then nods to bring the others with him into the room. The door clicks shut, and the lock engages. I grab Cal’s hand and squeeze it in silent praise, before glancing at him side on.

           “Impressive.”

           His smile falls as he looks away from the door and forward again. “We’ll have to be silent. We’re lucky my father didn’t send an Eagrie with us.”

           Unfolding from his position in the chair to relax further, he turns his hand over to lace his fingers with mine. The touch sends waves of reassurance through me. Now we just have to keep him hidden long enough that Will doesn’t recognize him and gets us to Farley. After that, I’m not quite sure what we will do.

           “Farley won’t let you on the Undertrain without a fight.” I murmur, glancing at our joined hands. He sweeps his thumb along my skin in a soothing motion even as his eyes stay forward on the stage as it comes to life.

Gentle touches in the dark, so very like how our relationship started. It almost makes me snicker. I suppose things never really did change between us.

He doesn’t reply to my comment, but I know he’s thinking about it all the same. His palm heats with his frustration, but he doesn’t show it on his face.

I let my eyes wander to the stage where I finally get a look at the play I never watched before. Brightly colored costumes dance across the stage and I tilt my head to look at them, trying to understand the story. “We never went to any of the plays in Ascendent.” I murmur to him.

There were plenty of playhouses, and I know for a fact Julian got us tickets to one he loved. We never got the chance to go, but now I wish we had.

“I’ve never been a fan of theater.” He chuckles and finally turns to look at me. He traded his finer regalia for a more toned down jacket and black shirt today. With the aid of the darkness, I can almost imagine we are in Ascendent, that it’s just another weekend and we decided to do something we’ve never done.

“Then when you annoy me, I am going to drag you to shows when we get back and tie you to a chair so you can’t leave.” I say with a smirk.

The ceiling panel above our heads slides away, and his eyes dart up at the same time as mine. We’re both accustomed to how the Guard functions. The sudden disappearance of the tile doesn’t surprise him like it did Maven.

“Show time.” I whisper to him before dropping his hand and stepping on the seat of my chair. Grasping the edge of the hole I haul myself up into the darkness. When I glance down to help him though, he is already half-way into the crawl space with me. The panel slides into place as soon as Cal vanishes in the shadows. I wait half a second for Will to sound an alarm to notice that I don’t have the right prince with me.

He does no such thing, simply speaks into the darkness the same words he did before. “Be quick and quiet. I’ll take you from here.”

I reach for Cal’s wrist in the dark and grip it tightly with a reassuring squeeze. Will turns and begins to climb through the space, not waiting for us to follow.

“Watch your head,” I instruct as I skirt the edge of the ceiling panel. “It gets low in a few places.”

Cal grunts in understanding but follows at a pace that surprises me. It was a tight squeeze for Maven, so I don’t really know how Cal manages but he does. I’m sure he has Farley’s work with him to thank for that. He crawled through enough sewer tunnels and drains with us while we were at the Notch after all. I’m sure while I was locked away with Maven he was doing the same thing too.

The sounds of the play overhead mask our movements as we drop down ladders and steps and through little trapdoors. Cal only smacks his head once, and I flip around to grab his head to check for blood when he curses soundly in the dark. I grimace when I feel the nasty knot already taking shape on his forehead near his hairline. That will have to be explained away when we get back, but we really truly don’t have time to assess it too much. Will sets grueling pace, and Cal practically shoves me forward when the Whistle almost disappears around a turn.  

It takes only minutes for us to drop into the access tunnels that connect to the Undertrain platform. The damp chill of the space presses through my thin jacket and pants, reminding me of the march we did into Archeon to save Cal and everyone from the Lakelander invasion. Cal drops lightly down behind me though, and instantly the space warms and the memory fades. It’s still too dark to see his features clearly which is only to our advantage. I can’t have Will trying to stop us now.

That cover does not last long though. The platform is haunted by a lone torch, and when Will turns around with a sharp smile, ready to bask in our surprise, his eyes widen as he takes in Cal behind me. I set my hand on Cal’s chest in response, trying to push him back into the shadows while I light my hand with lightning.

Will never gets a chance to act though, the furious screech of the Undertrain as it rushes into the station shakes the walls and announces Farley’s arrival. As it coasts to a stop in front of us, Will spins to the doors and waves his arms while trying to shout over the screeching of the brakes to give a signal to not stop. The train grinds to a halt though, and the doors still open to spill more light onto the platform.

Farley unfolds from the chair like a spring let loose. Her hand flies to the gun at her hip, and I spin to face her with my lightning at the same time. Even with my ears ringing from the sound of the brakes engaging, I can hear the click of her turning the safety off as she draws the gun.

“Farley—” I try to shout, but Cal beats me to speaking, his voice a dangerous warning echoing in the tunnel as he glares Farley down.

“Diana, stop.”

He would have gotten the same reaction if he burned her alive. Farley’s eyes widen at the usage of her birthname, and her fingers wavers on the trigger long enough for me to speak.

“He’s with us.” I urge as I drop my hand, but I don’t dismiss the lightning bouncing between my fingers like webbing. It’s my own warning to her. She knows what I can do, and like her, I don’t miss anymore.

Her laugh is unexpected, and I almost jump at the sharp bite of it. She keeps the gun raised, but her fingers slides from the trigger to rest alongside the barrel. It’s the only sign she is still listening to us. “The little prince was right. He’s whispered his way into your head.”

“The only ones whispering into anyone’s heads is Maven and Elara .” Cal speaks quietly, his eyes scanning the track and the platform for any more Scarlet Guard operatives. There are none to be seen though.

Farley tilts her head to the side, her eyes narrowing to diamond colored slits. Her jaw tightens, but she doesn’t pull the trigger or even move her finger in the direction of it.

I expel a slow sigh of relief and take a step forward. I can feel the burn of electricity in the train, screaming like an upset toddler to be released. Gritting my teeth against the heachache forming because of it, I murmur, “you trusted me to get you out of that cell, trust me in this Farley. Hear us out.”

Her eyes moves past my shoulder to Cal who staggers his stance to move in either direction if he has to avoid her bullet. Her jaw ticks, and the electricity reaches an all time high pitch that stands my hairs on end. I haven’t felt anything like it weeks, not since the shield during Queenstrial exploded around me and tried to contain me.

“Make your decision, the Undertrain won’t wait.” I grimace as I reach up to press my fingers to my temple where the ache is strongest. If she notices my use of the train’s name, she doesn’t say anything.

Cal takes a step forward, stealing ground, only for Farley train that gun on him again and rest her finger on the trigger. 

“Not another step, Your Highness.” She squeezes gently, putting enough pressure on that trigger that even the slightest movment on her part will fire the gun. I side step to put myself in front of Cal should she overestimate her abilities, but Cal simply pushes me to the side again.

With quick movements he unclasps the bracelets around his wrists and holds them up to the light for Farley to see. “Incentive,” he murmurs before tossing them in her direction. She lowers the gun to catch them one handed, almost dropping them due to their weight. I inch forward, my hand extended for them in surprise. I trust Cal to make a tactical decision, but he just threw his own tactical advantage five feet away from him.

The metal bands glint dully in the odd florescent lights of the Undertrain, but Farley glances down at them, unimpressed. With a quirked brow she raises the gun again, although its much more hesitant this time.

“I’m nothing without them.” Cal instructs while he sweeps his arms out from his sides as if to accentuate his point. “Keep them until we finish talking if it pleases you. But we do have to talk.”

“I know.” Farley reasons, her eyes narrowing before darting between the two of us. Even if I didn’t know her as well as I do, I could see the distrust and unease in her eyes. I can’t imagine what Maven has told her, but I know that he hasn’t spoken to her since before the Sun Shooting. It is our only advantage right now, that and the fact that Julian and I were the ones to get her and Kilorn out of the cells below the palace. It doesn’t hurt either that by the time we got down to the cells, the king was more concerned with his son almost dying than the rebels trapped in the cell before him. There had been no time for the interrogation that I know almost cost Farley her arm. She got off easy, too easy, because of us.

Whatever battle she is fighting with herself ends, and she steps to the side to let us pass.

(////)

Narcery is more disheveled than I remember. Perhaps it’s because I’ve already seen most of it repaired and turned into a decent city again years from now. Or maybe it’s because I’ve truly forgotten how downtrodden the world was before we began to right it. Either way, it’s hard not to grimace as we slink through the streets toward the café Farley stomps toward.

The Reds in the doorwards gasp and whisper as Cal passes, and I reach down to grip his hand. None of them are New Blood that I know of, but if someone gets it in their head to finish was Farley started, they won’t make it more than two steps.

He gives me a reassuring squeeze as we pass through the crumbling doorway of the café and into the dimly lit space. In his little booth, Kilorn practically almost leaps to his feet, his eyes wide while his hand flies to the gun on his belt.

“Stand down.” Farley orders smoothly, earning a frown from my friend. He doesn’t immediately listen, but his fingers eventually relax and drop back to his side. I release the tension in my shoulders in response. The air in the room shifts with the change in heat and static that Cal and I bring, but the ice in Kilorn’s gaze might as well be tangible too.

“And why haven’t we shot him?” He asks Farley as she drops into the booth.

With a wave of her hand, she dismisses him and glares in our direction. Cal’s bracelets clink against the dusty table as she sets them out in the open. With a tilt of her head, her expression relaxes and the nasty scar cutting through her lip softens. It never ceases to amaze me how young she really was when this all started. We were all still just children, playing games we never should have.

“They want to speak,” she says, her eyes dropping to our entwined hands. “And I have to admit I am curious what excuse Mare will give to explain blowing our entire operation to pieces.”

“We hardly blew it to pieces, you were almost completely successful.” Cal huffs behind me, and I dig my elbow into his side in response. No use pissing off Farley, or enticing her to pull that gun out again. We both know she will too.

Glaring at Cal for his comment, I address the other two sitting in the booth. “Maven gave you Cal’s name, but he was not the original target.”

“No,” Farley agrees, “he wasn’t.”

“It was Ptolemus Samos.” I turn my eyes back to her, and am rewards with a quirked brow, the only sign she is surprised by my knowledge. Kilorn is not as good at hiding his emotions. His brows dart up towards his hair line as he shakes his head in disbelief.

“You missed that meeting, the one where he gave us the original names! He told us that he never told you them... you can’t possibly have known—”

“I know because I’ve already been through that shooting before. You don’t get Ptolemus that time either.” I step forward and leave Cal behind me, safely in the line of my body. If Farley wants to shoot him at any point in time, she’ll have to shoot me first. “The Sun Shooting was a disaster that time, and it was a disaster this time.”

Kilorn blinks at me, confusion sweeping over his face now. Farley is simply more skeptical, and rightfully so. I didn’t exactly explain anything, just created more questions and puzzling conclusions for her.

“What are you getting at Barrow?” She murmurs as her eyes dart to the broken window behind me. I don’t dare look at who might be there. If its Shade, I will never be able to leave these ruins.

“You have to promise to listen to us, to let us explain as quickly as possible.” Cal speaks for me and the heat that rolls off of him washes over me as he steps closer, soothing tense muscles I bunch in preparation to run. His hand presses into my lower back only a second later. “We don’t have much time.”

Farley’s eyes narrow even further as she takes in how we stand next to each other, and how we remain close enough to protect the other at all times. Even if Maven told her that I was slowly teetering toward Cal, our body language suggests a deeper relationship and understanding of each other than could ever be established in a few weeks. Not to mention Cal knew her name, her real name. There’s no way in hell he could have found that out on his own.

“Who are you?” She asks quietly after a moment, earning a worried glance from Kilorn.

My lips curl into a slow smile as I take in her uncertainty. I can’t remember the last time Farley was on the backfoot. She has always been so headstrong and driven, but she reels back now, like a horse seeing a snake under its hooves. “We’ve all met before, and known each other for years.”

“Bullshit.” She says, pushing to her feet and advancing on me. Cal’s fingers curl around my arm to pull me behind him. I stand my ground though and raise my chin as she stand over me.

“How’s your dad? The Colonel? Has that eye healed up yet?” I ask with a quirked brow. Her breathing fluctuates at the mention of him while she stops dead in her tracks. Her eyes dart to Cal as if to assess how much he reacts to my words. He does nothing but glance down at me and drop my arm, catching on to what I’m doing. Farley won’t be bought over with a cute story like what we told Julian and Sara. She will need cold hard evidence, painful evidence if need be.

“It’s kind of cute that you decided your code name would be lamb, since his is ram.” I tilt my head to the side, earning an strangled inhale as she backpaddles. “Even more so given how infuriating he can be for you.”

Her whole face goes red, and tips of her ears tinge pink immediately. Kilorn opens his mouth to say something, thinks better of it, and closes it again. I don’t blame him, the fury in Farley’s eyes is enough to burn me to the ground.

With her lips pressed into a firm line, she presses her shoulders back to stand to her full height. “Are you Command?” She asks stiffly, her eyes roaming over me and settling on Cal when he barks out a dry laugh.

I elbow him again and shoot a glare, but he laughs at my expression. Turning his amusement on Farley, he says, “no. I’m not even on the list of people they would open a position for.”

“We know those in Command though.” I shoot a single spark into Cal’s arm to shut him up, making him snap back and rub the spot.

“I don’t believe you. Its not possible.” Farley growls setting her hand on her gun.

“I would appreciate you not drawing that gun Diana.” Cal warns his amusement dying as fast as my comfort with the situation.

“Who told you my name.”

“I know it from previous experience.”

“Don’t see how that’s possible.” Kilorn grumbles before rising from the booth as well. His eyes dart between the two of us, and as he starts to form his own opinon the curiosity in his eyes bleeds away into brittle resentment.

“Like I said, we’ve known each other for years.” I push past my locked jaw. This is starting to look next to impossible but if we have any hope of saving ourselves from the disaster to come, then we have to get them to listen to us.

“To be more clear, we will know each other for years someday.” I correct my previous statement quietly, letting the words hang in the too heavy air for a few seconds. Farley quirks a brow, realization crossing her features as she starts to put things together. She’s always been quick as a whip, and that works to our advantage.

Right when I think she’s about to say something though, she laughs. Kilorn blinks at her, taking a hesitant step away. I doubt he’s ever heard the sound, but I know it well. It still cracks on the edges the same way it does in the future. Honestly, it always sounds like she never laughs, even though I know for a fact she does that more than anything someday.

“Barrow, I have seen what you can do. And while it turned everything I knew about the world upside down… you cannot expect me to also factor some form of time travel into this whole mess.” She shakes her head, and dismisses me with a wave. Still laughing to herself she sinks down into the booth, and takes to fiddling with Cal’s bracelets. There is a hint of uncertainty behind her eyes though, and I know exactly who and what she is thinking about.

“There are hundreds—thousands like me Farley. You haven’t met all of them yet, but there are abilities far stranger than mine. My brother’s for instance.”

Her expression pulls tight for a heartbeat before she smoothers the emotion. I pull on that line though, and step forward, pointedly ignoring Kilorn who is still gapping like a fish and trying to come to the same conclusion as Farley. “I know he’s alive, and that he’s here with you. He jumps, appearing in different places in seconds. I make lightning. There will be a New Town girl who becomes our friend that can kill you with a thought and silence Silvers in the same way. There are three other Reds just like me in Montfort. There is a girl who can bathe everyone in a bubble of silence so no one outside of it can hear you. Another woman can remember every single thing she reads or that is said to her. Another older woman can change her face to be whoever you need her to be.” My heart squeezes at the memory of all the Ardents I rescued and then sent to their deaths. I promised them safety, security, and then pulled all of that away from them. All because one man told me I had to do it. “Is it so hard to believe then that there is someone years from now who can send people back in time?”

Those diamond eyes snap to me and look me over before Farley’s lips twist into a half sneer. “Your brother is dead Barrow, he was executed for—”

“Farley, please.” I whisper, coming to stand over her. Even sitting she is almost as tall as me, but I channel every ounce of military prowess she tried to teach me as I glare down at her. “If I walk out of this room, I will find him in less than an hour, and you will feel incredibly stupid when I do.”

Her lips pale as she pushes them together, tighter than ever before. Her eyes dance to Cal beyond me again, who has thankfully kept his mouth shut this whole time and has decided to simply sit on the edge of a table to watch us.

“He came with me.” I soften my tone and slowly sink down into the seat opposite her. Her eyes follow me like a rabbit would a wolf. Her fingers are cold when I take them, even with how warm it is in the room. She doesn’t pull away though, and I wonder if somewhere, her future self recognizes my touch. “I need you to trust us. I know how hard that is with everything that has happened, but Farley you have to.”

“Do we win?” She asks the question so quietly, I almost miss it while I’m speaking. Every muscle in body tenses against the truth that wants to escape though. I glance at Cal, wondering if he heard the same thing as me. He simply looks down at his boots, unable to offer any aid.

Swallowing past the rock in my throat, I look down at the table top. It’s dusty and cracked in some places. But it has no answers either. We have already done so much to destroy the path we were supposed to be on, what was one more change? “Yes,” I whisper and her eyes flash bright and wide.

“But we pay may terrible prices for it.” The last part almost doesn’t make it out. Shade’s death tries to claw that statement to ribbons, Archeon burning, and all the people we lost in the Harbor Bay siege and the final Archeon siege weigh heavy against my chest. The silence stretches to the breaking point around us as those memories consume me. I wish I could take back those words, swallow them and refrain from admitting to what I’m sure she suspects. She must read the memories as they pass across my face because her expression softens a hint.

“Its war Barrow,” the Farley I know so well comes to the surface when she switches her grip to grab my hands instead. “I never expected to win for free.”

She narrows her eyes at Cal then, who simply gives her a tight nod she doesn’t return. “I still don’t like you.” She announces a second later. “And I hope I never do.”

“You give me a hard time for years, I promise you that much.” He teases, some of the light returning to his eyes. I crack a weak smile at their banter, even though I ache at the reminder of the future relationship they share. Farley never does let him off the hook, and every chance she has to remind him of his past, she does. I don’t blame her though, she never lets herself get too congenial with anyone.

“We trust him… just like that?” Kilorn tries to burn a hole between Cal’s eyes with his glare. He doesn’t succeed, especially when Cal smirks at him and leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees. He’s the picture of ease, and I know that drives Kilorn insane.

“Relax Kilorn,” I tease, and then beckon Cal over to me. “He knows that if he steps out of line I won’t hesitate to put him back in his place.”

Farley glances between the two of us before saying, “So the second prince wasn’t lying. You two are…”

“In this together.” Cal finishes for her. His eyes narrow at what Maven might have inferred even as he looks down at me for confirmation.

“We don’t have time to get into details,” I add, making room for him in the booth as I lean forward to start drawing a map of Archeon in the dust on the table. “Maven and his mother know what we know. Which means they have been pulling the strings and trying to sabotage any advantage we have. They will not hesitate to wipe the Scarlet Guard off the map this time around.”

“I don’t understand.” Kilorn grumbles and crosses his arms tightly across his chest. “I thought we trusted that prince?”

“Maven is the one we have to worry about.” I finish drawing the bridge and narrow my eyes at the crude drawing. “He was always going to betray us.”

“How?” Farley sneers, obviously not happy with me inferring that she made a mistake in judgement. Maven was her recruit after all. “He’s given us names, information.”

“All fed to him by his mother, who is counting on us tomorrow night staging a coup and failing so that she can murder the king and remove you and any true Scarlet Guard opposition.” I murmur and watch as Farley’s fury melts into horrible understanding. My stomach drops but Cal speaks before I can.

“He’s already spoken with you and made the plan.” His voice is cold, even while the space around us starts to burn with the heat he releases. My own lightning wants to be unleashed as well. It takes more effort than I like to reign it in. I was wrong. He did speak with her, about more than just me and Cal. 

“He said Barrow would try to come to me and change my mind, that I had to know she was in collusion with you and planned to stand by your side when the time came. That she would ultimately betray me.” Farley breathes, her eyes widening. “He said that the coup was the only way we would win, remove you two in one swoop.”

“He and Elara were counting you believing him wholly and me not bringing Cal.” I growl, and swipe my hand through the map on the table to erase it. The plan is useless at this point. Maven already took it and molded it to his needs. I should have never spoken to him on the barge, maybe I should have just continued to pretend I was some stupid girl that didn’t know how to play the game. I may have destroyed any hope we had of beating him and Elara now.

“They also aren’t counting on us having any other plan. Or my support.” Cal murmurs before drawing his own map in the dirt. The angle is far different from what I drew. “They don’t know that I know the future or that I am with you all. They think Mare is the only one.” His finger moves through the dust and Kilorn finally edges closer to see what he draws.

“So we play into their hands.” He murmurs as he glances at me for my support.

“What?” I wheeze as I watch him draw the same offensive we instigated last time. “Cal, if we do that—”

“Then it all goes the way it did before, with the added benefit that when you get captured this time, we can stop Elara. We know what’s coming and we can plan for it.” Cal finishes drawing his map before drawing a second more detailed map of the Whitefire next to it. “This time, we won’t be alone in that room.”

I struggle to keep up with his thought process, trying to determine exactly how he plans to make this work. The only way Farley and the other Scarlet Guard members will make it into that room is in shackles like me. Elara will slaughter us all like pigs then. 

“The tunnels run under Whitefire right?” He asks Farley who hesitates for a second before nodding tersely. He etches a few makeshifts ones into the picture and then sits back to say, “when I take Mare captive for treason, you and a small unit will move through the tunnels and get to the throne room. From there, you wait for a signal Mare and I will give. When that happens, we take Elara and Maven.”

“Bold.” Farley murmurs as she glances over the plan. “And suicidal. We’ll never make it in.”

“You will if I don’t station anyone at a specific entrance. Name it, and I will keep the regiments away from it.” Cal waves his hand over the picture and glances forlornly in my direction. “If it fails, we still go to the Bowl of Bones, but this time we’ll know what to expect.”

My heart pounds in my chest as the memory of the too thin sand shifting beneath my feet almost overtakes me. Even though it is years behind me and days ahead of me, the heat of Cal’s fire trying to catch on the sand still burns my cheeks and my stomach twists at the echoing sound of the bar punching through Arven’s chest.

“In the meantime, you need to evacuate Tuck.” I whisper forcing the bile down as I look up at Farley. She blanches at the command, but I narrow my eyes to silence her. “Elara has seen in my mind. She knows about Tuck, she knows about a number of other Scarlet Guard strongholds like Narcery too. Did you not find it strange that Maven was not afraid to travel to a supposed heavily radiated place?”

She opens her mouth to argue with me, only to shut it like a trap and narrow her eyes. The thought never occurred to her, and I understand why. He probably got on the Undertrain and immediately started spilling honey and poison in her ear until she couldn’t even hear herself think. I can’t blame her for anything, he did the same to me, and I lapped at it like a starving child.

“Where will we go?” Kilorn whispers anxiously, his eyes darting to the street outside, as if a regiment might come marching down it right now. I don’t blame him. My friend is brave, always has been and always will be, but a Silver regiment is no laughing matter to him yet.

Cal stiffens next to me and says, “Irabella is the only safe haven. Mare was never there, but I was.”

“Why—”

“I doesn’t matter.” I interrupt Kilorn, and lean forward to speak again. “You just have to trust us. Tell the Colonel you have reason to believe Tuck and a number of other bases have been compromised. That an informate you have high up in the palace you trust explicitly told you that. The Notch is not safe either.”

Farley’s eyes widen, and it is then I realize that the mention of that safe haven is what finally secures her trust. The Notch was her hiding hole. Not one her father came up with. Command might not have even known about it. If what Cal and I said was true, and we were her allies in the future, she may have taken us there at some point. I wish I would have been smart enough to start with the mention of it. We could have saved time.

“And you need to start finding the others like me.” I whisper, as I pull the book out of my jacket pocket and set it on the table. The cover gleams against the dusty surface of the table, and I almost can’t pull my fingers off of it. The fates of so many reside inside of it. Cameron’s furious expression flashes through my mind as I ordered her taken onto the Blackrun. I will not force her into anything this time though. I only hope I don’t have to rescue her from a prison though.

I slide the book to Farley and trail my fingers off the cover as I whisper, “Maven and Elara might already be on the hunt for the Ardents in here, but I circled the names of the people that we rescued together. He will target them first if he is going after them, so you have to beat him to it.”

She picks up the book gingerly before looking between us and saying, “you mentioned the Bowl of Bones.”

Cal smiles wearily but leans back with the poise of a general to say, “we won’t have to worry about it. We’re going to avoid that point all together.”

Farley’s fears are not soothed by Cal’s confidence, and I can almost see the spikes she wants to drive through his eyes. At least she nods though, agreeing with him for the time being. I can’t even begin to express the relief that courses through me as she puts the book in her own pocket and nods once more.

“Then we will go with your signal.”

[meltwonu]

| caffeine |     [chapter 6]

pairing; fratboy!wonwoo x female!reader

this chapter’s notes; hair pulling, squirting, forced orgasm, overstimulation, degradation/dumbification, name calling, cockwarming????, face fucking, cum eating, sir kink, minor daddy kink, BUT SOME MINOR AFTERCARE BAYBEEEEEE🤣💕😭 kdjfhks this is more smut than it is plot which is rly the concept of this series but i really did get lost in the sauce on this one, so enjoy!💕💕

chapters; 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - x - x - x - x

“H--Hello?”

“Are you fucking Wonwoo?” Your sleepy eyes try to adjust to the morning sunlight seeping through your bedroom curtains as Mingyu’s eerily calm voice filters through the receiver. “Hello? Can you hear me? I asked you a question??” You can almost register the eye roll that’s surely on his face right about now.

“Wh--what? Wait, I--”

“I’m just asking if you’re fucking Wonwoo, it’s really a yes or no question.” How the fuck did he even know?

“I--I, how--but--” There’s a scoff on the other end as you sit up, checking the clock as it reads 8:51AM. Why was Mingyu even awake?

“I literally live with the guy and for the record, Seokmin’s a fuckin’ chatterbox. You don’t think his big ass mouth wasn’t spillin’ the beans last night? He practically threw himself at me last night after you left to tell me about your little rendezvous in the hallway restroom. Which I had to disinfect, by the way.” Fuckin’ Seokmin. It’s quiet on the other end as you sit and try to wake yourself up a little more before you reply.

“Well?”

“Mingyu, give me a fuckin’ second.” He laughs, a groan heard through the phone before you hear his bedsheets rustling. “Also for the record, I’m not mad or anything. We’re friends and I just want to know what’s going on with you. Wonwoo’s an interesting choice for someone like you though.” Someone like you?

“What does that even mean, Mingyu?”

“Oh, y’know, Wonwoo’s one of the quieter ones around here. He acts like a dad sometimes and keeps everyone in order. I dunno, that never seemed like your type to me. Unless that is your type? But hey, I’m not mad at it. Are you two dating or somethin’?” Haha.

“No.”

Something about your conversation with Mingyu makes you feel a little weird and you can’t shake the feelings even when you step past the doorframe of the campus library. Wonwoo catches your eye at the receptionist table, silently willing you to walk over to him when his eyes meet yours.

“Hi, Wonwoo.” You take in his features, watching as his jaw clenches slightly. He peers around the room, making sure everyone is out of earshot before he whispers over the table.

“Meet me in the empty study room at the end of the long hall. The very last room. 10 minutes.” There’s a blush on your cheeks as you turn away from him, weaving through the various bookshelves as if you were browsing. Something about his demeanor seemed off but you didn’t know what. Maybe he was upset that Seokmin had basically told everyone his business? Regardless, you knew the study room that was at the end of the hall was completely abandoned. The few times he had cornered you were in other study rooms that hadn’t been that far into the library, so you were curious and a little nervous as to why he’d ask you to meet him there in particular.

But you listen, watching other various students pass by as you slowly make your way through the aisles until you’re near the designated room where Wonwoo had asked you to go to; stopping periodically to sift through the books on the shelves, uninterestedly grabbing a few to make it look like you had an actual purpose to be there other than seeing the fox eyed male. Eventually, it draws closer to the 10 minute mark so you look in both directions before you put your hand on the doorknob and twist.

The light flickers on once you enter the said room, setting your things down onto the table that’s seemingly been cleaned prior to you showing up. Wonwoo is still nowhere in sight so you take a seat, getting comfortable as you pop open one of the books you picked off the shelf.

A couple minutes pass in silence before the doorknob rattles behind you; quietly closing the book as you turn in your chair to face the bespectacled male standing in the doorway.

“On your knees.”

Wonwoo is mad, that’s for sure. Or upset? All you knew at this point was that he was surely over his break time by now.

He didn’t really explain anything.

But the way his hands pull on your hair hard enough to make you cry has you theorizing what could’ve happened.

Thankfully he’s kind enough to let you touch yourself; your lower half completely bare as your fingers drag across your wet folds, slowly inserting in a finger. You relax your throat at the same time, letting Wonwoo let out whatever frustrations he’s got by fucking your throat open.

“Fuuuuuck, your mouth feels incredible around me.” There’s a growl at the end of Wonwoo’s words and you can’t deny the way it sends a thrum of arousal through your body as you whimper around him. You try to look up at him through bleary eyes, cheeks already stained with drying tears. “Mmmph?” He chuckles lowly, thrusting his cock into your mouth until your lips meet the base of it. You swallow around him by reflex, fresh hot tears springing to your eyes when he holds you there.

“My dumb little slut wants me to fuck her ‘lil wet pussy, hmm? I can see how wet you are from here, princess.” He pulls you off of his cock; the air flooding your lungs as you sputter. “Get up from the floor, you cumslut. I want you bent over the table.”

You get up on shaky legs, sniffling and wiping at your tears with the back of your hand as you position yourself over the table.

“Let me see how wet you are, princess.” You reach behind you, spreading your folds open to let Wonwoo see how wet your pussy was. “Think your slutty pussy is wet enough for my cock?”

“Yuh--Yes, s-sir…” Wonwoo takes your word, positioning himself at your entrance before he bottoms out in one thrust, a loud moan cutting through the air as you clench around him.

“Ah, W-Won--Wonwoo…”

Your nails dig into the table underneath you as he starts an unrelenting pace, your eyes rolling back when he slams into your g-spot. “Fuh---fuck, s-sir!! Please, right t-there!!” He brings a hand down onto your ass, slapping the skin until it blooms into a pretty red.

“Does my cock feel good inside your tight pussy? Hmm? You dumb little slut, all you know how to do is take my cock.” You can hear his cruel laugh; drool dripping onto the table as your head starts to feel fuzzy.

“C-can I cu--cum, please?”

“No. And if you do, you’ll be sorry.” You whimper, trying to stave off the pleasure building up inside. And when Wonwoo feels you getting tighter around him, he pulls out, letting you catch your breath as he effectively edges you. You can feel a trickle of sweat down the side of your face, thankful that you’d at least stripped off some of your clothes. But you turn your head to the side, noticing Wonwoo’s still mostly dressed except for the stupid sweater vest he decided was too precious to get dirty.

You watch as he strokes his cock, his mouth open slightly as he lets out quiet moans.

“Mm, Won---s-sir, please put your cock i-inside of me…”

“Did you finally calm down?”

“Yes, sir…” The pleasure inside of you is still building when Wonwoo re-enters you, starting his quick pace again. The room fills with the sounds of your moans and skin slapping, the air feeling thick around you. He edges you 3 more times; pulling out when he feels you about to cum.

And after a few minutes, you can’t help but sob, knowing full well there wasn’t a chance you could stop your orgasm this time; legs shaking as you bite your lip hard enough to draw blood.

There’s a moment where you feel your body go slack, static going through your mind as you cum. You can barely register Wonwoo growling behind you, his thrusts becoming inconsistent as he fucks you through your orgasm. You feel your body twitching, feeling his cum filling up your pussy as you clench around him, milking his cock.

“Fuck, did you just squirt?”

“H-huh?”

“Filthy ‘lil thing, you got my work pants all dirty. How do you think I’m going to explain this one?”

Wonwoo slips his cock from inside of you, his cum trickling down your thighs as you whimper against the table underneath you. “I’m, mmh, s-sorry I--I didn’t r-realize I--”

“Sorry? I don’t think ‘sorry’ is going to cut it, princess. I’m going to have to punish you. But you’ll be good and take it, won’t you?”

“Y-yes, sir…”

Wonwoo slaps your ass once, watching as a drop of cum hits the floor. “Get up on the table and spread your legs.”

“B--But I’m--”

“Do I need to repeat myself?”

You find it in your best interest to listen to Wonwoo, urging your tired legs to work as you turn around so you can sit on the table somehow. And your eyes catch the wet droplets all over his work chinos; thankfully not super visible due to them being black.

Once you manage to get your tired body onto the table, you spread your legs wide, holding them open with whatever strength you have left.

Wonwoo drops to his knees in front of you, licking the stripes of cum off of your thighs as a blush grows on your face. Something about him licking his own cum off of you was undeniably… hot. And he continues this, kissing and licking at your skin until it’s clean, his tongue lapping at your folds.

“Push my cum out.”

You whimper, body already exceedingly sensitive as he laps at your pussy, catching the cum that spills out of you on his tongue. And when he’s had enough, he stands, tangling a hand into your hair as he tilts your head up to meet his in a sloppy kiss.

His tongue licks at the seam of your lips, your mouth opening in a moan at the feeling. Wonwoo pushes his cum into your mouth, smirking against your lips after he’s pushed all the sticky substance inside as he silently waits for you to swallow it; only pulling away when he knows you have.

“You’re such a good little slut for me. But we’re not done here yet.” He lets go of your hair, adjusting his glasses a second later before he wraps a hand around his cock. You were surprised he was still hard even after cumming once, but you also couldn’t deny how much you still wanted him to fuck you more.

The two of you were clearly having a bit of an off morning, so you were honestly thankful Wonwoo was in a bit of a mood.

“Ready for my cock again, princess?”

“Y--yes, sir…”

“Spit on my cock then, cumslut.” The angle is a bit awkward but you manage; a glob of spit and remnants of his cum landing on his shaft before he smears it all over his cock. And he doesn’t wait another second, thrusting into you in one swift motion as he bottoms out.

“I want you to be a good little slut and cum on my cock just like this.” Shit. You mewl, wiggling your hips slightly. “But--But…”

“What’s wrong? My dumb ‘lil princess can’t cum unless I’m fucking your cunt? Just having my cock inside you isn’t enough?” You clench your jaw, clenching around his cock. A few minutes pass like that, small whimpers leaving you the entire time Wonwoo watches you.

10 minutes pass, feeling like it’s been 30, when you can’t take it anymore. The head of Wonwoo’s cock is snug against your g-spot and if he just moved a little bit, you were sure you could cum. But he gives you a harsh glare, daring you to disobey him.

“S--sir, can y-you please touch my--my clit?”

“If you wanna cum, you can do it yourself.”

You nod shakily, keeping one hand on your leg and trailing the other towards your swollen nub, drawing circles around it as you cry out. “I---I---Mmh!”

Your thighs tremble as you cum, Wonwoo’s hand batting yours away as he rubs your clit harshly, milking your orgasm as your walls flutter around him.

“See? I knew you could cum just from my cock inside of you, princess.” The cocky lilt in Wonwoo’s voice has you mewling, small cries of his name leaving your mouth as the oversensitivity really sets in. He lets you catch your breath for a second before he pulls all the way out, only keeping the head of his cock inside before he thrusts all the way in, slamming into your cervix.

“Such a greedy little slut. Squirting all over me and cumming three times? I fuckin’ spoil you and your fuckin’ pussy don’t I, princess?”

“Mmh…yuh---yes, daddy...” A smirk graces Wonwoo’s lips, his hands gripping your thighs as he pulls you towards him. “Daddy, huh?” He scoffs, digging his nails into your skin as he grinds into you.

“D--daddy, I, ngh, I--ca--can’t…”

“You will. Your ‘lil pussy is still so tight around me, princess.” You feel breathless and like your brain has turned to mush. But he wasn’t wrong. Despite how tired you already were, you could already feel another orgasm building up inside of you.

“Da--daddy!”

“C’mon, princess. Cum on my cock. Isn’t that what you know best? Getting daddy’s cock wet?” You nod feverishly, letting your back meet the table as the tiredness takes over. Wonwoo keeps your legs spread open, watching his cock disappearing into your pussy.

“Dumb little cockslut. Letting me fill your slutty ‘lil pussy with my cum. So good for me, princess.”

Hot tears spring to your eyes as you feel your third orgasm come to a head; the tension in your body snapping as your back arches off of the table. Wonwoo fucks you through your orgasm again, unloading his cum inside of you for the second time with a groan.

You momentarily black out, garbled noises leaving your lips and body going weak as Wonwoo slips his cock from your body.

When you come to after a few minutes, Wonwoo’s got you laying down on the floor cleaned and dressed; his book bag underneath your head as a pillow.

“Fuck, I thought I fucked you into a coma.”

“Ugh…”

“Are you okay? Drink some of this water, sweetheart.” He helps you sit up, bringing a water bottle to your mouth. You hadn’t realized how raw and sore your throat was, the cool liquid soothing you almost immediately. “Maybe we should’ve had a safe word.”

You clear half the water bottle, a satisfied sigh on your lips afterwards. “S’okay… I wanted you to be rough with me… But I do have a question?” Wonwoo nods, tucking a stray hair behind your ear. “Shoot.”

“What got you so… upset? I, um, I mean Mingyu called me this morning to ask about u-us and it kind of put me in a weird mood so…”

“Oh, no, princess I’m not mad about that. They were going to find out eventually, it was only a matter of time.”

“Oh.” He chuckles, sitting on the floor next to you. “Actually, I signed up to go on an excavation trip with one of my archeology professors and I was rejected. He told me before I applied that I was overqualified so I was a sure fire choice to be included and I wasn’t. He didn’t really have an explanation for me either.”

“Wonwoo, I’m sorry…” You place a hand on his forearm, squeezing it in comfort.

“It’s whatever, I’m the one that should be sorry, I shouldn’t have taken it out on you like that. Guess I was angrier about it than I thought.”

“It’s okay… I think we’ve both had a weird day.. Oh my god! Wait, shouldn’t you be working!?” The panic is clear in your voice as you attempt to stand up, shaky legs folding underneath you as your butt hits the carpeted floor.

“I told Joshua I was leaving early, nobody even knows we’re back here.” He adjusts his glasses, running a hand through his silver locks. You settle back down, playing with the hem of your shirt as the two of you settle into silence.

“Um, I’m--I’m glad your pants are dry?” He scoffs jokingly, eyes glancing downward at the now drying material.

“Yeah, you’re lucky I decided to wear my black chinos to work today or else you would’ve really been in some shit.”

[refinedbuffoonery]

Flawless (7)

Con Artist AU. masterlist. 

Content Warning: swearing, PTSD, violence, sex

Before we get started here, you all need to know that Flawless will be going on a mini-hiatus. This chapter is the end of my original outline, and I need to spend some time planning out the next plot arc before I write the next chapter. 

(Also, shoutout to the lovely humans who translated the line in French. Y’all are the real MVPs.)

Anyway, this is it. The chapter you’ve all been waiting for. The heist. It feels so surreal to finally write it. As always, thank you for coming on this wild ride with me. ❤

*****

In the shadow of its brightly illuminated landmarks, Paris hummed to the tune of debauchery. 

Paparazzi gathered around the Louvre’s glass pyramid, waiting to capture a clear picture of a celebrity guest entering the afterparty. Riley shielded her face with her clutch as she walked in, careful to remain unidentifiable in the barrage of photos. The gold buttons on her emerald jacket-dress caught the warm light emanating from the pyramid and the bright camera flashes. She was well dressed, but not enough to stand out. Tonight, Riley needed to blend in. 

She ran a hand through her hair, making sure the loose curls covered her earpiece. For the sake of stealth, the team’s comms were skin color, but they were Nikki and Cage’s skin color, not Riley’s. 

Riley was half-tempted to throw her comms into one of the fountains out of spite. 

She was the last of the Five Eyes to arrive. They staggered their arrivals to avoid being associated with one another, as a precaution. Pulse thrumming in anticipation, Riley bounced on her toes slightly as she waited in line to check in. The Louvre security team meticulously checked each guest’s ID against the guest list; there would be no party crashers tonight. 

It had been all too easy for Riley to add the Five Eyes’ cover identities to the guest list a week ago. Now, she handed the stone-faced security guard a drivers’ license bearing her face and the name “Danika Jackson.” Returning her ID with a nod, the security guard stepped aside, allowing Riley to enter the party. 

Everyone is responsible for their own entrance and exit. That was her new rule. She got everyone’s names added to the guest list, but her assistance ended there. If someone ran into trouble, it was on them to bail themselves out. 

Riley had learned that rule from her mentor when she first dipped her toes into the world of two-faced schemes and nimble-fingered cons, but she never truly understood it—or saw the need to enforce it—until she felt the bite of handcuffs digging into her wrists. 

It was a mistake she’d never make again. 

Riley strolled through the hallway bearing massive Italian paintings, slowly making her way to the room containing the most overrated painting of all time—and the rendezvous point. 

The Mona Lisa room was empty aside from a blonde woman in a beaded, blood-red cocktail dress standing much too close to the glass-encased painting. Riley stood to the woman’s right and studied the painting as well. It was underwhelming. 

“You’d think the most beautiful woman in art would be wearing a prettier dress,” Nikki remarked.

Riley snorted, crossing her arms. “Says the woman who just bought a four-thousand-dollar cheetah print pantsuit.”

Nikki feigned offence. “You’re just jealous because you couldn’t pull it off. Anyway, quiz time. What year did da Vinci paint the Mona Lisa?” 

“1503,” Riley answered easily. “And the woman’s name is Lisa del Giocondo.” Nikki’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “What’s that look for?” 

“I didn’t think you actually listen when I talk about art.” 

Riley offered her friend a small smile. “I’m always listening to you.” The sound of heels clicking down the hall made them pause. When the coast was clear, Riley murmured, “Is everyone in position?”

“Yeah. Desi and Sam should be inside already, and Jill checked in a few guests in front of me.”

“How did that go?”

“Easy peasy.” Nikki glanced at Riley and softened her tone. “Are we sure Jill is ready for this?”

“We’ll find out, won’t we? Don’t forget, it was your idea to recruit her.”

Nikki turned back to the Mona Lisa. “You know, you really do suck at pep talks.” 

“Oh shut up.” Riley rolled her eyes. “Are you sure you want control room duty?” 

Nikki spared her a sideways glance. “I’ll do it. You did it last time.” Her second sentence hung heavy in the air, a reminder of the job gone horribly wrong. And a reminder of all the things they still hadn’t talked about. 

Riley brushed it aside. They could talk after they were each forty million dollars richer. 

Pulling a flash drive hidden inside an old lipstick tube out of her clutch, Riley instructed, “Plug this in, and it’ll do half the work for you.” 

“Thanks.” Nikki put the tube in her own purse. “See you on the other side.” 

“Don’t get caught.” 

“Don’t get caught,” Nikki parroted, and Riley strode down the hall toward the party.

She followed the pulsing music and the stream of guests to a room in the far corner of the museum, passing the employee door Nikki would sneak into along the way. Crossing the threshold, she couldn’t conceal her gasp. Riley had seen plenty of opulent rooms over the years, but the Galerie d’Apollon was something else entirely. Gold moulding framed the dozens of paintings covering the walls and the arched ceiling. Display cases containing the French Crown Jewels formed a line down the middle of the rectangular room. Despite the party’s couture dress code, the bedazzled guests looked entirely underdressed compared to the grandeur of the gallery.

She only let herself be awestruck for a few seconds before getting to work, marking the exits and security cameras. Riley didn’t like how deep the gallery was in the museum—and how far she would have to walk to make a clean escape with the jewels. 

She would be the one walking out with them. No one else. Riley had made that crystal clear during the team planning meeting a few days ago. 

Draped in black fabric, the case containing the designer jewelry sat in the middle of the gallery. A security guard stood by it, no doubt to ward off nosey guests wanting a sneak peek. 

A wave of nausea passed through her, reminding Riley that the closest thing to a substantial meal she’d eaten all day was the two pastries she ate a few hours ago. She slipped through the crowd with practiced ease, heading for the snack table. Jill was already there, gorging herself on bread and cheese. Eyes wide, the blonde froze as Riley sidled next to her, evidently thinking she was in trouble. 

But Riley simply reached for a piece of bread and asked, “Which cheese is the best?” 

Exhaling audibly, Jill pointed a manicured, light blue nail. “That one.” Riley tried it. Jill was right; it was delicious. 

“You ready, Blondie?” Riley asked, lowering her voice. “There’s no job unless you get this right.” 

Jill rolled her shoulders back, snarking, “No pressure or anything.” There was a bite to her words, one Riley noticed only came out when someone, namely her, pushed the blonde a little too far. 

“Sorry,” Riley said, and she meant it. “You can do this. Don’t second-guess yourself. Commit.” 

Jill merely nodded, swallowing another piece of cheese. 

Riley wandered off, not wanting to stay with Jill too long. With her back to a wall, she scanned the room in search of Desi and Cage. When she didn’t see them on her first sweep, Riley furrowed her brow. Where the hell were they? 

A bright laugh carried across the room—Cage. There you are, Riley thought. She spied her teammate enjoying the spotlight in the center of a group of models all cooing over Cage’s pale pink dress. It suited Cage, with its billowy sleeves and flowy skirt that hit just below her knees. Cage giggled again, putting her hand on a woman’s shoulder a little too boldly for the gesture to be casual. 

Predictably, Desi wasn’t far away, staring daggers at her shameless flirt of a girlfriend. 

Riley unmuted her comms. “Easy there, Des. It’s just an act.” 

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it,” she snapped. Even from a distance, Riley could see Desi’s tight grip on her champagne flute. 

Riley cooed, “So jealous.” 

The woman wrapped a proprietary arm around Cage, clearly welcome to the blonde’s advances, and Cage beamed at her. 

It was enough to push Desi over the edge. “Don’t forget whose bed you’re sleeping in tonight, Samantha,” she snarled. “And I don’t remember agreeing to share.” 

Cage excused herself from the group. “My love, did it ever occur to you that I’m making you jealous on purpose? Because we both know—”

Nikki cut her off, rescuing the team from whatever filthy thing was about to come out of Cage’s mouth. “Don’t be gross, you two.” Riley stifled a laugh. She and Nikki had been subjected to many things they didn’t want to hear over the years. This would hardly faze her now.

Focus. They needed to focus. 

Riley finally spotted the sharp-eyed assistant she noticed at the runway show. Always two steps behind the designer, the young woman obediently trailed him as he floated from group to group. The assistant finished her drink, setting it on the tray of a passing waiter, and strode toward the main hallway in this wing of the museum. 

“I think she’s going to the bathroom,” Jill said. “Do I follow her?” 

Snagging a drink of her own, Riley answered, “No. Bump into her when she comes back.” She watched Jill make her way toward the far side of the gallery, ready to intercept the assistant and steal her keys. 

Everything was going to plan. Jill just had to steal the keys, and then all they had to do was hurry up and wait for the big reveal. Eight o’clock, Riley was told upon arrival. The designer would commence his speech at eight, then reveal his masterpiece to the world. 

Riley checked her watch. Thirty more minutes. 

She knew she’d been standing in this spot for too long already, but Riley was loath to give up the relative safety of having a wall at her back. The twinge of fear she’d felt earlier at the runway show came raging to the surface, rooting her stiletto-clad feet in place. Leaving the wall meant having people in her blind spot. No one’s going to hurt me, Riley promised herself. This is a party, not a prison. 

Her legs felt like lead weights, but Riley forced herself to re-enter the crowd, one agonizing stride at a time. She made it as far as the nearest display case before she had to stop, and her eyes landed on a tiara resting in the center of the display. Countless tiny diamonds formed flowery swoops and swirls, with a handful of emeralds scattered between them, filling what would otherwise be empty spaces. In the center, the diamonds framed a large, round emerald, mimicking the shape of a flower. 

It was exactly what Riley would have stolen had the Five Eyes agreed to rob the Louvre itself, rather than this party. Maybe she’d come back for it, one day. 

Using the case as a pseudo-wall, Riley took a deep breath and re-scanned the room in search of Jill. Unsurprisingly, Jill was exactly where Riley had last seen her.

She kept an eye on the recruit, knowing Desi and Cage were doing the same. Riley was impressed; Jill had quickly figured out how to linger without being obvious she was waiting for something. Jill mindlessly pushed up her glasses—the only visible sign of her nerves—and the movement drew Riley’s attention. 

But not to Jill. 

To another blond head, far behind her. One Riley desperately hoped to never see again. 

“We have a problem,” Desi said. 

“I saw.” 

Nikki’s ex-boyfriend stalked into the gallery, a taller, older man at his heels like a shadow—the same men who chased Riley, Nikki, and Jill through the taco shop a few weeks ago. 

Fuck.

Ducking her head to avoid being spotted, Riley hissed, “Nik, get your ass to the control room and lock the door behind you. We’ve got company.” 

“Already here. Accessing system controls as we speak. Whoever designed the security system in this place should be fired, because this is ridiculously simple. I should’ve left it in French just to keep it interesting.” A pause. "Who's here? Wait. No. Let me guess. Interpol? The mob? That bitchy designer I once robbed point-blank?" 

"Your ex." 

"Oh."

"You didn't tell him about our dream job, did you?" The words came out a little too accusatory, but Riley didn't care. She needed to know. 

"No! Of course I didn't. He— Look, I don't know why he's here, and we can figure that out later. Right now, you need to keep him busy. He's smart, Riles. Maybe even smarter than you. Be careful." 

Riley scoffed. "Smarter than me? We'll see about that." 

"I'm serious, Riley." 

But Riley ignored her, instead giving instructions of her own. "Cage, you watch Jill. Des—" 

"I've got the big one." Classic Desi, never letting her finish a sentence and yet always knowing what she was going to say. The habit was obnoxious at first, but over time Riley learned to appreciate it. "See the bulge on his left side? He keeps touching it." Desi said. "He's armed." 

“He’s what?” Jill exclaimed. 

Chuckling, Desi said, “Now look at my left side. We match.” A small, terrified squeak was the only response. “Well, what did you think I meant when I told you I’m the team’s exfil specialist?” 

“Not that!” 

“And Nik’s ex?” Riley asked, redirecting the conversation. 

“Seems clean.” 

“He is,” Nikki confirmed. “Mac hates guns.” 

“You know,” Riley said, studying the larger of the two men, “The other one kind of looks like a guy who dated my mom once.” 

“Really?” Desi asked. “Think he’s the same guy?” 

Riley took a closer look. He was tall, with broad, muscled shoulders and a buzzed haircut, and considering how often he fidgeted with his tie, he didn’t get dressed up often. He smiled at a passing waitress. He had an open, friendly smile, which totally contrasted with the systematic way he scanned the room. “Nah.”

Jill squawked, “Wait! Are we really still going through with this? Didn’t it just get a whole lot harder?” 

“You say harder, I say more fun,” Cage said. “Just stick to the plan. You’ll be fine.” 

Jill, it seemed, wasn’t so easily reassured. “Am I the only one who sees this is a trap?” 

“It’s only a trap when you don’t know about it. When you do, it’s a challenge,” Riley said. 

“But what if the plan goes wrong? Then what?” 

At the same time, all four women answered, “Improvise.” 

Riley muted her comms as she approached Nikki’s ex; Jill didn’t need the added distraction. Help her, Riley pleaded with the universe. You owe me. 

Pushing her concerns about Jill to the back of her mind, Riley studied her target. There was a champagne flute in the spy’s hand, but he didn’t drink it—not even a sip—and his methodical gaze swept the room, no doubt making note of each guest and who they interacted with. 

He was cute, she had to admit. Definitely Nikki’s type. 

Purposefully not watching where she was going, Riley collided with him, narrowly avoiding sloshing his drink onto her shoes. She pretended to stumble, and his free hand caught her waist, ensuring Riley stayed upright. “Oh! I’m so sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was going. Pardon me.” 

His hand left her side. Frowning, he asked, “Do I know you?” 

Don’t lie. Evade. Her former mentor taught her that. 

Riley smirked. “I bet you use that line on every beautiful woman you stumble into.” 

“Only when I’m too blown away to say something original.” He winked. 

Maybe this would be easier than Riley anticipated. “Care to wander the museum with me while you practice your next line?” 

“Normally I would, but I just got out of a relationship, and I’m not looking to start anything new.” 

So much for that plan. 

His honesty, however, was surprising. 

“Not even a little fun?” she goaded, but Nikki’s ex declined once more before excusing himself and vanishing into the crowd. 

At least Desi had better luck keeping the other spy occupied. She had him cornered, her body carefully angled to prevent him from seeing the slight bulge from the gun hidden in her dress. The plunging neckline had two purposes—easy access to the gun holstered at her side while providing a distracting view of her chest and intricate tattoos. It was just enough to snag wandering eyes and keep them focused on the front of her body, rather than the side. To the spy’s credit, his eyes remained pointedly fixed on Desi’s face. 

“Got the keys,” Jill announced. Perfect timing. 

Riley breathed a sigh of relief. “Good work, Blondie.” 

Now, all they had to do was wait.

*****

While the designer yammered some pretentious bullshit about fine jewelry as the centerpiece of fashion and art, Riley slowly pushed her way to the front of the crowd gathering for the reveal. A few feet away, Cage did the same. Across from them—closest to the still-covered jewelry display case—Desi and Jill took their places. None of them were particularly interested by the designer’s speech, but Nikki would be hanging on every word if she were here. 

The designer rambled on, explaining how particular pieces among the French Crown Jewels influenced the designs of his own work. It was awfully arrogant, Riley thought, comparing his own work to such timeless pieces. The longer he spoke, the more Riley disliked him and didn’t feel even an ounce of guilt for robbing him. 

Lingering on the edge of the crowd, Nikki’s ex and his partner seemed content to remain out of the way. For all Riley cared, they could stay there all night. 

The gallery lights flickered once. A few guests glanced up nervously, but the majority remained transfixed on the designer. 

Nikki’s voice crackled through the comms. “Everyone ready? Nod once if you are.” Riley nodded. One by one, so did everyone else. “Alrighty then. Lights out in five…”

Riley counted the number of paces between her and Cage—six. 

“Four…”

Paces from Cage to the jewelry case—eight. 

“Three…”

Paces from the case back to her original position—ten. 

Two…

Closing her eyes, Riley waited. 

“One.” 

Several women shrieked when the lights went out. 

Riley opened her eyes, and before they’d even adjusted to the dark, she strode toward Cage. Six steps. She collided with Cage, dropping her purse on the ground and taking Cage’s identical one, containing replicas of the necklace and earrings. 

Cage shouted that someone stole her purse, causing a scene. She’d chatted and flirted with enough people throughout the night for her voice to be easily recognized, and a murmur broke out among the agitated crowd, creating just enough background noise to cover the sound of Riley’s heels clicking on the floor. 

Eight steps to the back side of the jewelry display. Riley could just make out Jill and Desi unlocking the case with the assistant’s keys. She braced for an alarm to sound, but there was nothing. Atta girl, Nikki. 

Riley opened the purse. Carefully, Desi replaced the real jewels with the fakes, depositing the real ones inside Cage’s purse. 

Jill locked the case and replaced the cover, and Riley returned to her original position among the crowd. The designer and his assistant remained oblivious to what transpired behind them, even as Jill slipped the keys back into the assistant’s dress pocket.

“Lights on in three,” Nikki warned. 

Emergency lights flickered on, casting a harsh white light over the murmuring crowd. A man angrily questioned what happened, followed by a chorus of “Yeah, what he said!”s in a variety of languages. The assistant urged the crowd to remain calm, promising everything would be sorted out shortly. 

Riley looked over her shoulder, searching for Nikki’s ex. He was nowhere to be found. She narrowed her eyes, but with two hundred million dollars worth of jewelry in her hand, Riley decided she didn’t particularly care. 

The woman Cage flirted with the longest stepped forward, picking up the purse Riley had tossed near Cage’s feet. “Isn’t this your purse?” she asked Cage. 

Riley��s teammate feigned embarrassment, gracefully reclaiming the purse. “Yes, that’s it. Thank you.” 

Just as an outraged Cage exclaimed the purse was empty, Riley melted into the dispersing crowd, slowly making her way toward the museum’s exit. That was the plan. She’d leave first, and once she escaped with the jewels, everyone else would exit as well. 

Riley retraced her steps, heels clicking on the hardwood flooring of the museum’s endless long hallways. She didn’t look at any of the art as she passed, not even a single glance. Art had always been more Nikki’s thing than hers. 

Weaving her way back to the exit, Riley prayed Nikki hadn’t missed any of the cameras. She was supposed to loop them all, allowing Riley to leave the museum unseen. But with each additional camera—some obvious, some not—Riley’s anxiety rose. 

Nikki knows what she’s doing, Riley reminded herself. She won’t let anything happen to me. 

Two years ago, that reassurance would’ve been enough. 

Now, her distrusting brain shot back, Are you sure? 

Riley didn’t dignify it with a response. 

Passing the museum’s security checkpoint, Riley smiled at a bored-looking security guard. “Vous partez déjà?” he asked. 

Riley hoped the security guard asked why she was leaving so soon. She never did get around to brushing up on her French. “Oui, I have a flight to catch.” Not a lie, although the flight wouldn’t take off until early tomorrow morning. 

The crisp night breeze prickled Riley’s bare skin. She took a deep breath, letting the cold air fill her lungs. For the first time that night, Riley finally felt her body start to relax. The vast, empty plaza felt so much safer than the packed gallery. Still not safe enough to let her guard down, but safer. Riley slipped her hand into the purse, fingers closing around an earring. It was surprisingly heavy in her palm. 

Another flawless job. The Five Eyes were back in business. 

She was halfway across the plaza when Nikki started cursing, but Riley didn’t slow. Everyone is responsible for their own exit. The job was done. No turning back now. 

There was a distinct male voice in the background, but Riley couldn’t make out what he said. 

“What do you mean, ‘I had a feeling you’d be here’?” Nikki demanded. “We haven’t spoken in months, Mac, and I know you didn’t track me here on your own.” 

Her ex’s voice was nothing more than a low, indiscernible rumble. 

“What?” Nikki whispered, her voice breaking mid-word. 

As much as Riley wanted to know what he said, she kept walking. But that didn’t stop the others from hissing Nikki’s name, demanding to know what was going on. 

Nikki yelped, and then the male voice purred, loud and clear, “I know you’re listening, Riley. Why don’t we go on that little walk now?” 

With a cold laugh, Riley said, “In your fucking dreams.” How did he know her name? As far as she knew, Nikki never mentioned her. 

Still, she kept walking. Everyone is responsible for their own exit. No matter what. 

Riley muted her comms, and Nikki’s piercing shriek filled her ear. A muffled grunt followed.

Then nothing. 

Please be okay. Please be okay. Please be okay. 

“Riley, you need to come back,” Jill pleaded. “Nikki needs help.” 

She didn’t answer, clenching her jaw with the effort to keep silent. An airplane flew overhead, and Riley tracked its path across the sky. Every step brought Riley closer to her own flight home—and the freedom that entailed. Turning around now would only put that in jeopardy. 

But every step also took her away from her best friend. The woman she once believed she’d do anything for. 

Jill was overreacting, Riley reasoned. Nikki was more than capable of getting herself out of a bind. Riley lost track of the number of impossible situations she and Nikki had found themselves in over the years, and they always found a way to escape. 

“Sam is getting Jill out,” Desi said, slightly out of breath. “Riles, I don’t think I can get Nikki out on my own. Jill is right. You need to come back.” 

Riley faltered. If Desi thought there was a problem, then something must’ve gone really, really wrong. 

Maybe Jill wasn’t overreacting after all. 

“Des—” Cage started. “They opened the case.” 

“So?” 

“They know the jewels are fake. If Riley comes back, it won’t just be Nikki going to prison.” 

Prison. 

Riley didn’t think she was breathing. Heart thudding wildly, her stomach tied itself into knots, and her clothes became damp with sweat. The sense of safety she’d felt earlier was gone, and Riley fought the urge to run. Every little noise—traffic, pedestrian chatter, a siren in the distance—was coming for her, ready to drag her into some dark hole she’d never emerge from. 

Nothing was logical anymore, like the part of her brain capable of rational thought had gone to sleep. She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head, trying to wake up, but it was no use. 

Run, while you still have the chance, her body screamed. 

Everyone is responsible for their own exit, her brain repeated. 

She needed to turn around. Nikki couldn’t go to prison. 

Two years ago, Riley had gone to prison in Nikki’s stead. She let herself be arrested to protect her friends. Her family. 

If Nikki went to prison now, then Riley’s sacrifice would be in vain. 

But Riley’s body refused to turn around. Her worst memories from prison flashed before her eyes—ones Riley desperately wanted to forget—like a cougar crouching in the shadows, waiting for the exact moment she was at her weakest to pounce. 

She couldn’t go back there. She couldn’t go through that again. 

She wouldn’t survive it twice. 

“Riles,” Nikki pleaded, her voice barely above a whisper. “Where are you?” 

Run, that voice in her head said. Don’t look back. 

Her steps were slower now, less sure. But Riley didn’t stop. She couldn’t. 

“I need you.” 

Save yourself, girl. 

“I’m sorry,” Riley whispered, but her comms were still muted. With a shaking hand, Riley unmuted them one last time. 

It’s better this way, the voice promised. You’ll see. 

It was all too easy to slip into the brutal, emotionless persona she’d built while in prison, the process having become instinct. It was necessary then, to keep her safe and alive. Now, it did the same, preventing Riley from making a mistake every cell in her body knew she wouldn’t come back from. 

In a cold, unflinching voice, Riley said, “Everyone is responsible for their own exit.” 

She threw her earpiece into a nearby fountain, and the click of her stilettos echoed in the night. 

~ Tag List ~ Want to be added? Send me an ask.

@macrileyedits / @hellishrose / @losingitovermacriley​ / @mylifequotesshowallofthem / @thecarrieonokay / @holbytlanna​ /

[harrysgloves]

Let Your Hair Down

Get caught up with the Let Your Hair Down Masterlist!

word count: 1,477

summary: Harry gets more than he bargains for when he falls not only for you but your little girl as well.

warnings: None yet other than language. This is purely plot and set up. Smut in future chapters.

a/n: First fic so go easy on me. Probably a lot of spelling and grammatical errors but this idea wouldn’t leave me alone so I had to write it. Anyways enjoy! xx

>>><<<

You checked your eyeliner in the visor of your car one last time before shutting it with a huff. You wanted to be here today, you really did, but you also wanted to be at home working on the mile-high pile of laundry that had managed to back up over the last week and a half.

The day was perfect for a cookout, the sun was shining and there were very few clouds in sight. Which meant your bubbly, bouncy, mountain of joy was going to bolt for the pool any second now.

"Okay Thea," you said, turning around to your 4-year-old daughter to give her the before we go in here talk.

"When momma says it's time to leave that means no fight. Right?"

"Right." She agreed. Her eyes wide with excitement and you knew you were only going to hold her attention for a few seconds longer before she lost complete patience. She was already in her swimsuit and her small tiny hand was on the door handle, her bright pink nail polish you had painted on the night before not chipped yet, and her pink and blue friendship bracelet from your sister hanging on her wrist.

"And if momma tells you something, you're going to listen or we're leaving. Got it?"

"Yes!" She groaned her attitude already that of a grown teenager and not a 4 almost 5-year-old.

"Alright, go on then." You never thought she could open the door that fast but as you saw the pink streak of her dashing towards the house you could help but chuckle. She was definitely a handful sometimes especially since you were a single parent but you wouldn't trade your life with her for anything. Plus you were better off without the lying sack of shit that unfortunately had to be her father.

"AUNT SARAH! UNCLE MITCH!" You heard her scream her hellos to your friends and shook your head at her antics. You knew she was excited to see them. It had been a long time since you had felt comfortable enough to come around your old friends. The divorce had really taken its toll on you, made you isolate from everyone you used to talk to. You were just finally starting to get out of the hole you had managed to dig yourself in, a year was long enough to mourn for the life you were never going to have.

"Hey guys." You smiled brightly as you gave Sarah a hug. You had only known her a short time before she married your high school best friend but in that time you had really gotten close and enjoyed having her around maybe even a bit more than you did Mitch.

"You look amazing Y/N!" Sarah gushed over your new outfit you had just bought. The white wrap dress laid perfectly against your curves. It hit just above your mid-thigh which made your legs look long and the white lace trim danced beautifully around your bust, making your cleavage look incredibly larger than it actually was. You had to admit this dress was an absolute steal and made you look like a knockout but the simple white strappy heels had to be your favorite part of the whole outfit. They were surprisingly comfortable for being heels and versatile. You could easily wear them again which meant you could justify how much you embarrassingly spent on them.

"Oh, this old thing?" You teased.

"Don't listen to her Y/N, you look like absolute garbage." Your supposed best friend laughed as your daughter joined in. Hugging her Uncle Mitch tightly around the neck.

"Keep it up Rowland and I'll kick your ass like that time in 11th grade P.E."

"MOMMA!" Thea yelled at you, making your heart stop in its tracks. That stupid fucking rule about no cursing was really starting to come back and bite you on the ass. You grumbled a bit as you fished around your purse and pulled out the small coin bag. You picked out a quarter and handed it to her. After all, rules were rules.

"That stupid Curse Jar is going to make me go broke." You murmured to Sarah as Thea told Mitch all about how she had $20 saved up from the jar and was going to buy a new barbie doll with it.

You followed Sarah into the kitchen to finish helping cut up fruit for the cookout as Thea dragged Mitch towards the swimming pool. She rambled on and on about how her swimming class was going and how excited she was to show him her new swim moves. A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips if she wasn't going to have much of a dad at least she had her Uncle Mitch.

"You know, Harry will be here today." Sarah said not taking her eyes off the strawberry she was cutting up but it made you stop what you were doing immediately.

"You decided the best time to bring up setting me up with him again would be when I had a knife in my hand?" You simply went back to cutting the watermelon into cute little cubes. Trying your hardest to ignore this whole conversation.

"Come on Y/N! It's been a year since Ryan and you need to get back out there. Start seeing people again. Harry doesn't ever shut up about you since the last time you guys met. Drives Mitch crazy." She turned to you putting down her knife. Obviously wanting you to actually talk to her about this and not ignore it. You sighed and sat down your own before wiping off your hands.

"No offense or anything but the last time you guys set me up with someone I ended up divorced." You tried to be as nice as possible but this was pointless. You weren't going to budge on the topic and you didn't need her making you feel guilty for not giving him a chance.

"Besides I'm sure he's more than happy with whoever his girlfriend is this week. I don't need to be another notch in someone's bedpost when I have a daughter to think about." You turned back around to your cutting board hoping that would be the end of it.

"Not all men are like that." She sighed and turned back around to her own cutting board. You could tell by her voice she wasn't done with this but was choosing to let it go before you completely shut down.

"Maybe not but you can't blame me for being closed off. I mean for God sake I walked in on him fucking his side piece in our bed." You said bitterly, cutting your fruit a little too violently.

"I know. I know. Okay, I know, everyone knows, but it wasn't your fault and it isn't good for you to stay this angry."

"I--" You started to tell her how you weren't angry you were pissed. You were mad that the person you put your faith in crushed everything but you were cut short by the handsome brunette that walked through the kitchen, with a bottle of wine in his ring laden hands.

You had to admit he looked great but you quickly shoved down the butterflies in your stomach. You couldn't like him. You couldn't like anyone right now but especially not him. Even though you wanted to, he came with too many complications, too much baggage.

"Hi." He smiled brightly. The kind of smile that made you want to melt into a puddle, his perfect white teeth shined. It was infuriating how pretty someone could be.

"Hey, Harry. Mitch is out back with Thea but you can leave the wine with us." Sarah nodded her head to the empty space oh the counter beside you.

" 'f course you only care about the wine" He rolled his insanely bright green eyes and sat the bottle on the counter. His sight finally landed on you and you could have sworn you heard him suck in a breath.

"Hey, love." He smirked as you kept your eyes firmly on the watermelon. "You look nice."

"Well, I tend to not look like trash all the time Harold." You snapped back but he just laughed it off. His chest rumbled deeply and it made you want to punch him or kiss him, it could have really gone either way at this point.

"Still feisty." He said his smile never faltering from his face. "Have fun girls." He turned and walked out of the kitchen and you couldn't help but look as he walked away. Couldn't hurt to look after all but the smug chuckle you heard from Sarah snapped you out of it.

"Oh, you two are so going to fuck." She snickered. You narrowed your eyes at her.

"I'm definitely not fucking him."

[crescentsteel]

Just Friends - Part 2

plot: fubu set up with Kuroo as a university student genre: smut word count: 3290 

NSFW

A/N: Accccckk, writing smut was much harder than I expected. At some point, I just wanted to write ‘they had sex and it was nice’. But I love a good smut like y’all. Gave this a title since I decided to make this a full blown story. Next chapters will be floofyy (in my head at least lol). Let me know if anyone wants to be tagged.

But for now, I offer you my first attempt of writing smut. 

Part 1 | Part 3 | m.list |

He stops the car and shakes you a bit, causing you to wake up from your light sleep. You examine the area with half-lidded eyes. You wear your jacket and step out.

He quickly follows.

He glances at your car. His neighborhood isn’t shady. It’s a decent one, but your car stood out like a sore thumb.

“This looks way out of place here.”

You face his direction. You’re a few steps away from him, so he could see your whole frame. He has to take a moment to capture the entirety of your features. Your hands are in the pockets of your jacket. Your hair is a mess. Your cheeks are flushed. You have faint pink marks on the side and below your lip, probably your smudged lipstick earlier which faded. Your eyes look a bit hazy.

You are mesmerizing. It’s effortless. You’re just standing there, oblivious to how you look.

“Huh?”

He snaps back from his thoughts.

“Aren’t you worried about your car?”

You shrug.

“You’re the one who parked it there.” You say that as if he should take responsibility if something happens to it, but you look like you couldn’t care less.

“Come on, then,” he leads the way, assisting you in your steps as you’re still swaying a bit.

His place was just across where he parked your car. He quickly unlocks his door and switches one dim light.

You immediately speak as you go inside. “I need the comfort room.”

“It’s that door on the left.”

You quickly march towards the direction he pointed at.

Once in there, he hears you throw up. Well, better you throw up there than here.

He gets himself a glass of water to freshen up. When you come out of there, you look much better - sober, in fact. The dazed look in your eyes is gone. Your hair is tied up and the lipstick smudges are gone too. There was a certain amount of refinement on how you move now, dignified almost. You walk up to where he was. Even your strides are poised now.

You take the glass from his hand and drink what was left of it. You go to the counter beside the skink and put the glass there.

Right away, he goes after you. He isn’t wasting time any more. He’s waited long enough.

You’re still facing the counter when he puts both his hands on the edge of it and traps you between him and the surface. He was about to have a taste of your neck again when you spoke.

“You know, Kuroo.”

He stops half-way.

“I really don’t like drunken sex. I’m not me when I’m drunk,” you continued.

He takes one step back. He can’t believe what you were saying. There were so many chances for you to say no and leave. Out of all of those, you choose now? Right when he thought he could finally nail you. You suddenly turn and face him. You aren’t smiling but there’s a playful spark in your eyes.

You prop yourself up and sit on top of the counter. You lean back a bit and look straight to his eyes.

“I’d rather have a clear head and remember everything in the morning.” It’s clearly a taunt, daring him to satisfy you. A smile crept on his face as he closed the gap between you.

“Drunken or not, you will remember tonight.”

His lips latch on to yours fervently and you kiss him back just the same. You’re more responsive this time. Before, you were just pliant, like you were only being swept away. Now, you actually return his kisses with the same ardor he has.

You hurriedly remove your jacket and throw it on the floor. He pulls you closer to him, bringing him in between your thighs. You swiftly remove his polo shirt while gets rid of your top as well.

His hands go to your neck, holding it softly in place as he stares at your face - his eyes fixated on your lips. He puts his thumb on the side of your bottom lip and strokes it slowly. When his thumb reached the middle of your lower lip, you put it in your mouth and graze it with your teeth. You give it a little lick right before his thumb slips down on your chin. You don’t smile, but your gaze holds a carnal intensity that stirs him up.

He’s had his fair share of sex, but that tiny gesture was the most seductive act anyone has shown him. His brain is having a hard time thinking how he will be able to do all the things he wants to do to you tonight. The night just isn’t enough.

He unzips your pants and impatiently removes it from you. Your panties are about to go next when your hand goes to his shoulder.

“Here?” Reluctance shows on your face. His hands still at the waistband of your underwear.

“Here” he smirks” is where I prepare my meal.”

You raise your eyebrow as your lips slightly part in amusement.

He covers your mouth with his again, then slides your panties off of you. He targets your bra next. Knowing better this time, his hands went to your front to unhook it. He doesn’t bother removing it completely. He cups both bosoms and gives them a firm squeeze.

His lips trail down to your neck, then sucking it right before he flicks his tongue out. He put his fingers to work as he toys with both your nipples. A soft moan came from you. His one hand moves down to your inner thigh and starts caressing it with his thumb. He can tell you’re wet already, or maybe you’re still wet from earlier. Your juices have dripped to where his thumb was. You attempt to squeeze your thighs, but he’s between your legs, declining you of the pleasure you sought.

“Getting impatient now, hmm?” he says in your ear.

“No more teasing.”

“Why not? It’s fun.”

It’s true. Since you sobered up, you no longer had the unassertive persona you had in your car before. It would be more gratifying to wreck you this way. He’d love to tear down that particular composure you have.

“It’s getting annoyi- ohh!”

He cuts you off by abruptly inserting the whole length of his finger inside you.

“As you wish.” He removes his finger and gives your neck a last suck before he licks his way down. He grabs a chair behind him and seats himself comfortably before turning to your damp opening.

He finds himself getting impatient as well. Seeing you in this state just rouses him up even more. He opens your legs up a bit more and digs in. He licks the length of your cunt, causing your hands to fist his hair as you whimper. He sucks on your clit, then flicks it with his tongue. Your head whips back with your mouth open as you puff. He inserts two digits at once. He scissors his fingers inside you to loosen you up. He doesn’t take time in doing it slowly, just a few languid strokes and he’s already harshly fingering you.

Before long, he could already feel your thighs start to tremble. Your puffs are now muffled moans as you try to hold them back by biting your lower lip. He removes his fingers off and replaces it with his tongue, rolling it deep in your center. He moves his thumb and index finger to your clit and toys with it. He could tell you’re about to cum. You’re grinding on his face as your voice starts to leak from your mouth.

“Yesss. Uhhh. Your tongue.. so good”

He tugs your clit harder, pushing you to your climax. He gives a few more licks just to relish how you throb on his mouth.

Your eyes are still closed but a smile of satisfaction is on your lips.

He stands up and proceeds to unzip his pants. He grabs a packet from the back of his pants and puts it between his teeth, then continues to strip off his remaining clothes. Once naked, he claims your lips. He can’t decide which is better, your lips here or down there.

Your hand wanders down to his erection, but he catches your wrist before you even touch him. He leads your wrist to his shoulder and does the same to the other before tearing the pack of the condom and unrolling it on his member. Then, he grips your hips and lifts you off the countertop.

“Hey, what’re you-” you sounded worried.

“Hold on to me.”

He takes a few steps and pushes your back to the wall while still carrying you. He lifts your hips high enough for him to enter you.

“Wait! I just came.”

“So?”

“I thought you’d want me to suck you off at least.” He smiles teasingly. “Aw. How generous of you. But you don’t need to.”

He continues to prod your entrance. You’re already so wet and he can’t wait to bury his cock up to your hilt.

You suddenly tense up. You grasp on his shoulder and look at him. “I’m still sensitive. Just wait for a short while.” your voice firm and commanding.

He furrows his brows.

“I’ve been hard since you started grinding your ass on me at the bar. I’ve been waiting since then.” His irritation was evident.

His need for you is intense. With your wetness seeping on his cock, he just couldn’t help himself.

“I told you I’m no prince charming.”

He pushes the tip and slowly enters you. You bury your face to his neck and groans. The heat and dampness of your insides engulf him. His eyes close shut at the feeling.

“Haaaa. Fuck, you’re tight.”

He carefully lowers your hips to accommodate his member. Your insides throb as he completely enters you. He feels the press of your nails on his shoulders while lets you adjust to the stretch he just gave you. When he felt you ease up, he started to move.

He pulls out very slowly, only letting the tip remain inside you. With the same pace, he pushes back his whole length. It’s so exquisite. He can thoroughly feel how he probes you and how tight your pussy is squeezing him. He maintains the pace, savoring the experience.

“Stop.”

He complies immediately. He might’ve been hurting you.

“I– um. It feels strange.”

“How so?”

Your hands fidget on his shoulder, unable to describe how you’re feeling.

“Just give me a moment,” you said timidly.

He instantly figures you out. You’re about to cum again, and it feels weird because you just had an orgasm.

Instead of stopping completely, he thrusts deep. When he reaches the deepest he could, he grinds in you - moving his hips in slow, small circles.

Your hands clutch hard on his shoulders, your nails digging on his skin again. Your thighs are quivering and he can hear your whimpers crisply as your mouth is just below his ear.

“Dammit. Don’t clench too much on me,” his voice creaking. He’s about to lose it. He could feel the pent-up tension on his groin seeking a release.

‘Calm down. Calm down. Calm down’ he chants on his head.

“Kuroo, I’m cumming!” A slew of pitchy moans sang on his ears as you came undone.

And he utterly failed.

“Fuuucccccckkk!” With one long, deep thrust, he busts out.

Despite the sexual relief, he’s pissed. He didn’t want to cum from that.

The stress on his limbs starts to get noticeable. He does not put you down but hurriedly walks to his room.

“We’re not done.” he says as he proceeds.

You murmur incoherent whispers as a response.

Once there, he lays you down on his bed. You feel at ease with the comfort the mattress provides. You’re about to bask in the soothing relief of his bed, when you feel him stand up.

You open your eyes to see what he’s doing.

He removes the used condom and throws it in the bin. Your eyes widen as you notice that he’s still hard. He gets another condom from the drawer of his deck and quickly puts it on him.

You use your elbow to up yourself a bit.

“We’re not done?!”

“That’s literally what I just said.”

He walks back to the bed and pushes you gently so you were lying down again. You’re dumb-founded. Both of you just came. You could still feel the tingling from getting off.

You didn’t expect that you’d cum twice that fast, and now he’s already heading straight for another round?

He gets on top of you.

“Why don’t we rest for a bit first, hmm? You must be tired.” You rub his chest, attempting to appease him. You fake a smile and try your best to sound concerned.

He gives off a husky laugh. “Drop the act, kitten. You suck at it.”

He lowers his head and catches your lips. You want to protest, but the way his mouth moves against yours was enticing. You entwine your fingers with his hair. Despite the rugged look he has, his lips feel soft and mellow. You just can’t resist kissing him back. He pulls away a bit.

“Spread your thighs for me,” his voice barely above a whisper. Your breath hitches at his seductive request.

“I don’t think I can any more,” you admitted.

He puts his hand at the back of your head, then his lips reach for your ear. He licks the curve of your ear and gently bites your earlobe.

“I’m sure you still have one more for me. I know it.” His tongue moves down to your jaw.

“I can prove it.” He sounded so sure.

How cocky of him.

“And if you don’t?”

He raises his head and meets you eye to eye.

“Hmmm. Let’s make a deal then. If I cum before you or you don’t cum at all, I owe you one favor.”

Your eyes light up. The idea of him owing you something is cool, but what’s more exciting is proving him wrong. Yes, he’s hot as hell, but you already came twice in a row. That has never happened before. Yet, he thinks he can get a third one from you. You know that he’s still capable of making you feel good, but another orgasm is just very unlikely.

Looks like you’ll pop his ego a bit tonight.

“But if you do cum, you owe me one. Sounds good?” He tilted his head as he asked.

You don’t even think before answering. “Deal.”

A wide grin spreads on his face as you say it.

He nudges your legs apart with his own and kneels. He takes hold of your knees and pushes it towards your midriff. He lifts your legs until your calves are hanging on his shoulders. His eyes roam on your body. He bites his lip when his eyes reach your cunt.

“You look so fucking perfect spread out like this.”

You almost moaned at his words. No one has ever made you feel so hot and dirty. Add the fact that his face and body are damn pleasing to the eyes.

You feel him position his cock just above your cunt and squeeze your thighs together. His tip is right on your entrance but slips up to rub on the length of your cleft. You thought he missed, but he picks up the pace.

You almost thought that it was weird until you start feeling heated from what he’s doing.

You crave more. He’s still enjoying himself so you act on your own to fulfill your desire. You raise your hip, hoping that he’ll sink himself inside you.

It doesn’t go unnoticed by him, of course. He holds your thighs tighter to keep you in place.

You groan from frustration. It’s been like this all night. He denies you when you want it, but gives it to you when you don’t ask for it.

“I think I can make you cum like this,” he says as he keeps grinding outside of you. You squint your eyes at him.

“I think you’re full of it,” you spit out.

You moan your loudest when he suddenly shoves himself full inside you, not slowing down from his pace earlier.

“No, you’re full of it.” he sounded gruff yet also amused at his own pun.

You don’t bother to retort a comeback. All your attention is on his brisk thrusts. He’s going fast and deep. You can feel him hitting spots that haven’t been reached before.

You hear yourself moaning, if you can still even call it that. You’re almost screaming from how loud you are. You’ve been trying your best the whole night to be as quiet as possible since his neighbors might hear. It just wasn’t possible for you anymore.

He leans closer to you to cup your face. He traces your cheek down to your mouth and inserts two fingers in. You suck them and encircle each with your tongue.

“Holy shit,” his voice raspy as he continued to pump his cock inside you.

He removes his fingers and presses it on your already swollen clit. You arch your back from the added stimulation. His fingers and hips move in the same rhythm. You feel an overwhelming tension in your crotch. You grab anything you can get your hands just to get a hold of yourself. It was too much.

His grunts are getting audibly louder as well.

“Ugghh. You’re tightening up again.”

Your toes point themselves as the pleasure spreads rapidly on your body. You’re fighting a losing battle. However, you refuse to give up without a fight. 

You wrap your feet around his back and yank him closer. You grab the back of his shoulders and pull him towards you until your bodies are pressed to each other, your sweat mixing with one another. You reach for his lips, lapping on his tongue as soon as you feel it brush over yours. You lift your hips to meet his thrusts, following his same rhythm.

“You wicked girl” he hissed on your mouth.

You claw on his back when you realize that this was a double-edged sword. He removes his hand trapped between your groin and his. He uses it to tweak your hard nipple.

You bite on his shoulder to prevent yourself from screaming.

“Cumming…. already?” he asked condescendingly even though his own breathing gives him away as well.

“Hnnnnn-nooo. Im not” you pant heavily, “gonna cum.” You say that but you continue to meet his thrusts not for him, but for your own. You want to win your deal so bad, but your body refuses to cooperate.

“Not coming, not coming, not cuuuhhh,” you moaned in vain.

“Let go, y.n. Cum for me,” he said right in your ear, escalating you to the most intense orgasm you’ve ever had.

“AHHHHHHHHHH!!”

You feel every muscle in your body contract as you reach the apex of your pleasure. You hold on tight to him as you shudder from the ferocity of your orgasm.

“That’s it, kitten. Cream on my cock. Fuck! Yes yess, Just like that. Fucking hell.” He loses his rhythm and bucks erratically onto you.

His orgasm makes you revel on your own, milking it to its fullest.

After he’s reached his high, he drops on top of you, both of you catching your breath. He slides beside you after he recovers a bit.

When you look at him, his gaze is already on you. You wore the same look - satiated.

You want to say something but as you blink, your eyes get heavier. You close your eyes and let weariness take over you.

Part 1 | Part 3 | m.list

@fastidious-and-precise

[snarkwrites]

13 | gangsta ; sweetpea

NOTES:

It's been a while. I've had these two chapters written for a while now but I haven't had time to sit down, edit them a little better and post them. Since I have time now, I thought I'd go ahead and do that, whether you guys asked for these next two chapters or not.

Sorry this took forever! Sorry I'm so slow, I've been settling into a new house and taking care of some IRL stuff / taking a little break. I swear, I'm going to update everything sooner or later. >.>

I love you guys.

WARNINGS:

NON/ LOOSE CANON COMPLIANCE - this is the biggest warning, so if you’re into things that follow exact canon plot you are… definitely not going to like this. ANGST & SLOW BURN, HEAVY SEXUAL TENSIONSTARTING NOW, ACTUALLY - this is just so everyone who started reading this thinking the smut would transpire in a hurry knows that apparently, it is not. VIOLENCE / SWEARING & FIGHTING, POSSIBLE UNDERAGE DRINKING AND OTHER SHENANIGANS- look.. it’s high school. shit happens. also apparently, my ofc Alyssa uses the word fuck like all the time?…EVENTUAL SEXUAL CONTENT / A VIRGIN ORIGINAL CHARACTER- this one is self explanatory. yes, i plan to write a smutty chapter in this at some point. when? i don’t rightly know. it’s got a while before we get there. STALKER TW - this chapter marks the true appearance of Alyssa's ex, Dave Novak. It's hinted heavily that he's a gross asshole who likes to play mind games. ATTEMPTED KIDNAPPING TW - This chapter contains an attempted kidnapping. If this is gonna bother you you're best off not reading it.

If you're under 18+, probably not a good or wise idea to continue reading this series. Because there are going to be a few dark and adult themes within. I'll warn here, of course, but you need to understand that I don't control you. If you continue to read after having read the warnings and you're upset or don't like something... Totally on you, friend.

PAIRING:

Andrews!Sibling OFC x Sweet Pea.

TAGGING:

@brithedemonspawn is the only person on my Riverdale tag list. If you want to be added, the link to do so is below.

OTHER PARTS:

ONE - TWO - THREE - FOUR - FIVE - SIX - SEVEN - EIGHT - NINE - TEN- ELEVEN - TWELVE - soundtrack

OTHER STUFF:

[ about my writing - tag list doc ]

THIRTEEN.

[773 - 589 - 7956] Quiet sleepy little town you’ve got here. I can see the appeal, scarlet.

[773 - 589 - 7956] I saw you last night. If I didn’t know what a treacherous bitch you were, I’d say you look more beautiful than ever.

[773 - 589 - 7956] Have you shown that new boytoy of yours all the dirty little photos you were sending me? I bet he’d fucking love to see that… Or did you actually let him see the real thing?

[773 - 589 - 7956] You can say what you want to the cops, scarlet. You and I both know you enjoyed sending me those dirty little pictures. Do your parents know what a teasing whore their daughter really is? I know mommy wasn’t too thrilled when you went running to her to snitch just because things got a little too real for you…

[773 - 589 - 7956] I’ll see you soon. It’s like I said, scarlet. You owe me. I intend to collect. You think this is a game? You can just promise things and then betray me like that? That’s not how this works, scarlet.

The second my phone was powered on again after school, it immediately started to go insane. The texts came in a flood. They were so disgusting and scary that I dropped my phone because my hands were shaking so hard I couldn’t hold it. I quickly picked up the phone and took a few deep breaths, attempting to pull myself together.

,, I can’t keep this to myself. I have to tell someone what’s going on.” the thought nagged at me for the thousandth time in two weeks and I decided that as soon as I finished my tutoring session for the day, I was going to go to the construction site and show my father the texts. Tell him that somehow, Dave was out of prison and apparently, he was here in Riverdale.

My stomach was churning and a bitter taste filled my mouth at the thought. I felt like a dead girl walking. How could I have been so fucking stupid? I should’ve told my father the first time Dave texted me. I should’ve done something.

I felt anger at the situation too. I came here to get away from everything, to put it behind me. I just wanted to forget any of it happened. How dare he show up and ruin everything? He was supposed to be in jail right now, not walking free!

It wasn’t fair.

I knew I’d never be brave enough, but I found myself thinking that if I did see him again, I wanted to strangle him. To give him a reason to be afraid of me for once instead of the other way around. To get even for the hell he put me through in Chicago.

I stepped out into the parking lot, taking a few deep breaths to calm down. Leaning against the brick wall beside the doors that lead into the building. Waiting. Trying to pull myself together. Half hoping that my brother was still here, still in wrestling practice.

Then I remembered that he didn’t have it tonight and that he’d left earlier with Veronica, Betty and Jughead.

Cheryl and Toni were already gone too. I’d stayed over because I was tutoring some kids in the grade below me. I didn’t think it’d take as long as it did. When I realized just how late it had gotten and that I’d be walking home alone in the dark, I’d panicked.

I could always call my dad.

That’s what I wound up doing. About halfway across the parking lot and just as my father’s phone went to voicemail , Dave stepped out and grabbed me, clamping his hand over my mouth before I could do anything other than scream.

My phone fell out of my hands and hit the pavement . I fought him off, managed to get out of his grasp and took off at a run. He caught up to me and grabbed me, trying to drag me towards his Chevelle that was parked nearby, idling. I fought tooth and nail, making as much noise as I could. Grabbing hold of anything I could to try and wrench myself free from his grasp.

I spotted Sweet Pea walking towards the school and I screamed louder. Fought harder.

“Sweet Pea!” I screamed his name, biting at any exposed skin I could get my mouth on Dave’s body. Clawing and scratching. Determined not to go quietly or without a fight. Sweet Pea disappeared from sight for a few seconds in the scuffle between Dave and I, and I was fighting so hard that Dave was struggling to keep a good firm grip on me…

XXX

He’d come back to school because normally, Alyssa was done and at Pop’s within thirty minutes, an hour tops. It had almost been two. Something felt off. Sweet Pea tried to tell himself the entire walk across town to Riverdale High that he was just being paranoid or overprotective. By the time the school was in view, he almost had himself convinced that he was just being a paranoid idiot.

Until he heard her screaming.

Sweet Pea took off at a run in the direction her scream came from, watching as a guy grabbed Alyssa and started trying to pull her towards an idling Chevelle nearby. He locked eyes with Alyssa before slipping out of sight. Getting himself into a position where he could slip up on the guy from behind and hopefully, distract him enough that Alyssa could get away.

The second she managed to smash her head into the guy’s nose hard enough that he dropped her, Sweet Pea spoke up. Firmly. “Run, Cherry. Don’t stop running.”

“No.” I stubbornly refused to leave. I wasn’t going to leave him to fight Dave off on his own. Not when this was my mess to begin with, my own stupidity coming back to bite me in my ass.

“Damn it, woman. Fucking go!” Sweet Pea practically growled as he lunged for the guy in front of him, spearing him against the side of his own car. The fight took to the ground, the two rolling around. For a second or two, Dave had the upper hand because he managed to get his hand on Sweet Pea’s throat. Sweet Pea used his legs, flipping them so that he was on top, swinging his fists with no real thought other than the sheer rage he felt about the guy trying to grab Alyssa. Dave managed to get the upper hand again, holding Sweet Pea against the concrete, Sweet Pea’s hand wrapped around his throat as he tried to squeeze harder.

Sweet Pea swore in frustration when he saw Alyssa slipping over to the open rear door. She emerged with a baseball bat, making her way over to the fight.

“What the fuck do you think you were gonna do, man?” Sweet Pea snarled in anger as he got in a few hard and fast punches.

“I was gonna get my hands on that little bitch you call a girlfriend and teach her a lesson.” Dave grunted out the words as Sweet Pea’s hand closed around his throat tighter and he managed to get Dave on his back again.

“The only one who’s going to learn a lesson tonight is you, asshole. Don’t fucking touch her.” Sweet Pea got the upper hand again, holding Dave against the concrete, smashing his head against Dave’s head as he sneered, “I’m gonna fuckin kill you, putting your hands on my girl.” and really tightened his grip.

Dave managed to shove him off and stood, the two of them fighting. Alyssa swung the bat at Dave’s lower back, almost connecting with it but Dave stepped out of the way at the last minute, making a grab for her.

“Cherry, I told you to run, damn it!” Sweet Pea growled as he lunged at Dave, sending Alyssa stumbling back, barely managing to keep herself from falling on her butt on the pavement. The two were rolling around on the ground again, punching and choking wildly and Alyssa spotted her cell phone and she dove for it, dialing 911.

Just as she was about to hit call, Sweet Pea choked Dave out and grabbed for the rope that had fallen out of Dave’s jacket pocket, tying his arms together while he was down. Then he rushed over to her, checking her over in concern, wincing at the pavement burn on her cheeks and the few scrapes.

“What the fuck happened to run, huh?” Sweet Pea asked, trying to catch his breath.

“I wasn’t leaving you here with him.” Alyssa panted. Sweet Pea took her cell phone and hit call, keeping his foot on Dave’s head to keep him down as he made the call.

Two minutes later, a cop car came racing around the corner and pulled to a stop behind the idling Chevelle.

The cop got out and wandered over. Glancing from Sweet Pea to Dave.

Alyssa spoke up.

“Sweet Pea was trying to save me, officer.”

“I’m going to need you two to come to the station and make statements.” the cop informed them after getting Dave into the back of the cop car. Alyssa nodded, hugging herself against Sweet Pea’s side. Sweet Pea slipped out of his leather jacket,draping it around her, because at some point during her fight with Dave, her shirt had gotten torn down the front.

The cop left, leaving the two of them alone.

Sweet Pea took a few deep breaths, pulling her against him. Squeezing her tight. Holding her in place. “Thank God I decided to come by here. If something would’ve happened…” he muttered against her hair quietly.

She pulled away to look up at him and he locked eyes with her, leaning in closer…

XXX

My heart was still hammering away at my chest. The adrenaline was starting to wear off and I was starting to panic a little as I began to realize what almost happened to me. How close I came to disappearing, having God knows what would be done to me by Dave.

I wasn’t thinking about how awkward me kissing him would be. I wasn’t thinking about anything if you want the truth. I rose up on my toes, grabbing hold of the front of Sweet Pea’s t-shirt, pulling myself up. My mouth brushed against the corner of his gingerly, trying to avoid the portion of his lower lip that was busted and bloody because it had to hurt like hell. His hands dug into my hips and he growled quietly, his mouth latching onto mine just as I went to pull away, stop myself before I went for it and kissed him in the heat of the moment.

The kiss deepened and I raised my arms, wrapping them around his neck. Dragging my fingers through his hair. My back met the side of the Chevelle with a soft smack and he pressed himself into me more firmly. His mouth continuing to hungrily devour mine.

The kiss broke a few seconds later, we pulled apart breathlessly and stared at one another in a daze. Sweet Pea wiped the back of his hand over his mouth and cleared his throat. Going quiet again.

All I could do was melt into him and try to wrap my head around what almost happened and what had just actually happened. He curled his fingers under my chin, tilting my face so that I had to look up at him.

“Who was that? Wait.. was that your ex?”

My jaw dropped. I blinked at him and then I nodded quietly. He swore under his breath and held on a little tighter. Pulling away again, his hands on my upper arms as he stared down at me. “I should’ve fucking killed him.”

“H-how’d you know about Dave? Did my brother tell you?”

“And Jughead. I don’t know everything. I just know that I told myself if I ever actually saw the asshole, I was going to kill him.” Sweet Pea answered quietly. Taking a few deep breaths and then adding a few seconds later, “We need to get to the station.”

I nodded in agreement. Sweet Pea scooped me up when he saw me take a step and wince, then try it again with the same outcome.

“I can walk.” I protested weakly.

“You fell. You probably twisted your ankle. Just… let me carry you, Cherry.” he muttered quietly, his voice a soft and concerned whisper as he gazed down at me.

All I could do was nod. Lean my head against the space between his neck and shoulder.

As we worked our way towards the police station, it poured out of me. Every single thing I’d gone through with Dave in Chicago. I grimaced as I told Sweet Pea exactly what had gone down and why I thought Dave had come to town and tried to grab me tonight and Sweet Pea’s jaw set firm.

I could tell that hearing it bothered him. And at one point, he muttered quietly, “If you don’t want to talk about it you don’t have to…”

“No, I need to get it out. I shouldn’t have kept the fact that the asshole was texting me to myself. Blocking his number obviously didn’t work because he reached out with a new one. I thought if I just ignored him, he’d lose interest. I thought it was just him, trying to scare me. I didn’t think he’d be stupid or brave enough to show up here.” I muttered, shaking my head at how stupid that sounded now that I was really stopping to think about it.

“He’s not gonna bother you again, okay? I’m going to make sure he doesn’t.” Sweet Pea muttered after a few seconds, just as we stepped into the station and made our way over to a sitting area to wait.

“You need to call your dad.” Sweet Pea spoke up after a few seconds that felt like hours.

I nodded. Taking my phone back from Sweet Pea, I dialed my dad’s number and I could hear the relief in his voice when he answered.

Static crackled and popped on his end of the line so I strained to hear.

“I’ve been riding around town looking for you for over an hour, tiny. What the hell happened?” my dad asked in a rush.

“Dave was waiting outside of the school tonight when I came out… If Sweet Pea hadn’t gotten there when he did I… he tried to grab me tonight, Dad.” I grimaced as I said it, bracing myself for all the questions and the lecture I knew I’d be getting because I hadn’t told anyone the second all this started.

,, to be fair, I definitely deserve it.” the thought came and I let myself have it. Leaning back in the chair, resting against Sweet Pea’s side slightly. Taking a few deep breaths.

My dad swore and I heard him punching at something, probably the dashboard of his truck. After a second or two, he spoke up. “Where are you two? I’m on my way, tiny. Right now.”

“We’re at the station giving a statement.” I explained.

“Thank god. So Novak got arrested? That’s good. I’m going to be sure to find out what I can do to make sure that little prick stays in a cell this time.” my dad responded as I heard him rev the engine on his truck.

The call ended and I leaned my head against Sweet Pea’s shoulder. He slipped an arm around me and took a few more breaths as if he were trying to calm himself down again because he was still angry and tense.

The cop who made the arrest found us and ushered us back to his workspace and we sat down. Telling the cop every single detail of what happened tonight. The cop let me finish and then spoke up.

“We’re holding him for Chicago. He apparently escaped. Attacked another girl… A Claire Watson… Then he came here. But everything you’ve told me will help keep him behind bars, Alyssa. Do you have a parent you can call?”

I nodded.

“She already called him.” Sweet Pea answered calmly as he folded his arms over his chest and glared at the cop suspiciously.

The cop eyed him, nodding. Managing a cordial smile. “That was quick thinking on your part tonight kid. Also stupid as hell. If he’d had a weapon, that could’ve gone wrong. Next time, call the station.”

“And do what? Let an asshole make off with my girl? Yeah, no thanks. I’m good. I’ve seen how fast you assholes respond to any call you get from the South side.”

“Not all of us are bad, kid.” the cop pointed out in a calm and even tone.

“Yeah, well… I wasn’t going to stand there and let him take my girl either. I did what I had to do.” Sweet Pea took a deep breath, rubbing his forehead. Calming himself back down.

I spotted my father and Archie coming into the station, heading right for us and I let out a ragged breath. Squeezing my dad so tight he almost couldn’t breathe when they got over to where we were sitting in the back.

My father spoke up, addressing the cop. “We will be pressing charges. So, whatever I need in order to do that, just tell me and you’ve got it.”

Sweet Pea cleared his throat.

“If it helps, here’s her phone.” Sweet Pea held my phone out to the policeman and he took it, nodding. “If there’s anything on here, that’ll help. If you’ll come with me, Mr. Andrews, we’ll get that paperwork drawn up to start the proceedings.”

My dad gave me another hug and stopped in front of Sweet Pea. “If you hadn’t been there tonight, kid… Thank you.”

“I wasn’t gonna let anything happen to her, sir.” Sweet Pea muttered, awkwardly letting my dad hug him too.

My dad made his way to an office with the policeman who’d taken our statements and I glanced up at Sweet Pea, grimacing at the bruises and scraped starting to form on his face and neck. The black eye and the busted lip.

“Archie, can you go get some ice or a soda can? His lips really swelling up..” I muttered. My brother nodded, taking some change from me to go do it. And this left Sweet Pea and I alone again.

“About that kiss.. I’m sorry, I.. the last thing I wanted to do was make anything awkward. I just got caught up in the moment and I can’t keep fighting the way I feel and I… Sorry.” I spoke up quietly. Prepared to give him an out. Afraid that I’d gone way over the line.

“Yeah, about that… I’ve been wanting to do it for a while.” Sweet Pea admitted quietly. Making me look up at him as he chuckled quietly. “You wanna repeat any of what you just said?”

I felt my cheeks burning. I pouted up at him and gave him a dirty look.

He smirked in response and spoke up. “I’m being serious. You were doing that mumble and babbling thing again.”

“You heard me.” I answered, biting my lip as I looked up at him.

“A little, yeah… But maybe I wanna hear it again, cherry.” he pulled me close and gazed down at me for a few seconds.

“Wait.. you wanted to kiss me?” I realized what he’d admitted. Gazing up at him, a little shocked.

“You’re trying to change the subject now?” he questioned, slipping his arms around me. I gave a soft laugh and muttered quietly, “Maybe a little.”

“When you say you can’t ignore the way you feel.. What’s that mean?” he questioned again, making me look up at him. I took a deep breath and toyed with the front of his shirt, trying to figure out the best way to put it to words.

The truth. Simple and direct.

“I care about you a lot. I lo--” I started to say that I loved him, but Archie cleared his throat behind us, holding out the soda can to me. Then promptly excusing himself again to go find our dad. I gently guided Sweet Pea down into a chair and sank down to sit on his knees. Gingerly pressing the cold soda can against his lip. And after a second or two, I finally got myself to say it again. “I love you, okay?”

He chuckled quietly. Locking eyes with me. Lowering the soda can to ask quietly, “Like a best friend or something.. Right?”

I shook my head. “More than, actually. Since that day at the car wash when I drenched you with the hose, I’ve… It’s been hard to make myself not look for you in a crowd. Yes, yes.. I know this is mushy and you don’t do mushy, I..” his mouth crashing against mine cut off the flow of my words and he muttered in a daze, “Say it again. Tell me you love me, Cherry.”

“I love you.” I managed to get the words out breathlessly. His mouth was latching onto mine all over again. The kiss deepening. His arms enveloping me tighter. Squeezing til I thought I’d get lightheaded between the deep and heavy onslaught of kisses and the way he was holding me.

“I love you too.” he mumbled quietly. Gazing down at me. Panting for his next breath as the kiss broke yet again.

“Okay, are you two done with whatever yet? Because dad told me to get Al back home. You can come with us if you want.” Archie surprised me by inviting Sweet Pea. Sweet Pea eyed him and nodded, standing after I’d finally managed to pry myself away from him.

As we walked out of the station, he slipped his hand down between us, lacing his fingers between mine. Giving my hand a squeeze as he glanced down at me.

[stayextrafrosty]

I’m Dying for A Taste of You: Chapter 3

Chapter Title: You Can Use All of Me

Summary: Kyle spilled about the attack; Michael and Alex deal with the consequences while still figuring out their own relationship

A/N: More plot in this one but plenty of needy sex. Though it was time for a switch :) A bit angsty at the end but it matters

Kinks explored: Knife and blood play, exhibitionism mentioned, chastity devices mentioned DISCLAIMER: If you're interested in knife play please make sure to discuss safe words and hard limits with your partner ahead of time. This portrayal of knife play is very risky. DO YOUR RESEARCH

Read on AO3 // Masterlist

-

A week passed with no word from Alex’s office. Only a text from his boss saying that he should take some time off. Of course this had his mind working on overdrive from anxiety. What were they planning? Had Kyle actually talked about what happened?

Michael had done the best he could with distracting him, but the worry was always front and center. But they hung out almost like a normal couple. Watching Netflix and going out to eat seemed to be personal favorites for Michael.

Their first public appearance together (he hesitated to call it a date), Michael had taken him out for breakfast. His confusion had made Michael laugh.

“I can eat normal food. I just don’t need to,” he had explained.

“Then why did you want to go out to eat?”

“Because I want to make sure you’re taken care of.” He had blushed and could hardly look him in the eye after that. This casual flirting was taking a toll on his ability to think rationally.

But that was a week ago and now he had been trying to fight his instincts to cling to Michael like a lost puppy. Michael had stayed away from him for one day and he had almost gone crazy. He had paced around the house, nothing holding his attention for more than a few minutes.

Michael seemed to keep him at an arm’s length since that day apart. He was sometimes able to pull a chaste kiss from him but that was it. He never caught him looking Alex up and down anymore. There was an occasional innuendo. Nothing like the first two days.

Alex was driving now. This waiting around for something to happen was going to drive him insane. He had to talk to his boss. Figure out what the plan was. He pulled into the buildings parking lot and looked up at the tinted windows. There was no other way for this to go than bad.

He had told Michael that he was going to the gym. If he knew he was lying, he didn’t let on. Just smiled and said that he’d would come with if the sun wasn’t “so damn bright.” Alex could tell that he loved being outside. He felt sorry that he was so sensitive to the sun.

Pushing the doors open, he looked around. No one seemed to notice him at first as they were all focused on their own tasks. It seemed different. People kept their heads down and spoke quickly, as though they were racing against the clock. Alex shuffled through the crowd of people.

“Hey, isn’t that Manes?”

“So it’s true. He’s been marked.”

The whispers were hardly disguised. He had always hated workplace gossip. Doubly so now that he was the subject. He could still do his job. He just needed to protect Michael from his colleagues first.

He picked up various words as more of the people noticed him. Disgusting. Traitor. Useless.

He tuned out the nasty words and kept his head high. Why should he be ashamed of the mark? The world knew vampires existed. Why should they be stereotyped? It was no better than doing it to any other human.

His fists were clenched as he stepped into the elevator. He pressed the button for the third floor as calmly as possible. His mark throbbed lightly and he shook his head, trying to calm the rage that he felt for Michael’s sake.

The doors slid open and every pair of eyes was on him. He beelined for his boss’s office. He didn’t quite make it to the door before someone was grabbing his arm. He turned and saw Kyle, a smaller bandage covering the bite on his neck.

“What are you doing here Manes?”

“I work here. I want to know what’s going on.”

“That’s classified,” he said coldly. Alex let out a disbelieving laugh.

“I outrank you Kyle. What the hell is everyone so wound up about?”

“Manes. I told you to take some time off.” He turned to face his boss. The cold glare sat on his face as well. Daniel Rocci was known to be hell to work for but Alex and him had always gotten along fine. Alex knew it was because he never failed a mission. Until now.

“Are you firing me, because I’d rather get that information now. Or are you avoiding it so I can’t file a wrongful termination complaint?” His jaw twitched.

Hit the nail on the head.

“You’re compromised. You can’t do your job if you have sympathy for them.” Alex clenched his fists in anger. What did any of them know about it?

“We’re supposed to be police. We’re only hunting the ones that break laws. I have reason to believe that the target didn’t break any.” His heart hurt to refer to Michael as a ‘target’ but it was the only way he would get them to listen.

“With what evidence?”

He opened his mouth to speak again and froze. What did he have? His word? A charming personality and a flirt did not an innocent person make. He just knew Michael didn’t do it. He knew it before he was marked. His instinct had never been wrong before.

“Please. Give me time and I’ll prove it. You’ve trusted my instincts before. Why is it different now?” He looked between Kyle and Daniel.

“He attacked me, Alex. And you let him. I can’t trust you after that.”

“You shot him! With no evidence!” Alex snapped. He watched both men jump with wide eyes. He had never dared to raise his voice against his partner or superior. But this was just ridiculous.

“You have one week. If another body shows up dead. I will not hesitate to get rid of the target myself.” His boss glared at him, daring him to challenge. Today was not the day. Alex wanted to throw something. Preferably at him.

“Fine. But you do not go anywhere near him until then,” Alex said, unable to hold back the threat. He looked at them both once more before making the stiff walk back to the elevator. The whispers on the first floor hadn’t gotten any better and he just ignored them.

He sped the whole way home. More than normal. He tried to pick apart what he knew about the murder of the three girls but the only information they had were the witness accounts. Which he now doubted.

He rolled his shoulders, trying to let himself relax but it wasn’t working. He really needed to hit something. Everything about this was fucked up.

Why did he let Michael claim him? Sure he could say it was just in the moment but what was his actual reason? He wasn’t under a spell when he agreed to it. Horny, yes. Magic, no. He ran his hands through his hair, fighting the urge to pull it out.

He sat in his driveway, staring at the garage. If he moved some stuff around, he could probably put together a small home gym. He now wished the white lie he told Michael had been the truth. He needed an outlet.

He hopped out of his car and looked at the truck. Alex had mentioned stargazing over breakfast and Michael had seemed on board. If this was the last night they had, maybe they should use it.

He walked into the house, tension still hanging off his shoulders. Michael was lounged on the couch, shirtless, and watching some show on Netflix. Alex just watched him, wanting nothing other than to touch him again.

Michael looked up at him with a smile on his face that fell almost as soon as he looked over Alex’s clothes. He was up and in front of him in the next second, eyebrows drawn together.

“What happened?”

“I went to the office. To see what was going on.” Michael swallowed and nodded.

“And?”

“I have a week to figure out who killed those girls or they’re coming after you.” He nodded again. He placed a hand on the back of Alex’s head and pulled him in. He only pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“I’ll help you in any way I can. But try to relax for a bit.” Michael took his hand and tugged him toward the couch.

Alex planted his feet, knowing full well he could move him if he wanted. Michael looked at him in confusion for a moment. His eyes softened as he cupped his cheek. Alex trembled with frustration.

Why did someone kill those girls? Why was he just noticing how much of a dick his boss was? Why did he let Michael claim him? Why was he being so distant? Why wouldn’t he just kiss him?

Alex could only solve one of those issues himself. So he did.

He grabbed Michael’s face, crushing their mouths together. He stumbled slightly in surprise but quickly wrapped his arms around Alex and kissed him back. Alex turned them, pressing Michael against the wall. A small groan slipped out. Alex bit his lip, tugging on it roughly before kissing over his jaw and neck.

“Alex,” he breathed out in warning.

He didn’t stop. He found his pulse point and began nibbling and sucking at the spot. Michael’s fingers dug into his hips as he was pulled closer, grinding against him. Alex bit on the spot he had been focused on, continuing to roll his hips.

“God damnit Alex. Tell me what you want and it’s yours. But you’re driving me fucking crazy here,” he nearly whined. Alex had thought his intentions were obvious as he sucked harder on the spot under his lips. Michael groaned but still pushed him back slightly.

“If you want to talk—”

“I don’t,” Alex cut him off, meeting his eyes. He watched them darken and his fangs peek out from this lips. “I want you. I need you. I want to take you apart like you did to me.”  The heat in his gaze shot need down to his cock.

“Then use me. For whatever you need.” Alex kissed him again, running his hands over every part of his torso. Michael shoved his jacket off his shoulders and tossed it somewhere to the side. Then he was grabbing the hem of his shirt and pulling it off, forcing them to break the kiss. It was only a moment before they were on each other again.

Alex licked into his mouth, feeling his teeth. He hadn’t bit him since that day. And Alex wanted him to. Craved it even. Like he wasn’t doing his job if he didn’t bare his most vulnerable spot for him.

He dug his nails into his hips and Michael’s hands moved to his jeans, popping the button easily. Then Michael was breaking away from him and sliding to his knees, pulling his pants to his thighs. He took Alex in his hand, stroking a few times before wrapping his mouth around the head.

The warmth of Michael’s mouth stunned him. His hands flew to his curls, holding him in place. He cursed as his tongue started running over his length. Alex tried to keep his hips still as Michael bobbed his head, slowly increasing his pace. He moaned as he hit the back of his throat, feeling him swallow.

Alex looked down at him, gripping his hair and holding him still. Michael didn’t fight, just watched him from his spot on his knees. He thrust his hips forward once. When Michael didn’t gag he did it again, reveling in the unusual warmth of him.

He let his hips go, fucking his mouth without restraint. His teeth never got in the way. Michael groaned every now and then, sending vibrations through his whole body and making him thrust harder. His legs shook as his orgasm rushed toward him.

He distantly felt Michael’s hands move to his ass and squeeze. It was only when he slipped one finger in him that he actually paid attention. A whine escaped his mouth and his hips stuttered. He pulled his hair roughly, earning him another groan.

“Fuck, I’m gunna cum,” he warned. Michael just fingered him faster as he slipped a second finger in. He looked down and found Michael already watching him. He brushed some curls out of his face and let himself go. Alex shoved himself to the back of his throat as his cock jerked.

The sensation was too much to hold and he pulled himself out, the last of his orgasm spilling over Michael’s lips and chin, rolling slowly down his neck. He pulled his fingers out of Alex’s ass as he was being pulled to his feet. Alex licked over the areas where his cum landed before returning to his lips with an open mouthed kiss.

They both moaned at the taste of each other and Alex felt the smallest prick of his teeth. He broke away and pulled his pants up before grabbing Michael’s hand, dragging him down the hall.

“Bedroom. Now.” Michael followed wordlessly. Halfway there, Michael was pulling him to a stop and pressing him against the wall, sharing sloppy and desperate kisses. They continued like that, making it only a few steps before they were on each other again. The half shut door was practically ripped off its hinges as they stumbled into it, mouths all over each other.

Michael scraped his teeth over his shoulder as Alex yanked the button and zipper on his jeans open. He shoved them down and Michael kicked them away. Alex grabbed his cock, rubbing it slowly as he continued to nibble and lick at his shoulder. He lifted his free hand to hold his head against his skin.

“Drink Michael. I know you want it,” he encouraged. Michael groaned as his hips jerked.

“I can’t Alex.”

“You can. I want you to.”

“I know. But the more I take, the harder it is to resist.” His own cock was starting to reharden.

Instead of responding, he pushed Michael back until he fell onto the bed. Alex crawled over him and sat on his thighs, leaning down to press kisses to his chest. He flicked his tongue over one of his nipples, making him whine. He ran his hands down his abs and wrapped a hand around him again, stroking him slowly.

Michael’s fingers grazed over his shoulders and back as he nibbled and sucked on his nipple. Then he dragged his lips across his chest to focus on the other. Michael’s hips were moving with the stroke of his hand, seeming in no rush.

Alex determined that just wouldn’t work. He wanted Michael begging.

Alex released him and stood up, moving to the drawer where he had put the new lube he bought. Of course they hadn’t used it at all. He felt Michael at his back, wrapping his arms around his waist and kissing his shoulder. He felt his cock poking at his lower back.

“When’d you get that,” he asked? Alex didn’t answer his question. Just turned his head toward him.

“Who said you could get off the bed?” He watched the corners of Michael’s mouth twitch up.

“I’m sorry. But if you come back now I can make up for it.”

“I’ll be there when I’m ready. Now go lay down.” Michael kissed his shoulder again.

“Yes sir.” Then his warmth was gone and Alex felt like he could breathe again. He knew Michael could easily distract him from everything but he needed this. He felt powerless. If this is the only thing he’s good for then he was going make sure Michael knew just how good he was.

He moved to the dresser and picked up the knife he had brought with him the night they met. He considered the ways this could go wrong. Sending Michael into bloodlust always came with the threat of death. But he wanted him desperate.

Alex moved back to the bed as Michael watched him closely, eyes flicking down to the knife and back up to his face. There was a hesitant curiosity. He knew exactly where his thoughts were going and he wasn’t wrong. But they’d work their way there.

“Alex,” he warned, beginning to sit up.

“Trust me. I won’t hurt myself.” He tossed the lube on the bed and flicked the knife open. “Not unless you ask me to. Or you can ask me to put it away if you’re that worried.” Alex leaned over him, kissing him slowly.

“I will get rid of the knife myself if you do something stupid,” he said, leaning back slowly. Alex nodded in understanding. Michael was just letting him act the part of having power after all.

“Stay still,” he ordered.

Alex started at his elbow, letting the tip of the knife just barely scratch over him. Michael shuddered but otherwise didn’t move. He watched his face the whole time, periodically making sure he wasn’t pressing too hard. When he got to his collarbone, he lifted the knife and started on the other arm, repeating the process.

He caught a glimpse of Michael’s fangs that he was now trying so hard to hide. As he reached his chest again, he pressed down just enough to draw a drop of blood. Michael hissed but didn’t stop him. Alex moved to press the knife to his throat, just like he did the first night.

“Well this is familiar,” Michael quipped. Alex smiled and leaned down, hovering just above his lips. He let his breath tickled his face. He tried to lean up to close the distance between them but Alex backed away and reminded him of the weapon resting against his neck.

“Careful. If you bleed too much I’ll have to give you some of mine.” Michael just groaned in response and Alex watched his cock jump at the threat. He tried to keep a straight face but he felt the corners of his mouth tug up.

He moved the knife to lightly press the tip to the hollow of his throat. Michael’s head rolled back, trying to move away from the point. He dragged it down his sternum and trailed it over his pecs, circling one nipple at a time. He leaned down, sucking lightly on the nipple the knife wasn’t circling.

Alex rocked his hips slowly, letting his jeans rub against Michael. He moaned and his own hips rolled up, searching for any kind of friction. Alex’s free hand grabbed his hip, stilling him. He took a deep breath through his nose and his fingers dug into the sheets.

“I need more Alex. What did I do to deserve this torture,” he half joked, half pleaded.

Alex kissed up his chest, licking up the small drop of blood that still sat there. He looked up at him through his lashes and watched his mouth fall open. He felt the response from his cock that throbbed as he rubbed against him.

“You don’t like me tempting you? All I want is for you to feed on me. I never thought I’d be jealous of little bags of nameless blood,” he admit. He sat back up, dragging the knife down to his abs, tracing an ‘s’ pattern over them.

Michael’s fangs were out and his eyes screwed shut. Like he was fighting the exact need Alex was encouraging him to embrace. Alex sat up and lifted the knife to his hand. He pricked his thumb and pressed a drop of blood out.

“Alex I can smell that,” Michael warned.

“I know.”

He cupped the side of Michael’s face, letting his thumb brush over his lips. He whined and his hips thrust up. He fought it but eventually his tongue slipped out and over the drop, licking it up. Alex only allowed him the taste before pulling his hand away and closing the knife. He stood again, placing the knife on the dresser and working his pants down his legs, over his prosthesis.

Michael watched him the whole time, eyes desperate and hungry. He scoot closer to the edge of the bed and Alex grinned. Michael was great at fucking, but seeing him like this, practically begging for relief made Alex’s own cock throb. He wanted to be inside him.

Alex ran his hands over his thighs and then maneuvered himself to his knees. He pushed his legs apart as he started kissing his shaft. Michael moaned and tried to press himself closer to Alex’s teasing tongue. He pulled back every time.

He worked his hands slowly to Michael’s ass, groping and scratching. His legs were shaking by the time Alex was pushing them open and up, running a finger over his puckered hole. He watched it tense as he pressed the tip of his finger in, reacting to the intrusion.

He heard the bed creek and looked up to see Michael had pushed himself up to watch him. He panted, mouth dropped open to expose his teeth. Alex smirked up at him before refocusing on his ass. He took the head of his cock in his mouth, sucked lightly, then released him and let his tongue run down the shaft to his scrotum. Alex teased his entrance with his tongue as he slowly pressed a finger inside him.

“Damnit Alex, you better fuck me before I flip this around.” Alex chuckled at the demand. He pulled back for a moment to find the lube. Pulling his finger out he coated it with the clear substance along with another two. He dove back in, running his tongue over him a few times, before slipping it inside, making Michael thrust.

He did it a few times before working his finger in again. He quickly moved to two, twisting and spreading his fingers. He took his cock into his mouth again, copying his tactic from earlier. Michael groaned and rocked under his attention. Alex felt his fingers comb through his hair before he was pushing his mouth further down.

Alex let him as he teased a third finger around his rim. He curled his fingers to press against his walls, softening the muscles. He pushed the third in with little resistance. He hollowed his cheeks and sucked on Michael, thrusting his fingers in and out.

Michael cursed and pulled on his hair. Alex hummed in appreciation. The more desperate Michael got only made him want it more. His own hard on begged for attention as he whined.

“Alex… gunna… cum…”

He pressed his fingers roughly against his prostate once before yanking them out. He released his cock from his lips and stood quickly. He tugged Michael toward him before grabbing the lube and coating himself. Precum dripped from Michael’s cock and his hips thrusted into nothing.

“You want me inside you?” He pressed the tip against him, just barely passing the rim.

“Fuck, please,” he begged.

“I don’t think you mean it,” he pushed, pulling his cock away. Michael snarled at him but it looked more desperate than threatening. Which was exactly what Alex wanted. He pressed the head in again using short and shallow thrusts, making his eyes flutter closed. Alex used this chance to grab the knife again.

“Talk to me Michael. What exactly do you want?” He flicked the knife open and pressed it to his chest, making a small cut.

“Don’t… I can’t…” Alex shoved himself inside, moaning at the tight squeeze around him. He let himself enjoy it for a moment before pulling back out so just the tip was still inside again. Alex leaned over him and watched his nose flare as he picked up the smell of him.

“Let go. Bite me, Michael.” He tried to shake his head. Alex wiped some of the blood away with his fingers, pressing them into his mouth and over his tongue. He saw Michael’s eyes flash red.

He was being yanked into him, going balls deep in one motion. The pinch of his teeth sent a wave of need through him and Alex thrust his hips forward. Michael’s legs were wrapped around his waist and his fingers scratching his back. He was sure he felt blood roll down his skin.

The usual warmth from his venom was absent. He felt every clench of his jaw and the pain was more intense but not unwelcome. He moaned next to Michael’s ear, the sound seeming to spur him on.

Alex moved his hips as best he could with Michael wrapped around him. He felt his tongue licking at the cut he had made, encouraging the flow. He grabbed Michael’s cock and stroked him in pace with his hips. His own orgasm was rushing up faster than he thought it would but he couldn’t bring himself to stop.

He felt when Michael released him but couldn’t remember being pulled onto the bed or when he had been rolled on his back. Michael crouched above him, eyes as red as the blood still dripping from his lips. He lined Alex up with his hole and sank down again.

Alex’s eyes rolled back as he grabbed his hips, needing to touch him. Their skin slapped together as Michael rode him fast and hard. He wrapped his hand around his own cock as their moans got louder together. Alex wasn’t going to last much longer at the pace they were going.

“C’mon Michael, milk my cock of everything it has.” His movements stuttered and Alex smirked. “Ride me until you cum, baby.” He was gripping Michael’s waist, trying to hold off as long as possible. Michael cursed above him, squeezing his cock harder. Then tensing of his ass was heaven and the lube leaked around them, as if making room for Alex to spill himself inside.

His back arched and he pulled Michael fully down on him. His cock jerked and throbbed as his orgasmed rolled through him. Alex grinded against him, making sure to hit the deepest parts. Then Michael’s legs were shaking as his mouth dropped open, a choked moan spilling out. He came over Alex’s abs, painting it with white ribbons.

Michael rocked his hips slowly, both of them shuddering at the continued stimulation. Alex’s cock jumped though it wouldn’t get hard again. He moved off and laid himself down next to Alex. They were silent, arms pressed together.

“That was stupid Alex,” he said quietly. “I could have really hurt you.”

“You could have stopped me,” Alex reminded him.

“I couldn’t.”

Alex turned to his head to look at him. His other arm was covering his eyes, the blood starting to dry on his face. Speaking of…

He hadn’t felt it until just then. His chest was still bleeding though it was slowing down. It ached. His back had started to burn as it rubbed against the sheets that were suddenly too rough.

“What do you mean, ‘you couldn’t?’”

“I wanted you so fucking bad. I’d been holding back all week and I…” Suddenly he shot up. “Sit up.” Alex pulled himself up and Michael was crawling around behind him. “Damnit. This is what I meant,” he said, pressing his a kiss to the top of Alex’s spine.

“Michael, I’m sure it’s not that bad,” he tried to reassure. Michael scoffed.

“Not that bad? Follow me.” He was off the bed and grabbing his hand without waiting for a response. He was dragged into the bathroom and Michael turned him around so his back was facing the mirror. “Look.”

He turned his head and sure enough, two sets of bright red scratches covered his back and shoulders. They weren’t really bleeding but he could tell they had been. He’d probably need a new set of sheets. He looked back at Michael who was obviously spiraling down from his guilt.

“Hey. I’m fine.” Michael shook his head.

“Are you blind? I did that to you. I hurt—”

Alex pulled him in, pressing a gentle kiss to his mouth. Michael melted into him, pressing the length of his body against him. He ran his fingers through his hair softly, trying to remind him just who he was dealing with.

“I promise I’m ok,” he said once they separated. He ran his hands over Michael’s shoulders. “But if it would make you feel better, why not just heal me?” Almost immediately, he was lifting his hand to his mouth and making a small bite.

Alex shook his head as he took Michael’s hand and pressed it to his lips, kissing the wound before licking it and sucking. He heard Michael hiss in a breath and he glanced up at him. The heat had already returned. He pulled his hand away, running his fingers over Alex’s cheek and down his neck.

“You have no idea how tempting it is to turn you right now.” He brought his hand back up and rubbed a thumb over Alex’s bottom lip, brushing away a drop of blood. He grabbed his wrist to stop him from moving away. He wrapped his mouth around his thumb, never breaking eye contact. Michael groaned.

“You’re a terrible influence on me.” Alex just grinned at him as he released his thumb. Michael wasn’t hard but he could feel him getting there.

“You never finished what you were saying earlier. Why couldn’t you stop me? Say no?” He sighed and pressed his forehead against Alex’s.

“Because I’ve been holding back. Trying to suppress every craving for you backfired.” Alex rested his hands on his hips, occasionally squeezing.

“But why suppress it? I’m here for you. Literally yours.”

“Every time I take from you, the harder it is to stop. That’s always been the flaw of claiming a human. It’s usually not done unless there’s the intent to turn them. I’ve been getting nothing but lectures from my siblings about how it was probably the worst decision I’ve ever made to claim you.”

Alex thought for a moment.

“Then why not turn me?”

Michael pulled back and shook his head. His eyes were sad but the desire still danced in the background.

“I told you. Don’t even suggest it.” Alex thought back to the conversation they had when they met. The temptation was always there. Especially if he had just fed. Michael sighed and lifted him onto the counter. He began working his prosthesis off.

“Turning people isn’t as common of a practice as the academy led you to believe. It’s reserved for… special circumstances.” Alex watched him.

“Like what?” He tugged his leg off and set it to the side, then rolled the sock down. He kissed up his leg until he stood again, not meeting Alex’s eyes.

“Family usually. Or if the vampire claimed a human.”

“That sounds like us.” Michael shook his head.

“Other vampires claim because they found a blood match. Which also applies to you and me. But it’s not like there’s only one person that can be a blood match. Its recurring. So the vampires that claim solely on blood matches usually just use their claimed until they’re drained and die.” Alex shivered.

“Do you… want to drain me?” Michael finally looked at him, desperate and wistful.

“Every time I’m close to you. Which is why I was fighting so hard to keep you at a distance.” Alex nodded, lifting his hands to run over Michael’s shoulders and up his neck to hold his face. Alex pulled him in for a soft kiss. Michael pulled back after a moment.

“The claimed are only turned when they form a bond with their Sire. Otherwise known as love.” Alex sucked in a breath, not expecting the word and the way it made his heart race. “It’s not a common occurrence. So no Alex. I’m not going to turn you and subject you to a life like this.”

Alex couldn’t pinpoint why it hurt to hear. Sure, he cared for Michael but he couldn’t go as far to call it love. They were desperate for each other. It had been like that since they met. There was a friendship blooming but they were in no uncertain terms anything more than friends with benefits.

So Alex just nodded and wrapped his legs around Michael’s waist, tugging him close for a kiss. It was soft and gentle, like they were lovers. Alex had to remind himself that they weren’t. Michael would never love him and Alex didn’t love Michael.

His heart panged with the thought.

He shoved his feelings down and deepened the kiss, licking into Michael’s mouth. Michael was half hard and pressed against his thigh. His hands were squeezing his hips, pulling him forward so their chests pressed together. Alex tugged on his bottom lip, pulling a low growl from the vampire. He pulled back sooner than he would have liked.

“Before I forget. You’re coming with me to the blood ball tonight,” he said, slightly out of breath. Alex’s eyebrows furrowed.

“You still want to go to those?” Jealousy burned under his skin. He wanted to lock Michael up and keep him for himself. Why should anyone else get to touch him? Or feel his fangs piercing their skin. His fingers tightened in his hair. Michael smirked at him, as if he knew exactly what he was thinking.

“Careful there hunter. I might think you actually like me.” He leaned forward again, letting his breath dance over Alex’s lips. “I want you there to brag. Brag that you’re all mine. And as sexy as you were in that leather jacket, I’m afraid I’m going to have to request you to dress a little more… risqué. If only so I can eat you up in front of everyone.”

A new need filled Alex, bringing his slightly hard cock to full attention. He shivered at the possessiveness. His brain scolded him but he stamped it out, yanking Michael back in for a kiss. He hadn’t understood why those two men he saw last week were being so open about their lust. Now he did. He was more than willing to let Michael parade him around as a pet as long as everyone there knew he was Michael’s. And that Michael was his in return.

He felt himself being lifted and he hugged himself to Michael tighter. Their sloppy kisses had his hips rolling and Michael groaning. Alex couldn’t help but laugh as he was bumped against the glass as he stumbled into the shower. Michael smirked and his back was against the cold tile, making him gasp.

His mouth was captured again and he felt around blindly for the handle to the showerhead. Michael bit his lip and ground his hips against him, rubbing their cocks together. Alex moaned and his hand slipped down. He knocked the handle, cold water spraying over them. Neither stopped in their movements.

Michael attached himself to his throat, sucking and lightly biting at the area just above the mark. Alex whimpered and dug his blunt nails into his back. His hips rolled.

“Is it my turn to wreck you,” Michael mumbled against his neck. His voice low and desperate.

“Don’t you always,” he said back, his own voice breathy.

Michael just chuckled and nipped at him again before returning to his lips. His legs were being dropped but held steady by his hands on his waist. Alex reached between them, wrapping his hand around them both and stroking slowly. Michael groaned and one of his hands moved from his waist to play with Alex’s ass.

Water wasn’t the best lubricant but his fingers still slipped in without much resistance. Alex’s mouth dropped open as he squeezed his hand wrapped around them. Michael’s fingers moved in and out with increasing speed and Alex was putty in his hands. He broke the kiss and let his head fall to Michael’s shoulder.

“Fuck,” he gasped out as his hips started moving in time with the rate of his fingers. He didn’t get to enjoy it long before the fingers were gone and he was being forced to sit on the tile seat. Michael was gone and back in a couple seconds.

Alex just looked up at him, curls plastered to his face, chest heaving up and down with barely controlled restraint. He shut the water off and flicked the bottle open, pouring a generous amount on his hand and coating his dick. Then he was sitting next to Alex and pulling him onto his lap so his back was pressed to his chest. He forced his legs open and slipped the head of his cock over his entrance.

Alex had never felt more exposed with his legs spread this way. He caught a glimpse of their reflection in the tiles but it wasn’t clear.

Then Michael was slipping into him, the position making his ass tighter. He could feel every curve of the man inside him and he let out a loud moan. Michael’s mouth against his shoulder grinned and nipped at him.

“You’re so tight. Squeezing me so good. You ready to be punished for your little stunt with the knife? Sending me into bloodlust?” Michael’s arm wrapped around his waist, holding him steady. He began thrusting his hips slow and deep. Alex whimpered as he held onto Michael’s arms.

“I just wanted… to be good for you…” he gasped out. Michael’s hips jerked up, hitting the bundle of nerves inside him.

“I warned you about putting your life in danger. That you’d be punished.” Alex shuddered. This certainly didn’t feel like a punishment. Then again, he hadn’t really started.

“You’re free to cum whenever but you can’t touch yourself.”

Oh, that’s not so bad…

“And if you don’t cum before I do, I’ll make sure you do in front of everyone later,” he finished the threat. His cock jumped, begging for any sort of stimulation. Damn his body. Every suggestion Michael made had his skin buzzing. Things he would have never considered with anyone else suddenly sounded like the most delicious torture.

“Michael I…” he didn’t know what he was going to say and it didn’t matter. Michael sucked hickeys into his shoulder and thrust his hips into him roughly. He replaced whatever sentence he was going to say with little moans every time his hips connected with his ass.

Alex couldn’t be sure if the dampness on his skin was sweat or water. Probably both.

“You are mine. Mine to use as I see fit. And if you keep tempting me with that sweet blood of yours, maybe I’ll just lock this up.” He wrapped a loose fist around him, only stroking a few times before releasing him. Alex tried to move his hips to get more of his touch but Michael held him firmly in place.

He was being lifted and pressed against the glass. He lifted his hands up to brace himself and Michael held him up by his thighs. He pressed his forehead to the cool glass and could just barely see the outline of his hands in the mirror. He wondered briefly what it would be like to watch Michael fuck him. Or the other way around if that’s how it went.

Michael’s hands tightened on his thighs as he got better leverage. Alex desperately needed him deeper but now he was avoiding it.

This asshole doesn’t want me to cum.

The realization made him groan. Fine. He would play dirty.

“Come on Michael. I thought you were going to wreck me,” he taunted, breathless. He heard a growl from behind him. “Don’t blame me if I have to find someone else. I’m sure there’s another vampire who’d love my blood. Or maybe I’ll go after Kyle—”

Michael pulled out of him and dropped his legs, though he never let him fall. He was spun around and trapped against the glass. Michael’s eyes burned with rage and his hand wrapped around his throat.

“Take it back.”

“No.” His nose twitched. He bared his fangs at him again, only intensifying the need pulsing through every part of him. “Prove me wrong. Wreck me,” he dared.

Michael was sinking his teeth into the mark and Alex keened. He knew Michael wasn’t drinking but the burning that was taking over his body tipped him off. The venom rushed through him, igniting every nerve. Michael’s hands were everywhere, grabbing, scratching, and caressing.

“Oh god,” he whimpered out. He wanted to run but Michael was everywhere. Lips running over his throat, hands over his arms and torso, and hips grinding into him.

“You want to rethink being a brat and trying to get out of your punishment?” Alex’s hands flew to his hair, yanking him from his neck and crashing their lips together. Michael’s tongue was in his mouth, teasing. Alex was melting and he needed him inside again.

Alex broke away from the kiss and turned on his own, holding onto the metal bar for support. He kneeled on the bench, the tile rough on his knees. He pressed himself against the wall, sticking his ass out as much as he could.

“Please, Michael,” he begged. Michael groaned at the sight of him.

“You’re lucky you’re so damn sexy.” His hands grabbed Alex’s waist and he pushed himself inside again. Michael didn’t bother waiting before he was fucking him. His hands were all over his back, scratching lightly. Alex trembled as the whines and moans fell from his lips with every rough jerk of his hips.

“Is this how it is? You’re a brat when you want to be used? Piss me off and make me jealous when you want it rough?” He couldn’t respond. He felt every thrust deep in his gut as his eyes fluttered closed. He wanted to touch himself but Michael had said not to. He didn’t need to bring on any more of his punishments. No matter how much he wanted to.

Michael’s hand wrapped around his throat and yanked him back against his chest. His fingers squeezed the sides of his neck, restricting the blood flow. His head spun and body burned. Steam rolled around them and he finally felt the water droplets hitting his skin. Water ran over him. Every drop was like lava running down his body.

“Oh god, Michael… Michael…” He groaned next to his ear and bit at his earlobe.

“You feel good? Now who do you belong to, hunter?”

“Not… you…” he panted out, letting himself smirk. He was so close. He needed to draw this out just a bit longer.

He was shoved forward with his wrists pinned to the tile above him. Michael abused his ass, thrusting in and out as he hung on to his last sliver of control. A sharp slap on his ass made him yelp.

“Try that again,” he threatened. The desire was coiled so tightly. Precum dripped from the tip of his cock. It jumped with every thrust of Michael’s hips, begging for release. He tried to move his own hips but his pace was too fast. Another swat on his ass brought his focus back to Michael. “Answer me. Or I might rethink letting you cum.”

He reached around and grabbed his throbbing erection, just firm enough to make Alex choke out a whine and try to thrust his hips. But his hand didn’t move. Just kept him on the edge while he tried to form coherent words.

“…yours… I’m yours,” he finally managed. Michael buried himself deep inside and stopped moving. He clenched his ass around hm, trying to encourage him to move.

“Keep going. I want to hear your apology for making me jealous.” He was held steady as he clenched his fists, trying to make his brain work properly.

“I… I just needed you…” A rough thrust cut him off. He moaned and pressed back as much as he could.

“Talk Alex. Don’t get distracted by me.” Alex swallowed.

“I wanted to see… how far I could push…” Another thrust. “Make you possessive.” Thrust. “It makes me want you so fucking bad.” Thrust. “I’ve never felt this good with anyone else.” Thrust. “You own me, Michael. Oh god please, fuck me.”

Michael growled and released his wrists, instead grabbing his hair and pulling him back against his chest. His hips snapped forward as he stroked his cock. Curses tumbled from Alex’s lips as the water from the shower ran between them. His hands reached blindly behind him, needing to touch Michael.

“You’re so fucking good for me. You break my rules just to drive me crazy don’t you?” The only sounds Alex could make were desperate moans as Michael moved in and out of him. His legs shook, feeling like he would fall over any second. As though the only thing to hold him up was Michael.

“So… close…” he panted out. His nerves were like fireworks on his skin. Every stroke of Michael’s hand was like the only relief he could get. The coolness of his hand mixed with the burning of the water made his hips roll as much as Michael would allow.

“Cum, baby. And remember I’m the one who let you.”

Alex shuddered as his orgasm hit like a train. He pleaded for any sort of break but Michael’s thrusts hitting his sweet spot only served to drag it out. The white spurts hit the tile on the wall and were quickly washed away by the water. Trembles of overstimulation rolled over him as he dug his nails into Michael’s leg.

He felt Michael’s lips on his skin and the erratic breathing to match his hips. The hand that was in his hair slid down to wrap around his throat, angling his head. His teeth scraped over his skin but he never bit. The growl from his chest vibrated against his back. Michael all but ripped his mouth away and his hips stuttered. He gripped his hips, thrusting into him roughly a few extra times as he filled him. Alex felt the excess run down his leg only to be rinsed away by the water that was quickly turning cold.

“Michael,” he said breathlessly. His fingers gripped his skin, holding him firmly in place.

Michael seemed to be brought back to the real world and pulled out of him slowly, even releasing his grip on his throat. Alex whimpered at the emptiness but there was no way he could go again right now. And something was off with Michael.

He turned slowly, allowing himself to sit down. Alex took his hands and encouraged him to sit next to him. Michael wouldn’t look at him; just continued staring at the ceiling. His eyebrows drew together as Michael practically fell to his knees in front of him, hiding his face.

“Hey, what’s wrong? What happened,” he asked, beginning to panic.

He cradled his face in his hands but he wouldn’t lift his head. Michael’s fingers ran up his thighs and around to his hips. The touches were featherlight. As though he would break.

“Michael, please. Talk to me.”

“I don’t deserve you,” he mumbled out. Alex blinked, confused.

“What do you mean? Look at me,” he ordered gently. Michael fought the pull at first but eventually he let himself be seen. Truly seen. His eyes bright red and fangs extended. The pain that danced behind the bloodlust was so obvious it made Alex want to cry for him.

“I’m a monster, Alex. You kill things like me.” Alex shook his head.

“You aren’t a monster—"

“Look at me! Driven by hunger and desperation and addiction. I literally can’t quit you anymore,” he snapped. Alex pressed his forehead to Michael’s. “I almost killed you just now. And you would have turned. All because I wanted you for myself. How does that not repulse you?”

“Because I trust you. You have me Michael. I’m not going anywhere you aren’t.” He meant it. His heart raced whenever Michael was close to him. He looked forward to waking up with him. He was willing to lose everything if it meant keeping him by his side.

“It’s the mark talking—”

“No. This is me Michael. I only wish I knew how to convince you.” The red in his eyes began to retreat. The water that cascaded around them was freezing now. Alex shivered and Michael moved to stand but he held on to him, pulling him into a soft kiss instead. Michael held him so gently even as his body trembled.

“Besides,” Alex started when they broke apart. “If you’re somehow repulsive for wanting me for yourself, then I must be twice as bad. I’m jealous of little bags of nameless blood after all,” he said, attempting a joke. Thankfully, it earned him a grin and light laugh.

Michael reached to the side and shut the water off. He lifted Alex into his arms and carried him back to the bedroom. Alex laughed as he was dropped on the bed, still soaking wet. Michael crawled over him, pressing sweet kisses to his face and neck.

“Hey, give me a break,” Alex giggled. His cocky smile was back when he stood again. No evidence of the soul baring desperation from a moment ago.

“I am. You’ll need it for what I have planned for you. You aren’t getting out of punishment that easily.” His cock twitched half-heartedly. “I just need to make sure the outfit I got you fits.”

[mimik-u]

Flower Child (Chapter 13): Blue (III)

Goodness, I'm nearly a year and a half late, but here we are—Chapter 13 of "Flower Child." First of all, I want to give my sincerest apologies for the delay... I mentioned this at the start of my fic "Facets," but the simplest and truest story is that my muse for writing Steven Universe and, well, writing in general petered out for a long time and has only recently returned. But, because it has recently returned, I wanted to begin to make good on a promise I made to you guys so many months ago—that one day, I would finish this story. So let's do this. <3 I'm ready now. 

(1) I read through the previous twelve chapters, lmao, and half-loved and half-hated my writing, but the point of that exercise, beyond getting acquainted with the plot of "FC" again, was to also do some quick grammar and flow revisions, so a few of the previous chapters should read just a little better than maybe they had before.

(2) Fun fact! Chapter 13 is pretty interesting because some portions of it were actually written over a year ago; it was an incredible challenge for me to work with what I had as a 2019 writer versus what I've learned as a 2020 writer.

(4) Someone asked on Tumblr a long time ago if there was a playlist I worked with in writing this story...

(5) And finally, and most importantly, this chapter is incredibly heavy, dealing with themes of suicidal ideation and extreme depression.

Please be cautious while reading if these are topics that are triggering to you!

i.

The shiny, black town car eased to a stop at the pull-through entrance of the hospital, drawing the gazes of passerby on the sidewalk. An older lady in a wheelchair, a group of what appeared to be college kids in scrubs, a scraggly-looking patient who’d obviously escaped the confines of his room to light a cigarette—they all stopped and stared as the back door of the overtly fancy car was pried open from the inside out, as a metal cane preceded a woman who quite looked like she needed it.

Blue Diamond unfolded into the light of day, trembling.

Because it was hard.

It was so hard.

To be here.

(To be.)

She wanted to collapse where she stood, dissemble and dissolve away one piece of herself at a time; she leaned heavily on the head of her cane and lit upon the sole pair of eyes that weren’t looking at her—or, really, her Lincoln. The man named Greg Universe stood next to the automatic doors with his hands shoved deep into his pockets, staring at the ground, all but boring a hole into it. When the sliding doors opened and closed at his backside, they appeared to be ripping into him, piece by miserable piece.

“I’ll call when I’m ready,” Blue murmured to her valet before shutting the door and slowly hobbling over to Greg.

Clank.

The onlookers glanced away as the town car drove off, resumed their lives and cared not for yet another broken person in their midst. The hospital was full of them as it was. Perhaps they were even broken themselves—very probably they were.

Blue Diamond did not care to know.

Clank.

I’m betraying her, she thought, she was always thinking. I’m leaving her behind. I’m betraying her. I’m—

Clank.

The clanking did the trick, catching Greg’s attention and only half-holding it. He lifted his head slowly and mustered a smile that must have been agony. It wobbled on his lips and very nearly disappeared in his bushy beard. It pulled at him—all over. He looked like a Picasso gone wrong, an abstraction of a man stretched too far.

“Hey, just in time.” He gave a shaky little laugh that rather sounded like a sob and then somehow kept talking, his entire physiognomy alive with his nerves. “Steven’s so excited to see you again. He hasn’t stopped talking about ya since this morning, which is kinda nuts because he was so tired yesterday, but this is a good thing, and so we should really go up and see him now because—”

She cut across him; it was a quiet act, a merciful one. “Greg.”

It was just his name, a singular syllable, a sound, but even that was enough.

Mr. Universe’s face fell into geometric disarray.

“No use hiding it, huh?” He half-wept, half-laughed again, scrubbing a hand over his face and bringing up his shirt to soak up what was left.

“No,” Blue Diamond whispered, her hands tightening on the head of her cane. “It’s scrawled all over you, I’m afraid.”

“Figures,” he said hoarsely. “I’m a mess.”

“No more than I am.” She pried one of her hands away from the other and gestured loosely at her entire body with a wry smile. “If you’re a mess, then I am a dereliction.”

It wasn’t a contest; it was the truth.

Four years of grieving had wasted her.

Blue Diamond was skeletal.

Broken.

Greg took this in and considered; his smile that really wasn’t a smile resolved itself into a quiet, aching sort of frown. It tugged his face downwards; it tugged at the hollows of her chest. She’d seen him only a little over a week ago, and yet today, he looked as though he’d aged a hundred years in the span of eight days. There were bags under his eyes and sunken dunes in his cheeks.

There was a little boy in a hospital bed.

There was a disease.

It was killing them both.

“How do I do this?” He asked the ground. “How did you—” But he stopped short; his breath hitched.

It was a highly personal question after all.

It was no short wonder that Blue’s cane didn’t snap beneath her grip.

“How did I do it?” She returned softly all the same. The slight breeze stirred the strands of hair poking out of her silvery braid.

Greg nodded mutely, the desperation in his face tangible. She could reach out if she wanted and touch his hurt, the very heart of it, and all of its dimensions. (She didn’t want to.)

“To be entirely truthful,” she murmured, “I’m not sure that I ever did.”

ii.

It was nearly one o’clock in the afternoon, and it was also 2:38AM, the very moment when a police officer had the audacity to come to their door and tell two mothers that their daughter was dead, gone, and never coming back. His expression was a gathering bruise, and his words were like bullets, striking right between the ribs.

Blue Diamond couldn’t breathe.

In the darkness, she sat on the edge of Pink’s bed and dragged every mouthful of air inwards like it was painful; her chest heaved with the awfulness of it, the punctured horror of leaking lungs.

Her child was dead.

Oh, God.

Her child was gone.

Why, oh, why, oh, God, my God?

And she was never coming back.

Goddammit.

In the coagulated darkness, Blue clutched her daughter’s favorite sweatshirt close to her chest; it was black and ratty, full of holes and little tears. A small alien logo perched on the chest, grinning up at her from depthless eyes.

They used to fight over this particular number.

Constantly.

“You’re a multibillion dollar heiress.” Blue would pinch the bridge of her nose and try not to raise her voice above an acerbic whisper. “Would it inconvenience you to buy some nicer clothes?”

Pink was unsparing in her retorts, wicked and witty, face upturned in a haughtiness to match her mother’s own. 

“Would it inconvenience you to get off my ass, Mother? It’s just a sweatshirt.”

“Pink!”

And on and on. 

The fabric was cold between Blue’s long fingers, still scented with Pink’s favorite perfume.

They were going to bury her today, mere hours from now.

Last week, they’d been fighting over this shirt.

On and on and never again.

The funeral… mere hours from now… less than three… but how could that also be true when it was only 1:52AM and Pink Diamond was coughing her last, strangled breath on a dirty pavement outside a bar on 9th Avenue?

Blue Diamond hadn’t been there, but she forced the words on the detective’s report to come to life in the theatre of her mind’s eye anyway. By the time the paramedics had arrived, Pink was all but gone; she gasped, and she coughed, and her brown eyes marbled in one final supernova of emotion. They tried to resuscitate her, but the damage was too extensive.

She’d fought back, the officer had said. (He thought it was a consolation to them.)

The proof was caked in her nails and scratched all over her arms, but it’d been three against one.

She was a lion, and they were men; she was a twenty-one year old girl, and they were men.

In the darkness, unraveling, Blue Diamond’s face dripped onto the sweatshirt, onto the alien smiling up at her with a black sliver of a mocking grin. She did not register—she did not care to register—the slow creaking of the door opening inwards.

Amber light strained from the hallway to find and reach and touch her but didn’t quite make it. 

Yellow Diamond was a shadowy figure in the doorway.

“You shouldn’t be in here,” she scolded, and yet, she moved into the room anyway—the hypocrite—her sharp heels muffled in the carpet. Stiff and forbidding, she came to stand in front of Blue, arms crossed over her chest, a frown crossed over her face. “It’s not healthy for you, Bl—“

But Blue cut across her. It was not a kind act; it was a precise incision—cold and surgical—three inches long and just as deep. “Our daughter is dead, Yellow.”

The shadowy figure recoiled but did not bite.

Even now, Yellow couldn’t bear to be seen as vulnerable, couldn’t bear to give one damn inch.

“I know that, dammit,” she muttered to the wall. “Dammit—do you not think I know that?”

But Blue had no pity for her, no shred of any emotion left except for the vicious tangle of grief; it tangled in her fingers, which sunk deep into Pink’s shirt, and it tangled in her cold eyes, leaking down her pale face and salting her anemic lips.

“Then act like it,” she hissed.

The exhortation bruised the air.

It demanded a reaction.

On its hands and knees, it begged for a response.

And yet, the shadowy figure said nothing. She didn't move her clenched fists.

She could not face Blue in the eyes.

Coward.

Hypocrite.

(Mourner.)

(Mourning.)

She simply left, staggering out of the room on precariously high heels, and Blue simply stayed, conflating the hours and the days and the minutes.

Later that day, they buried their daughter in a mausoleum, a gazebo—in a cemetery slathered in golden sun.

iii.

Greg explained the details as best as he could on the way up to Steven’s room. It was hard to find him a kidney because his blood type was O negative, which meant that he would only be able to receive a kidney from a Type O donor. And though he’d been on the waiting list for months now, and though he’d recently been moved to the top of the list given his worsening condition, it was still anyone’s guess as to when a kidney would become available.

(“If,” he could barely choke out, “we can even get one at all.”)

After slowly making their way across an expansive skywalk, they finally arrived at a pair of double doors labeled Truman Ward. The sun pierced through the tall glass windows and lit upon Blue’s sunken face, and Greg’s red eyes, and her metallic cane, and his wobbling lips—as though it was doing them a favor by doing so.

Greg reached behind her and pressed a button on the wall, alerting someone on the other side to their arrival.

“Listen”—he ran his hand along the back of his neck as the doors slowly parted open in welcome—“I’m going to go back to the room for a bit and see if I can get some paperwork done. Feel free to stay as long as ya’d like. Visiting hours don’t end ’til eight.”

Blue stared at him. 

Every moment—every hour, minute, and second with this child was precious nowadays, and here Greg was, lending her time out of his own.

She felt the gift of what he was offering deeply.

(She could have never found it in herself to be so generous with Pink.)

“Thank you.” She swept a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “I… I appreciate you allowing me to visit him.”

But he only shook his head and urged her through the doors with a pinched smile.

“If he’s happy that you’re here,” he shrugged, “then I am, too.”

And with that, he waved a last goodbye, and the doors folded to a close again with her on the other side of them.

Room 11037.

Walking became a monumental task as the clinically white hallway stretched out before her, lengthened by her mind, twisted and contorted into an obstacle she had to surmount.

It should have been just a hall.

Clank.

The memory of Pink burned bright behind her eyelids, stained there permanently by principle but stamped in starkly with assistance from the harsh fluorescents overhead. She was laughing, always laughing, in these flashbulb reminiscences, her freckles coalescing and then expanding across the bridge of her nose like the bellows of an accordion.

Clank.

But it wasn’t just Pink, though it always would be.

Clank.

It was Steven now.

Clank.

A ghost she chased, as opposed to the one who perpetually haunted her (who mercifully, who cruelly stayed.)

Clank.

But he wasn’t a ghost just yet, right? He was still here and still fighting—did that not count for something? Didn't his heartbeat, the very state of its continued existence, teach her to hope?

Clank.

But hope was such an awful word—so empty, brimming with meaningless sensationalism.

Clank.

(Maybe it was the vestiges of her long dead religion, but she wanted to hope anyway.)

Clank.

Hope was such an awful word.

Clank.

Room 11037. 

The door was decisively closed. 

A tall woman with bicolored eyes leaned against it, her dark lips corkscrewed into a frown.

Blue Diamond vaguely remembered her from the cemetery but couldn’t quite place a name. She could place an expression, though, and was surprised to name the one on this stranger’s face as disdain. Disdain rolled off this mysterious woman in waves, from the resolute clench of her jaw to the iron way that her arms were folded across her chest. It burned in her eyes. It seemed to languish inside of her, seething just under a facade of smooth skin.

She was a monolith of quiet loathing.

Blue squared her rounded shoulders in a manner she thought to be composed; her hands trembled on her cane nonetheless.

“You don’t like me very much, do you?” She asked it quite politely, even as the walls were harsh and white around them. She used to command rooms by the authoritative nature of her voice alone, and now she struggled to keep it together long enough to face a singular woman in front of a singular door.

“It’s not you specifically,” the woman replied, impressively put together, admirably composed. If her electric blue eye was cold, the brown one simply burned. Both were bruised underneath with tired shadows. “It’s what you stand for. It’s about the morals that Diamond Electric doesn’t have.”

“You’re an activist,” Blue surmised quickly, almost flippantly. Activists were challenging DE all of the time, and activists were always losing. Before Pink… she’d largely assumed that these sorts of protesters simply had no logical case. After Pink, she had had much more consuming thoughts on her mind than petty lawsuits against their multibillion dollar company.

“A Crystal Gem,” she corrected tersely, “but that’s not what I want to talk to you about.” Her gaze slid subtly to the doorway behind her, and Blue understood her at once.

“Steven,” she whispered.

The woman nodded.

“Steven,” she agreed, and her voice cracked as she said it, splintering into thousands of little pieces and struggling to regroup. When she swallowed to compose herself, it was almost as though she was swallowing the shards. “He likes you, and I can’t… I won’t begrudge him that.”

In the way that she said it, it was almost like she was convincing herself most of all.

“There is an implicit but there,” Blue parried softly. “You won’t begrudge him that, but.”

Again, the woman nodded, the gesture slow and measured, as though she was working something out in the tiny motion. When her squared chin came up again, her mismatched eyes were bright, intense with quiet pain.

“But don’t hurt him.”

It was a reasonable demand, but the implication behind it stung immediately and anyway.

She inhaled sharply and scrambled to defend herself, to salvage the punctured wound, but the damage was already done. Her voice came out more broken than it did cold.

“I wouldn’t dare.”

“Maybe not intentionally,” the Crystal Gem said, shaking her head. “Most people never really intend to hurt someone… but it happens. We get caught up in our emotions. We get selfish. We get distant. And then we hurt people.”

It struck Blue Diamond at that very moment that she hadn’t even deigned to ask the woman’s name.

“So, all I’m saying is don’t hurt him.” She unfolded herself from the door and stepped aside. “He likes you.”

iv.

Two days after the first anniversary of Pink Diamond’s death, a doctor shined a light in Blue Diamond’s glassy eyes and waited for a pupillary response. When he received one—an involuntary but nonetheless reactive blink—he unceremoniously clicked off his pen light and straightened up into the unfriendly darkness once more.

In the sparse incandescence bleeding in from the hallway, Yellow Diamond cut a shadowy figure by his side, her usually tidy hair rumpled from all the times her fingers had become ensnared in it that day.

Her tie was loose, and lines had already begun to etch themselves beneath those hawklike eyes of hers.

Soon, they would become permanent fixtures, marked there by time and age and grief.

For now, though, they were only suggestions.

Hints of what was to come.

(So many sleepless nights.)

(How many haunted days?)

“Well?” Though the CEO tried hard to strangle her voice into a whisper, the sharpness of the syllable was still the loudest sound in the room. Subtlety had never quite been this woman’s strong suit; she wielded her words as though they were gavels to proclaim on the heads of all who dared to cross her path.

“Catatonic depression,” the doctor replied, just as succinctly, replacing his pen in the pocket of his lab coat. “The staring, the lack of movement, the loss of appetite, the elective mutism. All textbook symptoms that point to the fact that your wife is still grieving, Mrs. Diamond. Frankly, I’m worried for her health.”

The shadow on his left scowled at this diagnosis, and she fidgeted, and it was apparent by these two idiosyncrasies alone that she was scrounging deep for some incisive rebuttal against the truth that laid like a breathing corpse directly below her. 

“Then what, pray tell, do you intend to do about it?” Her voice exceeded its former intentions of quietness. “That’s the problem. Now what’s the solution?”

“Well, I admit her to the hospital and start her on an intravenous Lorazepam treatment. It’s a sedative. It’ll assuage some of her anxiety and relax her muscles to prevent spasming.”

“Yes, and then?”

They were talking about her as though she wasn’t even there.

It was a fair enough assessment.

“And then what, Mrs. Diamond?” The doctor stared at her incredulously, shoving both of his hands in his pockets. “With all due respect, I can treat your wife’s physical symptoms from sunup to sundown, but that’s not touching the heart of what is truly debilitating her. She’s grieving, ma’am, and she needs psychiatric treatment beyond what I can provide as a private doctor and you can provide as her spouse. We discussed this the last time I was here.”

“And the time before that—yes, I know,” Yellow Diamond laughed humorlessly, the sound half-mad in her constricted throat. “Because you stand there, like an imbecile, and tell me that there’s no underlying medical cause to this?!”

She jabbed an accusing hand at Blue Diamond, whose oceanic eyes were wide open and unseeing, silent tears slipping from the corners of them and falling sideways across her face. There was an untouched tray of food on her nightstand. There was a lankness in her unwashed hair. There were pill bottles accumulating like a grotesque collection next to the alarm clock.  

And there was an air, an atmosphere, an oppression of silent decay.

The funereality of it was undeniable.

An uncomfortable wooden chair stood next to the bed where Yellow Diamond had been sitting vigil for the past two nights since they had visited the cemetery on the day of the anniversary. 

Blue Diamond’s keening sobs had sliced the autumnal air.

Her daughter was dead.

Gone.

Never coming back.

She stared at nothing, it seemed to Yellow and the doctor; she languished in the visions of Pink that seized across her mind with every dripping second of consciousness. 

“Depression is an underlying medical cause, Mrs. Diamond.” 

The doctor’s voice softened. 

Minimally.

For the first time since the house call had begun, his lanky silhouette jerked a little, as though he wanted to place a hand on the CEO’s shoulder, but thought better of it upon seeing something forbidding in the other’s expression.

“And she’s tired, ma’am. You both are.” Look at you, his rust colored eyes seemed to say. You’re both historical wrecks to a long dead ghost. “You can’t take care of her alone…  moreover, you shouldn’t have to.”

But the doctor had finally overstepped one prying comment too far, and he must have known it immediately, because he took a step back from the golden eyes glowering at him in the darkness of that dusty bedroom.

Yellow Diamond’s entire face transformed, twisting itself into facets of shattered rage.

She was feral.

(Wounded.)

Apoplectic with fury.

(Grieving, she was inconsolable.)

Dangerous.

Goddammit, she was on fire.

“Do not ever deign to tell me what I can and can���t do when it comes to my wife,” she snarled, all pretense of quietness long gone, devoured in the hurricane of emotion. “Get out! OUT!”

“Mrs. Diamond, please—“

“I SAID OUT! OUT!” She shrieked, harshly shoving his shoulder with the flats of her palms. “GET THE HELL OUT!”

The doctor did not need telling again; he fled the room as the force of Yellow Diamond’s dismissal stoned his back.

Blue blinked slowly as a shaking hand suddenly clasped her arm in the wake of the carnage, the imprint of a steel wedding band carving itself into her flesh.

That hurts, Yellow.

She blinked again, the words swelling on her tongue and dying there unrestfully.

That hurts.

v.

The warnings of Steven’s guardian standing sentinel on top of her frantically beating heart, Blue Diamond turned the knob to Room 11037 and pushed inwards until the door reluctantly gave way to a sight she had forgotten to steel herself for in-between the guilt of moving on and the agonizing action of doing so.

Steven himself.

Dwarfed in a hospital bed.

A mere wisp of the boy who had sat with her on the balcony only three days ago and stuffed his face with little chocolate cakes.

Her prodigious mind working far ahead of her paralyzed body, she frantically tried to recall his text from yesterday, what it had said about his condition, if it had indicated anything about his current state at all. But he had only told her that he had passed out and ended up in the hospital again. The boy had said nothing about the extensive tubing and the wires that ribboned and scissored his entire body in streaming colors. Lines crisscrossed each other and tumbled over and under and around his blankets. 

She saw the bottom of an empty catheter bag at the edge of the bed.

And the bruises like angry embers pulsing up his arms.

Somehow, amongst all the other things she was absorbing at precisely the same time, she noticed that next to a vase of elegantly arranged sunflowers, there was an inelegantly arranged tray of hospital food.

Untouched.

He had texted not a word about the yellow pallor of his skin.

He had used exclamation points—exclamation points!—to indicate his excitement.

Blue Diamond could not shake the notion, the very absurd idea, that he had lied to her somehow, had drawn her here under false pretenses.

(This was not the truth. She had estimated at what she was getting herself into and crossed the line into getting herself into it anyway.)

“Hi,” Steven Universe said sheepishly, his cheeks flushing darkly. He was caught, and he knew it. “It’s good to see you again, Blue.”

The seconds dripped between them.

The heart monitor on the wall counted them out.

One…

Blue’s plump lips parted slightly.

Two…

Her hand shivered on the head of her cane until the sound of it rattled the clinically quiet room.

Three…

She couldn’t do this again.

She wouldn’t grieve for another dead child.

One had been too much—one had almost killed her. 

Four…

God, and there were still days where she wondered if it still would.

Without thinking, desperate for relief, Blue turned away and braced her free hand on the door, drawing in harsh, ragged breaths that scratched at her beaten lungs, that bled them anew until they were leaking.

Who was she to believe that she wasn’t falling apart at her seams? How delusional was she to hope that a boy with a flower would be the difference between her saving grace and her inevitable dissolution? Was she so naïve to overlook the contours of his illness and think that his determination would be enough to save him from the eternal truth of this world? Was she so weak?

Death didn't discriminate between the old and the young, the sinner and the saint.

Pink Diamond was only twenty-one years old.

Steven Universe was a child.

“Blue!” Steven pleaded. “Wait, please don’t go. I—”

“I cannot look at you, Steven Universe," she cut across him, her voice low and fractured. Hot tears stood in her eyes, suddenly blurring her hand against the smooth door. “I’m sorry, but I cannot bear to see…”

“Can’t bear to see that I’m dying?”

He didn’t just refuse to mince the word; he stabbed it into her back so remorselessly that she gasped sharply. She glanced down at her chest and half-expected to see it lodged there, poking out, her beating heart speared on its tip.

“People can skirt around the word all they want,” Steven laughed bitterly, “but there’s no other word for it… without a kidney, I’m gonna die soon, Blue Diamond. I’m dying right now. I think I’ve been dying all this time. And everyone… all they wanna do… is look away from me. Pearl, Garnet, my dad…”

He sniffed.

“They keep looking away, and I’m so tired of it… I-I’m exhausted.”

The door felt cold against her palm.

Icy.

On the balcony, two days ago, she accused Yellow Diamond of shoving their daughter away in a drawer with the rest of her useless items.

In an arctic hospital room, Blue Diamond was ready to consign a boy to the same grave her daughter was buried in… 

… but dead children couldn’t talk.

Dead children couldn’t be tired.

They were simply dead.

“So, please, Blue Diamond… please don’t look away.”

The seconds dripped between them.

The heart monitor on the wall counted them out.

One…

Her eyes were wide with the horror of everything, of it all, the senselessness, the depravity, the nihilistic revolutions of this awful, uncaring world.

“I had a daughter once,” she whispered to the door. “Her name was Pink Diamond, and she was… she is… my everything. She had a smile wider than this planet could ever hope to contain… and she very much liked to laugh.”

She had never talked about Pink to anyone other than Yellow before.

Even evoking her name felt like blasphemy.

Two…

A second passed, and no lightning fell from the sky to strike her dead; she supposed her own self-flagellation was the punishment and the eternal damnation alike.

“I looked away. Yellow and I both did. She wanted more from life, and we wanted to contain her life into… into a little box that could fit on the shelf with all our other trophies. She was our accomplishment, you see, our legacy.”

Three…

Blue Diamond’s hand fell away from the door, so she could bring it up to her mouth in a futile attempt to dam the sobs that racked her shoulders.

Four…

“We looked away. The night that she… she—” She couldn’t bring herself to say the word aloud. She wasn’t brave like Steven. “We thought she was in her room, and I didn’t tell her that I loved her that night because we had argued… I thought I’d get the chance the next day or the day after that because we argued all the time. It was normal for us.”

On and on and never again.

When was the last time Blue Diamond had said those three words to her daughter?

These past four years, she had scoured her brain for the answer, but the answer was as elusive as the phrase was from her mouth.

For the simple truth of the matter was that she hadn’t said it very often.

In all her vast intellect, she had always assumed that it was assumed.

Implied.

Understood.

You’ll never let me grow up, will you?

I love you, she could have said.

You’ll never let me grow up, will you?

I didn’t want you to, she would have replied then. I wanted you to collect dust with all the rest of our awards and certificates. I wanted you safe, where I could see you. I wanted to quantify the entirety of your life and itemize the particulars. I wanted you to always be mine.

I love you.

I looked away.

An oxymoron.

A tragedy.

Five…

“So if I look at you, Steven Universe,” she murmured, screwing her eyes closed tightly against the pain, “really look at you, then I have to face that truth again—that I loved someone once… and I looked away… and now she’s… gone.”

And that was the immutable truth of the matter, the conclusion she circled around to no matter how many times the Earth continued to revolve away from the day since Pink Diamond had last existed on this world.

Four thousand revolutions later, and this would still be what it came down to in the end.

Her daughter’s blood was on her hands, staining them crimson, veining her lifelines with the guilt and the awfulness and the unbearable, crucifying shame.

And her daughter’s blood cried out, You’ll never let me grow up, will you?

And every time she so much as looked at her own palms, that was the only echo she saw written across their hollows.

Those last words.

Unanswered.

Unfinished.

Undoing and undone.

Six…

“But… I’m not gone yet,” Steven argued softly. His voice fought to be heard over all the machinery keeping him alive. “I’m here.”

He must have moved because blankets shifted somewhere behind her.

Dead children didn’t move.

Dead children weren’t here.

They were simply—

Seven…

Eight…

Nine…

Ten…

Do it, she commanded herself.

Look at him.

But Blue Diamond was frozen, and she was statuesque; she was a calcification barely anchored on the foundation of her cane. One false move and she would crumble entirely. 

The safest bet on her own survival was to limp away and dare not look behind her lest she turn to salt and dust. 

Someone else could clean up the carnage.

That woman who stood at the door—she’d do it—Greg Universe and the boy’s other guardians, too.

Don’t hurt him, that same woman had also said. He likes you.

Eleven…

Twelve…

Thirteen...

vi.

It was wash day. 

For nearly a year and half after Pink Diamond died, Yellow would force Blue out of bed every few days for a bath or a shower—usually a shower because it was becoming increasingly hard for the CEO to lift her wife in and out of the tub.

Today was a tub sort of occasion, though.

Date night with the Diamonds.

The presence of death was always with them, though, an intrusive third wheel.

With a slight groan, Yellow lowered herself into the warm water behind Blue, steam rising around their naked skin like curling smoke. Once upon a time, this used to be a favorite pastime of theirs, a chance to reacquaint themselves with each other and their bodies… but now the gesture was simply hygienic in purpose, asexual and quiet.

It was always quiet in the Diamonds’ penthouse suite these days.

Silent.

“Is it too hot?” Yellow asked, her voice as gentle as she could wrangle it. Somehow, at the same time, it was still edged with the trappings of harshness. “I can add some cold water?"

She waited briefly for a reply that would never come.

Blue stared limply at her knees, pulled up awkwardly as they were to her chest. Her sensitive skin had already reddened in a couple of places where it was touching the water. There were pink fingerprints wrapped around her armpits where she’d been handled into the tub. 

“I think it’s too hot. You’re getting a rash.” A well-manicured hand flashed out from behind her ear and knobbed the far left tap. There was a quick murmur and then the steady hiss of cold water.

“There,” she humphed satisfactorily. “This’ll feel better.”

The running stream answered its assent.

Blue Diamond did not say a word.

She hadn’t in days now, maybe even weeks; time was irrelevant to her, and the words would not come. 

There was only a dullness in her head, numb and numbing, like an icy compress coiled tightly around her thoughts.

Yellow didn’t think so, but this was better than the alternative; this was the far superior solution to the problem, the pain, and the pervasiveness of the ghost who was their daughter Pink Diamond.

Because when the analgesic of her own catatonia faded, and some of the feeling tried to seep through, her chest would unfailingly tighten, a vice squeezing hard upon her weary heart.

She couldn’t breathe.

Her child was dead.

“I…” 

The sound came from behind her, guttural and choked, as though the speaker was fighting hard against the noise and losing the war.

“I’m so tired, Blue.” 

It was an admission, and it was a copout.

Both of them knew that Blue Diamond wasn’t registering a single word.

She heard them—yes, this was true.

But they came to her—they landed softly—like distant echoes; she did not feel the pain of them, the visceral agony; at the present moment, she did not even feel her own pain, the grief and the scalding water and the grief.

Because it was always the grief she was trying to repress.

Everything else was just ancillary.

“You don’t know, goddammit, you can’t know, how exhausted I am.” Yellow Diamond’s voice shattered in the tub.

And her entire body hitched.

As though to keep that from breaking, too.

“You exhaust me, Blue Diamond. You exhaust me every single day. And you don’t even know it, goddammit. Who are you? What the hell have you become?”

The question was delivered to her backside, where it slipped down her tall, curving spine and into the water, splashing there with the delivery of the tap. With a violence that was almost cruel, Yellow reached from behind her again and flung it back into an off position.

There was quietness then.

It was so still, that it was disquiet.

It was always quiet in the Diamonds’ penthouse suite these days.

Silent.

Blue continued to stare blankly at her knees.

There were red patches on her skin.

Her child was dead.

After a moment’s hesitation, her breath heavy on the back of Blue’s long, slender neck, Yellow Diamond gathered her silvery hair gently in one hand and grabbed the comb on the side of the tub with another.

She was careful as she maneuvered its teeth through damp, lank strands.

She always was.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m so sorry, Blue.”

That was what Blue Diamond’s note would say merely a few months later.

I’m sorry and I’m sorry and I’m sorry.

Love always, Blue.

But that was the crucial thing, wasn’t it?

Sorry was not enough; love was not enough.

Because if love had been enough, Pink Diamond would still be alive. 

vii. 

In a hospital room pierced through with golden sun, Blue Diamond turned around and faced the light of day, her heavy braid swinging along with the slow, deliberate motion. 

She wasn’t looking away, Steven Universe.

She was staring straight at him—at his sunken face and his tubing and at the catheter bag and at the sunflowers.

The boy was dying, but he was not yet dead.

It wasn’t much.

At the very least, though, it was something.

He was not gone, even if he was going.

He was here.

In this moment, in this very ephemeral second.

The heart monitor on the wall attested to that; it counted his heartbeats; it pleaded with her to have hope.

(Hope was such an awful word.)

“Those are beautiful flowers,” she whispered. Her cane clinked against the tiled floor as she carefully drew closer to observe them better.

Their petals were tall and spiky, assaulting the air with attentiveness and regal magnitude.

They vaguely reminded her of Yellow.

With a light finger, she tried to prop up one that was beginning to droop beneath the weight of all its brethren, but the moment she withdrew her touch, it fell again, sighing listlessly. 

Poor thing.

“But not quite as pretty as that hibiscus you bequeathed me.”

Steven’s eyes, edged with the trace remnant of his tears, were wide and dark, full of velvet and silvery stars.

“You don’t still have it, do you?” He asked, incredulous and rather pleased.

He played a little with his hands on top of his blankets. 

He tried to tamp down his hope for an affirmative with an unconvincing casualness.

Blue Diamond’s smile bruised her lips.

“I placed it on my nightstand, sweet boy, so I could look at it everyday.”

It took a second, but the irony of that word choice was not lost on either of them.

viii. 

Yellow Diamond placed the failed suicide note on her nightstand for Blue to see and know that she saw. They didn’t talk about it afterwards.

How could they?

What was there to say?

It remained there for a few days afterwards, shriveled and guilty-looking next to the alarm clock; every time she opened her eyes, she would see it and feel its quiet condemnation. She would close her eyes against its glare and wait for sleep or numbness one to wrestle her into the dark. 

One day, she woke up, and the paper was gone again. 

The realization drew a frown across her wrinkled face.

When she thought about getting up to search for it, and mustered the appropriate will to get out of bed, apparently, many days had passed in the interim.

A month.

She only recognized this upon surveying her bathroom on her way to the toilet; she couldn't find her shaving razor anywhere.

One night—the day, the month, the year undetermined in the abscessed haze of her mind—a dull ache throbbed through Blue’s hip, growing in intensity and sharpness with each passing second that she laid on the wounded area.

There was a part of her, not entirely inconsequential, that invited the pain. For after all, suffering was the only victory the woman had left in the entire world; she wrestled with it nightly, and she embraced it. She made it her new lover and exchanged an oath that only death would do them part. She didn’t shoot herself, or cut herself, or swallow a handful of pills that would surely do the trick.

She laid on her bad hip and convinced herself that she deserved it.

But that night—whatever night that it was—the agony was unbearable, pulling at her all over.

With a groan that wasn’t voluntary, Blue wrested herself into some semblance of a sitting position and looked for her phone so that she could call Livia for an ice pack, but it wasn’t on the bedside table as it usually was… and since it wasn’t in its usual position, she had no clue where she had last left it.

If she wanted relief, she would have to brave the kitchen herself.

She wanted relief, and the guilt of it half-immobilized her.

So she sat there for a couple more minutes still and endured the stabbing ache before finally coaxing herself upwards into the dark night of the bedroom. 

Assuming her cane in one hand, Blue crept silently towards the door and out of it, where the hallway stretched out before her like a cavernous tunnel, all the lights extinguished. 

Even the telltale glow of lamp warmth that usually emitted from the study across the hall was gone out, which meant that Yellow had likely succumbed to sleep on the couch within. 

A twinge of something bothered Blue’s sternum at the thought.

She limped forward anyway and all the same, lifting her cane off the floor to keep from making noise; the wall was her guide in its stead, the pads of her long fingers moving along its smooth planes until she reached the end of the archway, where she immediately intuited that she wasn’t alone.

In the moonlight that wept into the living room through the tall windowpanes, Yellow Diamond was a stark figure sitting on the edge of the couch, leached of all her color. Her blonde hair, her silky pajamas, the leathery musculature of her corded neck—all of it was leveled by blinding whiteness.  

Illuminated.

Vulnerable.

Exposed.

When her wife swallowed, she could see every line in her powerful jaw working through the peristaltic motion. 

In the shadowed hallway, Blue Diamond stood still, even though the sharp pain in her hip demanded attention.

For this  moment, this night, this moonlit haunting did not belong to her—even though most of them usually did.

She understood, somewhere in the mire of her own head, that to disturb this scene would be sacrilege. So she watched, and she waited.

Yellow Diamond was holding something between her sharp, angular hands.

With a jolt, she realized that it was Spinel, a stuffed pink cat who had been Pink’s favorite companion once upon a time. Her left ear was still stained from the tea Yellow had once accidentally dripped on it during a princess tea party.

Washed it though they had—several times over—the spot was stubborn; Spinel had been permanently marked.

“S’okay, Momma,” Pink had only said, grinning up at them both from gapped teeth. She had hugged the toy to her chest. The affected ear brushed against the side of her freckled neck. “That just means she’s one of a kind."

Yellow’s fingers were wrapped around the cat’s plush stomach tenderly; she stared at it from depthless, ancient eyes. 

It struck Blue Diamond—then and there—that she wanted something more from this vignette; she wanted Yellow to say something. Selfishly, she desired a confirmation for what she had already so trenchantly inferred.

She wanted, she desired, she longed, she needed to know that her wife was broken, too.

It was a horrible hunger, an itch that felt terrible to scratch.

But Blue Diamond was voracious.

Sometimes, maybe even oftentimes, she could be cruel.

After a long while, though, Yellow Diamond only placed the cat down on the coffee table and stared out into the irradiated night with her hands templed below her sharp chin, lost in silent thought.

She looked older than she ever had in all of their collected years together.

She was only fifty-four.

ix.

They talked—for a long while—as the sun slipped away from the sky, sunset coming in fragments through the slats in the window blinds. 

Blue Diamond held Steven’s hand, the one that didn’t have so many IVs in it, and rubbed smooth circles against his wrist.

“Pearl does that, too,” he smiled at her softly through hooded eyes when she began. “It’s nice.”

They talked about everything, and they talked about nothing.

He told her about his favorite show, which seemed to be about morose breakfast items from what she could vaguely surmise, and he talked to her, very quietly, about his disease.

It was rapidly progressing, far more quickly than his nephrologist had anticipated.

“Those chocolate cakes we shared on your balcony,” he admitted with the air of a child waiting to be scolded, “I may have accidentally puked them up in your toilet. Sorry..."

“It’s of no consequence,” she returned with a small, sad smile.

And this was very well true.

She wasn’t the one who had to clean it after all.

They talked about everything, and they talked about nothing.

Blue told him about the sunrise yesterday, how all the colors had seeped together in a swirl of delicious color, and she talked to him, very quietly, about Pink.

“In the best of possible ways,” she mumbled, the sound caught in the column of her throat, “you remind me of her sometimes. She smiled at everything, even when there wasn’t exactly something to be smiled about.”

“That’s a very pretty way to put it.” Steven wriggled a thumb from beneath her palm to stay it against the side of her hand.

“Yes,” she nodded gently, “I suppose so.”

When it was time for her to leave—a team of nurses had come in to administer Steven’s evening medicines and check his vitals—she pressed a kiss against his forehead.

Very light and very soft.

“You didn’t look away,” he whispered against her cheek as she withdrew. His breath was sickly sweet with disease. “Thank you, Blue.”

She froze, meeting his eyes.

There was hesitancy, and there was consuming grief.

The scribble of guilt.

Scrawled all over her face.

“I wanted to, though,” she breathed. “If we're being technical... if we're being fair... I think the impulse counts against me.”

“But you didn’t.”

Steven’s chapped lips tilted into the beginnings of a smile.

“And that’s what matters, right?”

She brushed a stray curl off of his clammy forehead and thought about Pink and Yellow and all the things she did and didn’t do.

She loved them.

She looked away.

“Yes,” she told Steven Universe. 

Yes.

x.

Alone, Blue Diamond slowly crossed the skywalk, her silvery hair crowned in all the colors of the sunset, a phone pressed against her ear.

Her cane struck the tiled floor with each shuffled step forward.

Clank.

The dial tone droned rhythmically—bzzt and bzzt and bzzt.

Clank.

She felt her heart work its way up her throat, clambering up its fleshy rungs. The immensity of what she was doing transformed her nervous system into a network of beating, pulsing neuroses.

She was ready for this, and she was not.

She could do this; she half-hoped that she wouldn't receive an answer.

Clank.

And then—

“Blue?” Yellow Diamond’s low voice threw its instinctive panic across the line. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

Because this was new.

And yet, achingly familiar.

So many years of having not sought Yellow out—all those weeks, days, and months—were well-established patterns that were not easily overturned and undone.

All those collective hurts—hundreds of them, thousands.

Four years of misery sat between them like four hundred thousand miles.

Blue Diamond swallowed thickly, stopping dead in her tracks as the spillage of people continued to swarm all around her like a package freed of its contents: doctors and patients and sundry other visitors. She was the eye of their storm, and yet, she was just another broken person in the midst of so many other broken people. She was separate from them, and yet, she was their intimate kin. The contradiction seemed untenable, unworkable like all the rest.

Her fingers tightened on the head of her cane.

“I’m… I’m fine, Yellow,” she began. “Please don’t worry. I just had to… I wanted to tell you something. Are you busy?”

On the other end of the line, somewhere in a giant, yellow skyscraper at the edge of Empire City, there was the sharp intake of breath.

And the hesitant beginnings of a fearful reply.

It was a start, though.

And that was what mattered, right?

Yes, Blue Diamond thought to herself.

Yes.

[thewritewolf]

Two Cursed Detectives in Paris: Landing

Chasing down their suspect has lead Connor and Eerie, two detectives cursed with animal-like qualities, to France. There they find two kids madly in love with each other, even if they don't realize it yet. But with the help of two American detectives, love might just find a way...

Based on the Chouette! story and artwork that can be found here.

(If you haven't seen Chouette! before, then don't worry - I explain everything that matters for the plot.)

Hello and welcome to this fic that I have been very much looking forward to for the past month! I've been obsessed with Chouette since I first saw it in April of last year, so combining my two favorite obsessions into one gloriously fluffy fic felt only natural. And if I can get you to join me in this fledgling fandom, then I'll be absolutely thrilled!

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 (Final)

Enjoy!

Read on Ao3

Broadly speaking, she was cursed.

Although not in the sense that most people thought of when they heard the word “Cursed.” ‘Oh, my hair just won’t cooperate! I must be cursed!’ ‘My TV is flickering, it must be cursed!’

No, she really was cursed. If the talon-like nails, the head that swiveled three hundred and sixty degrees, and a host of other little abnormalities were anything to go off of, then probably cursed by the spirit of an owl. Or maybe she was possessed by an owl spirit? Honestly she had never been too clear on how it all worked despite living with it since middle school. It’s not like she’d been given a handbook or introductory pamphlet to help her through those first few rough months. Or the rough years that followed.

The ‘owl horns’ in her hair could be held down by her bow and the talons just looked like well manicured nails, but the red eyes and orange marking around her eyes like a mask were a dead give away. Not to mention the mossy green hair. At twenty two years old, it hadn’t been a long life so far, but it had certainly been full of struggle.

But that was who she was to the people who just saw her curse and decided not to look any further.

More specifically, she was Eerie. Eerie Escamilla, top of her class out of law school, junior detective and intern at the Cursed Special Unit, filled with people with a similar… background to her. A snore drew her attention to her left, toward one such person.

Connor MacThomas was cursed, like her, but with a raccoon rather than an owl. They hadn’t let him bring his favorite pillow with him into their first class seating, but he managed with his soft and bushy tail. She had to bite her lip to keep from aw’ing at the way his little raccoon ears twitched ever so slightly in his sleep. It wouldn’t do to be cooing at someone who was debatably her boss but unquestionably the more experienced detective between them.

Evidently, he could feel her eyes on him since he chose that moment to wake up. He yawned and stretched, his gloved hands grasping at the roof of the airplane. His hands were his greatest strength and his glaring weakness - so sensitive he could read the mood of a person by touch, which also made them so vulnerable he kept them in sturdy leather gloves worn thin by constant use.

His eyes, with their light blue sclera, opened up as he blinked at her, a bleary smile on his lips. Those eyes stood out all the more for the black mask, so similar to her own orange one, surrounding them. Another person might have thought that his crumbled, messy appearance was because he’d just spent the last five hours sleeping curled up on himself. But Eerie knew that was just how he always looked.

He adjusted himself, pulling down his shirt since it had ridden up a little. Her eyes followed the movement and she felt her cheeks heat up. Her heart fluttered and she quickly looked away, towards the window. A bad idea, given her fear of heights and suddenly her heart was fluttering for a different reason entirely. Her eyes widened and her breathing started to come in short bursts.

“Eerie?” Connor seemed to pick up on her panic quickly, if the concern in his voice was any indication. “Eerie. Boss. Look at me.” With a force of effort, she tore her eyes away from the window. “I didn’t pay much attention to the briefing. Why don’t you tell me about this mission?”

That was a blatant lie, but she was too grateful to call him out on it. She took a deep breath and gladly switched into lecture mode.

“We’ve been on this guy’s tail for the last couple months, picking apart his forgery operation back home.”

Connor grinned and stretched his hands. “Most of which was spent convincing rich people to let me get my paws all over their fancy but fake statues and busts.”

“And the rest of it was me doing meticulous art research,” Eerie said, rolling her eyes with a smirk.

“Of course, boss.” Connor didn’t break eye contact as he reached behind him to close the window with one hand. “And then what?”

“Well, I noticed that all the pieces had one thing in common - all the authentic ones are currently housed in the Louvre. And considering a lot of them aren’t even on display for the public-”

“Explaining why the fancy art people didn’t know they were being had.”

“-that means that the guy we’ve been after is in Paris, France and likely works at the Louvre. The local authorities have it up to their necks just trying to handle some crazy stuff happening in the French capital, so when the Chief offered to send the detectives already on the case...”

“...They were more than happy to accept,” Connor finished. “And luckily, we both know French, so this works out à la perfection.”

Eerie made a disapproving sound. “About that last part…”

“Yeah, boss?” A stewardess handed him a package of peanuts which he quickly tore into.

“I learned French because it was the only foreign language they offered in high school and I thought being bilingual would be good for a resume.” Eerie propped her elbow up on their armrest and put her chin on her hand, staring at Connor. “But you never seemed the type to care about stuff like that. Why did you learn French?”

To her surprise, he blushed. “It’s, uh… it’s not important.”

“Really?” Eerie blinked innocently at him. “So you wouldn’t mind telling me then. Right?”

Connor stuck out his tongue at her. “Nosey.”

“Comes with the detective territory, boss. Spill.”

After watching her for a long moment, he slumped his shoulders and groaned. “I did it to impress a girl, alright?”

Eerie’s eyebrows flew up. “Wow, really?”

“It was middle school okay?” Connor crossed his arms as his tail twitched in irritation behind him. “It didn’t work either, obviously. That was, uh, just before the whole curse thing happened. But I stuck with it!” Connor paused. “Well, mostly.”

“What do you mean, ‘mostly’?”

“Well, I’m conversational at least…”

“Connor! You said you were fluent!”

“No,” he replied. “I said I can speak it.”

“That-” Eerie stopped herself and pinched the bridge of her nose. It was a complication, but if anyone could manage to get by without knowing the native language, it was Connor. He was more resourceful than he looked. “Okay, fine.”

Their conversation was cut short as the pilot announced that they would be landing soon. They glanced at each other, Eerie locked eyes with him as he began eating the package the peanuts came in. Both of them reached the same conclusion. With more people waking up around them, it wasn’t as safe to talk about their assignment. It would have to wait until the hotel.

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

Connor's hand hesitated at the door to their shared hotel room. Knowing their mission designer, he’d half expected her to get them a room with only one bed. Jemina was great and all, but sometimes she was even more pushy about his relationship with Eerie than his own mother was. He opened the door and breathed a sigh of relief. Thankfully, this room did have two beds. With some big business event happening in Paris at the moment, two rooms was out of the question.

“As much as I appreciate being stuck staring at your fluffy butt, can you get a move on?” Eerie’s voice brought him back into the moment. “This stuff is heavy.”

“Right, sorry.” He stood still for another moment and looked behind him. “...So you like what you see back there, huh?” His tail swished back and forth happily.

She rolled her eyes and pushed him with her foot. Snickering, he stepped forward set to work turning the bed into something almost like home. Before long, he heard her speak up again.

“...How did you manage to pack your giant banana pillow?”

“Very carefully,” Connor said in what he hoped was a cool and mysterious way. “I figured you wouldn’t let me build a nest of pillows and blankets-”

“Accurate. I don’t want to get the house keepers annoyed with us. We’ll be here for the next few weeks after all.”

“-so this is the next best thing. Thankfully for me, Nanners here is a cuddlebug.” To prove his point, Connor laid down on his bed and spooned the person-sized banana. He opened one eye to see Eerie hiding a smile with her hand. His heart melted at how cute she was in this moment.

His eyes widened at the thought. She’s your intern, he mentally chastised himself, get ahold of yourself. He quickly sat up and put his legs over the side of his bed, facing Eerie.

“So now we’re in Paris. You remember the next part?”

“Yup, some of us pay attention to the mission briefing.” Eerie rolled her eyes, but a smirk still played at her lips. “Tomorrow, we’ll be setting up our covers. Chief managed to get us some part time jobs. Apparently I’m going to be doing deliveries for a local bakery.”

Connor frowned. “That sounds delicious. Is it too late to switch?” He asked with a hopeful lilt to his voice.

“Way too late. But hey,” she said, squeezing his shoulder. “You’re going to be an English tutor for some rich kid, I’m sure they’ll keep you well fed.” She pursed her lips. “With actual people food. So no digging around in the garbage.”

Connor feigned a gasp. “Boss, this is Paris! They have the finest, most gourmet trash in the whole world. How can you ask me not to try the local cuisine?”

“It’s not- No! We’re going to actual restaurants, I’m not letting you dumpster dive while we’re here. We’re supposed to be undercover, remember? And that’s exactly the sort of thing that will draw unwanted attention.”

“You’re just using that as an excuse ‘cuz you don’t want me eating garbage.” He waggled his finger right below her nose. She gently pushed it aside, but even with that brief touch he could a vague feeling of her emotions - a mix of exasperation and amusement.

“You’re exactly right. Is it working?”

His tail flicked back and forth irritatedly behind him. “...Maybe,” he grumbled.

“Good,” she said with far too much pep for his liking. “Now, it’s been a long day and we don’t start our new jobs until tomorrow. I’m going to take a nap.”

Connor yawned. “I think I’ll do the same.”

“You slept for most of the trip here!”

“And that was very exhausting!”

Eerie stared at the ceiling for a few long moments before laughing and soon enough he joined her.

“Good night, boss.”

“Night, boss.”

[excorcismic]

      ❛ remember the time . . . in SAN FRANCISCO ? with me by your side , in SAN FRANCISCO ? you are such a  s i g h t  , the deepest brown eyes , my dear . . . ❜

                                                                      ❛ MISA MISA !! ❜                                            playlist . plotting call . listen as you read !

the mirrors surrounding you did as they were meant to, reflecting back a spitting image of HIRAI MOMO  -  but it’s clear something is wrong from the moment that a vision of VALENTINE’S DAY , 2011 strikes you.  perhaps it was a passing daydream in the frenzy of the funhouse. you reassure yourself  -  you’re MISA AMANE ! ,  a TWENTY-FOUR YEAR OLD STREAMER / MUSICIAN whose virtue lies in your + LOYALTY & + OPTIMISM , although you’ve been told that you tend to be quite - NAÏVE & - IMPULSIVE ,  and you’re associated with BLACK PAINTED NAILS HOLDING A FOUNTAIN PEN , RUBY RED LIPS & EYES THAT MATCH , GIVING HIM YOUR EVERYTHING IN EXCHANGE FOR JUST HIS HEART by those around you.  suddenly,  however,  you’ve found LIGHT’S WHITE JACKET on your person - was that always there? from the moment you leave the funhouse,  memories from your life in DEATH NOTE have begun to return - leaving whoever you had been before in the mirror’s reflection behind you.  you can almost hear SAN FRANCISCO by THE DRIVER ERA following in your wake. ( she/her & demigirl )

                       this is the story of a very lonely girl .

I . WELL , LOOK AT YOUR WATCH NOW !

born in alucard , pennsylvania - misa amane was the child of celebrity parents who settled down in the small town . as of course , a TEMPORARY break . a director father and a failed actress mother , they were determined their daughter continue the legacy and turn into a star . and after a few good , normal years ( if ‘normal’ involved going to school & playing during the day then coming home to intense acting , singing , dancing practice ) , she managed to get wrapped into the world of stardom . 

first , it was through commercials . then , small parts in movies that called for cute little girls . then . . . a deal with a children’s network at age nine to star in a series about a child detective . affectionately called , THE MYSTERIES OF MISS MISA-MISA !

from nine to sixteen , she’d work tirelessly - becoming an instant hit the moment the pilot episode aired , selling merchandise all over the country and making appearances on other television shows . 

but then there’s the inevitable - kids start to grow up . the childish charm is lost & the children start to realize they were deprived of so much for the sake of fame . such things , like friends . and misa . . . although initially asked for a sequel series that would tackle the child detective now as a high schooler , declined in favor of going back home to pursue her high school years as a normal teen . of course - to the chagrin of her parents . she’d go back home to live with an aunt in alucard for a year , finishing her sophomore year , then her parents would follow - she’d move back in again at the start of her junior . and . . . it was not at all easy . considering a , she already had a reputation as a child star - which was equivalent to a target along her back . and b , the lack of friends was obvious - and even when she smiled at everyone , complimented their styles , helped them out with work she could assist with . . . most of the time , she’d sit by herself at the lunch table . or , with people that she didn’t know if they were actual friends or not . 

graduation comes , and misa amane stands to accept her diploma . there isn’t a graduation party ; she just sits in the back of her parents’ car , ready to go out to a fancy dinner she isn’t looking forward to .

II . YOU’RE STILL A SUPER HOT FEMALE !

BUT ALL HOPE IS NOT LOST ! graduation is the end of a chapter - and the beginning of the next rests in amane’s hands . three months pass , and once again the family puts pressure on her to go back into showbiz . it isn’t too late , you’re young & pretty - you’re meant for movies . but . . . misa , of course , refuses . she actually is looking into maybe making another name for herself . . . but in a very different way than her parents would hope .

it’s an argument . an argument about how misa has talent she’s ignoring & an argument about how her parents can’t control her forever . one friend she has sits in her truck in the parking lot as misa packs her bags , and the heated argument ends with the blonde girl slamming the door and her parents telling her to come back only when she has her head screwed on straight . but it’s fine . misa’s alright with this - she’s going to be a star in her own right , since a band she’s started playing in underground has just gotten noticed . YOUR FRIENDS & THE SKELETONS - a hard pop-punk band influenced by the likes of my chemical romance , paramore , two door cinema club , the 1975 , what have you . 

alucard is left behind when the recognition comes since misa amane needs the change of scenery . but that doesn’t mean she is gone forever , as sometimes the pursuit of other things only lasts for so long . 

III . YOU’VE GOT YOUR MILLION DOLLAR CONTRACT !

the next few years are kind . the band experiences a nice success that means misa gets to live her dream - but she realizes the burnout when she looks back on everything she’s accomplished . the constant moving around , always only talking to the same few people or never anyone she gets to know - it registers that she’s still in some sort of box . and maybe a break from said box is needed .

your friends & the skeletons goes on a touring hiatus , retiring back to alucard . misa does not tell her family she’s going back - she doesn’t give a shit , and she doesn’t think they do , either . she gets an apartment by herself , and starts frequently streaming to still connect with her fans even though she’s taken a step back out of the spotlight . 

alucard is quiet . and alucard is home . but there’s a lot that misa again has to face .

she has a history here , yes - but nevertheless , there is still that feeling of loneliness . in every aspect - she never had many friends . little of her relationships lasted long , always ending with unrequited love , quick heartbreak , what have you . only her bandmembers did she have , even though she tried to throw herself at every friendly face she saw .

because she’s always been friendly . always a friend to everyone else , even if they aren’t a friend to her . only hoping maybe SOMEONE ELSE can see her as someone - begging to be somebody’s top-pick , somebody’s vip , somebody to someone . because her whole life she’s lived as only the bridesmaid , but never the bride in the eyes of those looking away from stardom . because it’s one thing to be adored by fans - it’s another to be adored by individual people .

IV . AND THEY’RE ALL WAITING FOR YOUR HOT TRACK !

nevertheless , amane is never one to give up quickly . because she believes that someday , maybe she’ll get what she wants . . . even though of course , when things go south , she still quickly accepts maybe she isn’t meant to be somebody’s someone . 

but she always smiles .

misa amane is one of a kind . she’s got so much love in her heart to share - she’s sensitive , maybe she gets hurt easily . maybe she’s IMPULSIVE and naive to where she bites off more than she can chew and believes things she shouldn’t . she jumps into things without realizing how much she could get hurt . talks without thinking . but she is friendly - she’s kind , outgoing , and cherishes those she admires even if they don’t cherish her back . her heart is forever on her sleeve , and all she wants to be loved . she’s been lonely for a long time .

she’s talented ! not only fronting her band with vocals & rhythm guitar , but also taking interests in visual art , crafting . aside from streaming , she runs a little etsy shop where she makes jewelry and keychains of her own little style . she of course can act , but hates it at this point . she also knows how to play the piano & the drums !!

she regularly streams for her fans - whether it’s to watch movies or shows with them or to play video games she has with them . she’s social , in that she always loves to talk to someone . her batteries recharge through social interaction , as an extrovert’s extrovert .

i wouldn’t say misa is stupid . she’s clever - witty . but sometimes she’s a little ditzy and acts without thinking ; i like to thing she did pretty well in school in terms of her grades , but her tendencies to both act and speak without thinking and sometimes forgetting simple things can give the impression she isn’t too smart . but she is ; just in her own special ways . she’s not dumb at all .

she also knows no fear - courageous to some points where it’s even dangerous . she regularly likes to go on adventures in the dark to investigate possible haunted areas , always is the one to kill the bugs when everyone else is scared , heights and the dark are never an issue . she also lives and breathes for the occult , heavily believing in everything supernatural . she even practices witchcraft ! 

also she's hardcore pan if u think misa is straight U Are Mistaken

it is almost a certain guarantee that misa amane is perhaps one of the friendliest faces in alucard . the one that only hopes you like her as much as she likes you . and maybe one day she’ll find that - until then , she will never stop persisting . she goes everywhere and she smiles at everyone ; a shimmer of sunshine in black platforms & cross earrings .

WHAT YOU WAITING - WHAT YOU WAITING - WHAT YOU WAITING - WHAT YOU WAITING - WHAT YOU WAITING FOR ?? . . .

                    . . .  holding on , i’m holding on to our story . . .

there is a girl . a very lonely girl . a very lonely girl that looks back at misa when she stares into the house of mirrors . and that lonely girl is a thought that misa can’t get out of her head , along with the newfound feeling that there is something - no , someone missing from her life that should be there . or was there . a missing piece that she doesn’t recognize . and the white jacket , a bit too big for her to fit , that appears on her person - the attachment she feels to it gives her security , like a safety blanket ; even though she has no clue where it came from , or who it actually belonged to . . . 

god i fried my own brain writing this but anyway HELLO EVERYONE once again i am hylia and . . . i have finally finished . my monster of an intro for misa . once again if u want to look at my plot/connection ideas pls click the plotting call link at the top of this post !! i love this girl to death and i hope u guys like her too c: bc she is my BABIE and i ,,, am so stoked to write her here . I’LL SEE Y’ALL WHEN I GET OFF WORK !! <3 

[queencarolinemikaelson]

After a solid number of years: Chapter Nine of care-bear-forbes and the-lonely-hybrid. You can read chapters 1-8 HERE on ff.

//

Caroline woke from her fitful sleep only a few short hours after falling into bed.

She honestly couldn't believe the night she had.

Surreal.

It was the only word for it.

Caroline knew she would have to go in to work at some point, but in that moment, she decided on some self-care. She rose briefly to make some breakfast and a cup of tea, before snuggling back bed to process what she was feeling.

Firstly, there was the opening party of her very own club! It was happening! All those years of planning and dreaming, coming to spectacular fruition. The next goal to focus on was the official first official day of regular trade, which was just four nights away, and there was still plenty to do to make sure they were ready.

Secondly, she met Klaus Mikaelson. Klaus Mikaelson; of all the people to attend a party she threw. That was a thing all to itself! Add the completely insane revelation that Klaus was actually her old friend Nik made it all the wilder.

Nik.

Nik.

Nik, who she had loved and hated in equal measures, who both saved and damned her. She could hardly wrap her mind around the fact that he had been standing as close as two feet from her, mere hours ago.

She never thought her life could share so many plot points with a romantic comedy, but here she was.

Also, how the hell had she not noticed the similarities between Klaus and Nik? Surely she wasn't that dull. She had been blogging him like a maniac for years? Was she just blind, or just stupid?

Though, if the feeling she was experiencing right now was anything to go by, it was just too bizarre to reconcile the two as the same person. She always kept them so specifically apart from each other in her mind, so the connection was never obvious. Add the physical changes one goes through during their 20s, and maybe she was neither blind, nor stupid.

She took a sip of her tea, and let her head fall back onto her bed's headboard.

What on earth could she do with all this new found information?

If she was deeply honest with herself, Caroline knew her instinct was to run. Run away from the big city, back to her country town life. Where she could live away from this dread,and all the emotion being trudged back into her life.

But even as she considered it, Caroline knew she would never be happy if she did – as tempting as it was. She spent too long coming to terms with Nik's disappearance to let to control her life again. She also spent far too long working toward her dream business to walk away, for that matter.

As Caroline took another sip of tea, she realised that was what she kept coming back to.

Her life, her dream; that's what was important now.

She spent too long sifting through grief, too many hours crying, too many days of numbness to just forgive and forget. No matter how long Klaus promised.

The prize of his love may have been sweet, but to be swept up in grand romance… That wasn't who she was anymore.

A deep understanding settled over her, and it was terrifying to finally know what she wanted. To relinquish something she held so tightly, for so long.

But it nestled into her heart resolutely.

xxx

Klaus woke with a splitting headache. His metabolism was good, but it wasn't that good.

He was wrapped in a blanket on a semi-comfortable couch, far from his hotel bed, and Klaus groaned as he remembered his somewhat-drunken, extremely early visit to his sister. He also remembered drinking a little bit more after Rebekah went back to bed, to try and wipe Caroline completely from his memory

Fat lot of good it did him, though. Not only was his hangover worse, but he could still remember every detail of every moment of their conversation.

"Morning!" the cheery voice of his sister sang. "You look like absolute death, Niklaus. What sweet comeuppance."

"Thank you sister," he grumbled, immediately regretting it, as a wave of nausea hit him. "I'm going back to sleep."

"Uh huh, you do that," she smirked, in uncanny resemblance to her brother. "I'll make you something greasy when you wake next time."

Klaus fell back asleep almost immediately.

Why he'd insisted on stirring in the first place, he didn't know.

A few more hours passed before Klaus regained consciousness again. While he felt a damn side better this time, he was still feeling pretty rotten.

"He lives!" Bekah said, who was sitting next to him on the couch watching some trashy show on the television. "How about bacon?"

Klaus just nodded as he sat up, but didn't say anything.

Though, again, why he bothered trying to be awake was beyond him, because now, instead of waves of nausea hitting him, it was waves of utter mortification.

He would never admit it to anyone, but Klaus had imagined a reunion with Caroline many times. But none of them had involved him being slovenly drunk at 3am. How had that happened?

And to tell her he loved her and still did? What was he thinking!

Klaus sat in his humiliation silently, hoping it would relent somehow, until Bekah placed a steaming pile of bacon and eggs in front of him, as well as a very strong black coffee and a glass of water.

"So," she started, and Klaus just knew he wasn't going to be able to dodge these questions. "You met the love of your life."

"I did," Klaus said, forfeiting all pretext. It was Rebekah after all.

"And you told her you loved her."

"Yes."

"And you that you wanted to be her last love."

"I did," he said again.

"Very smooth," Rebekah said sardonically, inspecting her nails for non-existent imperfections. "Though, given the state you were in when you got here, I guess there's more to it than instant happily ever after?"

"I suppose," Klaus said, taking a big bite of bacon to save him having to respond more substantively.

"Oh, Nik," Bekah sighed. "Who even is this woman?"

"She's someone I knew a long time ago," Klaus said carefully, thinking it would be safe to answer that, given that Klaus barely told anyone about Caroline back when he knew her.

"Do you mean that online friend of yours?" Rebekah asked.

"How did you…?"

Rebekah just shrugged, innocently.

"You told me once about her, then told me another time you had a crush on someone who could never know the real you. Plus, you spent so much time on that website when you were a teenager," she replied. "Two and two."

"That's some pretty thin reasoning, Bekah," Klaus said, a bit defensive.

"Perhaps," she replied, coolly. "But your reaction confirmed it."

"It could have been anyone. It could have been Tatia!"

"Oh pish," Rebekah said, dismissively. "Tatia was a witch, and we both know it. All the women you've ever dated are not last love material, Nik."

Klaus shrugged, she was right of course. His track record with woman was visually stellar, but none of them were an epic love.

"Do you actually love her?" Rebekah asked, blunt as ever.

Klaus' cautious silence answered her question better than he could with words. Because the truth was, of course, how could he know he loved her?

Marshalling his thoughts into something resembling coherent, Klaus knew the major takeaway was of course he'd jumped the gun on telling her he loved her. He hadn't spoken to her in a decade. That kind of lack of communication wasn't a basis for love.

But he knew he wanted to try. Needed to try. Needed to see if she was what he remembered, needed to discover if his selfishness had ruined them completely, needed to understand the part of him that really was convinced he was still in love.

"I need to find out I do," Klaus said, for once, incredibly vulnerable.

But, Klaus realised he was always vulnerable when it came to Caroline. She was perhaps the only person beyond his blood that he volunteered his vulnerability to.

Perhaps that was why he cut her out so completely, because his reinvented Klaus Mikaelson was never vulnerable. A weakness like Caroline wasn't something he wanted the luxury of back when. He wanted the luxury of power.

"I best be on my way, little sister," Klaus said, as he pulled himself up from the couch, unable to sit still any longer. "Things to do. I suppose I have to make my way to the airport at some point. Thank you for breakfast, and the place to stay."

"Any time, Nik," Rebekah said, softly. "Good luck with everything."

He pressed a quick kiss to his sister's forehead, and slipped out the door before deciding where to go.

xxx

Two weeks later

Caroline sat in her office, staring at her paperwork.

She had been staring at it for days, really, and the more time separating her from her first encounter with Nik, the less she was able to push him from her mind.

It was now two weeks after the opening party. And nearly two weeks since they begun official trade.

Opening night, much like the party, had been a wild success. They had been at capacity for a few hours, and even had a queue for a while there, on a Wednesday.

And the days since had been exceeding what she had hoped for her first couple of weeks open. While there were some obvious kinks and stumbling blocks, as there was with any new business, Caroline let herself consider the idea that maybe this wasn't the completely crazy, doomed-to-fail venture others thought it was.

They were due to open for in a few hours, and she was excited. It really was exhilarating, running her own business. But, despite the success and excitement, Caroline was really struggling to the find motivation to do the pencil pushing part of her chosen business.

Because all she could think about was him.

In the two weeks since their encounter, Caroline had felt a myriad of things.

While she started off with whole-hearted conviction in what she wanted to say to him, after a few days, and some more lonely nights, she let herself imagine, wonder on all the what-ifs of life with Klaus. The life they could explore and discover together, what being his last love would be like…

Then she got mad. Filled with fury at the gall of him, after a decade to blind sight her with wild declarations of love, and empty promises of forever.

Then she was back to swayed by the romance of it all.

The underlying link connecting all her conflicting emotions was that it took a miracle for her not be consumed by thoughts of him, with work as the only thing that seemed to take her mind away.

But, now with opening day behind her, and a couple of weeks under her belt, apparently even that wasn't enough.

And so, she was back to being frustrated and upset with him.

Who the hell goes around saying I intend to be your last love and then vanishes.

Who the hell has the audacity to show up, after ten years, confessing an unending love, then doesn't even have the decency to provide contact details.

His complete lack of contact since he showed up out of the blue, solidified in Caroline's mind, that she was right. That her resolution to be frank and honest with him was exactly what she needed to do, even as much as she wanted to fall into him and never look back.

So imagine the storm of emotions she felt as someone tapped on the shoulder – hours after giving up on pretending to do paperwork, while gazing upon the second night of her dream – and she looked straight into the eyes of a man who never seemed to be too far from her mind.

"Klaus."

//

This has been such a long time in the making. Review HERE if you feel inclined. I’d love the feedback O:) and I love you all. Watch this space for part ten, which is written! So will not be another three years from now. Woohoo!!

[alloveroliver]

Author Interview

I was tagged by @peacheat and @dear-mrs-otome THANK YOU GUYS!!! (I also added more Qs if you want to answer those as well *sweats*)

Name: Ash Knight

Fandoms: Now: MLQC, Ikemen Revolution, Ikemen Vampire, Ikemen Sengoku, Mystic Messenger, annnnnd one or two other otomes I like lol.  Want to do in the future: Obey Me (Currently playing) Ikemen Genjiden (translating got to be too much but its GOOD!) Tokyo Debunkers (when it comes out in April!!!)

Where You Post: Mostly Tumblr but also Ao3!

Most Popular One-Shot:  By far Victor x MC “In This Moment.” I’m glad cuz I spent a lot of time on this one and I love the concept of Victor stopping time because he know’s he’s going to miss MC <3

Most Popular Multi-Chapter Story: Mmm, I don’t have any muli fics yet BUT I do have 10 chapters of my blood thirsty fics!  they are all oneshots though. 

Favorite Story You Wrote: Its actually my first Oliver fic I posted around Aug of 2018 (Omg have I been doing this for that long???) It needs to be rewritten BUT heres the link. Oliver x MC “Giving Up Control” I still think about this fic often lmfao. Femdoming Oliver is 🤤👌

Story You Were Nervous to Post: Ooof, a recent Oliver fic. Only because it had alcohol themes and smoliver asking her on a date. Just due to his curse and things I didn't want to change too much but it was all consensual with adult Oliver. I was just nervous some people would read into it and take it the wrong way :( Oliver x MC “In A Perfect World You’re Happy With Me” (Looking back at it, it actually got a good response! I am surprised cuz I posted it then tried to put it out of my mind lol. #thanksanxiety

How You Choose Your Titles: First thing that comes to mind. Song lyrics, one word that sticks out in the fic. Or if its a common word or a word/title I’ve used before I put it into One Look Reverse Dictionary and find a similar word that means the sameish thing. I don’t dwell on titles too much tbh. 

Completed: Last I counted, I had over 500 short stories under my belt. You can read them all on my blog but not everything was put into my masterlist. This was just due to the tumblr purge we had and I had to make a new masterlist since a lot of my fics got shadowbanned due to the tagging system back then. I didnt wanna repost them all lol

Incomplete: I have an entire spreadsheet that I plop all my ideas on... and it is FULL. I organize it by fandom, suitor, and fluff vs. smut. Ummmmmm.... See below: Coming soon lol. 

Do You Outline? I usually start writing when I have an idea and if I need to step away from my computer I will do a quick outline. AKA just some quick bullet points of what I was thinking would happen next lol. If I ever take the time to properly do a full outline, I 100% go off the rails and do my own thing away from the outline. I am what is called a ‘discovery writer’ lol. I discoverer my own story as i write it then go back and edit it and act like I knew what I was doing all along lmfao.

Coming Soon/Not Yet Started: I have 3 substantial WIPS (like 2-3k words) I bounce between that I’m working on. Victor x Mc, Vincent x MC and Faust x MC. 

A plan to do part 2 of Gavin x MC’ s ”Distortion” . 

I also have an long running AU fic with Gavin x MC (8k currently) but that is far away from being done lol. 

There is also an 11 chapter fic I am planning. I have 2 chapters written but I cant seem to figure out one major plot detail and its keeping me from getting it done anytime soon :( 

There is a chapter fic im writing for a cradle born MC, however its a mesh of our MC and my OC and its kinda complicated. Also its fluff and I’m less interested in writing that BUT I really want to share this story <3

Valentines day is actually prob going to be the next thing yall see from me tbh and that is TBD

Do You Accept Prompts? I used to every once in a while but I have so many WIPS and no personal computer at home rn. (SOON THOUGH!) So I don’t have the chance to write as much in my free time as I used to. I’ll take prompts but I let them sit in my ask box until I am able to write them <3. I am not the person to ask people to stop sending them, cuz I like to see what yall want me to write and take that into consideration for sure. I like taking asks for Thirsty Thursday (even if its not thurs, I will hold onto them until then) and answer them 😍 I love those because more people are involved other than me and I like being a part of something bigger than myself 🤗

Upcoming Story You Are Most Excited to Write: My Victor x MC story. Its UMMMMM........ ITS SLOW BURN YALL. LIKE WHO AM I?! lmfao. 

*(I am going to personally add a few questions to this tag that I am interested in knowing about others as well lol)*

What do you use to edit?: I pay for Grammarly (its AMAZING even the free version is super worth it) 

For word meanings, synonyms, and better wording I use OneLook Reverse Dictionary ALL THE TIME for every single fic. (and like I said before, to help with titles)

When I feel like something is off and grammarly doesn’t quite know and I don’t know, I put the fic through Hemmingway Editor. It tells you HOW readable a sentence is. If its hard to read I rewrite it and make things a bit simpler for the eyes. Its free in the browser. 

Writing setup: Ideally, the sun is coming in through the window, It’s cool inside, I’m wearing a fuzzy sweater, I have hot coffee or tea, and my head phones are in. 

I listen to lofi music station on youtube but If its distracting I put on lofi without lyrics. I love THIS playlist. (this is live so it’ll prob break but here’s an alt link to their offline playlist) If I am in an upbeat mood I like “Electropose” music. Or I listen to the ‘setting’ a fic is in. Like if its raining in the story, I put on rain ambiance and things like that. 

Do you use a beta reader? No 😬, not really. Anytime I have someone beta read and they comment on the content and not the editing I get way too nervous to post the fic and suddenly it get sick to my stomach laskjdlsdj. I trust a couple gals to beta read in an editing mind set but I don’t bother them all the time. I like to go balls to the walls and trust grammarly, post the damn thing, and bite my nails hoping for the best. 

Where do you get your writing inspo?: Bruh, #1 READING! Reading books, reading fics, reading summaries for things. Also, reading the routes in otomes, watching anime, and letting my mind wonder lol. I also like to chat with people on discord and let the stories unfold. Inspo has also come from a lot of my dreams tbh. My dreams are hella vivid and I try to write them down when I wake up if they are interesting lol. 

Can we get a quote from an upcoming WIP?: 

[     Without cars and crowds, the evening wind picked up nothing but serene sounds. Crickets gently chirped and leafs quietly brushed one another. The branches rustled together, making an organic symphony that the wind carried up to the balcony you leaned on. 

*****’s warm hands ran up and down your forearms, warming your chilled skin. From behind, he bent forward and nipped at the shell of your ear. 

“Is that better?” His silky hands moved faster, creating heated friction. 

“Mmm,” You relished in the sensation. “Much better.”

His gentle chuckle against your pulse made you wiggle into him. ***** pressed his solid chest against your back and sighed. “Maybe if you were wearing more than just my shirt, you wouldn’t be so chilly.” 

“I just want to be out here for a moment. The fresh air is nice.” You pressed your lips together into a small smile and angled your face up to him. “Don’t you agree?”  ]

tagging: @somethinglacking @pseudofaux @tarralin @steph-writing @kiarigirl @otonymous @jennacat84 @xathia-89 @toloveawarlord @moonlit--river @thequeenshuntress @thirstyforbishiesimagines <3 Honestly I want to tag more people but I don’t wanna be annoying SO if you do this feel free to tag me cuz I am soooooo curious about other writers! Lets be friendsssss <3 

[sweethazzababy]

Not So Professional- Chapter 2

Plot: Y/N gets the job as Harry Styles’s personal assistant. Working for him, she deals with the ups and downs of his career ranging from difficult breakups to music celebrations and everything in between. How will her and Harry’s relationship develop?

CHAPTER 1

A/N: YOU. GUYS. It has been very long since I’ve posted, and I feel so bad for leaving everyone with just one chapter up. Life got in the way lol and I honestly lost inspiration to write. Recently, I’ve been wanting to and I had some of this written already. I can’t promise you I’ll update every week or something, but I want to develop this story. Thanks guys :) 

P.S. I apologize for any typos...it’s 1 am as I’m finalizing and posting lmao

                                                    Chapter 2

Nervously typing each digit one by one, I anticipate the dreaded phone call with my mother. Her and I never really saw eye for an eye. We have completely different ways of viewing life, which always results in many arguments and pointless bickering. At the youthful age of 18, I had decided to move out after graduation and figure out life for myself. She of course, was absolutely livid. Ever since then, there’s been a lot of unspoken tension and distance. However, I miss her sometimes. She’s my mom, and although we have many differences I constantly wish we didn’t end things the way they ended those years ago. The only times I see her is for holidays, and every blue moon she’ll come to the city for lunch. Other than that, we don’t speak much at all.

But this news is something I have to tell her, especially since I’m going to be traveling the world assisting the world’s biggest heartthrob. Reluctantly, I take a breath and hold the phone up to my ear. Out of an anxious habit I tap my nails against the counter while rolling my ankle as my elbows rest on the granite. It rings a few times, and I start to pray she doesn’t answer. Until the ringing cuts and I hear a sigh.

“Y/N?” She sounds surprised. Shocked that I’m calling her at such a random time. My heart sinks at her tone and I realize how long it’s been. My mouth is dry and my mind is reeling, words jumbling in my head not knowing what to say back.

“Hi Mom. I-uh..I am calling um..because tomorrow there will be a uh, a big change.” I stumble, taking big gulps as I speak. My voice is trembling just a tad, and I know she can feel how nervous I am through the phone.

“What do you mean?” Her volume lowers, her voice timid. My fingers grasping my phone start to ache and I realize how tightly I’m holding it, knuckles turning white.

“I got offered um, a very, very large promotion… One I never expected and uh I was told today, but I’m leaving tomorrow… to London.” My rambling picks up as I speak, just wanting this conversation to be over. My eyes wander the room as I start biting my lip gently waiting for her response. I can tell she’s speechless, not knowing what to say.

“Oh wow…Y/N that’s, that’s amazing.” She breathlessly responds, a hint of pride in her tone. A small smile creeps onto my face, not believing this. She’s happy for me. Never in a million years did I think she would be proud of something I’ve done. She’s been holding a grudge ever since I left, ignoring every accomplishment I’ve had. But this time, she cares. And she’s proud. A few lone tears prick the corners of my eyes. Rolling my eyes at the ridiculousness of my emotions, I wipe them away quickly.

“Thank you Mom…I’ll be assisting Harry Styles. I’ll be…traveling the world. This is something I have dreamed about.” I start getting more comfortable, telling her how excited I am.

The conversation continues on for only a few minutes, but my heart warms at the way it turned out. We said our goodbyes, she wished me luck and to send her pictures of the places I see. She finally sees that I’m successful and doing just fine on my own, even though I left her at such a young age. And that’s all I could have wanted from her.

                                               ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It’s about 6:00 now. I’m sitting on my bedroom floor with clothes and other miscellaneous objects scattered all around. Having to leave so last minute is incredibly stressful and I find myself not knowing whether to pack one item over another. Groaning in frustration I decide to get my Bluetooth speaker. Maybe playing some music will make this a little bit more enjoyable. As I’m scrolling through my lists of playlists on Spotify, a thought popped into my head. Rather than choosing one of my playlists I go to the search bar and type in “Harry Styles”. 

Curiously scrolling through his 10 songs, I click on the song Only Angel. Immediately a choir blasts through my speaker and it’s almost like a sense of euphoria is washing over me. A little bit of piano comes into play making the beginning even more dreamy. As I’m getting used to the angelic sounds, all of the sudden a shriek of some sort interrupts. My heart feels like it’s about to break from my chest, and I jump from the unanticipated change of sound. What I thought would be a relaxing tune, turns into a rock song. When he starts singing my breath start to hitch in my throat. I’m quick to notice the rasp in his voice, like I’m wanting more and more as he sings so passionately within the first verse.

Open up your eyes, shut your mouth and see That I'm still the only one who's been in love with me I'll guess I'll be getting you stuck in between my teeth And there's nothing I can do about it

The attitude radiating from his lyrics is oddly attractive. I’ll have to admit that this is a lot different than his One Direction stuff, and like it even more. It’s refreshing to see a former boyband member go in a different direction other than pop. It tells me he appreciates really good music that actually uses instruments. I continue to listen to the album as I pack and can’t help but fall in love with his music. Sign Of The Times is a tear jerker. Once the chorus hit me, I felt like I was frozen in time. The production, the raw emotion in his voice, his gorgeous vocals. It all hit me like a bus and the next thing you know, I have tears running down my cheeks.

 But then I listened to From the Dining Table. Acoustics so soft and melancholy, his voice so low and quiet. The vulnerability and loneliness I felt from his lyrics took my heart and dropped it to the pit of my stomach. The hopefulness from the bridge as the melody and harmonies pick up that soon turned back into sadness as if all that hope vanished, left me absolutely breathless. The kind of pain he experienced, I hope he never has to go through again, oddly enough. His music makes me feel instantly connected to him, a power not many artists have. He’s an incredible musician, and I’m disappointed in myself for never realizing it earlier. I think back to the picture I was shown and my heart flutters again. With a voice and looks like that, let’s hope his personality is decent too.

                                                   ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Beep…beep…beep. My blaring iPhone alarm disrupts my sleep and my first instinct is to grab it and chuck it across the room so I can fall back into a slumber. I groggily turn over on my stomach shoving the pillow over my head, groaning hoping it would stop on its own as if it’s alive. Having enough of the disrupting noise making my ears bleed, I bring myself to roll on my side and grab my phone from my bedside table. While pressing the stop button I glance at the time. 7:00 AM. I know that it’s not super early, but on days I normally have off I developed a habit of sleeping in till 12. It’s like my body knows what day it is. My plane leaves at 1. I should leave my apartment by 11:45 to get to JFK and give myself some time before my plane boards. These thoughts are running through my head, as I’m trying to have some sort of plan for myself.

Mapping out my day in my head, I reluctantly get up and walk straight to the kitchen starting up my Keurig. Coffee is an absolute essential in the morning, or at any time for that matter. You don’t want to talk to me when I don’t have caffeine in my system. Luna comes trotting into the kitchen, her little legs moving at a fast pace giving me a bark good morning. Smiling, I pick her up in my arms and gently pet the top of her head as she licks my hand. My mom reluctantly agreed to take Luna while I’m away… to my surprise. It’s going to be hard not having her by my side like always.

After eating some breakfast and giving Luna her breakfast as well, I finish up the last of my packing. I throw on an oversized white sweater after my quick shower, feeling comfy for the long plane ride. I pair it with black leggings and throw on my black slip on Vans. Pulling my damp hair back into a French braid and putting on a little bit of makeup, I sigh realizing how soon I’ll be in a whole other country. At this point, it’s already 11:30. Before grabbing all of my bags, I give pick Luna up and cradle her into my arms. Holding her against me, I give a kiss to her head and I hug her a little too tight. My heart sinks at the fact that she has no clue what’s going on and she probably thinks I’ll be coming back after work like I usually do. I left a spare key for my mother so she’ll becoming by in an hour or so to pick her up. Opening my door, I give a last and longing look at my apartment and take a deep breath. Onto a new chapter in my life.

The airport is complete madness. I’ve always hated airports. The smells, the loud noises, people running to make it to their terminal while alsorunning into other people. Many times, I had to dodge myself from another person coming at me full force with a panic-stricken face. It’s about 12:45 so my plane could be boarding any minute. To occupy myself in the time I’ve been here I got myself another cup of coffee and read some magazines. There was an article about Harry Styles actually. Intrigued, I read it wanting to know more about the person I’m going to spend all of my time with. Something about a new fling. This boy is in the tabloids so much I wonder what’s true and what isn’t. No doubt, he’s a lady’s man.

Love on the Weekend, a song by John Mayer is playing through my headphones. The soothing tone of his voice and the calming melody helps keep me sane in the midst of such a fast-pace and crazy environment. Everyone else’s stress, stresses me out. As I’m reading through the magazine I hear the intercom notify us that my plane is now boarding. Grabbing all of my bags in my hands, I make my way onto the plane. London here I come.

                                                   ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The sudden bump of the airplane wakes me, along with some woman shaking my shoulder to tell me we’ve landed. Squinting my eyes because of the brightness I take a look out my window and see it’s pitch black. Oh. Right. It’s about 1:30 in the morning now.

I make my way off the plane into the UK airport. Jeff mentioned something about a car service coming to pick me up to take me to a hotel. Standing in front of the terminal my eyes are in a frenzy as I frantically look for a sign, anything, to let me know who is here for me. After about a minute of searching, I see a sign that reads “Y/N, Y/L/N”. Letting out a sigh of relief I walk over and shake the man’s hand. I have never had my own personal car service before so I’m pretty star-struck by all of this.

 “Good morning Ms. Y/L/N.” The kind man greets me with a pleasant and cheeky grin. I chuckle to myself realizing he said good morning. After all, it is 1am.

 “Good morning to you do!” I laugh, feeling a sense of comfort which is good since I’m in a huge country by myself

 After exchanging some small talk with my chauffer, we get into the vehicle. Completely forgetting how I’m in Europe, he opens the driver side door which happens to be on the right side rather than the left. Glancing out the window I try and see what’s outside, what London looks like. The blackness of the early morning is preventing me to see nearly anything though.

We finally pull up to the hotel, and I thank the driver while giving him a generous tip. This hotel is absolutely gorgeous. My eyes wander the room in awe. I walk inside with my bags and right away, a bell hop helps me out and gives me a cart to push everything. I walk up to the front desk and give them my name. Jeff also said he already booked about two weeks for me. I can’t be anymore grateful for everything he and his team have provided to make sure I’m comfortable. Eventually I’m going to use my savings and the money I make to pay for it myself and hopefully rent a small apartment here in London. I retrieve my room key and make my way up the elevator towards my room. After getting settled in, I lie in bed on my laptop. I received a few emails from Jeff informing me of the address and time I need to be at the office by. Seeing the time, I decide it’s probably a smart idea to get some sleep and turn off the light, close my eyes, and nervously await the next day.

                                                   ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Stepping foot out of the car, I take a look at the building in front me. It’s quite small, definitely not as big SONY back in the States. I was told this was a casual meeting, so I wore a pair of dark skinny jeans, a nice blouse that shows off a tiny bit of cleavage, and black heels. I tried my best to look good since I am meeting Harry today. I just can’t get his face out of my mind. The way he smirks, his dimples peeking through completely erasing the intimidating look only to make him seem absolutely adorable. Shaking the thoughts from my head, I tell myself that this is a job. Professional.

 I walk into the building and meet up with Jeff. Finally meeting him in person, he has dark hair and dark eyes. Scruff on his chin and around his face forming a little bit of a beard. He has a youthful and relaxing glow to him, calming my nerves. There’s no need to feel so uptight

 “Ahh finally I meet the famous Y/N!” he gives me a big cheery smile and pulls me into a hug. I let out a giggle and return his hug.

 “I can’t believe I’m finally here…it’s so surreal.” I say breathlessly. He smirks, looking down at his feet and clasping his hands together.  

 “I know but trust me it’s an opportunity you wouldn’t want to miss.” He leads me down the hall and into a room with a few couches and a table. “I figured it would be a little bit more comfortable and casual to meet Harry in a place that isn’t a business room.” He explains to me, shrugging his shoulder.

 I feel the sweat on my palms start to kick in and rub them along my jeans. The nerves start to settle in at the thought of meeting Harry. Jeff and I talk a little bit before all of the sudden there is a quick knock on the door. My heart feels like it’s beating outside of my chest, assuming Harry Styles is standing on the other side of that door.

 “Yeah!” Jeff yells casually as he scrolls through his phone.

My eyes are peeled on the door when it opens, my teeth gently biting into my bottom lip. Harry walks in with that damn smirk on his face. He’s wearing a plain white t shirt, his tattoos running all along his left arm. My eyes try and keep up with all of them, trying to decipher each one. The swallows on his chest near his collarbones are peeking through the top. His pants are not what I expected from him. They’re black, high-waisted, and are extremely flowy and loose around his legs. I’d be lying to myself if I said I didn’t want a pair, noticing how comfortable they look. He has a pair of black sunglasses on the top of his head, pushing back his locks in the front. Curls are peaking through near his neck, behind his ears. So endearing.

He’s even more lovely in person.

Then finally, he sets eyes on me. His blue-green irises meet with mine and I feel my breath leave my body for a split second. As he’s staring at me, I notice his eyes glance down at my top, setting on the cleavage I’ve shown. He bites his bottom lip as he looks at me, and I can’t help but blush and look down at my feet. This interaction only lasted about 2 seconds, but it felt like it was moving in slow motion. He strides over to me and puts his hand out for me to shake

 “Hello. My name is Harry.” The deep and husky tone rumbles through his throat. He speaks at a slower pace and his eyes are even more mesmerizing close up. He gives me a little smile, dimples on full display, crinkles by the corners of his eyes. I grab his hand and return the shake, his palm engulfing my small one. The warmth radiating from his hand is a comfortable one, and it sends shivers down my spine. He has multiple rings on his fingers, something I find very attractive. After shaking hands, I immediately wipe my clammy hands against my legs once more.

“Hi. Y/N Y/L/N, your new personal assistant.” I say with a friendly tone, giving him a smile back. I tuck a loose strand behind my ear shyly. He takes note of it and gives me another smirk, chuckling to himself at my awkwardness.

 “Here, have a seat while we chat a bit.” His British accent is a little more obvious this time around. Jeff tells us he has to take a few phone calls and leaves the room. Harry sits opposite of me, resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands together. The metal of the rings are glistening in the light, catching my eye. He has a ring shaped as an H and one as an S right next to it. Peering my eyes away, I try not to make my curiosity too obvious. The fact that he has personalized rings like that, makes me wonder how much money he actually has. I can tell he noticed my gaze, a small smirk forming on his face. But he doesn’t acknowledge it and continues with the conversation. We already have a nonverbal understanding of each other and I just met him.

 “So, tell me a bit about yourself Y/N. Obviously, we’re going to be workin’ with each other every day, so I figured I could get to know yeh now.” Harry rambles on, clearly unsure of what to say.

“Well, I-uh, I’m from New York City. I originally worked at the SONY headquarters, but obviously I’m not anymore.” Harry jokingly rolls his eyes and laughs at my comment. “Um, I have a dog named Luna, but my mother is taking care of her while I’m gone, and uh yeah.” I finish not really sure what else to say. I’m sure he can feel my awkwardness from here and my cheeks heat up at the thought. Why am I so embarrassing?

 “As entertaining as that was, that’s not what I meant.” Harry replies cheekily, a small chuckle leaving his lips. Blushing, I glance down at my shoes wanting to avoid his gaze because of my embarrassment.

“What are some favorite things of yours? Maybe we’ll find common ground or somethin’. I don’t know…like, your favorite ice cream flavor, or favorite movie. Both very important questions f’me if I’m honest.” Harry explains with a playful tone and I struggle to find the answers before I respond. I just feel so overwhelmed at this entire situation, and I think he can feel it too. “I want to get to know Y/N. Not Y/N Y/L/N from SONY.”

Harry looks into my eyes and gives me a comforting smile. He gives off such a calm and collective vibe that suddenly makes me feel a little less overwhelmed. I appreciate that. He makes it easy to talk to him. He raises his eyebrows, waiting for my answer. I giggle at the unprofessional and light-hearted reality of the situation.

 “My favorite ice cream would have to be either cookie dough or mint chocolate chip…” Before continuing on I observe his facial expressions. At the mention of cookie dough his eyes light up but right when I mention mint chocolate chip, he scrunches his nose in disgust which makes me giggle. “What, you don’t like mint chocolate chip?”

“Toothpaste doesn’t belong in ice cream.” He quickly insisted.

“I don’t think so either.”

“Then why do yeh like mint chip?” His confusion is so adorable, but I try and keep a straight face.

“Because… it doesn’t taste like toothpaste. Mint and chocolate is such a good combination, you’re really missing out.” The fact that we’re having a serious debate over ice cream is so funny to me, but it makes me excited to work with him.

“Nope, not at all.” He scrunches his nose once more, and my heart flutters at the cuteness. “Okay enough about ice cream, favorite movie?”

“My favorite movie? That’s such a hard one, I mean I love so many movies I can’t pick just one.”

“Sorry love, yeh gotta choose. For my sake.” He light-heartedly says,,

“If I had to choose, oh God this is so embarrassing…the Little Mermaid. It’s been my favorite since I was little and I idolized Ariel” I giggle at my ridiculous answer. I’ve always found it childish and a little bit embarrassing to say that my favorite movie is some animated Disney movie, but it was a huge part of my childhood and I still love it.

 “That’s actually quite cute that’s your favorite movie. But idolizing a mermaid? How’d you react when yeh found out they aren’t real?” Harry amusingly banters back. He runs his hand through his hair, lifting his sunglasses as he does so only to put them back on his head. Such a simple gesture, but it has me staring at the way his fingers glide through his locks. 

Easing back into a more comfortable position, he rests his arm stretching it along the top of the couch and lifting his leg to rest it across his thigh. His casual form makes me self-conscious about my professional appearance. Harry also seems to be enjoying our conversation, and that eases my subtle nerves. Butterflies form in the pit of my stomach at the sight of him.

“Really? Everyone always makes fun of me for it since I’m 24 and admitting my favorite movie of all time is a fucking princess movie.” Harry chuckles, crinkles by his eyes forming. “I also was devastated when my mom broke the news. 10 year old me was mourning over the fact that mermaids don’t exist. I felt like my whole world was crashing down.” I reply with a grin, a more playful tone in my voice. He lets out a burst of laughter, his smile so wide and contagious it makes me break into a bigger smile. 

“I’m curious, what’s your favorite movie?” I switch the roles, asking him. Giving a deep sigh Harry answers.

“The Notebook or Love Actually.” He says hesitantly. My jaw drops a little bit, surprised. His cheeks start to turn a shade of dark pink, expecting my surprised reaction. He lifts his hand and runs his fingers through his hair again, I’m assuming it’s a nervous habit.

“That makes me feel a lot better about my answer.” I joke with a laugh. “I can’t believe the famous Harry Styles’ favorite movie is a rom-com.”

“What can I say, Ryan Gosling is just too irresistible.” He jokes back, his eyes sparkling as we speak. I roll my eyes at the comment, shaking my head at the silliness of the conversation. The ease of our banter doesn’t go unnoticed and I can tell he’s thinking the same thing. It’s like we’ve known each other for years.

“He is, isn’t he?” I sigh, the image of Ryan Gosling in my head. I never expected Harry to be as playful and amusing as he is. The tabloids make him out to be this intimidating popstar, but all I see is a normal guy with a witty attitude.

“Okay so as much as I love this conversation, I have to lay down the procedures and rules of the job.” Harry states, rolling his eyes. Already, I know he’s going to be pretty laid back about it. “I’m not gonna be one of those guys that order you around asking you to fetch me a coffee, or a muffin, or anything ridiculous like that. You’re a friend not an assistant. Just helping me along the way”

His sincerity is something I’m already admiring. Not to mention his complete and utter kindness. For someone so famous, I’m surprised at how humble he appears to be. Jeff walks in as we speak some more, shoving his phone in his pocket.

“How’s it going?” He asks, plopping down next to me. A small smirk is on his face, eyes wandering from me to Harry.

“Great! Should be fun.” Harry replies, but he keeps his eyes on me with a devilish smile, dimples appearing at each corner. Blushing I tuck a stray piece of hair behind my ear. 

This is gonna be a ride.

A/N: Again, thank you for your patience! Let me know what you wanna see as I develop this story, I’m open to plot suggestions :) Also, let me know what you think in general, my DMs and requests are always open. Love you guys!!

If you haven’t yet, read Chapter 1 here