#this is my sixth shiny of the night what is my luck

[some--dingus]

I hunted Sandygast for YEARS (2, I am dramatic) with absolutely no outcome for my swsh team. And here I am, just trying to get myself a slug friend on the beach and Hark! A beast appears.

[otonymous]

Glutton For Your Flavour (Obey Me: Beelzebub - NSFW)

Description: You’re about to become Beel’s next meal Warnings: NSFW/18+: Explicit/graphic language — reader discretion is advised.  Spoilers for Lesson 5 of MS (hard).  Please note potential trigger warnings: dub-con (as an inadvertent result of somnambulism), cunnilingus in two flavours (soft and rough), squirting and overstimulation, slight size kink, very faint hints of tetraphilia, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it blasphemy, slight fear (monstrous descriptions) Word Count: ~2900 words (~14 mins of smut & shenanigans) Author’s Notes:  My very first fic for the Obey Me fandom!  I know I’m late to the party, but I’ve recently started playing this game and the story and its characters are so amusing I had to write about it.  This piece may not be to everyone’s taste, so please, please, please note the potential trigger warnings listed above and skip if it’s not your cup of tea.  That being said, hope you all enjoy the read! 💕😆

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��Bad luck to be sharing a room with Beel, but what can ya do after he destroyed yours while destroying the kitchen, and all for a dumb custard!  Be careful — he might mistake you for a snack and eat ya in the middle of the night, hahaha!”

Mmm.

The scene fragments, Mammon’s face wavering as his voice grows faint, consciousness seeping into dark corners like sunlight cutting through fog.  And when you open your eyes, you can’t quite place where you are for a moment, straddling the line between dreamscape and reality.

Ahh…

You sigh.  There it was again, the sensation so pleasant it had roused you from the deepest slumber.

Further blinking off the haze of sleep, you take in your surroundings: a large bed lying empty across from yours in a room almost cavernous in size and just as dark save for a candle burning low on a desk, the glow of its flame orange like the hair that was currently brushing soft against your inner thighs—

“BEEL?!  WHAT THE HELL?!”  

“So tasty…not…enough…need more…want to…eat…zzz….”

Eyes still closed, the demon’s face is shiny even in the dark, slick from cheek to chin with what must’ve been a copious amount of his saliva and your arousal, you blush to realize.  And when he doesn’t budge even after a swift kick to the face, you are ashamed to find the Lord of Flies’ show of strength sending yet another throb to your already pulsing clit.

He does wake though, Beelzebub’s amethyst eyes opening wide before he falls backwards onto the cold stone floor to realize what he had inadvertently done in his sleep.  And as the always-famished sixth born looks from the shredded remnants of your panties to the pool of wetness on the sheets where his chin had rested, he becomes even more tongue-tied than usual.

“I…uh…I’m sorry!  I didn’t mean to…I dreamt I smelled something delicious and I was so hungry…and somehow I’m here, on the floor…I don’t even know…I-I’m so sorry!”

His cheeks grow so flushed they remind you of the red spider sandwiches he packed away during dinner, stuffing them two by two into his mouth until Satan smacked his hand away for trying to take more from his plate.  The expression on his face is so full of remorse that even if you were angry, you’d be inclined to forgive the demon who was currently grovelling at the foot of your bed, swearing he would hand himself over to Lucifer and Diavolo first thing in the morning to be strung up and hung upside down for a fortnight, even (gulp) forgoing food for a day or two.

“Beelzebub…Beel…BEEL!”  You shout, interrupting his self-inflicted tirade.  “It’s okay, you didn’t mean it.  You were sleepwalking.  You don’t have to go to Lucifer and Diavolo about this.”

“No, I have to.  My behaviour was inexcusable—”

“BEEL!  Let’s…just…try to go back to sleep, okay?  We have our midterm in Devildom law tomorrow morning and I really don’t feel like failing just because I didn’t get enough shut eye.  So please, can we just pretend like this didn’t happen?”

Those orange brows are still furrowed when Beel finally lifts his head and nods.  But then his gaze is falling again on the wet sheets and the shiver than runs through that larger-than-life body seems to send another wave of anxiety through the demon.  He makes a mad dash for the door, murmuring something about getting a snack from the kitchen and “you can have the room tonight” before it slams shut behind him.

He doesn’t return for the rest of the night.

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The exam was so disastrous even Mammon didn’t bother sneaking another peek at your paper after the first two questions.  And even if you had somehow managed to get back to sleep after last night’s ordeal, it wouldn’t have changed the fact that you were still distracted by the memory of Beel’s mouth on your pussy:

His long tongue, serpentine as it delved deep between swollen folds to taste you with gusto.  

The way he rolled your clit between those plush, soft lips before sucking it into his hot mouth, over and over again.  

The throbbing between your legs that refused to cease long after the Avatar of Gluttony had left the room you were temporarily sharing, sleep only forthcoming once you had succumbed and reached beneath the sheets to finish the job he had started, your moans licentious even to your ears as you pretended your fingers were his.

It was a pale imitation, of course.  That much you could see for yourself, stealing a glance at Beel seated two rows down — quill twirling between long, dexterous digits when he wasn’t putting ink to parchment.

But those gigantic hands were just a small part of what made Beel demonically attractive, as if the word “small” could be applied to him at all: tall and built, there were times when even you envied the ease with which he maintained that perfect physique despite his penchant for shovelling enough food to feed all three realms into his mouth on the regular.

The same mouth which brought you so much pleasure the night before.

Ahem.

Clearing your throat, you pretend not to see the smirk that spreads across Asmo’s delicate face, hoping the lusty demon sitting just to your left wouldn’t pick up on the very secret thoughts you were having about his brother.

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[Private Chatroom]: Satan, Levi, Mammon, Asmo

Satan: This is going to sound crazy, but doesn’t it seem like Beel’s…hungrier than usual?  Is that even possible?

Levi: OMFG!  You should’ve seen the state of the kitchen this morning after Beel decided to camp out there overnight!  It was a total war zone, like that epic battle scene in Vol. 5 of TSL lololol.  Soooo good XDDDDD

Mammon:  Hey!  He’s gonna eat us outta house and home at this rate!  Shouldn’t we stop him?

Satan: You do it, Mammon.  Aren’t you always saying that there’s nothing The Great Mammon can’t do?

Mammon: …..

Asmo: Please, as if anyone — angel or demon — could come between Beel and a meal.  

Satan: Why was he camping out there in the first place?  Was there something wrong with his room?  I don’t remember him complaining about anything since he got shacked up with the exchange student.

Levi: Not like he could, seeing as it was his fault to begin with and a direct order from Lucifer.

Asmo: Maybe we should ask her.  I’m sure she knows something about what’s inciting his hunger judging by the way she kept staring at him in class today fufufu 😏  She almost failed her midterm because of it, isn’t that right, Mammon?

Mammon: ‼️‼️

[Mammon has left the chat]

Levi: He is sooooo transparent LMFAOOOO

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Gasp!

Pressing a hand to your mouth, you try to contain your shock at the sight that greets you when you peek around the corner into the kitchen:

Curved, ebony horns sitting majestically atop a head of disheveled orange hair.  Thick, corded muscles that ripple across a broad back — readily apparently because the creature bent over a mountain of food on the ground was wearing nothing but a pair of pyjama bottoms, loose and slung so low over narrow hips that the sharp V defining his groin is visible even from the distance at which you stood.  

Because this wasn’t quite what you were expecting to find when you made your way to the kitchen in the middle of the night to search for Beel, thinking to approach him about the peculiarity of his recent behaviour: the way he now ate constantly and was less satiated than before, the fact that he seemed to be going out of his way to avoid you even though you shared a room.

In fact, he hadn’t said so much as another word to you after he gave you two dozen of his prized custards the morning after the incident, apologizing again until you had to be the one to make him swear he wouldn’t breathe a word of it to Lucifer.  The demon even made a beeline for the door as soon as he saw you emerge from the bathroom tonight, fresh from a shower.

It wasn’t hard to guess where he was headed.

Even still, you tried to focus on your textbook, reading the same line over and over again as you waited for Beel to return so you could have a proper conversation with the demon you made a pact with.  And when you could wait no longer, you made your way towards his favourite room in the House of Lamentation — silently, so as not to draw the attention of the eldest sibling.

But the growls coming from the direction of the open fridge this time sounded like Cerberus himself, enough so that you find yourself rooted to the ground, unable to take another step forwards or back.  

You had never seen Beel like this before, tearing into whatever he could get his hands on with a savagery that made your heart stop.  Teeth, lips and tongue devoured without second thought in a way that was simultaneously terrifying and…

Throb.

…arousing.

Suddenly, he stills, throwing his head back to sniff the air once…twice…and in a flash, he is upon you, towering over your head as he rises to full height — bigger and taller and much more intimidating than you’ve ever seen him before.

You should have been scared.  Any person in their right mind would have if they found themselves cornered by a demon of Beelzebub’s calibre.  But the hands that balled into trembling fists at his sides made you feel oddly secure, your deepest instincts telling you that not all was as it seemed.

“You need to leave.  Now…please.”

“What’s going on with you, Beel?  I just want to help—”  You reach for his arm.  He jumps back as if burned.

“I SAID YOU NEED TO LEAVE!  I-I…can’t hold back…for…much longer!”

Handsome face screwed up as if in pain, Beel turns to put as much distance as possible between the two of you, squatting on his haunches with his head in his hands when he murmurs:

“I…I don’t know what’s going on with me.  This has never happened before.  I’m hungrier than I’ve ever been.  I eat and eat and eat and it still isn't enough.  The last time I felt satisfied was when…when…”

His voice dies down to a whisper.

“…when I tasted you.”

Throb.

Putting out a hand, you steady yourself against the wall, knees suddenly weak at Beelzebub’s admission.  Or perhaps it was due to relief, the tension that had been steadily building in your strained relationship with the demon released to know that you weren’t the only one who desired to revisit that night’s events.

So you gather your courage, stepping softly towards the demon who crouched on the ground next to the lit fireplace, the heat radiating from the hearth warming the flesh you had deliberately left bare when you lift the hem of your night gown to expose yourself to Beel.

“What are you doing?!  I told you, I can barely hold back—”

“Then don’t.  I don’t mind, Beel.  I…I like it too.”

Amethyst eyes darken as they look up into yours, orange flames reflecting off pupils blown wide.  And when he speaks next, the deepness of his voice echoes in your body, as if its source were to be found within your own soul.

“Ask and ye shall receive.  I won’t touch you until you do.”

Nipples hardening beneath your gown, the rush of heat that floods your core makes you shudder when you say,

“Please, Beelzebub…I want you to eat my pussy.”

Back hitting solid wood, you barely have time to gasp before you are pulled to the edge of a long table in the centre of the kitchen, a long tongue running up the insides of each thigh in turn before they’re propped up onto broad shoulders, Beel’s breath blowing hot on the space in between.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can hold back.  I’m just…so famished, so desperate to taste you again—”

His words cut off in a low growl as he presses his lips to your folds, saliva dripping from his mouth mixing with the juices that already painted a glistening sheen on pink flesh.  You fight to bite back a moan at the vehemence of his hunger, the sheer greed of his tongue — flicking at your clit until your back arched off the table, heralding the arrival of the cream that leaked only to be swept up by Beel licking from end to end of that swollen seam.  And when that still wasn’t enough, you nearly swooned to feel that serpentine tongue penetrate, reaching depths that surely only a demon would be able to achieve as Beel sought out more of your flavour.

He buries his face deeper into your pussy, nose nudging your clit as arousal smeared over the entirely of his visage.  The vibrations of his voice further stimulates your locus of pleasure, punctuating the lewd, wet sounds when he says:

“You smell so delicious.  All the time.  And tonight, when you stepped out of the shower…I couldn’t take it, not with the way your scent flooded my senses.  I had to leave or else…this would happen.”

“Oh Beel…you should’ve told me sooner.”  

Mind lost in a haze of lust and body boneless from riding out wave after climatic wave, you reach down a trembling hand without thinking, fingers innocently tracing along the smooth ridges of the onyx horns that lay against your abdomen.

Suddenly, his breath hitches at your touch and the Sixth Prince of Hell is throwing his head back, eyes squeezed shut and mouth open in a moan loud and deep enough to reverberate off stone walls, clattering stacks of dishes in cupboards and making you come once more — legs convulsing upon his shoulders as you feel a preponderance of fluid gush forth from your body right into Beel’s waiting mouth.

The pleasure was such that you’ve never known before, so good that surely, it must be bad in some way, shape or form.  But you hadn’t the energy to ponder further.  

No, the only thing you’re aware of when your vision goes black is that Beel’s mouth is still on you, feasting upon a pussy that continued to respond to the teasing movements of his lips and tongue even as you ceased to think.

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Cheddar.  Pickles.  Ketchup and mustard.

The smell is what rouses you, but nothing could’ve prepared you for what you saw when you awoke in your own bed: mountains of cheeseburgers arranged on platters filling up every available surface in the room you shared with Beel.

“You can sleep for longer if you want.  I told Lucifer you’d be skipping class today because you’re not feeling well.  Are you…feeling well?”

Beelzebub lifts his head from where it’d been resting at the side of your bed, the rest of his body laid out on the floor as if he were guarding you like an oversized dog.  Those puppy dog eyes, full of concern, didn’t help his case either.

“I’m fine, Beel.  Better than fine, actually.  I feel fantastic!”  You smile, moving to sit up in bed.  The demon springs from the ground, putting an arm around your shoulders to help prop you up, and your heart can’t help but warm at how protective he was being.

He breathes, relief flooding those handsome features.  “I’m glad.  I was afraid I lost control last night and had to carry you back.  You were just…so tasty and…satisfying…”  

Those amethyst eyes glint as they travel to the apex of your thighs, and all of a sudden, he is grabbing at those human world cheeseburgers, shoving them into his mouth two at a time.

“Have some,” he says between bites.  “They’re my favourite and I thought you might like them too.  Besides, you need to eat if you’re gonna keep up your energy.”

You reach towards the nearest platter, taking one for yourself.  “Energy for what?”

Beel looks at you, expression completely serious when he says, “For the next round tonight.”

Throb.

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Thank you so much for reading!  Check out more of my work here! 📚

[yamithediaperdork]

It's tradition! (Oc monster story)

The sun was setting and there was a chill in the air as the five new kids to Florence middle school met up with some of the 7th graders.

These five had been transferred to the new school after their old one had been shut down due to small class sizes and since they had joined up in the middle of October, they hadn't been part of the yearly ritual that apparently ALL sixth graders had to go though.

The ritual sounded dumb and made up to all five of the new boys, but they were eager to fit in feeling like outsiders in the much bigger school. Said ritual involved two things:

The first part was spending the night at the old Spencer mansion. All five boys had camped out in the woods over night so they weren't too worried about that. It was the second part that they weren't looking forward to.

See, the only thing the boys would be allowed to wear while spending the night was their shirts, socks, sneakers.... and 2 thick diapers that would be taped and signed at the waist to make sure there was no cheating.

They WERE free of course not to do it, but it was made clear they should expect to be ignored and met with disdain for not doing something that countless boys in the past had done, the girl's of course had their own ritual.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't the big babies for the night." Tony, 7th grade leader said, with amusement in his voice. "I was starting to wonder if you were gonna chicken out."

"Like heck we would!" Matt huffed, being the smallest of the group he was used to lots of teasing and didn't handle it well.

"Easy Matt." David, the tallest and strongest of the group said, putting a hand on his cousins shoulder.

With their parents being so close it often fell to David to rein him in, or failing at that keep him from getting his butt kicked.

The other three didn't have much to say, and just stood there waiting to be told what to do next.

It lived in the basement of the mansion though it considered all of it to be it's home, and every year it found itself forced to hide as the insolent humans invaded for one night a year. It only allowed this to happened because it's existence relied on human's not knowing it was here and it made do with stalking those who came into it's home alone.

The 20-30 young males that would waddle around it's home was too many for it to hunt and be sure it could take care of, but as the doors opened and mere five entered the creature laughed to itself. A lesson would be taught, and it would be a dark one indeed. it would finish these boys off as it had others, they would be left for others to find, to scare them from coming to it's home ever again. Sliding along the floor and looking like a dark green slime it oozed it's way into a heating duct.

the hunt was on.

The boys were all too embarrassed to stay close together once inside, and agreed to go off and fine somewhere to sleep for the night on their own. they had a cooler with them they left in the living room of the old place, filled with bottles of milk and some snacks (the 7th graders weren't heartless after all)

Knowing that other boys had spent the night none of them were scared of any dangers and only David and Matt headed off together, David refusing to let the shorty out of his sight.

Mike had never been the most athletic of kids and had a bit of pudge on him, and as he waddled down the hall of the east side on the ground floor he had to keep reaching back and tugging out a diaper wedgie. The boys had been given flashlight since the place hadn't been on the grid for ages and Mike played the light on the walls now wondering if maybe he should of asked to got with David and Matt as he chewed his bottom lip. His brown hair was mating up despite the chill since unknown to the others, he still had to sleep with a night light.

"There's nothing to fear.. it's gonna be ok." Mike was repeating to himself softly as he spotted what looked like a old guest room.

the bed looked okish, though there was some sort of a shiny green sheet on it that seemed to dance in the light of his flashlight.

raising a eyebrow he moved in for a closer look, reaching out with a hand when the so called sheet came to life and lunged at him, wrapping around his face before he could scream and then it was pressing itself in his ears and..and..

The creature smirked, this one had been almost too easy and it found itself hoping the others would put up at least a little bit of more of a fight.

As the now nearly mindless human babbled and drooled, the creature took notice he was already soiling himself and moved on, there was still more prey to be found.

Travis had picked the upper east side and barely bothered with his flashlight. he was using to pitch black room and besides, more starlight shone in though the windows here. super lanky he had to actually keep reaching down to tug his diapers up, almost wishing they had down more tape.

"wouldn't that be just my luck, the stupid thing fall's off on it's own but I'm labeled a cheater." Travis muttered, before going to walk into what looked like a old game room.

he'd only taken a few steps though before shrieking and brushing at his normally dirty blond hair, as it was coated with spider webs he hadn't spotted and he was totally terrified of spiders.

Cursing and swearing, and positive he could feel them in his hair he took off running for the central stair case and was in such a panic he didn't see Lance until he'd almost run into the cue-ball.

"Hey! what's wrong?! I heard you yelling!" the wanna be wrestle asked, though his figure left much to be desired for his chosen field.

"Freaking spider's man! a ton of them! they're all in my hair an-" Travis was ranting and wiping at his hair.

"Dude relax, you got them all." Lance said, shining his light on Travis head then adding. "Sheesh, just spiders? You almost made me wet myself!"

Travis went to say something snarky when he realized that his own diaper was in fact damp and just shut up, hoping Lance wouldn't notice.

"..maybe splitting up wasn't a good idea. come on, let's go find Mike and the three of us can hang out. don't want anymore spider's to attack you." Lance teased and started down the stairs.

Travis just huffed and glared till Lance called back.

"Come on soggy butt!"

"...I hate that guy."

The two boys walked down the way Mike had come and though they called his name he didn't answer, something that had both of them on edge.

they could hear a gentle babbling like a baby would make but in the end they smelled Mike before they saw him.

He was still in the bedroom where unknown to the boys he'd been attacked and was laying on his back, babbling and drooling and trying in vain to get his foot up to his mouth.

"Uhhh Mike? Buddy? Yooou ok?" Travis asked, holding his nose and moving in to check on the little butter ball.

Shining his light on Mike's face, they could see his eyes were glazed over and Travis turned to Lance.

"Do you think he had a magic mushroom or something?"

"Who the hell is gonna sell shrooms to a 11 year old, and where would he get the money?" Lance pointed out."Maybe he just hit his head or something.Come on, help me get him to the living room, we can ask the 7th graders for help."

It watched with interest as two of the prey helped a fallen one, they couldn't of known there was no help for their fallen friend but it followed them, going along the ceiling silently and would let then reach the end of the hall before strike, giving one of them a porting chance to get outside.

With each of them supporting Mike, it was slow going but they were making it, till just as they were reaching the end of the hallways something out of a horror movie dropped down in front of them.

Travis dropped his side of Mike and took off running, any bravo he'd once had ending up in his diaper as he was again wetting himself as he ran as fast as he could, looking for somewhere to hide.

he did happen to look over his shoulder and saw the slime monster wrap itself around Lance's head, ignoring his attempts to peel it off and seemingly toying with him and he stumbled back and forth before slumping to the floor.

getting to a room at the end of the hall, Travis opened it and slammed the door behind him, though before the door had closed he'd heard two things.

the sound of Lance filling his diapers and a monstrous laughing.

The two brain drained ex prey's gurgled and babbled to each other, clearly not bothered but the smell they were making and harmless enough.

The creature thought about what to do next. already two of it's prey was gone, and a third knew of it, and was terrified. It could go after the other two, having already noted where they were and let this one fall into a false sense of security but then again it might make it outside.

choice made it went into the vents once again and headed towards the scared one.

Travis was curled up in the corner of the room, a old library and of course it didn't have any windows in it.rooting around for something to defend himself with he'd grabbed the biggest and heaviest book he could find and waited for the ..whatever the hell that thing was to come and get him.

"This isn't happening. this isn't real. you're just having a nightmare.." Travis mewed to himself, trying to calm his breathing and it was almost working.

till the thing flowed out of a vent in the floor, laughing as it rushed toward him. With nothing to lose Travis launched the book at the monster and it simply passed though it, and made the beast laugh harder.

All he could do was scream as loud as he could before it was on him, draining his brain and making anther permanent diaper filling moron.

"Hey David, did you heard that?" Matt asked, tilting his head as David made them a make shift bed out of blankets and pillows.

"I didn't hear anything and neither did you. Look just be good, stay by me and try not to be a pain in the ass for ONCE in your life." the bigger boy sighed.

though his back was turned to him, David knew that Matt was sticking his tongue out and flipping him off at the moment and wondered if maybe he shouldn't just give the brat a good old fashioned spanking.

the crinkling around his hips reminded him why such a thing would be pointless, and so he just got back to work.

they were in a landry room of sorts and while Matt had complained about not snagging a bedroom David had been correct in assuming they'd find enough clean bedding to fashion a comfy bed for the two.

"I'm borrrrred!" Matt declared, rocking on his heels and semi shaking his diaper butt, out of all them he was the one most used to diapers having been in bed time diapers till half way though grade five.

"well I'm sorry, but they didn't exactly let us bring game boys in." David snapped, finishing up with the bed and standing back to look his work over. "Well, what do yo-"

he had started to ask then yelped and jumped as Matt swatted his diapered ass.

"Ya did real good..heh..did I make you wet?" Matt asked, smirking and winking.

"Keep going brat and they'll never find the body." David growled, then as a wet farting sound was heard he asked with a look of amusement on his face. "..Matt did I just make you crap yourself?!"

"S-Shut up! it's not funny!" Matt huffed even as he squatted down, balling up his fists and pushing.

"Awww such a good widdle diaper dumper." David teased and patted Matt's head then easily caught the punch the brat went to though. "Watch it short stack, or you'll be getting a poopie butt spanking."

"T-That's not fairrrrr!" Matt wailed and plopped on his butt, kicking his feet and having a fit even as he kept pooping.

The creature paused as it came into the landry room, it could of sworn it hadn't attacked either of these two yet but the sounds and smells coming from one of them would beg to differ.

It had been some time since it's had a chance at multiple prey so maybe it had just lost count in it's excitement.

either way there was still one brain left to drain of that sweet sweet intellect and it saw no point in putting it off any longer.

Matt was to busy bawling like a big baby to notice the approach of the monster at first and David was too busy leaning down and taunting the little stinker to notice it at all.

it had come up from a floor drain and was rapidly heading for David and Matt honestly tried to warn him, but all he could do was point and try to sound the words.

"Awww, whats wrong BABY Matt?" David taunted.

"Mo..mo..mo.."

"Awww, are you trying to ask for momm-" David would never get to finish his sentence as the ooze monster wrapped itself around his head and went to work.

the landry room had had it's own grid and so the lights were on, meaning that Matt could watch as parts of the ..the THING reached into his cousins forehead.

shutting his eyes and wetting his diaper Matt rocked back and forth, hearing more farting and the sound of David messing himself and then falling to the bed he'd made.

opening his eyes and thumb in his mouth, and drool trailing down his chin Matt saw the slime monster in front of him, but it seemed ..uncertain.

figuring sucking up was the way to go, Matt tried his 'I'm so cute you can't be mad' smiles and tried to talk, but he was so scared the words came out in a babble much like David's now were.

It seemed satisfied with his efforts however and oozed away, going back down the pipe and leaving Matt alone with his now brainless cousin.

"it..it must of thought it already got me!" Matt said..then let out a nervous laugh.

he was gonna make it out of this, he'd go and get the FUCK out of hear, screw everyone outside watching, and just go and get the cops, the army, the 82nd airborne and have them kill whatever the hell that thing was.

He did toy with trying to get David out with him, but he was clearly a lost cause and likewise the other boys had either already been attacked or it was going after them and that meant he had cover.

was it selfish? Yeah, but he wasn't about to be monster food!

getting to his feet best he could, he took off running as fast as his little legs and filled diapers would let him, going for the exit.

With all five of the boys drained, the creature was content to go to sleep and let them be found in the morning, or it would of been had it not detected the sounds of running

none of the prey should be able to run in their current states and all at once it realized that it had been tricked.

fury filled it and it raced to cut the last of the prey off, erupting from a vent in the entrance hallway and wrapping itself around the last prey's head, taking more from him then it had the others. they would at least be able to rebuild their minds in 10, 20 years but this one! this one had tried to trick it and would be a mindless pants shitter for the rest of his life.

Sliding away back to it's resting place, the creature was pleased with itself.

By the time the boys were found in the morning, no one could really figure out exactly just WHAT had happened. the diaper tradition was of course know to most locals, but no one had ever been found like THIS before.

Doctors ran tests and in the end the best thing anyone could figure out, was all five boys had been scared so badly their minds had just shut down.

No charges were pressed since the boys had willingly gone into the house but after that the tradition had been put to a end, and the door's to the mansion had been nailed shut to keep kids out.

Of course the creature wasn't bothered by the shut doors, it had other ways of getting out and whenever it got hungry enough, it was willing to travel to feed, it's preferred course now being diaper boys.

So take this as a warning to all of you goo goo gaga baby butts, be careful what you wear when you go to sleep..and Sweet dreams~

[firstfrostfall]

A Cold Lament - Chapter Two

a tommy shelby fanfiction

In the winter of 1918, the Shelby brothers returned home from a war-torn France. In the winter of the following year, the middle brother, Tommy, recognizes an opportunity for his family to move up in the world, and it came in the shape of a misplaced crate of weapons.

In the meantime, per the request of his aunt, he gives a struggling young woman a job.

Little did he know, that like the smell of snow on the wind in late autumn, everything was going to change, and it wasn’t just because of some stolen guns.

Takes place during Season One.

Somehow, Anna had collected quite a bit of jewelry in her twenty-three years of living. She never necessarily went out of her way for it- it would just find its way to her. She was enamored by shiny things. You know, the things that glimmered when you held them in the sunlight the right way. Stones, sea glass, gems. Really whatever she could get her hands on. But she was especially fond of sea glass. She always loved sea glass.

It started off with small things at first, like sea glass, when she was a little girl. Because of this love, Magpie was the nickname her grandmother had given her.

Her grandmother would say things like, be careful, you’ll cut your hands on the sea glass, my little Magpie.

When she got older, more so into her teenage years, she would be gifted with various pieces of jewelry for her birthday or other special occasions. Each piece was beautiful, surely. She couldn’t deny the appeal that came with a pair of diamond earrings, those certainly caught in the light well, but she would’ve been just as happy with a particularly glossy stone from a rocky beach. Jewelry, or whatever stone it was, didn’t have to be expensive, she just liked how they glinted in the light. Like a magpie. She felt quite silly about it.

Nevertheless, she preferred sea glass to anything.

Growing up, she kept her entire collection in an ornately carved hope chest at the foot of her bed. There was no organization, no rhyme or reason for the placement of any of it. Of course, she kept the most expensive pieces tucked away in a separate gaudy jewelry box, nested in swaths of black velvet. The hope chest, on the other hand, was entirely in disarray. Anna liked it that way. It was her big box of things.

She brought the hope chest with her when she went to live with her aunt. It was a nightmare to travel with, surely, but it was hers. For the past year it remained at the foot of the bed she shared with her five other cousins. Living with her aunt and cousins under one tiny roof was an adjustment for her. It was different. The war changed a lot.

The war changed everything.

A family torn apart, and a girl sent packing off to her aunt’s home in an unfamiliar factory city hours from the only home she ever knew.

Anna remembered the day vividly. It was in the middle of summer, 1917, and the trip was dreadfully rainy. She traveled by train and cab to get to Birmingham.

When she eventually arrived at her aunt’s doorstep, she was soaked. The brim of her hat drooped under the weight of the rainwater. She knew her aunt was barely scraping by, she had so much on her plate already, she didn’t need the additional burden of a niece added to that roster. Her aunt had five children of her own, a husband away at war- but Anna had nowhere else to go.

So she stood there, surrounded by luggage and suitcases and trunks full of whatever she had left, waiting for her to answer her pleading knocks. When her aunt did open the door, she quickly ushered her niece in and helped her get settled with all of her belongings.

A few weeks later, word reached them that her uncle died in France. Her aunt was frantic after receiving the news, and understandably so. Not only had she lost her husband, but another source of income for the family. There was no one coming home to work in a factory.

Anna began selling whatever items she could to make extra money to cover the cost of a sixth mouth to feed. She sold dresses, silver hairpins, and combs, shoes, miscellaneous books. She sold almost anything and everything. Her belongings were finite, however, and soon enough, she had sold as much as she could.

Except for her jewelry, except for the hope chest.

She had accumulated enough valuables in the chest to scrounge up a few months rent for her own flat. A shabby little place, not too far from where her aunt lived. She even had a little extra money leftover to tuck away for her family, just enough to help them get by for a little while longer. There would be more space at her aunt’s house now that she was gone, too. More room for her cousins in their bed, one less mouth to feed, one less body to clothe.

It pained Anna to look at the chest. It pained her even more to open it. Almost everything she had collected was gone. Of course, she kept a few things, the items that were the most precious to her. An opal ring, a pair of diamond earrings, a golden bracelet, a jar full of sea glass. Each unrelated, but with their own meaning.

There was no point in moping around about it. She could spend another twenty-three years collecting more shiny things.

She was learning to make do with what she had.

Of course, now with her own expenses, she was also learning that her money was finite as well. This made her aunt worry for her terribly.

Finding a job had been difficult, to say the least. She spent hours reading through newspaper after newspaper, clipping away at any job advertisement that she thought she could even remotely qualify for. Most of the time, she wouldn’t receive an interview or would be flat-out rejected on the spot.

It was discouraging- but made sense to her. She really was just a girl, from a village barely anyone had ever heard of before, with a resume that was, to put it plainly, terrible. She never held a job before, and her only experience came from a few accounting courses from a couple of summers back. Truthfully, the courses were something to pass the time, to keep her from boredom while the days were long and hot. She never expected to actually need those skills.

One morning, however, there was a series of frantic knocks at her door. It was no one other than her aunt, giddy and exclaiming that she may have found her a steady job.

“I have a friend from church who can help you,” Her aunt said. “She set up an interview for tomorrow, three o’clock. You’ll be speaking with her nephew. She’ll pick you up from the house. She’s a good woman.”

Anna hugged her aunt tightly at the news, a wave of relief washing over her. Until, she realized, that she wasn’t sure what exactly she was interviewing for. That was when the panic started to settle in.

But alas, when fortune drops something valuable on your lap, it’s best not to question it.

That was where she found herself currently, a few days after the interview, staring at her reflection in the cracked bathroom mirror while she got ready for her first day. She was brushing through her hair, smoothing out the curls from the rollers she had slept in. The wan morning light made it a soft auburn that curled down past her collarbones.

She had been ready for work since dawn, and truthfully, even before then. She had a hard time sleeping and chalked it up to be a culmination of nerves for the day ahead of her, and the fact that her flat didn’t feel like a home just yet. In time, she hoped it would.

All throughout the night, the floors creaked, and the pipes hissed. She barely had any furniture, except for a wire bed frame and a hand-me-down mattress she had gotten a deal on. She was also pretty sure that the lock on the front door was broken, so she propped up a chair against the knob and hoped for the best.

Despite all of this, for better or worse, this place was her own. It eased the burden on her aunt.

Anna stood by the window while tucking her cream blouse into the waist of her maroon skirt. She spent the better part of her morning ironing out her clothes, desperately trying to ensure that the linen was fine and creaseless. Her iron was one of the things she couldn’t part with. At the very least, she could look her best with it. Or at least try to.

She glanced at the window one last time before slipping her shoes on by the front door, watching as tiny flurries of snow began to fall onto the city below. She smiled.

It was early this year.

Anna promptly knocked on the door to The Garrison at nine o’clock that same morning. The snow was still falling, each flake thick enough to catch in her hair, a contrast of white on red, but soft enough that it would not stick to the ground, instead, it melted on contact with the muddy pavement. Harry, the barkeep, answered the door.

“Miss Caldwell, good morning.” He took a step to the side so she could enter. His face and nose were flushed red, he must’ve arrived not too long ago himself.

“And to you, Mr. Fenton.” She smiled, her breath turning into clouds as she spoke. “Quite the weather we’re having.”

“I’ll say,” He closed the door behind her and turned the lock. “Haven’t seen snow this early since I was a boy.”

“It’s good luck,” She replied while shrugging her coat off. “They say an early snow brings good fortune.”

“I’ll keep that in mind when my toes are freezing off in the morning,” He gave her a lopsided grin. “Follow me, you can leave your things in the back room.”

Once Anna was settled, she stood behind the bar with her own apron tied around her waist, (already stained, mind you) given to her by Harry. The remainder of the morning was another lesson in “making do” for her. The pub wouldn’t be officially open until noon, so this extra time beforehand was for her to get a feel for everything. To put it plainly, it was additional time to practice.

No matter how hard she tried to mask her nerves and keep her composure, it was like she had two left feet. Spilling drinks, forgetting the difference between vodka and gin, pouring a pint incorrectly, and causing the foam to rise over the rim of the glass.

Despite the extra time she had spent on her appearance, smoothing out any wrinkles on her skirt, curling her hair, and flashing a smile at all times- she couldn’t have felt any more out of place, and painfully unprepared. There was so much on the line for her. She had her own place and an aunt who needed financial help. She would keep trying, she didn’t have any other choice.

Harry was kind to her, and as patient as he could be, but it became quite obvious that she was a terrible bartender. Embarrassingly so. Terrible enough that he insisted that she just watch him for the rest of their shift, assuring her that it was for the best.

“It will be a slow night,” He said, wiping down the remnants of the third pint she had spilled. “A good way for you to learn the ropes. Nice and easy.”

Anna nodded, accepting her wounded pride. In the late afternoon and early evening, business was slow. It was quiet, a few patrons here and there ordering a drink or two. She was able to observe Harry interacting with the regulars and took mental notes of what people seemed to like. She thought it was quite pleasant.

Until it wasn’t a slow night.

Evidently, there was a football game earlier in the day, and all of the men came trailing in afterward. The pub became boisterous and loud. It was overwhelming, to say the least.

“Just work on collecting the empty glasses,” Harry motioned with his head to the cluttered tables from across the bar. “I’ll take care of everything up here.”

Anna nodded, typing the apron around her waist tighter. She weaved through the crowds, deftly trying to avoid any leering gazes or comments. Of course, she made quite a few spills, and mentally kicked herself for being so clumsy, for letting her composure waver. In the beginning, she was slow going back and forth from table to bar, but eventually, she was able to get into a rhythm.

She placed the last few glasses on the bartop, exhaling heavily. The pub was finally empty. She glanced down at her blouse. This morning, the linen was freshly pressed and the color of cream, but this evening, however, it was stained with splotches of beer and other liquors. She frowned.

It was late.

Harry wiped a forearm across his brow. “You did well.”

“You’re very kind,” Anna wiped her hands on her apron, shaking her head. “I did terribly.”

He laughed, quite loudly.

“I’ll finish cleaning up here,” He nodded. “You go catch a breath in the back.”

“No, no, let me help with the clean-up. I made most of the mess.”

“You had a long enough day today, and you’ll have a longer one tomorrow.” He smiled, waving her off with his hand. “I’ll take care of it.”

“Thank you.”

Anna walked into the back room and sighed, collapsing onto a chair. She held her face in her hands. Her body ached, her feet especially, and her head throbbed. But more than anything, she was embarrassed. She was tired and wanted to weep. It was silly. Her first day of work and she wanted to cry. She swallowed sharply and stood up, untying the apron from her waist and tossing it over the back of the chair.

There was no point in crying, she would make do.

When she stepped back into the main room, Harry wasn’t alone anymore. It was the man who she spoke to a few days before, Mr. Shelby, standing by the bar with a glass in front of him. A cigarette dangled between two fingers, the smoke curling in the hazy lights above the bar. He didn’t notice her at first, and if he did, he didn’t make it known.

It wasn’t until Harry cleared his throat, that he tilted his head toward her.

Anna glanced down at her beer-stained blouse and grimaced. She certainly felt like a mess, she could only imagine what she looked like. With a sheepish smile, she combed her fingers through her hair and smoothed it all over one shoulder.

“Miss Caldwell,” He nodded.

“Good evening, Mr. Shelby,” She smiled, folding her coat over her forearm.

“Heading home?” He turned away from her.

“Yes, just about.”

“Mrs. Gray instructed me to walk her home on these late nights,” Harry quickly interjected. She could've sworn Mr. Shelby scoffed at that.

“Ah, waiting on me then?” The other man raised an eyebrow.

“No, no, of course not Mr. Shelby.” Harry’s voice wavered. Anna noticed his eyes widening, like he was nervous, almost.

“I’m sure you’re both tired,” He finished the rest of his drink in one swig, and then fully turned to her. “First day, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” Anna could feel her face flushing. A disastrous first day, she thought. “Harry was an excellent teacher.” She could see Harry beaming at that comment.

“Ah,” Mr. Shelby nodded, stacking a few coins beside his empty glass. He placed his cap on his head and tipped the brim to the barkeep, “Goodnight.” He paused for a moment, and then he tilted his head toward Anna. “And to you, Miss Caldwell.”

“Goodnight, Mr. Shelby,” She smiled, her cheeks growing warm. “Thank you again, for this opportunity.”

He hummed in response, shrugging on his coat as he walked to the door.

By the time Harry and Anna had locked up the pub and were outside, Mr. Shelby was halfway down the street. She watched as he walked away, unable to tear her attention away from his retreating form.

As if on cue, it started snowing again. The little white flecks looked more like the ashes that spewed from the factory chimneys.

“This way, Miss.” Harry’s voice interrupted her musings. She blushed, feeling silly for mooning over a man she hardly knew.

Just as she was about to look away, she saw Mr. Shelby stop short. Anna’s heart skipped a beat when he turned around and looked at her from over his shoulder.

All was and quiet and cold.

[ricaffeine]

𝐇𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐥 𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐋𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 | 𝐎𝐧𝐞

an: i'm sad because of hyunji drought and this is helping me cope :( but fr if tvn decides to make hotel blue moon then yeaji needs to be in it!!

also very annoying, i can't reply to comments bc this is a side blog (bruh wtf tumblr, i'm so sad should i make a new one?) reblog if you feel like it and my asks are open if you wanna chat 🖤✨

CHAPTER TWO

Weekdays at Seoul's National art gallery were usually the same. Buzzing curators dealing with hot-tempered clients. One thing or another was typically going not right and art directors cried about their wrong coffee order.

Although today was not the usual as to the crowds of bubbly news reporters and dazzled art critiques swarming up the wide place. As to Munyeong on the other hand, she was not pleased to the slightest.

"Just smile at the cameras, don't forget about the paycheck you're getting today." Sangin repeated himself for the fifth time. "Don't cause a scene, just think about the money."

Ah right. The paycheck.

As to The Nightmare Garden was bid off for over ten-million dollars, all of today's fanciness was dedicated to her, nation's celebrated female illustrator. However in all honesty, Munyeong barely liked her so-called masterpiece, but considering the amount of cash it will make her, she could be appreciative for the sake of it.

Behind her oversized sunglasses, Munyeong glared at her pesky manager– if looks could kill, he'd already be eleven feet under his grave. Sangin shut his mouth.

"Let's just get this over with," she simply responded, hooking off her eyewear then strutted into the hall with her long legs. Eyes whipped at her and cameras started to flash intensely, almost blinding her and Munyeong wondered how much those little pests could afford her if they got her blind.

And so the event played on. More pictures were taken– as if they hadn't blind her enough cheerful compliments flowed along with the spring breeze. The insincere joker smile she mastered whilst she met her million-dollar client– according to Sangin a hotel owner, though the woman did not have the looks for it– and the glass of filthy wine she almost had a chance to taste if Sangin's sixth sense was not so creepily fast.

Another dreadful two hours later as the dusk had set, hitting the edges with its golden flare, everyone had left. They got their articles and Munyeong will certainly be getting her pools of cash.

To her displease Sangin had informed her to wait as he had to take care of some paperworks she doubted he went to bribe the press into censoring her quoted inappropriate words. 

Nevertheless it was not her bother. She gave his plead a second before storming off to the complimentary section of the building.

Luck on her side, for nobody was there and she was able to grab one of the wine bottles with her– as for a fact it definitely was not stealing.

"Don't be shy, I know you want it."

Munyeong stopped within her steps as soon as an obnoxiously familiar voice echoed from the gallery she previously was in. Curiosity taking the lead, she peaked through the corner and had to muffle her own snort. Stood there, nation's art historian with the sharpest tongue– Choi Seojin.

She finds it hard to believe that his articles are highly known around, or even relevant, when his mouth is full of complete shit. However not disregarding the nastiest tea yet– a frightened girl seized under him. Her hands were locked, frightened eyes grew larger as the man spewed out nasty things.

Instantly, she took out her phone to film the disgraceful scene. Munyeong grinned to herself, reminiscing the rage she felt last time when he mentioned about her mother, and how her irritating manager had interrupted her before she could've sent him down the stairs to Satan.

The man reared into the poor girl's cheek when she attempted to fight him off, and Munyeong's smile dropped.

That piece of shit.

Munyeong entered the room, arms crossed, head high. Her wedge heels clicked against the hardwood as she let out an unamused wow.

Mad dog– what she personally thinks he should be called– 's head whipped at her with wide eyes. Like a child getting caught of lying.

"Oh my. Your hobbies are quite interesting Mr. Choi. Talking shit and sexual harassment?" Munyeong spat. "The girl looks like she'd rather kill herself, why are you even trying?"

As if he thought he could get away with what he just did, mad dog released his foul grip on the girl. Munyeong clicked her tongue and tauntingly held out her phone.

"Oh no, don't bother pretending. Judging by the looks, that won't even favor you at this point." She spared a glance at the quivering girl. "Why are you waiting? Go."

Shakingly and with thankful eyes she nodded and left, her footsteps filling void of silence before it coated the air again.

Mad dog snickered, as if there was something to laugh about. "Don't mess with me Ms. Ko. You know me, I won't die alone."

"Certainly I'll drag you and Mr. Lee down with me. Why do you think they call me the suicide bomb?"

Munyeong walked towards him and spreaded a smile, though even dogs could tell you shouldn't push her further. "You mean the bastard you can't fall down without dragging everyone else with him? Why?"

"I can destroy your career with the tip of my pen, I'm sure you know." He gave her a look, panning out his hand. "Now if you hand me your phone, I think we can compromise something."

Munyeong unraveled her arms, eyes hardening at his next sentence. "You think so?"

"Nation's beloved artist turned out to have antisocial personality disorder. What do you think will happen when people find out?" Mad dog sneered. "Her mother who mysteriously commited suicide–"

"Shut up." She warned. His words lit up the flame from their last encounter, adding fuel to her burning fire. Her head pounded, hard. For a moment she had hoped that if he proceeded as she said, then things would not have to get ugly.

"And her father? Spending his last days in the psychiatric hospital."

But men never listen, do they?

Munyeong tightened the hand around her bottle and striked it at him with full force. The bottom part crashed the wall behind him– just above the hung painting- glass shattered as rich burgundy stained its way down, smearing all over. Its taste fused with the air and Munyeong glowered at the creature who dodged her flawless aim.

"You crazy bitch!" He yelled, scrambled on the floor. But Mad dog was quick to lunge at her, they both hit the ground, stumbling as her open purse had been knocked away– and Munyeong's eyes landed on something very specific.

She was quicker, getting on her feet and spared the bastard a strong kick in the groin, leaving him groaning as she reached for her pen.

Her favorite calligraphy pen– its lining was stunning, coated in shiny teal with hints of gold, but most importantly, the dangerously sharp tip. The way it writes like reaping out blood from your hand– hence why it is a favorite.

She hawled back over and he screamed at her, though she didn't hear him. Her head was light as she felt blood rushed through her veins. Munyeong raised her arm and struck it back down.

Die.

Both of them froze. No, not her and mad dog, but him.

Deafening silence had lied between the walls and there they stood, eyes pierced into another's souls. Hers burned like fire, but his were dignified like the deep ocean.

Droplets of blood trickled down his forearm and splattered the floor, staining the rolled up sleeves of his crisp white shirt. What a waste.

"Let go. You can't kill him." The man– still with a bloody pen graved in his palm said.

Munyeong couldn't help but scoff, especially after that fucking bastard had just strangled her. "Don't be dramatic. I was just going to give him a few scratches."

Well maybe that's not entirely true.

Rough scrambling erupted underneath them, but when Munyeong turned to look, the mad dog had just ran off, like a lost puppy. Angrily she bit her lip, close to drawing blood until she felt the man draw his own hand back.

She watched as he did. The way he carefully slid her pen into his jacket and brought out a black silk handkerchief. Very rarely, she'd be astonished by something, and now it's him. Though she found it quite difficult to understand him– since when do you interrupt another's stabbing session by screwing up your own hand instead, and also the audacity to tell her she could not stab somebody?

So lost in her thoughts it took her a few seconds to realize her pulse was not pounding anymore.

"Did anyone not tell you that it is basic etiquette to not pry into someone else's business?" Munyeong said– seized the napkin from him, and began to tie a knot. She shot him a glance.

No reply. The man simply stared at her.

"Hmm?" She raised a brow, amused at his slight flinch when she tugged a little harder.

"Don't stress it too much, my manager will take care of our little incident." Munyeong chuckled as he proceeded to ignore her. "Do you know what? There are a lot of people in this world who deserve to die. And some very thoughtful freaks secretly take care of that, so clueless humans can sleep peacefully at night, completely unaware. Which one do you think I am?"

She dropped his hand, anticipating for his answer. Flares of light shined through the blinds, sharpening at his strong features and she noted his small– yet devilish smile.

"A clueless freak."

He finally responded, leaning towards her. His eyes traced her face, gazing down at her lips for a second too long, before their eyes were locked once again. "And of course you will have to pay, but at what price?"

taglist -> i could not tag some of ya'll :( @anotherdush @callmeashipper @ourcoffeeaddictme @nothingcreativeyet @pancat @hotstuff-benswolo @lookingatthesunset @evielovesfood @waywarm @gloster @hello-79 @ailander

[mymindwide]

The end of heartache

Pairing: Ashton x Female reader

Word count: 3943

Warning: angst, feelings, smut

Summary: Your heart is broken, but can it be healed?

Author’s note: I hope you’ll love this, cuz this has a chapter two, just sayin’. :) Take care and enjoy your read.

*****

Everyone was pretty excited about the now traditional ‘good luck on tour’ send-off party; everyone but me. They didn’t know that this time it’s gonna be my send-off party too, tho I won’t come back after two or three months. As a matter of fact, I won’t come back ever. I’ve been planning this for months, and the emotional burden it carries slowly started to eat me up. They’re gonna be confused and disappointed, but I reached a point in my life where I have to make myself a priority, where I have to stop fooling myself.

I fell in love with someone who’s never gonna be mine, and the worst part is that I am happy for him; I root for his happiness – with someone else.

But a few months ago I reached my breaking point. That’s how much my heart could take, and this madness went even longer than anyone should do this to herself. I reached my limit, finally. I’ll probably love him for the rest of my life but I need to give myself a chance. I want to give myself a chance but it won’t work if I see him regularly. I’ll always find an excuse; my heart will always convince me that it’s happy when it “feels” Ashton close. I had to make sure this time my brain will win.

So here I am, leaning over the kitchen sink, trying to take deep, even breaths after the fifth or sixth time I threw up today. I knew I have to talk to the guys, they have the right to know I’m about to leave for good. Not the exact reasons why, but the fact itself for sure. I don’t want to just disappear, but it makes me nervous and anxious to the point of actually throwing up.

They became a massive part of my life a few years ago when Calum met my brother and somehow we too started talking and he invited me to a friends’ gathering and since then I’m stuck with them, and they’re stuck with me - the quiet, pretty, nice girl whose humor compensates for the quietness. Not much time had passed when I realized that I fell for one of them, the handsome drummer guy, Ash, with the same sense of humor as mine, with the brightest smile, with the kindest of hearts. But it was already late for me; before I could make it obvious for him, he introduced his significant other to the crew. I clearly remember that day, standing there smiling at the pretty young girl whom I couldn’t even hate, and who was holding hands with the guy I’d have died to hold hands with too.

Since then I am the girl, who is all smiles and fun and supportive, trying to hide the constant heartbreak I have to live with, especially in their presence.

 >>><<< 

 You wanted to keep it together but you couldn’t. You inhaled and exhaled through your nose and you almost started to calm down when Cal arrived in the kitchen with a huge punch bowl.

Your pulse rose higher and that most likely sat out on your face immediately. Some things will never change; you’ll never be a good actress.

 “Hey, are you okay?” he put the bowl down on the counter and headed your way.

 You looked him in the eye, and seeing that honest concern, it broke you. Silently your tears started falling and you covered your mouth with your hand to keep every tiny noise inside that could betray your whereabouts and your current state of mind to the others. It is just enough for Cal to witness and know.

First he couldn’t decide whether to hug you or just leave you cry yourself out, but eventually went for the first option and embraced you in a strong, protective hug.

You grabbed hold of the back of his sweater, squeezing it to the point your knuckles started to whiten, but at least your nerves calmed down enough to feel safe to let him go and look up from his chest.

 “And now I’m listening” he said to you with a bossy expression on his face.

“I need to tell you something” you leaned back to the counter leaving a few steps distance between you two. “I’m gonna leave for New York.”

“Wha…? When?”

“…Tomorrow morning…”

“And you’re just telling me now?!”

“Shhh shhh, I didn’t think this through, okay?” you tried to hush him from shouting out your well-kept secret.

“Moving to the other side of the States? You clearly didn’t.”

“No, how I’m gonna tell you.”

“A-a-and why New York? Wha-what is this madness?” he stuttered from the slight anger that was clearly flowed from his voice and showed on his face.

“I got a job offer there.”

“You’ve got a job here! Is there only one enterprise in this fucking city?”

“Cal, please don’t be mad at me.”

“Mhm” he hummed realizing that he really got tempered quickly. “I’m sorry to say this, but I sense big ass bullshit here. I just don’t see why you couldn’t have told this earlier if it’s really just about a job. There has to be something else. Something doesn’t feel right here. Is there anything else behind this abrupt moving?”

 Suddenly you couldn’t even speak, tho you don’t know why you were surprised, Calum is a very smart guy. Quiet like you, who only speaks when he has something to say, but always has his eyes open.

 “Has anyone hurt you?”

“Me, Cal, I’ve been hurting myself. For years.”

“Could you be a bit more specific?” he frowned.

 You realized there was nothing to lose anymore. You’ll leave the town tomorrow, and will never look back. With all this power in your hands, you can be honest for once.

 “It’s Ash, Cal. I love him. Basically since the day we’ve met.”

 Now you made him speechless. Or you thought.

 “I could say I’m surprised, but I’m not really.”

“You’re not?”

“Girl, now everything makes sense. I saw how you look at him. I think I’ve always seen it, but since nothing has ever happened, I just stopped paying attention. But it all comes together now. Why we couldn’t set you up on a date…”

“I got tired, Cal. Judge me all you want, but I got tired. I love him and believe me I tried to tell myself all kinds of things not to. And still here I am, still happy for him, still unhappy for myself. That’s why I have to go. This is not healthy anymore.”

“But wouldn’t it be easier to talk to him than to move your whole fucking life thousands of miles away from everyone you have?”

“First of all it’s a little bit late for that now I think. And even if I did, expect what exactly? That he’ll just dump her an instant when they look pretty happy to me…?! Tell me something. Is he in love?”

“I-I don’t know… we usually don’t talk about… these things. I mean… I guess so… I don’t know.”

“Well, that’s my guess too” you whispered as the oh so familiar knife chops round in your heart.

“This is still not right… ”

“Right or not, what’s done is done. Now you see there’s no use to tell him. It’s not Ashton’s fault…”

 “What should I know? What have I done again?” Ash jokes as he enters the kitchen to your biggest horror. “What? They just sent me to check on why we can’t have the punch.”

“Sorry babe, I’ll leave you to it” Cal looked at you with eyes wide open and a nod of his head. His facial expression suggested that the moment of truth has arrived and you weren’t happy about it.

 Both you and Ash watched him leave the kitchen, and looked back at each other at the same time.

 “So… what is going on here?”

“Ash, I am gonna move to New York. First thing tomorrow.”

“What? Why so sudden? And what does it have to do with me? You don’t make sense.”

“I’ll do in a minute.”

 He leaned against the kitchen counter, his arms crossed in front of his chest. You have no idea where you found the strength in you, most likely your little talk with Cal helped to prepare your nerves for this conversation with Ash, but a not expected calmness overcame you. You really don’t have anything to lose now. Besides, the memories remain, and you’ll forever cherish your friendship while it lasted.

 “Can you recall the last time you heard me talking about being excited about a date or actually being on a date night?”

“No?! But these are private stuffs; I don’t poke my nose into things that are none of my business.”

“What’s the point of a date if you already know that you’d just fool the other party? When your heart is refusing your common sense? And all this because I already loved someone. It was you. It is you.” you felt like a whole mountain rolled down from your chest.

“What?”

“Now you know.”

“No-no, it’s not fair…”

“Do you want me to be fair or honest?”

“You’ve never even...”

“…tried to tell you? Because the moment I chose to do this happened to be the moment you chose to introduce your girl to us…”

“I had no idea.”

“And that just means I did a great job. Kudos for me, ‘the protector of relationships’” you rolled your eyes.

“Is this true? Is this because of me, then?”

“No, it’s because of me, Ashton. You’re not responsible for my feelings or for anyone else’s.”

“And yet somehow now I feel like it.”

“Well, I tell you, you shouldn’t. Better?” you forced a wry smile on yourself. “Please don’t have sleepless nights because of me.”

“Then why do you sound angry now?”

“Maybe because I never wanted you to know this. Because the whole thing was pointless from the very beginning. Because this conversation is exactly what I didn’t want to have” your voice already cracked. It always does this under a certain type of stress, for instance a confrontation. You’ve been very bad at these your whole life. “And I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at myself, the universe, god, you name it. But that’s just life I guess. It’s not a sugarcoated shiny bubble for everyone.”

“…I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything. Remember, I never expected anything from you, I didn’t even want you to know this in the first place, but it doesn’t matter now.”

“I’m… I’m sorry. I mean it.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry, too” you tried to smile once again.

 “Guys, are you not thirsty, why do you sit on our drinks?” a very loud and jumpy Luke came round the kitchen bringing you the absolution regarding this conversation, not that you weren’t finished. You think you said all you two could, leastways speak for you, for sure.

 As Luke entered, you headed for leaving the kitchen but before you’d have turned out of the door you touched Ash’s forearm.

 “But I’ll keep being happy for you no matter what.”

 He didn’t even respond, not that you were expecting anything. It was enough for you that he could see you were serious about what you just said. Your mouth can lie, your eyes can’t, and for seconds that seemed eternity at those moments, your eyes held onto each other’s.

 When the crew all sat down to eat, without raining on your dear boys’ parade you broke the news to everyone – obviously leaving out certain details – receiving the same shocked responses you got from Cal and Ash earlier, but altogether everyone was excited and cheering for you and made you promise that from time to time you’ll check in and report about your life in New York. Certainly they were confused regarding the suddenness, but got over it pretty quickly. Except for Cal and Ashton, but they knew the whole truth. It was interesting to witness that now it was Ash’s turn to smile and act like nothing has happened, and he was doing a great job.

At the end of the day they decided to continue the party with a little after show at some bar, which you obviously had no humor to go to, so with the excuse of your early morning trip you said goodbye to this 15 people crew and headed home for the last time.  

 >>><<< 

 You were already in your sleeping t-shirt and shorts when you decided to make the last round in the apartment you rented to make sure everything is packed and to eliminate the chance that something important might be left behind.  You headed for upstairs and were standing halfway on the stairway when the doorbell rang and broke the silence of the dark and still house.

You ran back down to peek out of the peephole to see Ashton standing outside waiting for you to answer the door.

 “Hey” nervousness was reflected in your eyes as you couldn’t imagine what he’s doing here one hour before midnight.

“Can I…?”

“Is everything okay?” you pulled aside from the door so he could come in.

“After our little chat I don’t think so.”

“Ash, I told you to forget it.”

“Cause that’s how it works, right?” he combed his hair back, he looked nervous, his body tensed.

“This is exactly why I wanted to keep it to myself, for fucks sake” you shook your head. “What are you doing here, Ash?” you sighed wearily.

“What I should have a long time ago.”

 For a moment you just stood there staring into each other’s eyes and… there was nothing to explain. That brief feeling you get when you both want something… well, now you both got that feeling. It is that moment, when you don’t want to ask questions, because it’s not necessary. He closed the distance between the two of you, and cupping your face he pressed his mouth against yours, and embracing this madness you happily welcomed his lips. After the first few exploratory touches you almost immediately started searching for each other’s tongue, and now you know how heaven tastes like. It’s soft and silky and tender – it’s heavenly. Letting go of your face his hands slid down your body to lift you up into his lap, your legs hugging his waist, his hands supporting your butt, while your hands caressing his hair at the back of his head.

You don’t know what is happening, but at this point you don’t even care about his motivations. You know you shouldn’t do this but you just stopped caring. You literally ran out of all the fucks to give. It’s the last time you’ll ever see anyone of them, you’ll leave and will never come back. You don’t cheat on anyone but yourself, but you can live with the thought. And as to Ashton… it’s his conscience, he has to deal with it, not you.

But tonight, for the first time, everything’s gonna be simple: he’s gonna love you and you’re gonna give him all that you are, whatever you can.

You wish you had more time, you wish you could get more of him but if this is all you can get, you’ll take it.

 Once you arrived in your bedroom, everything got more hurried and heated.

Both your t-shirts have landed on the floor, and with your back to the bed, you slid up on it, your eyes never leaving Ash's. Reaching in his pocket he pulled out a wrapped condom that he threw on the bed. Then unzipping and taking his jeans and boxer briefs off, he crawled up on the bed and leaned over you. Seeing him already half erected made you swallow hard and ache for feeling him with every existing sense you have.

Your eyes hardly could cope with the beauty his body meant for you. You wanted to touch him, to smell him, to taste him.

He kissed you on your lips, continued lower to suck on the fine and soft skin of your neck making his way down to caress your breasts, licking and stroking your nipples taking them in turns till they got hard under his touch, making you let out the first whimpers of the night. He went lower biting the skin on your stomach, his hands still perfectly covering your breasts.

He stopped at the waist of your shorts to look up at you and without asking anything with a swift move he pulled it off of you.

You loved that you two talked without saying a word, only with your eyes, simply because your desire for each other was loud enough.

Prying open your legs he dived in between them, his hands kept your hips in place and your fingers combed into his hair as he started pleasuring you with his tongue, licking and sucking your clit, your folds, and your entrance; not much time had to pass when you felt yourself getting dripping wet from was he was doing.

Your rapture took control over everything; your mind was clouded, your body quivered under his touch as your orgasm jolted in you making your hips rise from the surface of the bed.

 “Oh God, Ash, please…” you moaned over and over feeling the tiny aftershocks.

 You looked down at him and saw his eyes smiling as your lower half still covered his mouth but you could tell there’s a smile on his face seeing your reaction to him eating you out.

With one last soft kiss on your swollen clit he rose up, now kneeling before you, reaching for the condom next to him.

 “Let me touch you before you put it on. Please.”

 You sat up to his kneeling form still with your legs wide open, your eyes almost pleading. You saw his Adam’s apple lifting in his throat. He lowered his hand still holding the wrapped package and that was your answer you were waiting for.

You took him in your right hand; gently started running your fingers up and down on his hard shaft, your lips kissed and licked his stomach, while your left hand first just rested on his lower back, then the tip of your nails traced a path down to softly dig into his butt cheek. As a reward you got the softest moans that were the most pleasuring sound your ears could ask for. You admired his strong build, his beautiful toned body, his perfect length in your hands.

At some point he reached down to stop your hand from working on him any further and only with his eyes he instructed you to lie back on the bed. After applying the condom on his cock, balancing his weight on his forearm next to your head with one hand he guided himself to your entrance and pushed himself in inch by inch so you can get used to the feeling of him stretching you this way.

You held onto his shoulders; your whimpers quenched by his neck as your lips press against it. And he started rocking his hips, slowly moving in and out, getting deeper with every thrust.

 Even if my mind can process what is going on right now, my heart just can’t. Suddenly my mind had been filled with pictures from my past few years, pictures of a heartbroken girl in situations that hurt her yet no one knew her pain. Pictures of a girl when she felt genuinely happy if she felt Ashton’s attention on her and thereby him close; when they laughed together; the feeling how she felt when he hugged her and yet she knew that meant nothing compared to the hug his real girl gets… And finally pictures from the last 30 minutes, when the person she loved is here with her, he’s all hers, even if for only a very short time.

 You felt your chest crushing up and tears started streaming down on both sides of your face.

 “Am I hurting you?” he halts for a moment, his eyes filled with concern are searching yours.

“Not physically” you think to yourself. “No…” you smiled at him stroking his face while another teardrop left the corner of your eye. “You feel so good. Please don’t stop.”

“You feel good too” he wiped away your tears, and started moving again, a little quicker and harder than before, and he just felt even more amazing.

 You really liked the way you were now, you both knew that this is just what it is, and you didn’t need him whispering meaningless lies to you and thankfully he didn’t feel the urge to do so. And as for you, he already knows everything he has to know.

He knelt up and with this his thighs made you spread your legs even wider and he slid his hand on your inner thighs to keep it that way as he started fucking you again now being able to fully bury his full length inside you. Your heart was panting and both yours and Ash’s whimpers and groans filled the room as he pushed you closer and closer to your climax for the second time this night.

You cried out as it washed over you, your thighs were shaking under his hands, and he stayed still for the moments to enjoy the sight of your trembling body and how your walls rhythmically squeezing his cock inside you. That sensation gave him the final push, after a few more thrusts you felt him stiffen inside you, and with a loud groan he collapsed on top of you burying his face in your neck. You hugged his back and caressed his neck where his condor tattoo is located and his hair right above it.

After a few calm moments while you could digest everything that has happened on your own, he got up to get rid of the condom and lied down next to you.

 “I’m really sorry. I mean it.” this is the only thing he said and you understood everything. There was no need for words.

“I know, Ash.” you stroked his face while he closed his eyes giving in to the feeling of your warm palm on his cheek.

 You pulled the blanket on you, and watched him falling asleep.

 >>><<< 

 It was 5am, you have to leave in a bit, your uber is gonna be here in thirty minutes. You’re sitting on the edge of your bed, trying to take in and memorize all you can from the guy sleeping on the other side.

You’re not looking for reasons, you’re just glad it happened one way or another. It feels like this is more than you could ever ask for anyway.

But looking at him while he sleeps so peacefully… it’s ridiculous how easily you could get used to this scene. Him in your bed, or you in his… passed out after a night like this…

God, how bad you’d like to touch him, how bad you’d like to kiss him awake every morning, how bad you’d like to put your hand over his heart just to feel its even beating… But most importantly how bad you wish you had the strength to say goodbye.

 >>><<< 

 You closed the door with the heaviest heart you have ever felt in your chest. A broken heart, whose most significant part is still lying in your bed…

 You were mine for a night; I was out of my mind. You were mine for a night…

[thatoneitaliangirl]

Obey Me! Soulmate AU’!~ Leviathan

This one I really like! Its a bit longer than the other two. Also, I’m confirming here and now that I’m definitely making part two’s because this one is far from over! OH! And SPOILERS FOR THE GAME I just got to the part where they explain that Satan was born from Lucifer’s anger, like- wasn’t expecting that! I mean, I remember them mentioning that Satan wasn’t there when they were angles, but I never thought he was born that way. Interesting!~ Also also, I’m not sure if I wrote Satan’s character all that well. He’s next up and I’m a bit nervous about writing for him, but I’ll do my best!! 

Link to Opening Paragraph. 

Leviathan

Having spent most of the day searching for Mammon's soulmate, the seven brothers reluctantly went back to the Devildom to regain strength and think of a more efficient way of searching for the next day. And take showers, because, as Asmodeus had stated previously, the sun was HOT. Nervousness wracked Leviathan's body to the point where he couldn't even work up the nerve to play a video game.

All he could do was lay on his bed and stare at the ceiling, thinking about what his soulmate would be like. Lucifer's was a beautiful, energetic ghost hunter with a tendency to babble, Mammon's was their human exchange student, though there was no surprise there. The two of them were crushing so hard on each other, that the other brothers had almost broken a few times and shoved them in a closet together.

Or maybe that was just Levi? He'd seen it in a couple of anime before and in the end, the two lovers always end up confessing and sharing their first kiss. Was that what meeting his soulmate was gonna be like? Poor Levi barely slept a wink that night. And now, as the other brothers discuss plans for the new day, he still can't think about anything but his soulmate. What is she gonna be like? Will she like anime and manga just like him? Or will she be a boring normie like his brothers?

She is supposed to be his soulmate, so it would really suck if she didn't like Ruri-chan! What if she's never even heard of anime? Then he gets to teach her all about it! "Levi, are you even listening?" Levi jumps, not expecting to hear Lucifer's voice calling out his name. Usually, that means something bad is about to happen . . . "Uh, no, I spaced out." Lucifer sighs.

"As I was saying, Lord Diavolo has made special arrangements for us in the human world. Given his kind and generous nature, he has called in a few favors to help us navigate the human world much faster and through more secretive means. Us getting caught could mean exposure of both the Devildom and Magic and could have devastating effects." "How kind of Lord Diavolo to grant his favorite such luxuries," Satan speaks up as he takes a sip of his beverage.

"Yes. Lord Diavolo's generosity knows no bounds. Now, with that settled, we leave in an hour. I suggest you get your ducks in a row and prepare yourselves. Levi, we find your soulmate next." They leave the breakfast table one by one, all heading to their respective rooms to 'prepare', whatever that means. Levi sure doesn't know what it means.

Does he shower again? Change his clothes? Would he look more presentable in his school uniform or his normal clothes? What if she hates him . . . I mean, he is an otaku. While he takes pride in that, he's not oblivious to the negativity otaku's receive in the human world.

They're generally looked down upon, and though he can take the criticism from his brothers, from the girl that's supposed to love him . . . He doesn't know if he can handle that. Taking his handheld gaming device off its charger, Levi places it into a small bag along with extra games and a manga to read in case he gets bored. Who knows how long their gonna be in the human world this time. Should he take a change of clothes?

Deciding it best, he folds up some clothes and places them into the bag and throws it over his shoulder. He doesn't think that it's been an hour, maybe twenty minutes, but he heads out towards the dining room anyway and places his stuff down. A loud commotion in the kitchen spikes his curiosity, so he follows the noise to find his three brothers, Mammon, Satan, and Beelzebub.

"What's going on?" Satan looks up at Levi with anger in his eyes. Levi has known his brother long enough to not take it personally. The anger is not directed towards him. "What's going on is that the 'help' Lord Diavolo gave Lucifer is a portal key!" Satan sighs at Levi's confused face.

"It's a key that allows us to go anywhere in the human world we want. I've been trying to get my hands on one for years, and now I find out that Lord Diavolo has had one just laying on his desk this whole time?!" He begins to pace, a sure sign that his anger is getting out of control. It's his attempt to try and calm himself before things escalate.

"The worst part is that he didn't even know what it was until that sneaky little butler of his told him to give it to Lucifer!" Mammon, not quite understanding that this was Satan's time to rant, cuts in. "What's so special about it anyway? Sure, it gets us to where we're going, but why do you find it so important?

The only use it could ever have to me is a pretty penny at the pawnshop!" He says, laughing. Satan glares at him. "It's not because it's worth something that I want it. It's because its made with one of the purest forms of magic from the human world! Not even Soloman would be able to comprehend the intricacies it takes to make such an item.

It's the craftsmanship, the number of years a human puts into making the keys, the effort they exert! A fragile human making something so powerful and beautiful? Hardly heard of!" Levi rolls his eyes. "Don't roll your eyes at me! How many times have you gone off on a tangent about some video game and forced all of us to listen?" Levi scoffs.

"That's different!" "Not really . . . " The sixth brother Beelzebub speaks up, crumbs falling from his mouth. "Whatever! It doesn't matter anyway. All that does matter is that we have the key now. The faster we find our . . . Soulmates, the better." Mammon laughs obnoxiously while sitting on the counter.

"Good for you, guys! I think I'm gonna hit up a human world casino! My luck seems to be off the walls, so naturally, I'm gonna bring home some intense bacon!" "Absolutely not." The brother's pale as the stern voice of Lucifer breaks through Mammon's stupid laugh. The second-born grunts. "And why not? I found my human!"

"And so have I, but that doesn't mean I'm going to let you wander around the human world by yourself. And that goes for everybody. You are all going no matter who you find, so I can keep my eyes on you at all times. Understood?" Satan tsks, and crosses his arms, still slightly ticked off about the key. But, they all agree, mostly because Mammon set loose in the human world sounds like the Biblical Apocolypse.

After the seven brothers finish up getting ready, Lucifer gathers them in the dining room. "This key was given to us by Lord Diavolo. It's true that he . . . Didn't actually know what it did . . . But none the less, we should still keep is safe to return it to him when we're done. Any questions?" The brothers shake their heads, Satan still upset but not wanting to cause another argument.

"Good. Levi, I believe it is your turn." Lucifer hands a confused Levi the shiny golden key. With a deep breath, Levi enters the key into the lock on the kitchen door (put there by Lucifer when Beel's sleep-eating was bad a few years ago) and thinks of a place. A lab of some sort . . . With white walls and lots of windows. Leviathan turns the key and opens the door, revealing crispt white walls and blue-tiled floors.

They all enter, skeptical of where exactly the key led them. "What is this place?" Mammon wonders, scrunching his nose. "It smells terrible." "Sorry, sorry! That would be the bleach!" A voice with an English accent speaks from down the hall and startles them.

"_____ and Joshua spilled a whole tub of vinegar in the main hall yesterday and bleach seems to be the only thing that gets rid of the smell." A man wearing a long white coat comes walking out of one of the rooms along the long hallway and extends his hand.

Lucifer shakes it hesitantly. The man pushes up his smart-looking glasses and smiles at the brothers. "My name is Damian, and I run this floor of Greenville Labs. What can I do for you gentleman?" Levi steps forward, slightly nervous. "We're looking for someone . . . I think you just mentioned her." "_____?" Levi nods.

"Ahh, what has she done this time?" Damian shakes his head and gestures for the men the follow him to the room he had just come out of. "Whatever it is, I'll pay for the damages. No need to get the cops involved."

Levi scratches the back fo his neck and laughs nervously. What kind of person is this girl? "Actually, she didn't do anything . . ." "Oh? Well, that's good. You're probably here about her project then?" "No-" "Yes, that's exactly why we're here." Lucifer agrees, placing his hand on Levi's shoulder.

"Good, good! Uh, disregard what I said before then hehe. They are good kids! When they want to be." The sound of a door slamming and heavy footsteps echo in the hall as Damian's eyes widen. "Oh, Be careful, I just washed the- floor . . ." A young boy comes running in and slips, falling on his backside.

"Ha! Dumbass- gah!" A girl walks in, slipping and falling in the same spot. Damian sighs. "I present to you, Dumb and Dumber." A hand reaches up from the floor and slams on the desk, pulling the girl up.

"What does that make you, Damian? Dumbest?" She pulls herself up the rest of the way and straightens out her clothes. "I mean, who washes the floor and DOESN'T put a wet floor sign!" "To be fair, the only reason it HAD to be washed was because of that rediculous stunt you and Joshua pulled!"

"I thought that was hilarious actually," Joshua says, standing up and leaning on _____. This makes Leviathan's blood boil. He can feel it in his bones; this girl is his soulmate. Who does this normie think he is, touching HIS soulmate?!

"Whatever, I've got stuff to do, levels to beat, Joshua to leave crying like a little baby after I kick his ass in Super Smash Bros. Later losers!" _____ pulls Joshua by the hand out of the lab. Lucifer sighs. This ones gonna be a handful.

[r3b3lgrrrrrrrl]

A LunaTic and her Gunn (Part 104 1Xs2) "Late Nights and Lazy Days"

@creatureofthen1ght-v3 @crystalbaby12 @5sosfam1dlover @backoftheroomandnotbelonging @findingmyths

The show at The Roxy was a huge success. The venue filling with electricity as soon as The Boys took the stage. Outside, the sight of Luna had given Colson an extra boost of energy to his mind. Inside, OnStage, her touch was a direct shot of adrenaline to his body. The crowd growing even more insane once Dom and Travis joined him OnStage for an intense encore of I Think I'm Okay.

BackStage, Luna had offered up her repacked bullet to whomever wanted it while hanging off of Colson's back. Collecting their things, they sent their luggage to the LA house after deciding to spend their night in The Valley at Roger's Bowling & Arcade. Luna calling Frannie and Paris while Colson invited Mod and Noah.

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

"You're goin' down, Sucker!" Luna wiggles her loose arms and fingers as she grins at Benny and he chuckles.

With so many of them, they have to break off into teams. Luna and Colson call Captain in unison, leading him to complain about how They Won't Be On The Same Team. He only pouts out a Fine when Luna gives him First Pick and a kiss.

Choosing Slim first, Luna takes Paris. Eyeing Luna and knowing how his last interaction went, Colson tries his luck by picking Fran. Making Luna shake her head when she catches her friend rolling her eyes at his effort. Luna takes Rook as a response. Colson snatching up Travis, AJ, Mod, Benny and Bullet while Luna secures her team with Ashleigh, Dom, Baze, Noah and Paris's boyfriend Gabe.

It's way passed midnight. Having been ON since before Noon, Luna's hitting her fifth or sixth peak by now. Just as it starts to kick in for Ashleigh and The Boys. Having only hit the bullet upon arrival with Frannie and Gabe, Paris dutifully sets up their bowling screens as everyone crowds around and the two teams talk shit to each other.

"You don't know what these guns can DO!!" Benny laughs at Luna as he flexes.

"We gonna take her cocky ass down?" Colson nudges Frannie trying to break the ice between them.

Paris had rallied for Colson on the way over, still trying to persuade her to give him a chance. Deciding to bite her tongue tonight for Luna and P, she nods with a small smile. Agreeing with him that, THAT Bitch Could Be Knocked Down A Peg Or Two. It's Colson's laughter that draws Luna's eyes over to the two of them.

"Ugh... With all this bullshit with Sam, I really fucking hope tonight goes well..." Her mind flashes before it catches a trail of colors and is off flying in a different direction.

"Alright.... Here we go!" Paris calls out.

The pure MDMA is now coursing through all of their bodies, minds and souls. The stream of black lights wraps around them, causing them to glow. The bass driven music making their hearts pound as they laugh, trip and bowl.

"It's so great to finally get to hang out with you!!" Luna exclaims as she grabs a seat beside Gabe.

"It truly is!" He agrees with a wide smile.

"Tell me.... What are you guys working on right now. P said you have a mini tour coming up?" Luna asks regarding their band The Soundflowers.

"Yes!!!" Gabe beams as Paris approaches them after picking up a spare.

The three go on to talk about The Couple's music and plans. Colson making his way over as they take turns bowling. Wrapping himself around Luna from behind, he kisses her cheek before joining their conversation. Colson and Gabe clicking quickly as they bond over their love of Sublime and Oasis.

"Your turn, LunaTic!!" Rook hollers.

With her body warm from happiness, content, love and drugs, Luna leans her head back into Colson's chest. Lifting up, she kisses him under his chin before going to support her team.

Grabbing her bearings along with her ball, Luna poises herself as the different colors and objects dance around her. Blinking twice, she swears she can taste cotton candy as she throws a Strike.

"MY GIRL!!!!" Colson yells to her squeals as he spins her around. "I don't even care that you're supposed to be my rival right now!" He laughs as he pulls her chin up for a kiss after he sets her down.

"Come on, Loooove Birds!!" Mod teases them. "You're holding up the game!"

They're really not though. All Sixteen of them are ON, distracted by the black lights and lasers. Slightly Slipping. Bodies still bouncing and bobbing to the music that surrounds them as they chat uncontrollably with each other about EVERYTHING.

Growing bored after the first game, The Slipping Sixteen venture into the Arcade. Simultaneously finding a row of ski ball lanes alongside a line of electronic basketball games. Entering into more challenges against each other, they drop tons of shiny quarters into the game's slots along their way.

Slim, Colson and Benny battle it out in basketball while Luna, Frannie and Ashleigh go head to head in ski ball. Paris and Rook switch out when Luna wins as Baze steps up to challenge Slim along with Gabe after Colson loses to him.

"I got next!!" Colson calls on ski ball.

Luna wins again. Squaring up against her and Frannie, Colson takes his stance in front of the middle lane VERY seriously.

"You two have NO idea what you're in for." He says confidently as he laces his long fingers together and stretches them out in front of him.

Lights, lasers and images dance around them. Flowing in through the windows of their eyes, down into their souls. Binding them together like sticky, magical taffy.

Popping their quarters in, the wooden balls fall down the slot with a loud SMACK. The sound making the three players grin as it brings back goosebumps from their individual childhood memories.

With Rook shouting 1.2.3. GO! They're off. All three being incredibly skilled, it's a close call. Luna coming in 3rd as Frannie takes Colson by two solid 100K point hits. A slightly smug twinkle glints in her cool, blue eyes. It's the only sign of how pleased she is with herself.

Comparing ticket winnings with each other, Luna notices Baze is a little quieter than usual. Part of The Slipping Sixteen going on to wander around the Arcade, giggling and wiggling while they taste the sounds and hear the colors. Finding Travis, AJ, Mod and Bullet, they're consumed by the vivid, original arcade games as the others join them.

"You okay?" Luna asks Baze as she hooks her elbow into his and they continue to wander together.

"Is it that obvious?" He answers with longing eyes.

"Only to me." Luna reassures him as she leans her head against his large arm.

"I miss her, MaGoons..." Baze sighs.

Passing a mirror, Luna stops them. "Let's tell her." She smiles at him before taking a selfie of them and Snapping it to Sam.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Sam is at Pier 97 with Ashley, Stephanie, Mack, Jackie, Logan, Jason and a bunch of their other friends. Continuing to celebrate at Pride Island, a 2day music festival created solely for the end of the week long event. Checking her phone in the bathroom, she finds the Snap from Luna.

Sam sighs when she sees Steve's face as her heart flutters for him. They have a strong connection but Sam is incredibly independent... And if she'll admit it, incredibly scared of intimacy. Reading Luna's words, she's annoyed with her but can't help Snapping her back with love along with her trademark sass.

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

"Yo!! You game?" Slim challenges Luna when he sees the beaming lights of an open AirHockey table.

"Bet, Motherfucker." Luna laughs as she digs in her bag for more quarters.

Slim drops the plastic disc on the table as it begins to roar and cool air blows from it's sides. With a nod, they signal their beginning. It's an intense, fierce game. Both talking shit as they slam the disc across the board with all their might.

"You ain't got SHIIT!" Slim tries to intimidate her as they match up at 2to2.

Pulling the puck from her slot, Luna holds it in place as she points at Slim. "Watch me, take your whole life and FUUUUUCK it all up in one shot." She grins as she rearranges and recites Colson's lyrics.

"You're such a fucking dork." Slim laughs at her.

The two of them are quick as they make the plastic object zoom across the flat surface. Luna's wide eyes steadily following it as it turns from one disc into four. Glowing orange trails fly around behind it, causing her to become distracted by it's zip as Slim connects just right. Slamming it into her goal, he wins the game.

🎶Who fucked who's life all up in one shot? I DID! Beat THAT bitch when I made THAT disc drop in her slot and YOU KNOW that I'm so good that I can't stop.... Because SOMETHING'S FUCKING WRONG WITH ME!!"🎶

Slim raps as he teases Luna, laughing as he dances around the table. Quickly grabbing her to happily jump and shake her around with him. They're slowly becoming friends.

"FUUUUUCK Yooou!" Luna laughs with him as she rolls her eyes before giving him playful shove.

"You gonna let THESE BOOYS play us like that, B?" Frannie asks with a grin, throwing her arm around Luna. "I got next, Big Man." She taunts Slim with a welcoming smile.

Frannie is naturally suspicious of all people, growing up in the environment she did. It's when her third eye is open that she let's her guard down, fully enjoying herself as she kicks Slim's ass 3to1. Lightly teasing him along the way.

"You got an eye, Girl, don't cha?" Slim compliments her after her win, making Frannie laugh.

Coming back together, The Slipping Sixteen decide to bowl another game. Keeping the same teams as they continue to be entertained by each other and mesmerized by the different colors. Noah and Mod argue over Who's Ball Is Who's while Colson and Slim both High Ten Frannie when she hits a strike on her first bowl. Ashleigh flicking them both off when she nails her own solid strike.

Only picking up a spare, Luna checks her phone as she sits on Colson's lap. Finding a Snap back from Sam, she opens it.

Seeing the Snap over her shoulder, Colson realizes for the first time that Sam didn't come back with Luna. He's called for his turn before he can ask Why.

Having a blast, they finish up their game. It's a close one, Luna's team only winning again because of Rook's impeccable Turkey.

Gathering together, Paris and Gabe exchange GoodByes and Love before catching an Uber home. Frannie uncharacteristically choosing to head back to Colson's with Luna along with Noah and Mod. Dom catching another Uber with Travis to his place, choosing to crash there while Ashley's still in NYC.

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

Back at the crib, they let loose with all of them being happy to be Home. Making their way through the house, only Twelve Tripping Twits remain. Pumping up some old Blink 182, Colson immediately starts jumping up and down on the couch before hopping off to grab whatever he can find to juggle. Being pool balls this time.

Luna watches him adoringly. She can feel her brain and heart throb for him as her body continues to tingle during it's own personal rollercoaster ride. "Fuck, I missed him." She thinks. Regardless of the stress from the loss of his Adderall, traveling or even Sam's issues, Luna's glad to be Home. Colson being her Home. Not The West Coast. Not even NYC. Her Home lies where Colson is. Always.

Hooking up Casie's Dance Dance Revolution, at different points they all succeed in both excelling and destroying their attempted dances. The Twelve Tripping Twits laughing uncontrollably at each other throughout their turns as they pass joints amongst them.

They continue on with their magical journey. Gliding in and out of the house, talking about and touching everything. Different Twits alternate in and out of different jam session at different times.

Colson, Luna, Rook, Frannie, Noah, Slim and Mod take to chasing each other around the house, wrestling about and hitting each other with pillows unexpectedly as they round corners blindly. Ashleigh, Benny, AJ and Baze are curled up in fuzzy blankets while Mario Kart escapes from the television. Bullet can be found outside lounging by the pool, staring at the stars.

There's a lot happening at all times. The Twelve Tripping Twits making a huge mess out of the house with their amusing antics.

"Lemme set you up...." Luna says to a still wild eyed Frannie.

"I can't sleep right now, Loons.... I'm on some seeing and feeling shit." Frannie let's out with an exasperated gasp.

"That's okay... I just wanna show you that you've got a safe space when you're ready to crash." Luna answers lightly as she takes Frannie's hand.

Already talking to Colson, Luna shows Frannie to Casie's room. It's a special privilege. Frannie may not be aware of it, but Luna is. NO ONE sleeps in Casie's room.

"This is The Kid's room. You can sleep here without being bothered..." Luna trails off as her swirling mind struggles to formulate words again in order for her to speak. "But... If you're not ready to sleep, you gotta stay the fuck outta here." She asserts by closing the door to Frannie's all too knowing nod.

"There's our killer!" Slim shouts as he comes out of his room, finding Luna and Francis in the hallway.

Wrapping his arm around Frannie's shoulders, he asks What They Were Doin'. Fran answers with a NunYa to Slim's laughter as they follow him back downstairs into the ongoing House Party.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Rolling hard, the music is still loud as Luna offers up Xanax for calmness and sleep. BB King easily grooving through the living room as The Twelve Tripping Twits begin to slow down. Lounging around while burning HARD. The blues guitar slipping, ripping and vibrating through their enlightened souls.

Exploring each other's bodies slowly on the floor behind to the couch, Luna coaxes Colson to his room. Not bothering to say GoodNight as they slip away. Thinking they're quiet, they loudly laugh as they fail at racing each other on the stairs. Tripping in different ways as they make their way up them.

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

In his bed, there's a sweet sensuality to Colson and Luna. Trying to focus, they slowly take each other's clothes off as they kiss the other with soft touches. Uncontrollable colors, feelings and love radiating off of them. Luna's breasts are full as she runs her hands down the sides of her throat, then along her shoulders. Pulling down the straps of her black, lace bra. She unhooks it, letting it fall off of her body as she drags her hands down alongside her ribcage. Still rolling hard, even the lightest touch to her body is amplified by a million.

"I don't know if I can handle fucking you tonight." Colson let's out with a slight hint of fear in his voice.

"Mmmm... That's okay... Can we just lay and touch?" Luna asks delicately with an understanding of the intensity that drugs can bring.

"Yes, please...." Colson answers, wrapping his naked, long body alongside Luna's tiny one as they lay together side by side.

Getting comfortable, he can't help but cup her breast. It's not long before his coarse thumb finds it's way to her pierced nipple. The rounding strokes of his hard thumb making her body heat up as her pussy becomes plump for him.

Their touches are kind and sensual as Colson pulls Luna closer to him from behind. With his right arm under her, distracting her nipple, his left hand slides over her hip. She can feel his growing cock against her as his fingers slowly reach for his goal. Running his two tips up her vulnerable lips, he grows harder as he feels how warm her insides are.

"I wanna live inside her pussy." Colson's drug addled mind wishing for the impossible

Pulling her lips open with his index and middle fingers, Colson slowly makes his way inside of her from behind. His touch causing Luna to arch her back as her whole body tingles. Taking his time as he slowly slips his dick into of her, making her quiver at not only his girth but also his touch.

"Holy fuck...." Luna's body erupts as her brain slowly repeats "Holy Fuck....." Over and over again. The sensation of Colson being inside of her so insanely strong that she feels like they're melting into each other.

Taking his time, he rocks her back and forth along his cock slowly. Colson grunts louder with every inch of him that she pulls further inside of herself.

"Oh, Kitten..." He moans as he sucks on the back of her neck.

"Mmmm....." She coos, enjoying the way he fills her.

Colson holds Luna closer to him, making her juicy pussy clutch his cock tighter. Picking up his pace as he drives into her deeper. Still playing with her piercing with one thumb, he reaches down. Using his middle finger of his other hand to tickle her clitoris, Colson has full control over Luna's body.

"Oh FUUUUUCK, I'm cumming." She moans, not being able to control herself as her body gyrates.

Feeling her tighten around him even more, he let's go also. Bursting inside of her like an overfilled balloon.

"God Damn, Loons.... I swear, your pussy gets better every FUCKING time." Colson pants as she kisses her naked shoulder with a sigh.

Luna let's out a light snicker from his words, causing him to pop out of her to both of their disappointment. Placing his tired dick against her bare ass, they drift off wrapped in each other.

Sticky from their sex as the Xanax begins slowing down their running minds. Their touch calming more than just each other's soul as they end another late night together.

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

Feeling Colson shift, Luna rolls over with him, turning him into The Little Spoon. Nuzzling in between his shoulder blades, she kisses his bare, tattooed skin as she whispers out an I Missed You. Squeezing his body tighter against hers. Lifting her hand, he kisses it as he mummers the same. The two easily and instantly falling back to sleep together.

A few hours later, Colson stretches out long as Luna curls up against him under the covers. It's a Monday, the first of July. Just coming off a month long tour, they're taking the day off. A lazy day if you will. Already deciding last week that business will resume it's regularly scheduled programming tomorrow.

Wrapped in each other, their too hungover to talk. Both of their brains feeling like mush from the massive amounts of drugs they not only consumed the day/night before, but throughout the last 2mnths or so. Although their insides feel like dehydrated fruit, there's an intimate relief as they simply cuddle. Enjoying the quiet moment to themselves, they drift back off. Catching up on some much needed sleep.

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

Colson and Luna finally make their way downstairs after lazily fucking each other awake. He's bare chested in a pair of EST basketball shorts while she's in an oversized Hotel Diablo shirt with a pair of Colson's black boxer briefs underneath and a loose bun.

They find Frannie, Slim and Ashleigh surrounding the island as Baze controls the kitchen. Joints flowing freely while Neil Young plays lowly in the background. Noah and Mod are knocked out in the living room on separate couches with Bullet sprawled out across the floor. The sight of him making Luna happy. While Rook, AJ and Benny can be found still snoozing in their bedrooms.

"Holy shit, that smells delicious." Luna compliments Baze as she peeks around his arm. "What 'cha makin'?" She asks as she accepts a cup of coffee from Colson with a grateful Thanks.

"Homemade bacon cheese burgers, REAL fries and grilled asparagus along with spinach and mozzarella stuffed garlic mushrooms." Baze answers proudly as he checks the oven.

"You truly are a Norseman's God, aren't you?" Luna teases as she slides into a chair between Colson and Frannie, accepting a joint from her pal.

"Viking in the HOOOUSE!!" Baze shouts as he triumphantly thrusts his fist in the air, making the room laugh with him and Luna.

"How'd you sleep?" Luna asks as she turns to Fran after passing the joint to Colson.

"Fucking GREAT!! That bed is a dream. Literally." She laughs. "Thank you for letting me crash in your daughter's room." Fran goes on to speak to Colson as she leans up against the counter to look at him.

"No problem, I'm glad you were comfortable.... Just don't let her know her when you meet her. She can be a little anal about her room and things." Colson says with a smile as he exhales a large cloud of smoke.

"Wonder where she gets THAT from.." Ashleigh chimes in as she rolls her eyes.

"Not THIS guy, EVER." Slim laughs as he jerks his thumb towards Colson.

"Fuck you both, you don't like people touching your shit either." Colson counters as he throws them both a middle finger.

"Facts." Luna laughs as she backs up his statement.

"You're just as bad!!" Frannie exclaims to Luna with another laugh.

"Who's just as bad and what are we eating, My People?" Mod asks happily as he comes bouncing into the kitchen just in time to intercept the joint.

"All of 'em, apparently." Frannie answers through her laughter.

"Hey!! Don't you lump me in with them fools!" Baze threatens with a smile as he points his spatula at Fran.

"My bad, Dude." She continues to laugh with a grin.

"You fuckers are soooo LOUD...." Rook complains as he makes his own appearance.

"IF YA CAN'T HANDLE THE HEAT, GET THE FUCK OUTTA THE KITCHEN, YA FUCKING ROOKIE!!" Colson yells at him with a teasing tone.

This catches him a middle finger from Rook and a solid NO from Luna as she puts her hands over her ears. Colson retaliating with another loud I DO WHAT I WANT before Luna skips him and passes a fresh joint to her Favorite Drummer Boy.

"You're such a bitch." Colson complains with a chuckle once he realizes what happened.

Noah, AJ, Bullet and Benny slowly trickle in as Baze throws the burgers on the grill. Making The Twelve of Them a complete set again as they fill the kitchen with bodies, music, smoke and coming food. All surprisingly functional once coffee and bud hits their blood streams as they recount the madness of last night.

"You totally stole that kid's tickets!!" Noah shouts at Colson.

"No I didn't." He shoots back immediately with an undeniably guilty look.

"You stole a kid's tickets!?!" Luna and Frannie ask together in wide eyed shock.

"No." Colson asserts. "He walked away, I just grabbed the loose tickets that were hangin'." He shrugs with a smirk.

"Seriously?" Luna asks with a cocked look.

"I mean, yeah... But, I gave all our tickets away to a bunch of kids at the end of the night so fuck 'em." Colson shrugs again as he sips his coffee.

"You're such a fucking dick." Luna replies with her face still twisted in disbelief.

"Whatever. Someone else would've jacked 'em if I didn't. And at least I spread the wealth... Because I REALLY wanted those fucking light sabers." He laughs.

Slim, Baze, AJ, Benny and Rook solidify him with a RIGHT. Leaving Luna to lean across the counter now, looking over at Ashleigh for someone else besides Frannie to shake her head with.

"So, what, you fancy yourself as the Robin Hood of Arcades?" Fran challenges Colson. "Robbing from the dumb who are probably in the same poor crowd that you're rewarding?"

"Ohh, FUCK ME." Luna mentally sighs as Colson cocks his chin towards Frannie.

"No." He answers with an attitude. "But if you're stupid enough to leave your money hangin', I don't give a fuck what age you are. Imma snatch that shit up. Don't be dumb and you won't get played like you're dumb."

"Truth." Slim agrees, tossing his bestfriend an elbow while Luna's tosses her an unamused eye.

"I get what you're saying, Kells... But that's fucked up. You can't tell me you wouldn't snap if someone swooped up on Case's tickets." Ashleigh says, putting her two sense in.

"Case wouldn't be dumb enough to leave her tickets behind." Colson replies smugly.

"I had you until then...." Luna laughs lightly as she leans across the counter again to Ashleigh's sigh, both knowing he's right.

"So, what's that make you... A partial dick?" Fran asks not letting it go.

"Oh no, I'm that FULL dick. Through and through. Ask Luna." He smirks.

"Shut the fuck up." Luna replies as she sucks her teeth. Going on to roll her eyes at him and shake her head, she displays the three quality signs of an annoyed woman. "No one here gives a fuck about your dick." She continues as she SideEyes him.

"Yo! Check my mushrooms!" Baze interupts them as he hollers from the patio.

"Gotcha!" Ashleigh shouts back as she hops up.

"All I know is, I'm gonna FUUUUUCK this food UUUPPP." Luna declares, making the entire room agree for the first time.

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

Crowded around the dining room table, they all compliment Baze's cooking skills as it's sweet scent fills the room. After passing plates of food and condiments around they all dig in. There's a collective sigh of Oh SHIT when they sink their teeth into their burgers.

"Holy fucking cracker balls." Luna moans as she bites into the homemade potato wedge. "PLEASE fucking teach Colson!" She requests with her eyes closed in pleasure.

"Hey... I know how to cook." Colson states as he shoots her another SideEye.

"No Bunny, you know how to grill. Not cook. We both know this. I love you, but there's a difference." Luna sighs in delight as she takes a snapping bite off of her asparagus.

"Facts." Colson admits. "To Truck, our Viking cook!" He says as he raises his beer. "Great food, better friends and MOTHERFUCKING HOTEL DIABLO!!" He shouts as everyone clinks their glasses and beers with his.

Enjoying their meal, each other's company and being off of The Road, The Twelve of Them relax around the table as they shoot the shit. Bodies slowly recovering as the delicious food regenerates their beings. As always, continuing to bust each other's balls as they laugh with full bellies over a round of drinks and joints.

Once they've finished, The Girls begin to wipe down the kitchen and do dishes as The Boys clean and clear the table while carrying things in from the dining room. They wrap up leftovers before helping with the rest of the clean up. Baze being the only one who's exempt. It's been said before, if you cook in Colson's kitchens, you do not clean.

Coming up behind Luna as they finish, Colson lightly touches his lips against the back of her ear lobe. Sending instant goosebumps down her spine as his deep voice crawls into her brain.

"I wanna show you something when we're done." He husks.

"Okay." Luna agrees without hesitation.

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

Word Limit (1 of 2)

To be continued.....

[loveactualharry]

The Shamrock of the Sea [A Niall Horan short fiction.]

Good evening lovely people. I haven't been able to post anything decent on here for a while, and I know many of you are still waiting for part 3 of "December, 1997" - I'll be quick on that : it's coming next week.

Meanwhile, you might or might not be interested in a little Niall thing!

I originally wrote it for a friend, but I thought It'd be nice to share. So, here it's Part 1 of The Shamrock and The Sea.

Overview: Niall is the only son of a wealthy Irish family in 1897. He sails to New York to negotiate a business on behalf of his father. But The Shamrock has a different fate for him in mind.

Facts: Harry has a part in it as well!

--------——-------------------------------

24th July 1897

“Lily. For you, again.”

Her colleague had panted, throwing the umpteenth letter on her bed. She swiftly lifted up, sitting on the slender, uncomfortable mattress. Her fingers unfolded that paper, slightly wrinkly and rough. The words gathered in the middle of the page, written in a neat, clean handwriting. She noticed how the letters slightly leaned towards the right angle: the author of those verses had to have been lefthanded, she figured.

“One more? Jesus, it’s the sixth in five days.” Sarah remarked, absentmindedly tying the back of her apron.

“I know! Lily, are you sure you don’t know who sent them?” Selene asked with hands on her hips, squinting her eyes. Sarah darted at her, then turned around rolling her eyes. She did not like the questioning tone she always put out. And anyway, she was the last person in the position of questioning her colleagues, especially after Sarah had caught her sneaking out of his cabin. She twitched nervously at the mere thought.

Lily, however, failed to catch the jealousy displayed in the eyes of her best friend, still too caught up in her own thoughts to even care.

“I told you both, and a million times: I have no idea. I don’t know who sent them. Maybe…maybe it’s just a mistake.” She tried to convince herself, getting up and rubbing her palms on the wrinkly surface of her work uniform.

“Or maybe it’s a secret admirer.” Sarah winked at her with a silly face, “A secret admirer who is also a poet. Wait, maybe he is rich! Maybe it’s Lord Styles!” she battled her eyelashes, looking up with a dreamy face, before curling her lips and darting her eyes towards her friend, tapping her foot. “Are you fucking Lord Styles? You’d better not, or I’ll-”

Lily let out a puffed laugh, placing her hands on Sarah’s shoulders. She adjusted her long, silky hair, shaking her head. “I am not doing anything with Lord Styles. First off, he is way too out of our league, and second, I could never do this to you.”

They both tried to look serious but burst out in a loud laugh.

Selena looked at them from afar, hands still on her hips.

“Shut up, you are going to get us all in trouble. We’d better get to work.”

Sarah rolled her eyes again, sneaking out of her friend’s hug to follow the other girl outside.

“Yes, miss. But seriously, Lily, try to find out who this secret admirer is. Maybe one of the musicians?” she hinted.

“I think we are setting out hopes too high. For what we knew, it could be some kind of joke.”

She lowered her eyes, looking at the words inked on the paper one last time.

“You, that's what I've been missing,

Was tangled up and twisted

Now all the clouds been lifted

Lately, my heart's been so empty.”

Her heart still beat in the hope that it would be no joke.

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

Dublin, 14th July 1897

HORAN, NIALL JAMES.

The name was inked on that yellowish piece of paper. He read it one last time, then raised his blue, wide eyes. Niall was still amazed at that monumental, imponent structure in front of him. His gaze run on the long, majestic right broadside of the ship. Not far away from him, the long cue on the third-class passenger’s footbridge disgorged in a chaotic mass of unhealthy-looking and dirty men, women and children, gathering upon each other, pushing and shouting phrases in Gaelic.

“Come on, son, let’s move forward.”

His father grabbed his arm, dragging him around, in the that multitude of souls, looking for some sort of salvation on that ship. “The Shamrock of The Sea”, they had called it, in the hope that it would cast the light of good luck upon those travelling on it to the new world. Niall had heard many times his father ramble about how he knew the lord who had funded the construction of the Shamrock, but he had never paid much attention to that. He had never been fond of business and funding, and he had a relative interest in the world of major buyers and sellers. He knew, though, that the trip to America would be a lifechanging path for him, and he was grateful that his father had put enough expectations on him to give him the opportunity to go and negotiate a business on his behalf. New York was waiting for him, and he was excited. Yet, much as he loved his hometown and his country, he wished he didn’t have to come back to Ireland.

“Are you sure you’re ready for this, my baby? You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to.”

His mother stopped to wipe a few tears away from her cheeks. She hadn’t stopped crying ever since they had left Mullingar a few days before. Niall found it sweet and heart-breaking at the same time. Mr. Horan senior asked two of their servants to load his son’s trunk and all his belonging up on board. The boy cupped his mother’s cheeks, looking at Maura with a half-smile.

“I’m alright, ma. I’ll do what I have to do and…I’ll be right back to you sooner that you think. Stop crying for me, will ya, ma?”

The lady smiled through her whimpers and nodded. He held her close in one last, long hug.

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

18th July 1897

Niall had spent the first few days wandering around, exploring all the salons, hallways and decks he had access to. Of course, travelling as a first-class passenger had its advantages. Nobody would pay much attention to him wandering around every part of the ship. He liked to look at the other people around him though. He fancied reading and collecting the multitude of emotions displayed on everyone’s face. Most of the passengers were rich, wealthy people, happy to be there, excited about their new adventure and all the comforts that would accompany them to the new world. He could recognize them. Not only by the clear expensiveness of their clothing and shiny jewels, but also because they wore proud smiles on their lips. The men often gathered around the counter of the bar for a sip of whiskey, or they would play cards, setting their bets higher and higher each time. Niall liked to play bets with himself, too. For example, he enjoyed betting on who would have lost at least half of their fortune before even getting to America. One of his favourites to bet on was Lord Styles. He was rich, extremely rich, apparently. And he would walk around the salons with a proud smile on his lips and, very often, more than one woman behind him. He had heard stories about him: he was, apparently, the most coveted bachelor of the whole Cheshire county. And nobody knew why. Niall liked to take the piss out of him, and he didn’t like him very much.

Sometimes, he liked to wander along the lower decks of the ship, and once he had even reached the stern, where the third-class passengers where hoarded. In was different, down there. Hidden in their cheap cabins, mother would try to soften the cry of their many children, shrieking out of fear and hunger. Some young men would whimper, facing the parapet running along the back deck, looking back and thinking about the mother and lovers they had left behind. Niall wondered which storied they carried along. He wanted to ask, sometimes. But he knew the wound of leaving their motherland behind was still too fresh, and scars were still wide open and too delicate.

His trip from Mullingar to Dublin had been long and exhausting, and over the past few nights he still hadn’t been able to adjust to his new bed, losing more sleep than he should have. His sunken eyes and his slightly unshaved face made him look older than he actually was, and he knew he needed some rest. After all, it would be a long trip to New York, and most of the times he preferred staying up at night to write or play his beloved fiddle. So, after lunch he found his way through the decks and staircases, to the cabin 402. He let his gaze travel up to the golden number on the black wooden door, then opened it, still holding the case of his fiddle in one hand. He rarely left it behind and found some kind of comfort in carrying it around with him.

The girl in the room flinched, then turned around as the key clicked in the lock. Niall stepped in, and there she was. She had dark, brown hair, which were thin and shiny. He couldn’t see her eyes, though. He put his fiddle on the freshly made bed, furrowing his thick, ash-blond eyebrows as he slowly walked towards her.

“Good afternoon, Sir. My apologies, I was just bringing fresh towels for you.”

She performed a quick, small bow in front of him. Then, she left with a fleeting glance. Niall noticed how her big brown eyes had rested upon his face for a little longer, before she stormed out of the cabin. He felt his throat go dry for a couple seconds, standing like frozen on the spot. He was normally not an impulsive man, usually very calm and thoughtful. But there was no hesitation in his steps, which led him out of that cabin, after grabbing the pile of white towels she had just left inside. His deep, blue irises squinted, looking around the corridor till he spotted her.

“Excuse me?” he called.

The brown-eyed girl turned around in his direction, still holding one hand on the handle of the wooden trolley she was pushing around on the mahogany wooden floor.

Niall straightened his back as he walked towards her in long strides. There they were face to face again. Now he could see. She looked younger than him, a couple years maybe, he guessed. Her cheeks were slightly flushed, and she carried no ring on her left hand.

“Yes, sir?” she patiently said, bringing Niall back to reality. She was staring at him, now. He had wide, deep, baby-blue eyes. His hair, she thought, resembled a dense honeypot, fluffy and perfectly combed. His cheeks were slightly puffy, making him look younger than he actually was, in contrast with the shallow shade of beard. He had thin lips, and a lovely dimple rested beneath his chin.

“Aye, I…I need to have my towels changed.” He demanded. Then mentally cursed himself.

She furrowed her brows in confusion, taking one step back.

“My apologies, Sir, but I brought laundry-fresh ones no more than one minute ago.”

Niall tapped his foot on the floor, following an irregular rhythm.

“I know, I saw you. I just don’t think they are clean and fresh enough.” He stated, handing her the pile of cloths.

She slightly parted her lips, but bit her tongue right after, taking a new pile from the trolley.

“As you command, sir.” She answered, handing the fresher towels to the man, never breaking eye contact, till she once again bowed before him and went back her own way.

“Many thanks, miss…”

His eyes were quick enough to shoot a glance at the silver name badge on her chest. He stood there, watching her walk away, holding the new towels in his right hand, before heading back to cabin number 402. He locked the door, frantically opening his large, black trunk, searching for ink and paper. Niall sat on the floor, writing her name on that page. Lily.

[knightofthecourt]

Shards - Chapter 4

A Handful of Malec snippets, based on various prompts. Alec Lightwood x Magnus Bane - Fluff and romance with a spot of angst.

31. Broken Wristwatch

“Ok, Alexander. I give up!” Magnus exploded at breakfast, his outburst so sudden and forceful that Alec almost slipped off his chair in surprise. 

“What-?” 

“What goes backwards instead of forwards, counts up instead of down and makes your days longer?” Magnus repeated patiently. The riddle had been plaguing Magnus for days, ever since they’d started this stupid game. He’d spent hours pondering it, even lost sleep - not that he’d admit that to his boyfriend, of course.

“Oh, that,” Alec grinned. “Do you really want to know?” 

“Alexanderrr,” Magnus groaned. 

The Shadowhunter looked smug. “A broken wristwatch,” he said simply. 

“But...” A look of wonder came over the warlock’s face.“That’s… not clever, it’s terrible,” Magnus’s eyes widened with the accusation. 

Alec shrugged and took a bite of his toast. “Doesn’t matter,” he said around his mouthful. “Rules are rules - I get to choose the movie tonight.” 

32. Maiden Name

Alec hadn’t wanted to put any extra pressure on Magnus, so he tried his best to act like he didn’t mind either way. But when his fiance casually announced one morning that he would like to take Lightwood as a surname after they got married, he couldn’t help but smile. 

Of course Magnus would still be Bane professionally, but that didn’t matter to Alec. When you were in love with someone who had lived for so long and experienced so much, it was difficult not to wonder what you could possibly offer them. But a name, his name. Now that was something Alec was pretty sure no one else had ever given Magnus before. 

Magnus Lightwood-Bane. 

Yes, that was perfect. 

33. Teenager

“Round two?”

Magnus looked down at Alec. The Shadowhunter was staring shyly up at him from beneath his thick dark lashes, with a glassy-eyed expression. His rune-covered skin was slick with sweat, gleaming like intricately carved ice in the evening light and he was still panting slightly, his pink lips parted. 

“Teenagers,” Magnus said, shaking his head slightly in wonder. He sighed happily and leaned down to kiss him. 

34. 3:28am

“Ok, I’m calling it.” Alec watched helplessly as the female paramedic leant back from the body, carefully removing her hand from crook of his neck. 

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this, he wasn’t supposed to die. Not now, not ever.

“Sir?” the male’s voice sounded like it was coming from the end of a far off tunnel, although in reality he was standing right next to Alec, uncomfortably close. 

It had just been a routine hunt.

“I’m sorry Sir, we need you to move away from the body.” 

He wasn’t supposed to be there, but Alec had forgotten his phone. Magnus hated not being able to contact him. 

“Sir?” 

Alec stared down at the gadget in his palm, noticing for the first time the splashes of red that coated the silver case. The same red that marred the warlock’s chest. 

This wasn’t supposed to happen. 

The female paramedic stepped away from Magnus and looked over at her colleague. He was still trying to get the attention of the dark-haired teenager. He must have been the one who’d called in the accident, the poor kid looked shell-shocked. 

She sighed and pulled a notepad and pen from her belt, sparring a final glance for the young man who lay at her feet.

“Time of death, 3.28am”

35. Lucky Rabbit’s Paw

“Why, Alexander. For me?” Magnus asked as Alec offered him the shiny gold gift bag. He reached inside and his fingers brushed something soft. “I hope it’s fluffy handcuffs.” He winked. 

The Shadowhunter rolled his eyes and blushed in an adorable way that made Magnus want to drag him onto the nearest flat surface. 

“No. It’s a rabbit’s paw. It’s fake, I think - but the woman in the shop said it’s enchanted to bring you luck. I thought it could help protect you. You know, when I’m not around.” 

Magnus peered at the tiny fluffy keyring in his palm. He blinked a few times and swallowed. 

After a moment he heard the sound of a throat clearing and he looked up into the blue eyes before him. Alec looked worried. He was chewing his bottom lip as he waited for a response, no doubt trying to work out whether he’d offended the warlock in some way. 

He yelped in surprise as Magnus reached forward and pulled him into a hug.  

“Thank you, Alexander,” Magnus whispered against the Shadowhunter’s neck, “I love it.” 

36. Sunburn

“Oh, Alexander,” Magnus bit back a laugh as he took in the Shadowhunter’s pained expression. Now would not be a good time to laugh. 

“It reallly, really hurts Magnus.”

“I know my love, just try and stay still. I can’t heal you if you keep moving around.” 

Alec grimaced, “I know, it’s just so uncomfortable.”

“What I would like to know,” Magnus said, trying to concentrate as he directed the blue sparks dancing from his fingertips, “is how you managed to get sunburn in such a … sensitive spot.” 

Alec’s blush turned his cheeks a matching pink. 

“Jace told me sunbathing naked was the best way to avoid tan lines.” He confessed in a quiet voice.

When Magnus didn’t respond he looked down, to where the warlock was hovering near his midriff. The older man’s shoulders were shaking with silent laughter. 

“Shut up,” Alec groaned, reaching over to grab a pillow which he buried his head in. “Just shut up.” 

37. A Thousand Memories

Alec knew that Magnus didn’t like to talk about his past. At first he thought he was being difficult, distant, keeping some part of himself hidden. But when the nightmares started Alec realised that the warlock wasn’t avoiding the subject so that he could hide from him, he was doing it so that he could hide from himself. 

And so when he woke up shaking in the middle of the night, screaming or sobbing names that Alec didn’t recognise, he didn’t ask questions. He just held Magnus tight until the trembling stopped. 

38. Insomniac

Magnus wasn’t happy, when he awoke to the smell of cooking, in the middle of the night.  

“You might be hopped up on demon-fighting adrenaline, Alexander,” he yelled as he stormed out of the bedroom and into the kitchen. “But this is the fifth night this week and some of us need our beauty sleep!”

Alec froze, spatula in his hand, as the warlock entered the room. 

“But you’re already so beautiful,” he said pathetically. 

Magnus sighed and rubbed his face tiredly before walking over to the cupboard and retrieving a second plate. 

“Stupid Nephilim.” He muttered as he sat down at the table. 

39. Magic

Alec thought he would die laughing when their son Max came home from school and requested a magician for his sixth birthday party. 

After ten minutes of watching the little boy explain to Magnus why what he did wasn’t really magic because it didn’t involve pulling bunnies out of hats, and how he needed a proper, professional magic person, not just Papa, Alec took pity on his husband.

“Don’t worry,” he said, curling his arms around the warlock’s slumped form after he’d sent their youngest to his room. “I still think you’re quite magical.” 

 40. I Told You So 

“I-” Magnus began.

“Dont.”

Magnus smiled sweetly at his boyfriend. Alec was currently glaring at him from his position on the catnip-covered floor, one of Chairman Meow’s mangled chew toys tangled through his legs.

“What? I was only going to say I to-”

“Don’t.” Alec interrupted. He pulled himself to his feet and then stalked off. 

Magnus smirked as he heard the cupboard door slam open, followed by what sounded suspiciously like the hoover. 

Well, he thought, if Alec insisted on getting all of Chairman’s toys out at once, accidents will happen. 

[clansayeed]

Bound by Destiny ― Chapter 5: The New Normal

PAIRING: Kamilah Sayeed x MC (Nadya Al Jamil) RATING: Mature

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

⥼ Bound by Destiny ⥽

Nadya Al Jamil (MC) has been struggling from the day she moved to Manhattan, but her new job as assistant to the mysterious CEO of Raines Corp was supposed to turn her luck around. Until she finds herself caught in the middle of a war involving the Council of Vampires who secretly run the city. An evil from the birth of Vampire-kind stirs beneath, feeding on the conflict, and finds Nadya bound to a destiny she never asked for.

Bound by Destiny and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing dramatic retelling project of the Bloodbound series and spin-off, Nightbound. Find out more [HERE].

⥼ Chapter Summary ⥽

As it turns out life with a big secret is pretty much the same as regular life. Only Nadya has to lie to her best friend a lot.

[READ IT ON AO3]

“And you are willing to accept the burden of two humans pledged to Clan Raines?”

“If one of them is up for grabs I’m more than happy to take this one,” Lester’s calloused hand runs up Nadya’s forearm; it’s physically impossible for him not to feel her disgust yet still he persists, “Adrian may have all the cool new toys but I assure you, sweet girl, you’ll be wanting a vampire with some years under his belt.”

She smacks his wandering touch away before it can get to her shoulder. It does little against his supernatural strength but he’s too taken aback. All three vampires are.

“Alright, first thing’s first, never call me that again,” she can’t even repeat the grossly infantilizing pet name without feeling like she’s dipped in grease and slime, so she just continues, “second, and this I promise you Mister Castellanos, you can be darn well sure I want nothing to do with anything even near your belt. And third —”

Lester recovers from his shock then; puffs up his chest and makes to stand from his chair.

“How dare you, little —”

“Let her finish, Lester,” Kamilah doesn’t have to raise her voice to grab their attention. She does so simply by being Kamilah. She meets Nadya’s eyes across the conference table and there’s an interested amusement hidden in their depths. Hidden in the slight quirk of her dark lips. “It’s about time someone put you in your place, after all.”

Lester’s face goes a frustrated shade of red. Kamilah taps her chin softly. “Continue. ‘And third?’”

Nadya only hesitates to remember her train of thought before rounding back on the lecherous man.

“And third,” she repeats, “I don’t care who you are, how much money or power or whatever that you have — if you treat me like that again I’ll make sure the only toy you get is a stake up the butt.”

The look she throws Adrian seeks forgiveness, not permission, but her boss is too stunned to speak. Instantly Nadya recoils, flinches away as if she’s a completely different person. The only thing that keeps her from her natural-born instinct to apologize is reminding herself how disappointed Lily would be.

And it wasn’t as though a creep like Lester didn’t deserve it. There was just the threat of ticking off a vampire that needed factoring in now. She sits in her chair and awkwardly scoots it closer to her boss’ side.

Finally Adrian addresses Kamilah’s question. “Yes, Kamilah; though I’d hardly call the pair of them a burden.”

“Speak for yourself,” Lester seems to be doing all he can not to spit, “she’s gonna be a handful. We should just debrief her.”

“No — she was given the option and declined. Lester, you voted with me against forced debriefing.”

As the men argue Nadya steals a glance at Kamilah only to find the vampiress seemingly assessing her. Kamilah’s brow quirks slightly, ‘boys will be boys’ it says, and she scribbles down something on a stack of papers in front of her.

Adrian’s patience finishes entertaining Lester’s complaints.

“I think this will be good for Nicole, as well. Take some of the pressure off of her back.”

Kamilah snorts softly. “Oh indeed. I look forward to hearing her thoughts on the matter.” She scribbles a signature and slides the papers to Adrian. “If you’re sure, and so long as you’ve weighed all of your options.”

“I have.” He replies.

“Then the sooner we finish this, the sooner I can get back to my date~” Lester practically yanks the stack away from Adrian and signs with a flourish.

After Adrian adds his name to the bottom he offers the pen to Nadya. “The contract isn’t legally binding, but we’ve found it easier to keep certain things on our record. Part of immersing ourselves in the business field.”

She looks it over. Working for a corporation as big as Adrian’s has taught her a few things about the industry of industry, but she’s still a novice at most of the technical language. The small print combined with the occasional phrase like “for which the punishment is death” makes her eyes glaze and the contract blur.

“So I’m, what, signing my soul over to the Council?”

Adrian ignores the laughs of his colleague and places a hand on Nadya’s shoulder. “No. You can be debriefed at any time — though like I said the more time that passes the less we can completely erase. This is more just something we’ve had to do when it comes to humans being associated with the Council. For your safety and ours.”

Lester leans over with a smarmy grin. “In the old days we just branded you. Like cattle.”

It sends a shiver down Nadya’s spine. But a signature was better than a brand — right? She clicks the pen and signs her name carefully. Adrian beams with something close to pride. Takes the contract and hands it back to Kamilah who stores it in a shiny leather briefcase.

The vampires stand and Nadya rushes to follow. That’s it? She thought there would be more ceremony to it — more morbidity. But apparently even supernatural business has joined the corporate mainstream. Adrian offers Lester his thanks but the portly man waves it off and leaves without a goodbye. Grumbles something under his breath that Nadya chooses not to hear a word of. Kamilah stays a minute longer; takes Adrian’s offered hand in a firm shake and tucks her hair behind her ear.

Remembering what Adrian said earlier that night, Nadya tries her very best not to stare openly.

“Thank you for this, Kamilah,” Adrian’s sincerity is almost saccharine, “I know things have been tense lately but I’m glad to know we still agree on things like this.”

“Oh Adrian, pet, I don’t agree with you in the slightest.”

“What?”

Nadya and Adrian stare at her — blinking out of sync but with equal measures of confusion. Like with everything else, that amuses her.

She continues, “I don’t think this is a good idea at all. But I also know you too well, and know that your mind is made up. You don’t reach my age without gaining a sixth sense about picking your battles. You can sign as many humans as you’d like to your Clan so long as they stay in line. Unlike Lester, I have the humility to admit that mortals have their uses beyond sexual favors and snacking.”

He looks ready to argue, but Kamilah makes up his mind for him. She bids Nadya a farewell nod and leaves them in a far more graceful fashion.

“So that’s it? One contract and a greasy perv and boom, I’m in the secret squad?” Adrian holds open the door to their private elevator and Nadya hits the button for his office. It was like nothing had changed, though everything had.

Adrian shrugs one shoulder. “I mean, yes, that’s all you needed to do. Back in the old days —”

“How old are we talking?”

“Well, Lester had a rather big party for his half-millennium back in ‘09. Kamilah’s two millennium in but you won’t catch her celebrating anything.”

It takes a moment for the word millennium to process; leaves Nadya gaping. “She’s two thousand years old?”

“Yes, though surviving that long is rare — especially these days. Young vampires are reckless and fueled only by their hunger. They tend not to last long without Clans to protect and guide them. And with humanity’s unerring desire to exterminate itself in the last century… well, the older generation is considered a war casualty.”

It’s a lot for her to take in, and Nadya has a feeling if she was left in stunned silence every time Adrian casually brings up something incredible about vampires she might never speak again.

Adrian doesn’t break stride as he opens his office door and leaves her at her desk. She has to stop and take a moment to look at the thing before actually taking a seat. Everything is exactly where she left it when she clocked out almost a week ago but nothing is the same.

“Something wrong?”

Nadya looks up to see Adrian leaning in his doorway. His lips turned downward in concern. He steps out and places his fingertips on the desk like it has something to say to him.

“No, no,” though she’s stiff, awkward as she takes her seat, “well… it just doesn’t feel real. Like, this is my stuff, but it’s also like a museum exhibit of my stuff.”

He nods as though he understands. Maybe he does — about as much as he can.

“And what would the exhibit be titled?”

It takes her a laugh and a moment to think. “Hm, I think ‘My Life Before Vampires’ would work.”

“It’s a lot to take in. I would understand if you needed some time off.”

“No, no more time off,” and that Nadya is insistent upon, “better to just dive right in than let it fester. Unless you want a million texts with questions I could just ask you in person.”

There’s something about sharing that familiar moment that eases the tension; makes it so they’re both sharing soft laughter and when Adrian leaves her to her work this time around it looks more like her desk again.

Getting back to a version of ‘normal’ at work is one thing, but trying to find that balance back at home proves a challenge.

Nadya’s content to act like nothing strange happened when she first arrives back on her doorstep. Being bodily mauled on by Lily’s concern, though, gives her a clue that she won’t be able to just let it go. Eventually Lily realizes “I was mugged” is her story and she’s sticking to it, no matter how much she’s teased, poked, prodded, or bribed otherwise.

And after three weeks straight of the silent treatment, neither of them can take it anymore and they make up with a pizza (delivery this time) and homemade margaritas.

Everything else continues as it was. Adrian picks her up, they go to work, lunch is now spent together with a new list of questions that he answers with unerring patience, he drops her off. Nicole doesn’t take the news well — what little she saw of the woman before somehow diminishes. But Nadya won’t complain about a lack of frigid witch in her daily routine.

The most exciting thing she gets to do with her newfound induction into the vampire club is visit a Priya Lacroix afterparty. Woefully underdressed, she tries to keep the same straight face on that comes naturally to Adrian.

“I have some business to take care of in the back,” he gestures to a gilded door of glossy black paint and gold filigree, covered on both sides with a thick red curtain.

Nadya tries to peer inside as the door opens to let through a pair of giggling models; catches what looks like the high-arched back of a throne but nothing more.

“What’s back there?”

“Nothing you’d like.”

“I’m still trying to process this whole Priya Lacroix famous designer and bloodsucker thing.”

Adrian looks around quickly and his frown is chastising, though hardly strong enough to be effective.

“Maybe we say that a little quieter next time, hm?”

The bartender taps Nadya’s shoulder and offers her a fizzy flute of champagne. Before she can decline, Adrian gestures for her to take it.

“Just try not to down four bottles of the stuff before I get back, okay?”

Her deadpan is not amused. “You’re never gonna let that go, are you?”

“Not likely.” He’s already heading off, flashing something to the large man standing guard at the exclusive club door and stepping inside.

When Adrian returns — only a second glass of champagne later — there’s a grim frown set into his jaw. He practically rushes them out of the venue with little explanation.

She’s ready to ask about it — the question is on the tip of her tongue — but Adrian’s aura screams do not cross and she knows when to leave well enough alone.

Her first (and so far only) time in the proximity of other vampires and she didn’t even get to meet one. Nadya has to hide her disappointment to avoid another lecture.

They say their usual farewells at the curb and Nadya kicks snowplow slush from her heels while she waits for Lily to answer the buzzer.

“Dude, we ordered this twenty minutes ago! Are the dumplings even steaming anymore?”

Nadya has to hold up and back off. She looks at the complex address first — yes it’s her building — and then double check she hit the right button.

Because the last time she checked Lily didn’t have a thick Spanish accent.

She buzzes their apartment again. The voice comes back with a vengeance.

“My girl isn’t gonna pay for cold Chinese, so. Try again.”

“Uh…” Nadya fumbles for what to say, “I live here?”

There’s static on the other end — and she’s really relieved to hear Lily’s static-filled laughter.

“Sorry Nadi’! Forget your key?”

“Yeah, I left it at the office.”

“It’s gonna do you loads of good there. Buzzed you!”

Whatever her subconscious was suspecting when she opened her front door — this isn’t it. Lily in her ‘I’m Going Out’ getup (which is the same as her usual clothes, only there’s typically more belts and bracelets involved) with her boots kicked off and leaning very close to a woman with a bright blue head of hair and a devilish grin. They jam their fingers into the console handhelds like the fate of the world is at stake.

Lily doesn’t look up even when she closes the door a little harder than necessary.

“Oh! There it is!” Blue-Hair jumps and her tucked-legs catch her deftly on the couch — which creaks in protest. Lily joins — Nadya watches to make sure their secondhand-secondhand couch doesn’t collapse under the weight. Then they’re screaming, and shrieking, and Lily drops her controller and pumps her fists into the air in a victory dance only gamers know.

It’s like watching animals on the Serengeti do some weird mating ritual. Screeching, then hugging, then the silence of hot breaths when you realize you’re in close proximity with someone and that feeling kicks in.

“Ahem.” Nadya clears her throat. Catches their attention in the brief silence. Lily jumps down from the couch and embraces her tightly.

“Sorry about that. We ordered Chinese —”

Nadya nods. “Like, twenty minutes ago?”

Lily’s grin is understandably sheepish. Her friend doesn’t wait to be introduced — leaps off the couch with ethereal grace and comes towards them with her hand extended.

“You’re the roommate I’ve heard so much about,” she looks Nadya up and down, then gives a nod of approval, “nice, nice.”

“And I’ve heard so much about you…” before she can flounder for a name Lily saves her skin.

“Maricruz. ‘Member, I told you I was going to that Girl Gamer thing in the East Village?”

She does remember something about that — if vaguely. Maricruz wraps an arm around Lily’s shoulders and squeezes them together.

“How is it that even in a gay bar fuckboy gatekeepers will still find a way to be obnoxiously patronizing?” She and Lily laugh; some inside joke Nadya isn’t privy to, “I was real close to punching one in the face and getting the hell out of there and then who walks in but this angel.”

“We were the only W-L-W’s there, I shit you not.” Lily adds.

“Oh! Well… that’s, uh, that’s great,” Nadya cringes when Maricruz raises a dark eyebrow, “that you guys found each other, I mean.”

“Dude, Mari’s amazing. Her cousin’s girlfriend’s roommate knows a guy who works at one of the salons I was looking into, right, and he has an online hookup to the unreleased alpha of The Crown and the Flame Thorngate DLC!” She looks at Mari with eyes that would give shelter puppies a run for their money.

Mari, to her credit, soaks up the attention without seeming to Nadya like a complete tool.

“Hey, I like to share the wealth with gamers who deserve it. Sapphic ladies get priority.”

“About time we did.”

“You know it.”

They dissolve into laughter again. Leaving Nadya pushing up her glasses, snow slush soaking into her nylons, feeling like the spare donut tire nobody ever uses. Suddenly “I went to a Priya Lacroix show” doesn’t sound nearly as cool as their evening.

Lily double-takes, catches the slight fall of Nadya’s shoulders, and elbows Mari with a smile. “Nadya works for the head of Raines Corp, did I mention,” then, to Nadya, “What Wall Street shit did you get up to tonight?”

The three women migrate to the living room; Lily and Mari on the abused couch while Nadya relaxes in her bean-bag cushion. It’s pretty obvious half-way through recounting her experience with the door guard outside the show that the blossoming couple are only giving her half their attention; she’s just something on in the background.

There’s a brief knot of jealousy that tightens in Nadya’s stomach. But Lily deserves this — someone to spend time with. She deserves someone who doesn’t blow her off the way her ex did. And she deserves someone to spend time with that isn’t her best-friend-and-roommate. Sharing is caring; isn’t that what they say?

She claps to get their attentions; announces she’s going to change into something more comfy and when she returns they’d better be ready to give her a play-by-play of Girl Gamer Night. She tries to keep all sexual noises to a minimum while stripping off the second skin her nylons had become, and giving herself some space from the sudden appearance of Maricruz really does ease her jealousy away.

“Okay — so first remind me who decided to host…”

Nadya’s voice dies out as she looks around to one less body. Lily types something wicked-fast on her phone before hopping up to pull back the curtains. Early daylight isn’t terribly bright, but what streams through makes Nadya wince.

“Girl, this job is making you a straight-up vampire.”

She chokes on air. Lily waits until she’s breathing again to laugh. “Mari caught the time — she works across town so she dipped while you were changing.”

“But I wanted to hear about Gamer Night...” The petulant whine comes out without Nadya’s permission. Lucky for her Lily finds it cute.

“Don’t worry, chica, you’ll hear all about it soon enough. I gotta go get ready — coffee me?”

“Will do—” they pass to trade places, but before Lily’s clear of her Nadya grabs her arm, “—hey, hold up—” and pulls her into a crushing hug.

“You good?” Lily can’t — or won’t — hide the twinge of worry. She hugs back nevertheless.

Nadya nods. “Yeah. Just happy for you. She’s weird, but I’d expect nothing less.”

“Oh my god, it was one date. Not even!” They dissolve into laughter and Nadya feels a quick kiss to her temple before Lily’s off to get ready.

Nadya fills the coffee maker and the whole apartment starts smelling of espresso.

Adrian IMs her to come into his office. Nadya takes a second to finish her bullet point on a spreadsheet before knocking on the door. She hasn’t even crossed the threshold when he looks up with a smile that’s a little bit too wide for her to be comfortable with and says he’s changed his mind.

“Are you sure…?”

“Yes, yes — it’s nothing.”

“Okay…”

Ten minutes later he asks her to join him again. No hesitation this time — but the door’s only halfway open when he backs out.

“Nevermind. Sorry for bothering you. Do you have the Whitman report?”

Nadya frowns. “Almost done. You sure you don’t wanna tell me what’s up…?”

“Quite. Just email me when you’re done.”

It takes her twenty seconds to pull the door closed. Ample time for him to change his mind — but he doesn’t.

The third message Nadya doesn’t even see. There’s a ping from her computer and she whips open the door so hard her hair catches the breeze and her glasses go flying. Adrian startles; looks up from his screen to the frustrated figure wreaking havoc in his doorway.

“Nadya? Are you okay?”

She stomps to her glasses — made significantly less impressive by the sound-muffling Persian rug — and pushes them back up so hard her eyes see little spots of light. Continues stomping over to his desk and places both her palms flat on the wood to look him straight in the eye.

Adrian leans back slightly; oblivious. “Erm… Nadya?”

“What. do. you. want?”

He tries to make light of it, “Should you really be speaking to your boss that way?” but when it doesn’t lighten her mood he has the decency to look apologetic.

“Is this some weird vampire yuppie hazing ritual,” she’s serious, wants a genuine answer, “some game like see how many times the human jumps when I say? Because if we’re trying to beat someone’s record, I’m totally down. But if you’re just messing with me I’ve got a bone to pick.”

Sheepishly Adrian shakes his head. “Not in the slightest. I’m sorry for bothering you. I’m sure you have work to do, so —”

“If you tell me it’s nothing one more time, Adrian Raines…” She points a threatening finger at him. There was nothing more terrifying to a young Nadya Al Jamil than the threat of the Mom Finger; the secrets of which had been passed along to her before she left for college.

Now, the true test of parenting authority was tested between species. They lock eyes and, breath held, Nadya watches with a victor’s delight as Adrian wilts. He gestures to one of the fancy chairs in front of his desk with resignation.

Nadya sits to recover from her awe. “I can’t believe that worked.”

When the vampire looks as though he’s about to question her Nadya jabs the finger at him again — makes him shut his mouth with a click.

“Now — talk.”

Adrian’s not the type to waste time on something that isn’t important. He’s probably the most productive CEO in Manhattan at any given moment. He’s two hundred-something years old, and it shows. It shows in his confidence, in how he carries himself, and in the surety with which he does… most things.

So watching him fumble over his words — constant apologies, lack of eye contact, the way he paces around his office and makes Nadya wish she was part owl just to follow his movements — is uncomfortable to say the least.

“I wouldn’t ask you to do this, I shouldn’t,” he repeats yet again, mumbles something to himself Nadya’s human ears can’t quite catch, “but I have no choice. That’s the awful part. But…”

He passes her chair and Nadya grasps his wrist; it’s enough to get his attention, to draw it out from the aether.

“Why don’t you actually tell me what you need and I’ll decide if it’s too much or not?”

She’s put her frustration aside. Looks up at Adrian with honesty. Instead it just makes things worse.

Finally, and only with a whiskey in hand, Adrian tells the tale of ‘The Baron.’ And the more she learns the more Nadya hopes she never has to meet him. Mobsters are terrifying on their own — but making them immortal and hungry for blood just seems like a violation of the Geneva Convention. Or the vampire equivalent.

She raises her hand like a student in class; Adrian pauses and nods.

“So he’s a bad dude — I get that part,” she frowns, “but what I’m not getting is why the informational lecture? Is he coming here? Crap — should I have reserved a conference room?”

Adrian’s smile is wistful. “No — now, I promise this is related, just bear with me. Do you remember what really happened that night in the park?”

Gooseflesh runs down Nadya’s arms.

“When I was attacked, you mean.”

“Yes.”

“I… sort of?” Her voice strains. It wasn’t something she had to work hard to forget — thanks in part to the alcohol — but occasionally there were nightmares. Not that she told Adrian about that. Just a normal part of being attacked by a feral creature, right? “If you’re saying he was there…”

Adrian shakes his head again. Leans forward with his fingers laced together.

“The Feral who attacked you wasn’t a newborn. I could tell that from the start. Kamilah and I have been looking into the matter — likely he was a vampire who was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“But he can’t be cured.”

“No,” a beat, “he’s dead, Nadya. I killed him to save you.”

Hearing the creature was dead was one matter. But Adrian’s excuse — “to save you” — makes her stomach roll. “Whatever. Was this Baron guy the Feral, then?”

“Oh, no, he —”

“Then connect the dots before I lose it.”

“The Feral was formerly a vampire named Douglas Courette. He worked at the Shrike… better known as the Baron’s place of operations. Now, you remember there are pacts in place to keep the number of vampires in New York at a consistent and manageable rate. There isn’t any concrete evidence that the Baron is behind the Feral population increase… but this is the first time we’ve been able to link, well, anything back to one of our own.”

It’s a lot to process. Adrian gives her time.

“So,” with a shaky breath, “what does that mean?”

“It means he needs to appear in front of the Council — which is formally requested via summons,” Adrian opens the center drawer of his desk and pulls out a manila envelope sealed with dark red wax. Nadya recognizes Kamilah’s liquid penmanship scrawled across the front bearing the Baron’s title. “Once the summons has been given the Baron will be bound by Council decree to appear and testify.”

“And if he skips it? Gets stuck in traffic?”

“Then his position on the Council is forfeit and his Clan would be dissolved.”

“Guess it’s something you can’t exactly have FedEx-ed, then.”

“No, not exactly,” he steeples his fingers and finally looks into Nadya’s eyes. She’s starting to regret that fourth cup of coffee. “For a summons to be binding it must be delivered in person. And unlike Priya — who at least pretends to get along with everyone — the Baron’s Clan knows every face of mine and won’t let us get within a hundred feet of the place.”

He doesn’t have to say any more. Nadya can read him like a book — now more than ever. And it brings an awful feeling up into her throat.

Unable to school her emotions Adrian recoils. “This is why I didn’t want to ask you. It’s too dangerous.”

“Yeah, it is.” Nadya extends her hand for the envelope. “But it’s also my job.”

The last time she wore anything even remotely this ridiculous was Halloween night her senior year of college. Her frarority — still obscure enough to pass for a group of friends who lived in the same house — had decided on a group costume. Even more ridiculous; they decided to enter a contest held by the largest sorority on campus.

Needless to say their ‘Unpopular and Obscure Internet Memes’ group costume got a few chuckles but didn’t get anywhere close to the final four. And it had taken a solid month for her green face paint to completely wash off.

If she could Nadya would text Adrian to double-check The Shrike’s address. Wearing a shiny gold flapper dress in the middle of a seemingly-abandoned warehouse district makes her stick out like a sore thumb. But they both agreed it was too much of a risk.

This being one of the many reasons she wouldn’t make it as an undercover cop.

But Nadya isn’t the only person out of their element; she catches sight of a man in a crisp but old-fashioned suit leaning against a brick wall. His fedora obscures his eyes but she has no doubt what color they are.

“You goin’ my way, Daddy-o?” Her heels click-clack with each step. Get her the door guard’s attention just enough for him to rouse himself to his full intimidating stature.

He looks her up and down with a scowl. “You talkin’ to me, toots?”

I can’t believe that worked. She steels herself and bats her eyelashes.

“Anyone else here? Didn’t think so.”

His eyes linger on the way the fringe of her dress catches on the dim streetlight over their heads. Sure enough they gleam blood-red. She stifles a nervous swallow.

“Pretty young thing like you shouldn’t be runnin’ around dark alleys at night,” he scolds, “you never know what hangs out around these parts.”

Nadya ticks her tongue. “Oh I’ve got, erm, a pretty swell idea.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

They lock eyes — a contest of wills. He smells of old chewing tobacco and something burning; the combination bringing a stinging tear to her eye. Finally Nadya relents; cocks her hip to one side and when she crosses her arms over her chest the wax seal on her envelope catches the same light.

“Alright, nope, can’t do this. I have a summons for your boss so how about you let me in?”

Whether the vampire got off on the roleplay or not the second the spell is broken so is his restraint. She’s pretty sure he doesn’t have to flash his fangs when he frowns but that doesn’t stop him in the slightest.

The door guard steps forward; towers over Nadya. His eyes glow in the shadow cast by his hat.

“How’s about I don’t?”

“There you are, dollface!” Nadya breaks into a full-body shudder at the familiar voice behind her as it calls out from the dark, “so much for goin’ in together!”

The guard looks up — Nadya rounds on the woman with paling surprise. The sleek black flapper dress ringed with pearls looks wholly alien on Maricruz’s jolly form as she trots up to the pair of them. She urges Nadya back around towards the door just in time for the guard to slam his hand on the metal.

He looks between them, upper lip curled in distaste. “And who the hell are you?”

Mari twirls one of the strands of pearls around her neck with a long finger. If anyone else was running around New York at night in Gatsby attire the irony would stand. But despite only meeting her once Nadya wouldn’t forget that smirk for the life of her.

“Calm your pants ya bluenose. My gal and I here were just lookin’ for a hot place to go half-seas over. Ain’t that right, sweetheart?”

Before Nadya can protest Mari seals their mouths together. She makes it a point to swallow all the air in the girl’s lungs before pulling back — and only then does Nadya understand why.

Maricruz’s fangs press just over the swell of her bottom lip. Her eyes like garnets in the light.

The guard, to his lack of credit, grins smugly at the display. Men never change. But the sight of Mari’s true form is like a skeleton key and with a gruff grunt, he knocks in a lazy four-beat tune on the door. The sound of bolts and locks being undone echoes through the alley and the door swings open with a whine.

“Whatever.” The guard tries to play it off but his focus lingers on the envelope in Nadya’s hands. She quickly stuffs it between her body and Mari’s as she’s led inside.

The door closes on them swiftly. They’re plunged into a dimmer darkness than the nighttime; old rust and a musty weight to the air making it hard for her to breathe.

She doesn’t get the chance to speak — instead Nadya finds herself pinned to the corridor wall with a hand beside her head.

Maricruz leers down at her with eyes blazing. Her voice; a purring croon.

“Now… why don’t you and I have a little chat?”

[flightyrock]

The House Knows

My fill for the Fall Multifandom Challenge hosted by @sporadic-fics and @helplessly-nonstop . Thank you both, this was a lot of fun!

Prompt: They were roommates

Rating: T

Words: 3k

Pairing: Steve Rogers / Bucky Barnes

Other Characters: Sam Wilson, Clint Barton, Natasha Romanoff

Tags: minor injury, stitches, swearing, questioning sexuality, no powers au, there’s no plot, cuddling, cute, roommates au

The place is perfect.

Too perfect.

Enough that Steve Rogers--a guy known for more bad luck than good, who habitually drags himself back to his feet after being kicked down by life and circumstance over and over again, a guy who can’t help but think the best of people--is suspicious. By all rights, he never should have responded to the Craigslist ad. The location, the interior, the number of rooms, even the profession of his potential roommates is the very definition of too good to be true, especially for the listed rent. And it’s in one of the better neighborhoods in Brooklyn.

Except it was so nice, that he couldn’t resist responding. A guy could dream, after all. No one was more surprised than he was when he got a response from a real human being. Or when that same human being answers the door of the gorgeous brownstone that matches the pictures online almost immediately after Steve knocks.

“Hey there, I’m Sam. The landlord,” the guy says, then shakes his hand with a friendly grin.

“Oh,” Steve says stupidly, blinking, willing it all to sink in. Someone actually answered the door. Then he realizes he’s still holding Sam’s hand. He releases it quickly, and rubs the back of his neck, trying and failing to dispel his embarrassment. “Sorry, it’s just. I didn’t think this was actually real. It is real, right? You sure you didn’t mean to throw a zero on the end of that rent?”

Sam throws back his head and laughs. “Oh, it’s real. Don’t worry, we get that a lot.” He steps away from the door. “Come on in. Don’t worry about taking your shoes off, it’s Clint’s week to clean.”

Steve snorts in spite of himself, but takes Sam’s word for it. He follows Sam through the house, and his disbelief grows with every feature. Washer and dryer included. Each tenant has a private bedroom. Landlord pays all utilities. “Even Wi-Fi?” he asks, mouth agape.

Sam clutches his chest like Steve has gravely offended him. “What do you take me for, Rogers? A monster?”

A terrible thought strikes him, and he’s certain his face goes white, because Sam gives him a funny look. “You’re not involved with the mob or something, are you?” Steve whisper-asks.

Sam laughs so hard, he has to bend over to catch his breath. When he’s recovered a bit, he claps a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “I like you. You’re going to fit right in here. If you want it, that is.”

Steve gapes. “If I want it? Are you kidding?”

Sam’s face falls. “Yeah, I get it,” he sighs. “Look, if it’s the bathroom thing, Barnes and Clint have offered to share. You can take the upstairs one.”

“What? Why would you think. No,” Steve sputters. “No, I mean, of course I want it, it’s perfect. I love it, just. Why me? I’m sure you’ve gotten tons of applicants.”

Sam looks at him, his eyes piercing. Steve shifts in place. “You have an honest face,” he says eventually. “And you’re safe. I can tell. At the risk of sounding crazy, I’m particularly good at reading people. The other tenants will love you.”

“Wow,” Steve says. Because how do you respond to that. “So that’s it? That easy?”

“Well, almost,” Sam says.

Steve shouldn’t feel as disappointed as he does. He knows better. There’s always a catch.

“Clint and Barnes have to approve,” Sam clarifies. “They’re both vets, and gay to boot. Last thing I’m going to do is make this kind of decision without their input. They deserve to feel safe in their own homes.”

Steve’s not sure why he’s so surprised that Sam is as considerate as he is. The man has been nothing but friendly, but that kind of empathy isn’t something you see everyday anymore. “Wow, that’s. That’s amazing of you.”

“I admit that I have ulterior motives,” Sam smiles at him. “We gay military types have to stick together, you know?” Then he sobers. “That’s not a problem, is it?”

“Oh no, not at all!” Steve says quickly. Maybe a little too quickly, because Sam eyes him suspiciously. “Sorry, sorry. I don’t have any problem with any of that, I swear! Let people be who they are. It’s just. I know I’m fit, but I never actually served, and I’m straight, so I don’t know if I’m what you’re looking for? I don’t want to make anyone feel unsafe,” he says earnestly.

Sam’s staring at him. Steve feels himself shrinking unconsciously under that scrutinizing gaze. Steve’s fumbling for an apology for wasting Sam’s time, because why would he ever accept Steve now, when Sam says.

“Huh. Well, shit. I could have sworn...”

“What?” says Steve, bracing himself for rejection, already resigning himself to another late-night stroll through the housing and roommate pages.

Sam shakes his head. “Nothing, don’t worry about it. Just, you’re probably going to be the first straight person to live here, ever. It’s actually pretty weird; it’s like the place knows. But yeah, the offer stands.”

“Wait, really?” Steve asks him. “You’re sure?”

“Of course I’m sure,” Sam grins at him. “I may have guessed your sexuality wrong, but I know I’m not wrong about you getting along with the other guys. You’ll like them, I know it.”

“Wow, uh, great! When can I meet them?” Steve asks.

“How about in twenty?” Sam grins at him. “It is about dinner time. I’ll order pizza.”

Sam is an excellent host. He doesn't even blink when Steve politely declines wine and beer, getting him a fancy bottle of mint-infused ginger ale instead. Sam waves off his stuttered thanks. “Don’t worry about it. Barnes doesn’t drink, either.”

Barnes, amazingly, also doesn’t mind when Steve stares at his prosthetic. The man had dropped heavily into an armchair after shaking Steve’s hand and introducing himself as something that starts with a B, but Steve doesn’t quite catch because holy hell, the guy is gorgeous. He has soft-looking dark hair that falls in gentle waves past his shoulders, a jawline perfectly highlighted by five o’clock shadow, and grey blue eyes that shimmer in the light. Steve can’t take his eyes off of him. It only gets worse when he pulls off his baggy sweatshirt, revealing a broad frame and the shiny, intricate limb. The guy clears his throat, and Steve’s eyes shoot back to his face, embarrassment setting his face aflame.

Steve stammers out an apology. “I’m so sorry, Barnes,” Steve says miserably. “It’s rude of me to stare. It’s just that I’m an artist, and the design is stunning.” It probably makes him a terrible person, but Steve’s glad the prosthetic gives him such a good excuse for staring.

The guy just laughs, grinning at Steve. “Don’t worry about it, pal. Everyone does.”

“Doesn’t make it right,” Steve says.

“You’re right, it doesn’t,” Barnes says amicably. “But I’m more offended you’re calling me Barnes, to be honest.”

Steve flushes. Can’t he do anything right? “Sorry. Sam calls you Barnes.”

“That’s because Wilson’s an asshole!” Bucky yells into the kitchen. He cackles at the disembodied profane gesture he receives in response. “Nah, but Sam’s the best,” he grins at Steve. “He’s never in town for very long, but it’s a great time when he is.”

“Aw, shucks,” Sam grins at him when he reenters the room, setting a stack of plates and a roll of paper towels on the coffee table. “I guess you’re pretty okay too, Barnes.” Bucky lets out a dramatic wounded sound, and Steve laughs along with Sam. Sam pats Bucky on the shoulder apologetically. He looks around. “Where’s Clint? At this rate, the pizza will get here before he does.”

Bucky shrugs. “Who knows? Don’t worry, he’ll be here. There’s pizza, and you’re buying.”

“True,” Sam chuckles.

At Steve’s questioning eyebrow, Bucky explains with a smirk. “Clint has a sixth sense for pizza. It’s wild. Just you wait; he’ll be here between the time we pay and the time the pie gets cold.”

The pizza comes, Sam pays, and a guy with short blond hair and chunky hearing aids comes strolling in the door a minute later. “Hey, Sam. Bucky. Ooh, pizza!” he grins, and makes a beeline to the box, rubbing his hands together.

Steve laughs, and Bucky winks at him, a mischievous spark in his pale eyes. Steve blushes in spite of himself.

“What?” Clint says, looking around. His eyes land on Steve. “Oh, hey,” he waves, then goes straight for the food.

Sam laughs. “Barton, put the pizza down for a second and meet Steve!”

“What? Oh, hi, Steve,” the guy smiles at him, then takes a bite of the slice he’s holding. “Ow! Hot!” He makes a grab for his burnt tongue, fumbling the slice. It lands on the throw rug, cheese side down. “Aw, pizza.”

Sam shakes his head long-sufferingly, and Bucky rolls his eyes.

Steve grabs the roll of paper towels and starts to pick it up. Clint shoos him away with a grin. “Don’t worry about it, man. I’ve got it. Happens all the time.”

Steve carries the messed up paper towel into the kitchen to throw it away. “Isn’t he sweet?” Sam’s saying to Bucky when he comes out, and Steve flushes.

“Oh yeah,” Bucky says, turning to face Steve with a grin. “He’s perfect.”

Bucky, as it turns out, is the bane of Steve’s existence. The man’s always smiling at Steve, inviting him to go grab some tea, or come watch a movie. They often stay up later than they should talking about everything and anything. Steve feels like he’s known Bucky forever. So why does the man make him so anxious? At least, that’s what he thinks the fluttering in his chest is. It can’t be anything else. It is distracting, though. Steve catches himself thinking about the guy and that strange anxiety at all hours. It’s really cutting into his drawing time.

Anyone else would have guessed that if any of Steve’s roomates would be the bane of his existence, it would be Clint. The guy is always tripping on the last couple of stairs, or spilling soup on the carpet. Not to mention he’s probably broken more dishes in the time it’s taken fall to turn to winter than Steve has owned in his life.

“You’re the physical manifestation of the term ‘gay disaster,’” Bucky complains at Clint as he helps Steve pick up the shards of the latest casualty, a nonsensical ‘World’s Best Best” etched clumsily on a cheap wineglass.

“I resent that!” Clint pouts. “If anything, I’m the physical manifestation of ‘bi disaster.’” Clint, of course, is banished to the couch. Bucky explained that the last time the guy helped clean up broken dishware, their last roommate had to take him to the local Urgent Care for stitches. “That’s bi erasure!”

“You can hardly blame me. It’s so long that you’ve taken anyone home that I forgot,” Bucky’s saying to Clint, a grin in his voice. Steve’s studiously ignoring them, concentrating on the shards in front of him to try to stop the blush that wants to creep up his neck at Bucky’s smile. It’s just as gorgeous as he is. Steve’s never seen a person so beautiful before, and it’s a daily battle to keep him from humiliating himself. The man was funny, and charming, and Steve has never felt this way about another person before. But they’re roommates, so Bucky’s off limits. And, after all, Steve’s straight. Isn’t he?

The glass, he reminds himself. God, it really had scattered everywhere. Steve has no idea how Clint managed it. Bucky’s laughing. Then something soft but firm hits his face hard, and he’s falling. He sticks a hand out instinctively to catch himself, and is hit with deep regret a moment before a sharp, burning pain.

Clint’s yelling a belated warning.

“Oh fuck, Steve,” Bucky’s voice is saying, and hands are helping him to his feet, guiding him carefully around the glass. Steve chances a glance down, and his stomach lurches at the piece of material he sees sticking out. He fights the haze that’s creeping into his brain, and tries to concentrate on Bucky’s voice, murmuring comforting things as he gets Steve settled onto a kitchen chair. Steve’s mortified at the way his eyes burn as Bucky gently works the shard out, then holds a kitchen towel to the wound, applying firm pressure.

“Oh, Stevie, I’m so sorry,” he says, bringing a spare towel up to dab at Steve’s tears. Steve lets him, still frozen from the event. It’s kind of nice, actually, underneath the embarrassment. “I shouldn’t have been teasing Clint while we were cleaning. Or ducked that pillow.”

“Sorry,” Steve echoes, feeling very small. “I shouldn’t be crying.”

“Sure you should,” Bucky says, putting down the towel and patting his arm. “It was a shock. Completely normal.”

“God, Steve, I’m so sorry,” Clint says miserably from the doorway. “Anything I can do?”

“Grab the first aid kit?” Bucky requests, and Clint nods.

“I can take care of it,” Steve says, embarrassed.

“With one hand?” Bucky raises a skeptical eyebrow. “Just let us help.” The man frowns suddenly, and lifts the edge of the towel. Then his face goes carefully blank.

“Clint?” he calls.

“Yeah?” the man calls back, voice muffled.

“Call a Lyft please!” Then he turns to Steve, and smiles reassuringly. He guides Steve’s free hand to grasp the towel. “Can you hold pressure for a minute, Stevie? I’m going to go grab your shoes.”

“What’s going on?” Steve says, afraid of the answer. But Bucky’s already hurried out of the room. He braces himself, then lifts the towel. Oh, shit.

He ends up getting stitches, Bucky never leaving his side. Underneath the humiliation, Steve feels something warm ballooning in his chest. It’s amazing. It scares him. That feeling only swells when Bucky guides him firmly to the couch when they get back, and settles a throw over him before pulling up Joy of Painting on the TV. They sit together, shoulder to shoulder, and listen to Bob Ross calmly walk them through blocking out sky and ground, then making the space come to life.

They’re three episodes in when Bucky pulls him into a hug. “It’s alright, Steve,” he murmurs, and Steve realizes he’s shaking. “Let it all out.” And Steve does. He’s not sure if he imagines Bucky kissing his temple, but he hopes not. He really hopes not.

He wakes up alone on the couch, eyes sticky, and hand aching. He stares at the ceiling blankly for a minute, before it all comes rushing back to him. God, why is he such an idiot! What was he thinking, crying all over Bucky like that? Now Bucky would never want to go out with him!

Steve’s eyes shoot open. Wait, what?

As he normally does in a crisis, his first instinct is to call Natasha. He hurries to his room, and dials her number.

“Are you in danger?” Natasha asks him, voice tense.

“What? Why would you--no!” he says.

She lets out an exasperated sigh. “What the hell, Steve! It’s almost 2 AM!”

“This is important! I think I like guys,” he says hisses.

“Yeah, I know. So what?”

“You know?” Steve sputters. “What’s that supposed to mean? I didn’t even know!”

“Oh Steve,” Natasha says, fond amusement in her voice. “I’ve known for years. Remember that TA in our Gen Chem Lab?”

Steve does remember. His name had been Brian, and Steve had wanted to impress him so bad. But that was only because Steve wanted to pass, right? He’d conveniently forgotten that he’d lost all interest in the subject as soon as the guy transferred to a new school halfway through the semester. And oh, that would probably explain a lot.

“Oh,” he says faintly. “I never realized.”

Natasha snorts. “Of course you didn’t. So why the call?”

“I’m pretty sure I like this guy, but I just ruined everything,” Steve says miserably.

“Why, what happened?”

“I cut my hand on some glass, and Bucky cleaned me up and took me to get stitches. But then he sat with me on the couch afterward and I cried all over him like an idiot. There’s no way he’s going to want to go out with me now. Not that it matters; there’s no way he feels the same way, he was just being nice,” Steve says in a rush.

“Steve—” Natasha starts to say, but then the door swings open, and Steve jumps, dropping the phone to the floor with a bang.

Bucky’s standing there, face faintly pink and a small smile on his face.

“Buck,” Steve says stupidly. He wishes he could sink straight through the floor. How much did Bucky hear!? “Um. How long were you out there?”

Bucky walks over to him slowly. “Long enough.”

Steve feels himself turn red. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I’ll move out, the last thing I want you to do is feel like you’re being oggled in your own home and I—”

Bucky pulls him into a firm hug, and Steve falters. “I like you too, Stevie,” Bucky murmurs in his ear. “I have for a while.” He presses a gentle kiss to Steve’s cheek and releases him. He smiles. “Want to go cuddle on the couch? We can talk about it over boba tomorrow.”

Steve’s cheeks ache with the force of his responding grin. “Please.”

They’re so wrapped up in each other that neither of them hear the exasperated yelling echoing from the phone with a freshly-cracked screen laying forgotten on the ground.

~~~

Natasha forgives Steve eventually, especially once he introduces her to Bucky. The two of them bond over classic Russian Literature, and Steve couldn’t be happier. Clint teases them relentlessly, and takes credit for getting them together. Of course, he also pays for pizza the next month as an apology for Steve’s hand. And as for Sam…

“I called it!” their landlord crows during his next visit, pointing at the two of them where they’re cuddled together on the couch watching a movie, neither of them wanting to move to let them in. Steve and Bucky look at each other in confusion. “The streak is still alive! I’m telling you, no straight person has ever lived here. The house knows.”

“Maybe,” Steve concedes, with a grin. “I’m really glad to be here, all-knowing house or not.”

Bucky pulls him closer. “Yeah?”

Steve pecks him on the cheek. “Yeah.”

[sugar-petals]

bleeding hearts and happy days [m.]

❖ pairing. | dom!reader x sub!taehyung x sub!baekhyun

❖ summary. | you meet up with two escorts in an abandoned hotel room. 

❖ a/n. | tumblr doesn’t like my sad horny shakespearean fic right here, this is a reupload. random parts of the story disappeared without a trace, so here we go again. 

❖ word count. | 7.1k

❖ genre. | smut, angst, prostitution au, drama — starcrossed lovers

❖ warnings. | major character death implied, polyamory, threesome, bdsm, bondage, femdom, noona kink, cigarettes on skin, smoking kink, harnesses, ball gags, riding, pregnancy kink, crying, slapping, bruises, lace & mesh, tattoos, bj with teeth, lactation kink, aftercare, tae doms baekhyun briefly, hair-pulling, neck pain, spanking, unhealthy relationships, infertility, medication, alcohol, mentioned abuse, jealousy/rivalry, motorcycle accident

❖ masterlist

It’s so late that the reception is long closed. Nobody in this hotel bothers with anything, really. But he has Room 31′s rusty key and a little note with your name on it.

Determined to find the right corridor fast since his watch says he’s running late. Fifteen minutes past the usual time.

The client earlier had simply been a pain, but that’s just life. He moves on, takes the money. One bruise more or less won’t make him any more shattered at this point.

Finding the floor isn’t so difficult. As he suspected, the Incheon Royal is a small hotel indeed despite its big name.

Everyone knows the Royal's heyday has already passed.

It’s harder to tell from the outside because of the neighboring houses that blend into the building complex. All of them are ugly as shit. So Baekhyun would not spend too much time looking at them. He would rather rummage in his red bag to see if he didn’t forget anything.

He’d rather look at you, no matter how bitter-sweet the feeling in his chest is.

That’s why he agreed to do all of this in the first place.

31 is halfway posh judging by the door, but still quite a tiny spot in the very last corner of the house, first floor. Most of the lighting here is defunct, so he uses the brightness of his phone screen boasting a holiday picture from Osaka. He’s glad he got the keys. Knocking would feel so weird, you’ve never done this before.

Fucking each other in a hotel, that is.

You usually meet Baekhyun at his place, or the place as he always says. Which is cozy because he knows how to decorate it with lights and fabric. Who knows who taught him all that. His little space there is great. Unlike the shabby wall that welcomes him here in Room 31′s little hell. The door’s appearance has been deceptive enough. There’s no stench coming from somewhere dodgy in this apartment, gladly. But that’s a very low standard, isn’t it?

And who had the idea to rent this — Kim Taehyung, that handsome motherfucker.

Baekhyun promises himself to smoke five cigarettes later.

He turns to find you in the bathroom trying to detangle your hair after a busy day. The sixth album of The Doors is on repeat in the living room. It makes him hum to the beat, he’s heard it so often. You’re rolling down your stockings when he enters, laughing.

“Are you alright? I’m sorry, this is—”

“Quite perfect, pretty messed up.”

And you’re certain about this. No other spot in the outskirts of Incheon City would be better. Taehyung is not as naïve as literally anyone at the place thinks.

“He booked it with good reason.”

“You sure?”

Baekhyun puts down the key, his bag, and joins you at the sink. He apologizes with three, four, five kisses that it took so long. His lips are chapped.

Every minute stolen hurts each time.

You tousle your hair a bit more.

He strips down and steps into the shower with only his lacy top on — because he knows you like it. It hides some scars, too, ones that he still feels shameful of. There are little roses and thorns embellishing the areas, it’s a lace pattern you haven’t seen on him yet. It’s new.

You’re glad that your money does find its way even if his debt eats it all up. He got himself a new motorcycle as well. Not the fanciest one, but it does the job. It’s parked behind the hotel, he says.

The shower is quick and shallow as not to smudge his makeup. There's already a silent arrangement, it’s your job to do that. He does sing, proud that he gets the more difficult notes right, and says that you don't have to bother with the brushes and combs. You know he'd have your head between your legs by now, but today's different.

Baekhyun continues to belt out more, whatever comes to his mind, and you can almost forget that it's Room 31 you're in.

You want to show him the towels when there’s a hastened knock on the door. He's huffing.

“The sucker's here!”

Baekhyun hurries outside the bathroom, leaving wet blotches all over the carpet on his way. Not that anybody in this hotel would care. Who knows when this carpet has been inspected for the last time.

You hear Taehyung’s agitated, happy voice alternate with Baekhyun’s scolding in the entrance room after the door creaks open. You think your hair won’t get any better no matter what you try anyways, and peek out of the bathroom door grinning.

“I like it here. It’s got antiques, they’re just really dusty.”

“See!” says Taehyung who currently leans an umbrella against the wall. “Knew she likes places like these.”

Baekhyun rolls his eyes. But he won’t say anything now. Taehyung pulls off his trenchcoat smiling. You point at his umbrella.

“It really rained?”

“Was just a quick shower, the weather isn’t bad. Did he have it worse?”

Taehyung cocks a brow up at still-wet Baekhyun.

“Washed up, you just interrupted. The question is, are you clean?”

“Cleaner than a senior getting naked for a client faster than it’s normal.”

Baekhyun bites down hard on his bottom lip. You pull both of them into the living room where the TV is on, showing Cher’s greatest hits or something. It’s just the music channel. Taehyung instantly starts swaying to the beat while Baekhyun remains stiff.

In any other case, he’d probably swallow it up and act like it’s nothing. Clients pay more for a threeway than when he just shows up solo.

But it’s you.

He has learned that he can be himself. Good and bad sides. The latter he has many of. Maybe more of. Taehyung would agree.

To be fair, Baekhyun bears the brunt of questionable clients at his place so you don’t resent him for it. You don’t know about Taehyung. He’s probably not seen the dark side of the business yet. It’s his second time with you and Baekhyun is joining.

In fact, Baekhyun first recommended him to you for an individual session.

Cher keeps on singing, almost taunting while Taehyung flings his mesh jacket to the side and gets into position. You’ve thought a long time about how you’d do all of this, but you got the details down. And everyone agreed. Baekhyun never hesitated.

“Baek, can you pass me the bag?” Taehyung wriggles on the tacky sofa.

“Hey, uppity. It’s not yours. I’ll do that.”

And Baekhyun goes to get the bag and a towel to dry up a bit. The lace top sticks to his chest like a second skin. You can see how he moves his torso differently because he wants to show it off to you.

He returns with two ropes, two polished red ball gags.

Taehyung actually does stay perfectly still when Baekhyun starts making his usual chest harness. Loop here, strap there. It’s astounding how much more serious he is when Taehyung is with him.

You’d pay the world for them, even if Baekhyun once said he’d do it for free because he loves you. He had one bottle too much back then.

Cher switches to Barbra Streisand.

Taehyung grins weirdly once the gag is in place, provoking your smile. He knows he fucked you so good last time that you figured two times the bliss was a good idea. He still has a bruise that's rather colorful.

You proceed to fixate Baekhyun in a similar bondage style. It only takes a bit longer. His hair has dried up a fair bit; the spikes of his bangs almost get into his eyes.

He whispers once you have to bend down closely next to his head.

“Missed it too much. Y/N. They fucked me up.”

You suppress an urge to cry by pulling the rope tighter than usual where you would keep it deliberately loose. All the frustration in the world goes into this one rope. Maybe if you knot him up extra hard, he’ll forget about the days when it’s not you screwing him at the place but another oily, bearded scumbag peeing on him or some priss with gnawed off nails.

“No condoms, as usual?”

He always asks without failure, no matter how often he’s said it. It must have been a hundred times. Your answer is always the same, too.

“Wish something could actually grow in there.”

It’s never easy to say. But the look that follows in Baekhyun’s eyes has never ceased to gleam.

“Don’t you ever worry about it, Noona.”

You can’t reply for long.

“And him?” is all that comes out.

“Taehyung’s tested as well, doc came in on Friday. Seokjin can be strict on us if he really wants it. He can’t risk losing another regular.”

Seokjin, head of the place. You do like him, much more than the majority of other boys that Baekhyun sometimes has to recruit. Taehyung being one of them was a stroke of luck. You still prefer to ride Baekhyun for the night, and have the rope do its job.

But Taehyung does look beautiful tonight with his glossy lips and shiny red pants. When he peels them off, even failing to get it right once or twice, the feeling in your chest is less numb.

Baekhyun's tense, but hard enough for you to slip down on. It’s less than graceful, but you do manage somehow, fingers intertwined with the harness. The pace is raw. You're not wet enough, and he can't get it upright completely. Today’s different.

It's too much effort. Taehyung mires with big eyes and groans away when you bring Baekhyun alive with a couple thrusts. Harder than usual. Little goosebumps loom under the cover of his lace top. Taehyung’s still moaning and grinding, trying to get some friction from the rope that would lend the pleasure he is longing for. But it only hurts. That’ll do, too.

Whatever body spritz Baekhyun is always using, now that it’s gone you can smell the real him. Any shower in the world could not clean him from the way people have treated him for a few dimes, but he’s happy knowing you like his scent as it is.

It’s very sweet naturally, not rich and balmy like any perfume in his collection, nor dusty and rosy and all sandalwood, whatever they use to make it smell really thick. He’s just Baekhyun how you adore him. Vulnerable. Bound underneath you, breath so heavy, inside of you at the mercy of your hips.

A slap to the cheek only makes him harder. Taehyung struggles next to you trying to touch himself.

“Selfish boys get two.”

And you slap Taehyung twice. Three times for good measure. So strong, your own palm hurts. Even if he shakes from the impact, he still scrambles for more and tries to reach his cock. You spit on his face and turn to focus on Baekhyun again, leaving Taehyung red and sulking, even more eager.

You know exactly who taught him how to be so insatiable.

It’s easy to peel off the lacey hem at Baekhyun’s abdomen. You didn’t use too much rope to cover the area. It’s deliberate. Between your fingers blooms the tattoo that he got for your anniversary. The day has been kept secret, although people knew Baekhyun went to the parlor in a more lofty part of town.

It's a fragile stem with a row of bleeding hearts. Some opened, some still buds.

The ink’s crimson color is more vibrant than ever. How he smells like could very well be the scent of flowers, or at least you imagine it to be like that.

The tattoo marks the spot where Baekhyun is the most sensitive. It’s not enough to bounce hard on his cock until he thinks you’ll rip his foreskin right off, it’s not enough to tighten around him, making feel he suffocates just by that.

No, only the bleeding hearts make a difference.

“Who are you to me?” you say, and face the truth looking into his eyes.

“I’m your, your bitch.”

“And what does a bitch do?”

“Give you the best seed I have.”

“Then breed me good, bitch!”

Your thumbs circle in to stroke the tattoo. Not much is needed until he chews on his lip again. Baekhyun's skin is so soft in that spot, you think he went out of the way not shaving it to keep a few of his thin little hairs there.

The blood pressure pops a vein or two in his eyes when you shove your fingers into his mouth and half down his throat. He’s coughing. You keep your hips still for Baekhyun to shoot you up with his dripping release, and continue to bounce taking all the hot cum deeper.

Whenever he stopped counting the positions you tried, you gave up wanting to make it all stay inside.

Taehyung’s gonna sneer over how everyone knows it anyways.

That you’re creaming Baekhyun’s dick without protection every time, and probably have fifteen of his samples in your gyno’s basement freezer. Or your own. He once joked that you’re probably mixing it with a milkshake every morning just to be sure. He knows it tastes good.

When Baekhyun’s semen comes dripping out, you free Taehyung from his ball gag hoping something good and uplifting would come out of his mouth.

“Ever tried using his tears instead, Y/N?”

You were wrong.

The ball gag goes back. You cover the tattoo while Baekhyun’s chest finds its normal rhythm again. As an only solace, the moldy air in the hotel room is now tinted with Baekhyun’s sweat through and through. You say the words as you always do without exception.

“You’ll be my baby father so soon. We’ll be lucky this time.”

“Am all yours.”

Taehyung just sighs, wriggling more again.

"Cheesy fucks can't help it."

Click. Click, click. The lighter has been used so often, you need to give it a go three times until the flame remains standing.

They don’t bother. The hotel. Who knows if they have ever seen the day that the smoking ban was announced back in, well. Many, many years ago. Baekhyun’s jacket had left you with a vast variety to pick from.

And so, he smokes. No hands, you’re the one to tap off the ashes on Taehyung’s chest. In the hopes that it will leave some painful traces. Taehyung hates being a rookie. If there’s something that brings in cash, it’s that he’s experienced and it shows.

Even if he winces every time, or a tear comes from the corner of his eye, he doesn’t make a single noise. His cock stays down, what else would it do, he’s getting burned alive. Baekhyun smiles with the cigarette between his teeth, inhaling a bit deeper each time. The smoke mingles at the ceiling where a broken chandelier dangles back and forth.

He knows how much it hurts, you’ve done it to him twice. Or maybe three times because you’ve asked to do it again. Of course, Taehyung has seen what refused to heal on Baekhyun’s arms and shoulders for weeks. Maybe in the showers. He got jealous, that’s all you know.

“Thighs? Looks empty on there.”

You flick the cigarette from Baekhyun’s mouth again. Taehyung nods, but regrets the decision when you stub the glowing end right in the middle of the curved leg. It’s the spot where he takes care to wax the most. He’s crying, and Baekhyun laughs again.

“Now you’ve got what you wanted. That’ll stay,” he says.

Taehyung opens his mouth for the first time to speak through the tears. The gag leaves its place. The glossy lips part, more demure than ever.

“Thank you, N— noona!”

You reply pinching at Taehyung's loins. The cigarette is back between Baekhyun’s teeth.

“That's what got your dick up, didn’t it.”

Taehyung can only mouth a little Yes. He exhales, averts his gaze. No more eye contact. Just a whimper. You know it's Baekhyun who taught him that.

The cigarette smoke is denser now that you dedicate all of your attention to Taehyung. The grip on his shaft is harder than the first time he came to you. When you thought he'd be so fragile, being new to the game. But you found out he can take a whole lot. Much more than Baekhyun if you’re being honest about it.

Your clit is where the tip of his cock belongs, and where it is abused. Rubbing it, poking it, sliding it back and forth reckless abandon. Smearing Baekhyun’s cum all over the place until it feels all grimy and cold, making its way down your inner thighs. They both observe it drip, and things get hazy in the smoke.

Your fingers give Taehyung tough love in another tight seize so no pre-cum dares to peak out. It’s only until you shake him back and forth that it gets to a level where you feel at least some stimulation. Pressing him against your clit feeling how he trembles from the friction. His little noises amuse you each time.

More whimpers. You continue with a firm hold on his shaft, hoping to find out how far he can please you. He’s getting a taste of what it’s like when you grow your nails out. And shake him more. The feeling becomes stronger. Maybe he can satisfy you today. Work’s been tough, it's deeply needed.

You take a deep breath to inhale the cloud of nicotine that’s been building all around, and ride the wave it brings. Baekhyun will get you hooked on these, fuck him. But you’re breathing it with Taehyung’s dick grazing between your legs.

It's providing at least a bit of heat now that you've gone cold. Making you feel something Baekhyun increasingly won’t manage to fulfill. Well, unless he keeps whispering “I’ll knock you up, mommy” with his cock balls deep up your ass. Because by now, you both believe it’s likelier that you get pregnant this way. Taehyung on the other hand just has to mumble anything to turn you on. His voice is so raspy and deep. Everything about his body feels vital, and voluptuous, so pretty, so fertile.

Baekhyun knows that.

And if that’s what will get you going, he’ll watch like this.

With you cumming all over Taehyung’s cock. It’s such a beautiful icing. The relief is not only physical, but mental. You still chafe him across your labia with no end in sight, because those are the seconds you pay for that Baekhyun can’t give you. Taehyung is glad to be so hard, otherwise he’d break like a straw. You love how thick his girth grows, it likes your hands and their pressure, and you coating him with a fresh creamy glaze.

If Baekhyun is your bitch, Taehyung is your personal joystick to drip on.

You don’t pay him as well as you would like to, but he’s ridiculously cheap. Seokjin won’t let him take tips unless he fucked his way up, it’s how it is. He’s not made a name for himself yet, but the orgasms he gives you leave a special feeling for countless minutes after. It’s probably how much cash Baekhyun makes that causes Taehyung to work so much harder. You can see it in his eyes. But if all goes well, he won’t get money to clear a dozen figures debt like Baekhyun does. That’s what keeps him going. Or maybe he just has a magic dick.

Baekhyun knows the answer. He’d pay Taehyung to get you off himself if only Seokjin allowed it. But, as far as you know, the place has plenty of rules.

Baekhyun can’t stop grinning, but you don’t. Your high faded when he ogled the pack of cigarettes again. There are only few of them left inside, all in shambles.

“Your lungs are tar black already. Before your heart is...”

A few last puffs swirl to the ceiling when you take the cigarette to the center glass table where it fades out. The smell still lingers. You return to flip him around on the spot. A series of firm slaps find their way to Baekhyun’s ass. Every strike buries him deeper in the pillows face down.

“That’s for laughing. If someone laughs, it’s me. Did you get that, babe?”

“I apologize!”

“Don’t do it again.”

“I won’t!”

“His pain is mine to enjoy. Not yours.”

Another smack.

“I promise, I won’t do it again, Noona, please! I won't!”

“Taehyung even said thank you. When will you ever say that, bitch?”

“You know I’ll never be ungrateful, you know it.”

"Mean it, baby?"

"Really do."

Baekhyun is crying. With a bright red ass and makeup completely smudged into the pillow. These are possibly the only two things he has not given up being vain about, and you love ruining them. At the end of the day, it’s what he finds enjoyable about his profession. You’re the only one who is allowed to do it, after all.

“Been a while since I could see you blush. Not just in the face,” you poke his left buttcheek, eliciting a little sniff. “Pity that you cake it on, you always have to cry for me to get that shit off.”

You get to loosen up Taehyung’s rope now. It left deep traces, but it looks good on him.

“The day he wears no makeup is the day he dies,” Taehyung twirls at Baekhyun’s hair, and they both have to smile through the tears.

“At least he’s self-aware,” you drag up the lithe body from the pillow to cry at your chest. You’ve got a white shirt on, but who cares. “Why not cry a bit more for me, baby?”

And maybe Taehyung was right with tears.

Baekhyun has a hard time swallowing up Taehyung’s cock the way you want it. Every tug and shove at the back of his head makes him want to throw up more. All over the place like a decoration for Taehyung’s abdomen, but there’s nothing in his stomach that could possibly come up beside some bitter pulp and a pill. But he keeps on shoving himself down to the rhythm dictated by your hand in his hair, and hopes for the best.

Don’t puke, don’t puke, don’t puke today.

Who knows how often he’s done that. Maybe it’s the only thing his throat is ever useful for. If he's fucked up, he's vivid. Talk's worthless, there is no sense in it. Throwing up on someone's balls at least makes him feel that there's still a bit of life somewhere in his gut. But he'd rather keep it down for the sake of the other.

Food he’s given up on. But if he’s fed cock by you, maybe he feels better about himself. With a little practice, Taehyung is good breakfast, lunch, and dinner. He’ll consider blowing him some other time, maybe with a camera and client involved for some extra cash. Nothing’s for free. Gagging and taking it on the face gets him a bonus, too. Deepthroat is where the money is.

The pain at the back of his neck won’t be getting any better, but his tongue can’t complain. Taehyung did clean himself up just like he said. He could make it far, further than Baekhyun himself, with a huge waiting list at the place. But one thing he can’t do is choke so violently like this. One day, Taehyung might learn even that. A fast learner, isn't he? Yet as long as he gets a cock big enough rammed into his skull on the daily, Baekhyun's the best out there, and the worst in its best sense. If his brain comes out one day, he won't complain either. One less thing to worry about.

Bitches are dumb, that's what they are. Dumb as fuck. They give their mistress good semen instead. And get over neck pain.

The pace is vile. He knows that your arm won’t give up thrusting him down anytime soon. Baekhyun imagines how it must be like having your eyes. How it would be like to see it. Him trying to handle Taehyung’s dick with just a small mouth, good cheeks, no teeth, and a little courage. Gagging and drooling spit all over the place and half unconscious because it’s so good. You love his glossy eyes. They’re always so gorgeous. Baekhyun must be the most beautiful boy in the whole world when he does that. But he's too fast stuffing himself.

Of course, he throws up. Who wouldn’t, you have both of your index fingers hooked inside the corners of his mouth to keep him open wide, and Taehyung just keeps on thrusting his hips upward. The bitter taste alone makes Baekhyun vomit again, this time on the carpet. He’s so dizzy. He needs more cock to feel full and healthy again. You want to give him a minute, but he’s faster than that. Though less swift than Taehyung who knows that once Baekhyun’s stomach is already empty, he can pound away and fully destroy him. But both of them have to obey your pacing.

And this time, your tugging at Baekhyun’s hair is slow and gentle. So Taehyung follows that, too. Baekhyun’s lips look blurry, so crimson all around, and you make sure to hold his head down entirely to swallow Taehyung’s balls. Fucking his neck up entirely so his next client will be desperate in trying to use it, and failing. It's the only way he'll ever be yours. Taehyung's balls inside of him or not.

As far as he can judge with the bitterness in his mouth, they do taste good. Hallelujah, what a day. It’s just that his throat can only handle so many, and cracked lips are hell on earth. Gladly Taehyung has brittle stamina, especially because it’s Mister tightest throat alive sucking him off. At least that’s how the other boys call Baekhyun at the place. He keeps on sucking with that in mind, but the tug at his hair leaves no room for contemplation, nor does Taehyung's growling.

You've heard it before. It's so needy, but deeply hurt. Baekhyun bites down on him at the tap of your finger on his little wrist. The signal.  

Taehyung blows up all messy and sticky until it drops out of Baekhyun’s nose. It's less bitter. How long did he have blue balls? It must have been more than an hour. You do the signal again for Baekhyun to unclench his jaw and bob his head again, to get at least a bit of Taehyung’s semen down. Because ultimately, the more you make him move, the more he has to cough and swallow. Breathing is hard now, but he’ll manage for the remaining seconds until you let go of his hair. He gags down the rest, even with vomit. His eyes are empty, but his cheeks glow.

“My baby did amazing.”

You wipe your sleeve at his nose. It wets almost immediately. Baekhyun sniffs and declines the sleeve, which you retreat. He's exhausted.

At least he doesn't do coke. He does cum.

Baekhyun pops off scrambling at your t-shirt almost immediately, and you curse yourself for not getting rid of it earlier. Even if Taehyung and literally anybody else at the place thinks it’s a little bit silly despite it being so standard, Baekhyun loves to suck your tits to calm himself down. For half an hour, well if he can, attaching to one breast at a time with both hands and his rosebud mouth. If they’d give him even one drop of milk, he would swim the entirety of the Pacific and back to drink it.

Taehyung giggles along while you pull off your shirt and have a clumsy go at it — Baekhyun’s too dizzy still, so he misses the mark as it usually happens. Although Taehyung is easily shushed, it still feels awkward. So you ask him to join. They alternate between sucking and kissing each other, having Taehyung taste his own cum and lubricating Baekhyun’s lips with it. What’s all over the carpet doesn’t really matter. It’s just the smell that makes you want to switch rooms. It’s all over Taehyung, too. So you decide to have the boys finish quite early into today's new fourty minute goal, suavely parting from your breast. The side where Baekhyun had led feels like it was about to tinge, but then again, just leaves a tense aureola for once. Next time, you ponder, would be a good time to admonish him. It's not like sucking dick where you get more for the heavier sucks. It's like love where there is a fine line between trying too hard and doing it just right.

The cubicle of the shower is calcified and rustier than the key to the apartment itself, nor do three people really fit inside the entire construction to begin with. But the showerhead works, so you use that one to get at least a bit of water rain down, and manage to get the grime off the boys and your breasts. Taehyung looks happy when you use too much soap on him, and tries to mess with Baekhyun’s hair so it’ll stand up vertically. With limited success, but Baekhyun is at least trying to retaliate getting Taehyung’s bubbly hair in a mess.

He’s not as sleepy as he usually is, which turns out to be a good sign as you think of it. Baekhyun has probably been rejecting one or two late-night clients recently. He never used to do that. For the sake of his rep, his wallet, his peace of mind because his perfectionism wouldn’t let him off the hook to have a good night’s sleep instead. But he’s not been busy so often in the last three weeks, you can tell by his social media updates and his texts. It’s rare that he gets a break or has the financial backing for it. Then again, it’s only been two clients or so. The ones who’d rather make him unable to go on working, so it would be counterproductive to spread his legs for them. Or maybe it was just Seokjin who made him take a day off out of necessity.

“You stole three of my clients!” Baekhyun goes on shoving water into Taehyung’s direction. “This is what you get for it!”

And there it is. You were wrong again.

“Can’t help being popular,” Taehyung replies ever so nonchalantly by taking the showerhead from you and spritzing Baehyun down head to toe until all the soapy mess is gone. “Clients aren’t deaf to house gossip, they pick new favorites each week.”

You snatch the showerhead back from the braggart and turn it in his direction at full blast. He ends up squealing and dancing in circles to avoid the water where it goes, but soon falls into Baekhyun’s arms because the shower floor is too slippery. Baekhyun flinches a bit when Taehyung rubs against him by accident.

"The tattoo?" Taehyung asks. You rummage with the soap again.

"Never had a day where it didn't feel sensitive," Baekhyun says.

"I want something like that, too, Noona!"

"Tae, you don't have a weak spot as far as I know."

"Really?"

"At least to this degree."

"What was getting it done like?"

"He fainted outside the parlor."

"No way!"

"He didn't drink and eat enough that day and it was boiling hot. The pain was only pulling the trigger on him."

You turn off the showerhead and towel down Baekhyun — save his face of course. He clings to the rest of what’s on there come fire or high water.

Before you can dry up Taehyung, the power is down in the hotel. Only the street lights illuminate the bathroom where you go by their silhouettes to finish up. You can’t tell whether it’s Taehyung, Baekhyun, or both kissing you quick in the dark. It's wet, it's cold, everything spins. A bad feeling in your gut lingers past their sloppy mouths that the night is over, and you're nowhere near the same as before. None of you is.

By the time Taehyung gets his phone to lighten up the hallway, power is back.

“I put some beetroot in the fridge. Go get yourself a slice or two, baby.”

Baekhyun shuffles into the corner, takes a tablecloth to open the fridge because the handle is crusty and yellow. The inside it halfway clean, especially since you put some plates in there earlier. And beetroot. It’s one of the few things he actually likes. It tastes disgusting, leaves red and violet blotches everywhere, and won’t ever make him full. That’s precisely why he likes it. You buy it because of whatever vitamins it has. Taehyung just thinks its weird and sometimes leaves cookies in the hallway for Baekhyun to chew on after he took two clients or so.

“There’s noodles, too. From Mr. Kim’s delivery. If you eat half of it, maybe mommy gives you a kiss on the forehead.”

You’re half joking. Or maybe not. Baekhyun considers the plate at least, removes the wrap, and smells at it. He picks up a fork wordlessly and stirs the meal. Since he doesn’t like being watched while eating, you and Taehyung sit down in the other room to have some chicken. The door in between is shut not to distract him with the smell. You do hear the fridge open and close two times while eating with Taehyung.

He says you did a good job. His chest still hurts. And Baekhyun really bit down hard blowing him so he can still feel it. His Friday clients will appreciate how it'll look like. He’s gonna have his asshole ravaged so hard, some unnerved doc has to stitch it back in. But now’s not the time to think about it. The chicken is delicious and you look so beautiful. He could get used to this. One day he might even have enough money to buy you some elaborate seafood dish from the luxury restaurant opposite to Mr. Kim. Be a good boy to you, get a big tip and a nice fuck. Life could be a dream and chicken is a splendid glimpse of it.

After more rummaging noises in the kitchen, Baekhyun returns with a little soy sauce showing around his mouth. He looks so downcast. You ask how he feels.

"You already know," he mumbles.

"Baby, sometimes even I can't read your mind."

"Hm."

"If you don't want to say it, that's okay."

"Noona..."

"Yes?"

He slumps down next to you, having the corners of his mouth wiped by Taehyung, who also wants to poke his cheeks but retreats his hands when Baekhyun doesn't react.

“Am just an A-class whore," he rubs his neck. "With nowhere to belong. Not worth a dick or dime.”

His voice is hoarse. You kiss his shoulders where the rope wasn't too tense.

“No, you’re mine. Don’t forget that.”

“I—”

“You belong here,” you lay your palm flat on your lap. Then below your chest where the heart is, “here. And here.” You finally place Baekhyun’s little hand at your forehead. “You already know you’re in there all the time, fucker. I'm thinking of you.”

“Some days I...”

“Hush, no more. Off with you to get some sleep.”

"Are you satisfied, Noona?"

"More than words can say. Now, come."

Taehyung guides Baekhyun into the corridor by the hand, checking his own rope marks before covering up. They have half faded, but the ones at his hip remain prominent and still burn a bit too much. Taehyung mumbles something about "cream later" and stuffs his top into the hem of his trousers. Baekhyun says that there's some stuff in his bag to mend it, but Taehyung declines.

“Well look at your makeup,” he coos and wipes down Baekhyun’s cheeks as if he didn’t see him cry.

It’s mostly sweat, isn’t it.

“Hotel Room service got a job tomorrow,” Baekhyun fastens his belt.

“It would be a surprise if that’s even a thing here. I thought you looked around?” you twinkle at him.

“I only see you.”

Taehyung huffs at that with an eye roll, phone out to text Seokjin. He gets a fast reply. He does watch out for his darlings every way, doesn’t he. You’ve met him countless times, he always does your bookings, too. You're sure he'll take care of Baekhyun tonight so he can sleep well.

“You don’t go home?” Taehyung blinks at you.

“I’m staying overnight, it’s convenient. Namjoon arranged a meeting with the team in the city centre tomorrow, just a five-minute walk so I don’t have to commute.”

“At least don’t sleep close to one of these dusty moldy things, Noona,” Baekhyun mumbles.

He nods his head in the direction of the almost decomposing stereo where The Doors are still playing.

“Says my baby hypocrite who’s gonna chain-smoke two packs when he’s out the door.”

You kiss him on the nose. It’s tender.

“Three if I can,” he smiles.

“Ugh, just go and pull a Shakespeare,” Taehyung snorts. He takes his umbrella and shakes it dry. “He’d spew some better jizz without the cigs anyway. That's why your eggs are done for, too. Fucking passive smokers complaining.”

But Baekhyun already picks up the red bag. He’s got the little note with your name on it tucked in at the side. It’s still from the first time you came to him. He did his best to keep any crease out of it. Taehyung looks down realizing that neither of you will talk about it, closing his trench coat. You kiss his forehead and make a silent promise to yourself to invite him again sometime, in a better hotel than this one.

A less pretty messed up place.

Wet drops from the umbrella are the last thing lingering on the carpet when you hear their voices blur in the distance of the corridor. Baekhyun pops a pill before turning the key in at the reception by placing it on its little bronze hook between Room 30 and 32.

Taehyung says he’ll take the car to pick up some groceries at the other end of the main street, and going to Mr. Kim’s to stock up. In the dim light of the backyard, they say goodbye and Baekhyun fastens his leather jacket. He gets out his gloves climbing the motorcycle parked in the corner with a deep exhale. Everything hurts. His ass feels like it could fall apart any second just sitting. All the dirty makeup has come off entirely by now judging by the tired reflection of the side mirror. His lace top is sticky against his chest underneath the jacket already. It’s cold sweat dripping down to his abdomen. The hearts are truly bleeding now.

Epilogue: Osaka

All of the streets are empty like his mind. He’ll get fucked up with another bottle later while Taehyung appeases some late-night clients. Probably by charming the bouncer a bit more than usual and telling him that Baekhyun took a lot of pills. Which won't be a lie. Your next time is already scheduled. Until then, Baekhyun hopes nobody finds drugs in the wrong spot or they let minors in by chance and the press picks up on it. The place is just too corrupt to prevail for a long time either way. Maybe he can move in with you next year if he isn’t done for by then. Enjoy a July afternoon in Seoul downtown, an iced coffee, an evening on the terrace opposite Mr. Kim's where there's live music. Pay the bills because it’s romantic. Pay the taxes because it's what a good citizen does. Quit smoking, retire from the place and earn money elsewhere. Eat healthy and get a proper sample for the fridge. Prepare to be a good father if you’re lucky that time. Be less deadbeat and more alive. Forget about everything. Maybe one day you’ll have fucked him so much, you pretty much bought him whole and he’s free. No debt left, no memories. That's why he hates to eat, it puts him as far away from that state of mind as possible: An everlasting blank slate. The final solace that never really came.

Recently, he has been wondering if that time ever comes. He coughs up blood, he can’t sleep, his lungs are so tense when breathing. Only more smoking can ease the pain, right? He’s so stupid. A bright red Friday circle brightens up his calendar in three weeks, that’s good news. Around the hours when you plan coming home from work. You’ll be meeting in your flat for the first time. There will be coffee, not iced, but not any more bottles and power down every two hours. Seokjin agreed he can go there as long as he does what he’s supposed to do, and brings back the money he’s supposed to get. But three weeks are a long time. Those are many clients out the door with his dignity on the line, and how many missed meals just to have a waist more lithe, how many hours of being wide awake? He doesn’t care. Been there, done that.

It’s almost spring, which means you’ll travel back to Osaka together. Watch the cherry blossoms, visit the temples. Send Taehyung cute postcards the old-fashioned way even if the stamps are expensive. Kiss and pose for selfies because it’s a better life together. And never touch nicotine again before his insides fade to black. Blot and blur. Much like the road, the street lights. They're on the brink of day, but melting past his eyes like a spiraling void. Baekhyun's so cold, it's not just the lace top. Nothing feels meaningful anymore when he imagines the future, and he's content. There's nothing of importance in this moment except that. The road of life carries on whether he follows it or not. The street lights warp into a pulsating vortex, it's a heartbeat. Everything he likes about you passes before his eye. The way you carry yourself. How you put a little heart at the bottom of the note, and told him he's handsome. The habit you have, getting up at 5:30 am to send him a text if the shift was okay. How you smile and make everything a little better. Everything feels liberated when he thinks about it. It's a feeling taking over each and every limb, the sweetest anesthesia. Maybe you can be his blank slate. Close the vortex once and for all. He doesn't hit the breaks for the turn the alley ahead, he just falls. It doesn't matter. Baekhyun is sure about it, and that's the only bit of peace he can ever have. You would have been happy one day. So, so happy.

© 2017-2018 submissive-bangtan. All rights reserved.  Reposts, modifications, and translations are not permitted. 

[catsprobably]

New Fan

Request: can you write for James where his wife is giving birth to their second child, a baby boy this time, and Salomé's reaction meeting the baby?

AN: Wow this was very cute and I loved writing it. I’m very sorry for not posting anything for such a long time :/ I have an Emotional™️ fic planned for the future based off some of the requests you guys sent in, so watch out for that soon. Thanks for your support!

Warnings: EXTREME FLUFF, mentions of a miscarriage

Word Count: 1729

Your husband began to cook dinner, stirring the pot on the stove in the kitchen. You and James had been married just over a year before the two of you decided to try for a baby and after only a few months you found out you were expecting. But then there was the miscarriage. It broke your heart. And it took you and James a long time to heal from that. You had taken a break from trying. You weren’t ready to go through anything like that again. But it seems as though life had different plans.

Now you were almost 4 months pregnant. The doctor said you and the baby were in excellent health. You were terrified but the excitement you felt was beginning to overpower that. Both of you were excited, although James was overly excited after finding out it was a boy. The two of you still hadn’t picked out a name for the baby, however, but you weren’t stressed about it. You had plenty of time.

You were worried about telling Salomé. The two of you had bonded quickly when you started dating James and now she was like your own daughter. You loved her so much and you felt guilty for not telling her yet, but to be fair only James actually knew you were expecting. But now you decided it was time to tell her. You couldn’t hide your bump with oversized t-shirts anymore.

James and you had gotten her a shirt that said “Best Big Sister” and wrapped it for her to open. It was blue, her favorite color, with white, cursive lettering and cute little daisies.

“(Y/N)!” Salomé ran through the front door and straight over to you.

“Hi, sweetheart. Did you have fun at school today?”

She nodded excitedly and looked up at you with big brown eyes. James came through the kitchen opening with Salo’s present.

“Hello, Princesa,” he said and she ran over to him, jumping into his open arms. He picked her up and spun her around before depositing her on a chair in the dining room. “Salo, (Y/N) and I wanted to give you something,” he handed her the box with the shiny green and white striped paper.

She tore into the paper and pulled the top off the box. She pulled out the shirt and furrowed her brows, reading the writing on the shirt.

“What does it say, Salo?”

“Best Big Sister? But I’m not a big sister,” she said in confusion. She looked at the two of you for clarification, and then noticed your hand on your swollen belly. Her eyes widened, “you’re going to have a baby?”

You nodded and she jumped up, wrapping her arms around you in a hug. “ So you’re excited to be a big sister?” You asked, pulling back to look at her face and smooth the curls away from her eyes. You felt James move to stand behind you and you gently lean back against him

“Yes!!! Is it a boy or a girl?”

“A boy.”

“Yay! Ohmygosh! I’m so excited!”

You felt James laugh behind you, and Salo pulled back and untangled herself from your arms. “He’ll be here in a few months. Do you want to see his room?” You had put his room across the hall from her room, hoping she wouldn’t protest. Salo nodded and you led her to the nursery.

The rest of the evening was spent answering her many questions (“where do babies come from?” utterly terrified James and you thought he was going to have an aneurism when she asked that). Eventually she calmed down and the two of you managed to convince her to go to sleep for the night.

And the next couple months passed in a blur, everything moving much quicker than you had anticipated. Everyday you felt more and more like a whale and you ankles and feet began to swell from the baby. Your back and breasts and feet and basically everything ached all. The. Time. After 8 and a half months, you were more than ready for this pregnancy to be done. You and James spent every minute of your free time preparing for the baby, painting the nursery, building the crib (Ikea was currently on your bad list) and reading every baby book you got your hands on.

Salo also helped prepare for the baby. She insisted on painting your toenails to cheer you up, because you definitely couldn’t reach your feet. She helped paint the nursery and she helped you back your overnight bag for in the hospital.

You particularly appreciated James and his extra attention. He was always mindful of what might be ailing you, he rubbed your feet when he knew you had been standing a lot during the day, and he massaged your shoulders when he saw you grimace and reach for them. He also cooked most of the meals, and catered to all the weird cravings you had. The two of you had been going to lamaze classes and you felt well prepared for this baby.

Until your water broke.

It was late, about 10 at night, when you felt the liquid running down your legs. You gasped at the feeling and James rushed into the kitchen where you had gone to get a snack for the two of you.

“Well, I guess we’re not watching a movie tonight.” He laughed at the annoyed expression on your face as you said that and pulled you into a hug.

“Hey, we don’t have to leave yet. Have you had any contractions? We don’t have to leave until they’re 7 minutes apart.”

You were about to tell him you hadn’t felt anything yet when your first contraction ripped through you, making you double over and clench your eyes shut for a moment before the pain faded and you straightened.

“Alright I guess I’ll start the stop watching to see how far apart they are.”

You nodded and began to waddle away to change out of your wet clothes.

You came back downstairs a few minutes later, in a loose maternity dress, just as another contraction began. After the pain faded you turned to James, “how long was that?”

“8 and a half minutes. We could leave now if you want. We do have to drop Salo off with Thiago.”

You nodded, “I’ll go get my bag and call him. Do you want to get Salo? I’ll meet you at the car.”

In 10 minutes you hobbled back down the steps with your bag in tow, having called Thiago to tell him you were coming. James’ Bayern teammate was more than excited to finally meet the newest FC Bayern fan.

You met James at the car and he took your bag and tossed it in the back, along with Salo’s. He started the car and drove the 15 minutes to Thiago’s house, who met you at the door and cradled a sleepy Salomé in one arm and her bag in the other and wished you luck before heading back inside.

James pulled back out onto the highway and another contraction, your sixth (you thought, although you had kind of lost count) started to tear through you. James saw your pained expression and grasped your hand tight in his, keeping you grounded and letting you know you weren’t alone in this.

When you got to the hospital they rushed you to delivery where you met your OB/GYN. After several long hours of labor, (you were cursing James half the time for putting you in this situation) you finally got hold your baby boy.

The nurse placed him into your arms and James came to stand next to you, placing an arm around your shoulders.

“He so… perfect,” you whispered as the baby cooed.

James was silent for a moment, taking in his son. “We still have to pick a name for him.”

“How about (B/N)?”

“I love it,” James said, kissing your forehead and resting his head next to yours.

It was early morning, about 8, so James figured Thiago and Salo would be awake by now, and he left you alone with (B/N), who was looking up at you with James’ big brown eyes. You held his tiny pink hand and made baby noises to your bundle of joy. After almost half an hour, James returned to your room and peaked his head in.

“Are you up for some visitors?”

You were tired but you didn’t think you could sleep anyway so you nodded and he opened the door and Thiago stepped in with Salo.

You gave them a tired smile. “Salo, do you want to meet your new brother (B/N)?”

She tentatively stepped towards you and you leaned towards her so she could see the baby.

“Do you want to hold him with Daddy’s help?” She nodded, not taking her eyes off her little brother. You handed your son to James, who sat on the chair near the bed. Salomé climbed up into his lap and he wrapped his arms around her and help the baby in front of her. You watched the two of them for a little, a small smile coming across your face.

“You’re exhausted, huh?” Thiago stood next to your bed, his arms crossed as he watched the others.

“Oh my god you have no idea,” you said with a small laugh.

“I can imagine,” he said with the hint of a smile, “hey, guys, why don’t we take this party outside so Mommy can get some rest?”

James and Salo looked up from the baby and James’ eyes fell on you, a look of guilt and sympathy crossing his face. “That’s a great idea, uncle Thiago. Can you take the baby for a second?” He handed (B/N) over to Thiago and Thiago and Salo made their way to the door. James leaned down next to you and kissed you on the forehead. “We’ll be back in a bit. Get some rest. I love you.”

You smiled and pulled him down for a quick kiss on the lips, the taste of coffee lingered on your tongue from his lips. “Thank you. I love you too.” James turned and joined Thiago and Salomé and you collapsed back onto the pillows, closing your eyes and falling into an exhausted but peaceful sleep.

[vaultsexteen]

It was close to 5 in the morning right now, but it wasn’t like anyone could tell - Alaska was always dark as shit, doubly so when snowstorms blotted out the sky, and Skinny Dick’s eyes were so shot to hell that he had a tough time even when the sun was out. Which was why at Skinny Dick’s Inn, the lights always stayed on, 24/7; it was a beacon for any weary travelers going down the old highways leading up to Fairbanks, and it helped Dick not stumble into any of the stuffed animals when he wanted to go to the old outhouse to take a leak.

Now, as a bartender, he’d seen his fair share of folks who were down and out on their luck: mercs after a job gone bust, people with barely a cap to their name trying to stave off frostbite, that kind of thing. A lot of them came through Skinny Dick’s bar, and most of them got a room at the inn and went away by the next day, off to the next job - or the next bar, if they weren’t so lucky.

He’s been kind of wracking his brain with this latest one, though - a ghoul in a fancy brahmin-leather overcoat and gloves had come in, and she’d rented a room for a whole week. Usually, she’d go out, come back and buy a lot of the hard stuff, go to her room for the night, and return the bottles in the morning. After a few days, it looks like she opted to stay at the bar this time; in fact, she’d been at the bar all day, chatting up the other customers and even getting a bit friendly with a couple of them. Right now, as he was tidying up for the morning, she was sat at the far end of the bar nursing her sixth bottle of Skinny Dick’s Special Hooch, looking like she was gonna burn a hole in the cabin with nothing but her stare. He’d put a few plays on the jukebox, for his sake as much as hers - it was pretty hard to be sad to Let The Good Times Roll, after all.

Positioning himself behind the bar to take stock of whatever spirits he still had left, he figured that he might as well try to check up on the tenant. “Anything else I can get’cha?”

She shakes her head, and smirks. “Nah. You can take this one back,” she said, raising the now-empty bottle triumphantly.

A bottle of Special Hooch was enough to get a ghoul drunk, and six bottles were probably enough to give even a ghoul alcohol poisoning, but she’d gone through all of them like they were water and she didn’t seem any more wasted for it. Skinny Dick didn’t know whether to feel impressed, terrified, or just sad about that; he just nodded and took the bottle, then stashed it under the bar to take back to the still later.

Meanwhile, the tenant had taken out a small, colorful glass pipe and a lighter from her coat, and then lit the pipe. A smell that was something between rubbing alcohol and battery acid began to fill the air as she took a few puffs.

“What’s that, there?” he asked, mostly curious. No way in hell it could be tobacco, and if it was some kind of mutated strain of weed, it was really mutated.

The acid smoke formed a small cloud around her as she laughed. “Got the recipe from out west,” she says, “from a bunch of ghouls in… where was it?” She turns the pipe over, and smiles. “Mexico, I think. Yanks call it smooch.”

“Smells like an energy cell shit itself,” he chuckles. “Jesus, what’s in that?”

Her smile widens. “Hey, irradiated cave fungus and Abraxo can do wonders. You should try it for yourself,” she says, holding out the pipe.

Well, if Skinny Dick stands for anything, it’s that everything ought to be tried at least once. And if he drops dead, it’ll at least have been in the spirit of exploration - so he takes the pipe, takes a hit, and waits to become the first ghoul ever launched into space. It doesn’t happen, but he does feel a bit lighter, just like how he remembers how a reefer used to make him feel. Plenty impressive, he’ll give it that.

“Good, huh?” she says, looking the most at ease he’s ever seen her. “And there was only a drop of the stuff in that kindling. It’s plenty potent - so I wouldn’t recommend it for humans.” She takes the pipe back, and takes another puff. “Tends to turn ‘em into vegetables. Makes a killing in the ghoul market, though.”

He leans over the bar, the old wood creaking under his weight. “Say, you wouldn’t happen to know where anybody could get a dealer for that stuff, wouldja?” he whispers, though there’s no real need to. “A fella might be looking to buy some real soon.”

Her smile only grew bigger. “You lookin’ at ‘er.” She lets the pipe hang around her mouth as she extends a hand. “Chives Chen, independent trader, at your service.”

“Skinny Dick,” he says, taking her hand in his own, “owner and proprietor of Skinny Dick’s.”

“Committed to the brand.” Chives nods once. “I like that.” Pulling her hand away, she rests her elbows on the bar and cradles her head in her other hand. “Listen, Dick, can I talk to you on the level?”

He shrugs. “Shoot. We’re talkin’ now, right?”

“Right…” She sits up straight, and folds her hands like she’s playing poker, without the cards. “Listen, my company is interested in expanding our routes, see, and I heard from a little birdie that the Alaskan frontier might be in the market for some Brahma.”

“Y’ heard right. Always willing to trade for more meat around these parts.” He finds himself nodding along - so far, he likes the cut of her jib. “Not a lot of grazing ‘round here, see, and folks need all the grub they can get. Hard enough to keep everybody halfway fed in here, so I could use a steady line of beef.”

She raises her brows, then. “My good Dick,” she says, hint of a laugh tinting her voice, “I think you misunderstood me. I never said I was selling any meat.”

“What d’you got, then? Leather? Horns?” He pauses. “Glue...?”

“Keep going. Maybe you’ll even get it.”

“Don’t make me guess, ma’am,” he groans, throwing his hands up. “I feel like I’m on an episode of Red Tag, over here!” He can’t help but laugh at his own joke, even if there was no way in hell anyone would’ve cared about remembering old game shows.

She takes the pipe out of her mouth and takes a long drag - the smell of the weird smoke doesn’t really get any better with time, especially not when it was being blown in your face. “That was the one Johnny Collins hosted, right?”

“Right, right.” He takes out his own leather pouch of hand-rolled tobacco from his apron, and strikes a match. “Y’know, he’d say somethin’ like, ‘you’re it, America!’, and he’d ask people these fuckin’ impossible questions while they did these challenges…” He lights the cigarette, then takes a long, deep breath.

“Yeah, swimming through jello and trying to hit an apple on some guy’s head,” she adds, laughing. “You could win shit like, what, a voucher for one week’s worth of gas? A whole case of smokes?”

“If you were lucky, you could win a trip to Hawaii or something.” He takes an ashtray out from behind the bar, and taps some ash into it. “Say, you ever been there?”

Chives shakes her head. “Lots of places under the sun I ain’t been to yet, Dick, and that includes most of The Last Frontier.” She dumps out some acidic-smelling ash from her pipe onto the ashtray, and sighs. “I’ll cut right past the fat of it, man. I got a lot of people out in California who have a lot of jet to sell. You want in, or what?”

“...Oh,” he says, halfway into putting the cig near his lipless mouth, “oh, that was it.” He leans back, crossing his arms. “Yeah - nah. Not that I don’t like jet, but… look, you’re not gonna find much buyers for that ‘round here.” He takes a drag and adds, “Down south in Anchorage, though, I hear they eat jet for breakfast, so you might wanna take a look-see for your friends over there.” He taps his chin, then, as he struggles to remember something else. “Some other folks, too… damn, what was it called again? Psykerjet? Ah, I dunno exactly, but they like that shit.”

Chives doesn’t look disappointed by the news; in fact, there’s a new glint in her eye that would’ve been easy to miss, but he’s seen it before. “Alright. Thanks for the tip, Dick.” She puts her pipe back in her coat, pulls out a single cap, and she sets it on the bar as gently as can be. Then she gets up, and walks off in the direction of the rooms. “You’ve been a big help.”

“No prob,” he says, but she’s soon out of sight. He takes the time to inspect the cap she set down; an old, relatively unbent Sunset Sarsaparilla bottle-cap. He thought there was nothing special about it besides the fact that Sunset caps were pretty rare around these parts, until he turned it around - there, someone had painted a shiny, blue star in the middle.

When he came back from the outhouse to do his usual morning rounds at the rooms, he saw that the room Chives had rented was pretty tidy already. He takes a final look around - she hadn’t moved much stuff around or hid anything in the floorboards, which was fine and dandy with him. Skinny Dick supposed that she’d packed her bags and moved on to the next job - or the next bar, if it came down to that - but he found himself rooting for her all the same.

[littleredroseonthevalley]

Wildest Dreams

Summary: A New Year’s. A wedding reception. Two parties, set apart in time, spell a begining and an end in Emily’s life.

Rating: M -  Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16 with non-explicit suggestive adult themes, references to some violence, or coarse language.

Notes: Hello, everyone! I wanted to do a Nathan piece for weeks now, especially after The Big Reveal on TJ. My first attempt was ‘An Opera on Separation’, but Zig ended up worming his way there and it turned out to be less about Nathan and more about Emily getting over Nathan and ending up on the arms of Ziggy-Pop himself.

Then, last Thursday, I heard ‘Wildest Dreams’ by Taylor Swift while trying to come up for a new number for my dance crew and it really inspired me!

Oh, and a fair warning, this is NOT a part of ‘An Opera on Separation’ universe. This is a completely separate one-shot. Perhaps I ought to take a page from my fellow authors and change the MC’s name, but I tend to prefer the default name for reasons.

And I used the ‘An Opera on Separation’ taglist. Sue me.

Emily was leaning against a wall and wishing she was dead.

Who the Hell decides to break with someone just outside a Starbucks? On the day before Christmas Eve, no less?

Emily’s ex does.

She sighed once more. Her holidays were miserable over it, as her family expected her to bring her significant other to the feast. Showing up alone was right depressive.

Returning to work on the 26th hadn’t been any easier, as somehow the entire office building where she worked as a secretary ended up figuring out about her shameful break-up before lunch hour. That certainly thwarted her hopes of having at least half a day of peace.

Consequentially, all her colleagues insisted terribly for her to attend the building’s New Year’s Eve party, as a way to ‘get back on the horse’, so to speak.

She pushed back as hard as she could, but she ended up caving. She supposed she could hang around until ten or so, have some cheap liquor and leave to spend midnight the way God intended.

Drunk and alone on her bed.

What the young woman did not count on was the fact that the hours between eight and ten would be Chinese torture in form of a company gathering.

Everyone around her seemed to be drunk on the sad excuse for champagne the company had provided, and the friskier were coupling up in bizarre pairings, like Crystal, the sour receptionist, and Dan, the Porno King from accounting.

Those scenes of moral decadence only served to further Emily’s depression. Despite attending a prestigious university and having academic honours, she was stuck at the same dead-end job as the woman who seemingly collected chocolate wrappings on her desk drawer.

Corporate America was a soul-sucking monster and that girl was out of soul to give.

Feeling claustrophobic, the woman unlatched herself from her spot on the wall and walked over to the balcony for some air. The place was thankfully devoid of people, except for a blond guy who was smoking and leaning against the railing.

She considered leaving, but the idea of returning to the crowd was enough for giving her a small anxiety attack. No, if she hung out on the opposite end as him, perhaps he wouldn’t notice, or would pick up the cue and leave her be.

And it worked for a while, she could sit down on the dirty floor and stretch her aching legs. The man finishes his cigarette and picks another one from his suit jacket and tries to light it, to no avail.

He sighed loudly and seemed to curse under his breath. He, then, turned to her and said, amicably: “Hi-ya.”

She looks over to him and takes a moment to realize he’s talking to her. Then, she responds with a lazy: “Hey.”

“Do you have some fire?” He asks, rather supplicant. “My lighter seems to have given up on me.”

“No, sorry. Non-smoker.” The woman answers, still wishing for the man to go away.

“Such is my luck. Perhaps it’s a sign that I smoked way too much today. It’s a nasty habit, but I never had it in me to stop.” He snorts, anxious. “What brings you to the smoking area?”

She looked at him, confused. “This is the smoking area?”

“Yep.” He popped the p and pointed to the ash dispensers around the balcony. “I’ll go ahead and say you wanted a break from all that inside.”

The young woman sported a small side smile over the comment. “Pretty much. And to stay out of Crystal line of sight. After she’s done with Dan, she’ll have nothing else to lose.”

“Dan still works here?” The blond asks, more to himself, surprised. “I was sure he’d be fired after all the data leaking.”

“You and me both, pal.” She says, while sipping her beverage. “ The virus got into the system through one of his porn movies, after all.”

“I think whom you really should look out for is Marcia from HR. I saw her pulling a busboy into a closet some half an hour ago. That woman is insatiable!” The guy bemoans, well-humored.

Emily raises a well-kept eyebrow, throws a smirk and says: “You speak out of experience?”

He laughs. “Jesus, no. It wasn’t over her lack of interest, though.”

“How conceited!” She accused, smiling. “I’m Emily, by the way.”

He also smiled, charmingly. “Nathan. Nice to meet you.”

“Nathan? Like the boss?” She asks, curious.

“You know the CEO?” He responds, surprised.

She nods. “Well, yeah, I’m one of his secretaries.”

“Ah, cool.” He shakes his fair head. “Life-long dream of being a secretary?”

The statement was ridiculous enough to drag a loud laughter out of the girl. “No way. I’m a writer. Well, I was a writer.”

“What happened?” He asks, taking a seat next to her.

“It happened no one wanted to pick up my manuscript. Then I tried to self-publish, but that fell through pretty quickly.” She sighed. “After that, I decided to cut my losses and had a friend wire me with this gig. So here I am.”

He grimaces. “I’m sorry for that. If it makes you feel better, I always wanted to be an anthropologist, but my dad thought going on field studies resembled too much a vagabond lifestyle and argued that corporate law would be much more my speed. And so, here I am, and guess what?”

“What?”

“Corporate law sucks.” They laugh.

“It does make me feel a little better.” She pokes.

“Well, I’m glad my misery is amusing to you.” The man smirks with his shiny pearly teeth.

“What brings you to this disgrace of a party?” Emily asks, blunt.

“It was a pretty good excuse not to attend my parents’ disgrace of a party.” He responds with a shrug. “You?”

“Some of the girls at the desk thought it’d be depressing for me to spend New Year’s alone, so they nagged me until I agreed to come.” She throws back an offending lock of hair.

He hummed. “That may be the reasoning of most of the people in here tonight.”

“Damn year ending on a Wednesday.” She huffs. “I suppose it’s fitting. A mediocre year ending on a mediocre day.”

“I’d drink to that.” The blond echoes.

“Cheers!” She raises her lonely red cup.

Emily was going all out for that party later tonight. She had only just left the hairdresser’s and was ready for putting on the dress, which hung at her closet door for over a week in anticipation for tonight.

The piece had been handpicked. She’d much prefer a Paco Rabane, but the evening required some demure, and so she went with a blue-and-gold, slit on the leg, Gucci ball gown and a matching clutch. The also blue high heels disguised her short stature and highlighted her lean legs.

Finally, the jewellery. She was covered in diamonds, from his earrings, neck and hands, everything was adorned with pieces which sported the precious gem. Even her hair was held up with an encrusted pin.

She put on the luxurious outfit and sat down to do her makeup. Supposedly, she could have had it done at the beauty parlour, but she rarely liked the results when she let others do it for her. Not to mention, she was rather disgusted with the shared brushes and products.

No, she was a dextrous woman. She could do it herself.

First, the base on her cheeks, to disguise small acne scars, some sun damage and the insistent swelling from the past few days. Then, a smidge of blush, for a healthy colouring. Emily was way too pale for her own good.

Next, the eyes. Eyeliner and mascara would make her eyes pop against the white, and now unmarred, skin. Then the mandatory red lipstick, carefully applied to her full lips.

It was a night event, she could humour herself and splurge a little with the products and not look like a clown.

When she was finally done, she picked up the clutch and checked her money, phone and documents. Then, fetching the car keys, left for the party.

“Have these naval charts approved by Tuesday, and have my car picked up from the shop first thing in the morning.” The greying-haired man ordered with little as much as a look to the young woman standing by his desk.

“Yes, Mr. Sterling, sir.” She nods and writes down his commands at her planner.

“You may go now, Emily.” He dismisses, and the girl excuses herself.

Closing the door with care, she returns to her seat at the desk she shares with two other secretaries, Kate and Jess.

“I don’t know how you can deal with that dick and keep that stupid smile on your face.” Jess mentions with a sneer.

Emily shrugged. “I’m happy these days. It won’t be Mr. Sterling who’ll pop my bubble.”

Kate scoffs, her sixth sense for a good piece of gossip tingling hard. “Happy, right. Just the other day you’re lamenting on the corners because of what’s-their-name. When we’ll know the name of this ‘happiness’ of yours?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” The other responds but couldn’t contain the smirk.

“Yeah, sure!” Kate shouts and points accusingly. “You totally smiled. Come on! Please, please, please!”

“No! Just drop it.” Emily said, good-naturedly.

“Kate, Emily’s entitled to her secrets.” Jess said, not as much to defend her as to get the other girl to sit quiet. Emily never could understand why, but Jess was never much of her fan.

“Fine.” She huffed in response. “Meanie.”

The three women finished their shift and parted ways at the company’s doorstep. Emily walked over to the subway station with a skip on her step. She did not lie when she said she was very happy to be brought down these days.

Life was much too good when you’re in love.

Reaching her modest one-bedroom apartment, she quickly changed her clothes and put herself to work. Her boyfriend would be stopping by later tonight, and would stay for dinner, so Emily had to whip out a first-class meal and clean up the place by nine.

Dating her boss’ son was something that the redhaired did not planned for, it just happened, and it certainly took some adapting. Their relationship had to be kept under wraps, lest Jess and the other employees think she’d receive preferential treatment.

But it was worth it. When Nathan said he was actually Nathan Sterling, III, it shocked her. She felt rather betrayed, as he kept that slight detail for over a month of going out, and the ‘no-telling rule’ was rather uncomfortable.

But Nathan was also a caring, loving boyfriend. He makes her feel like a princess every day he’s with her. He called or texted three times a day, just to check on her and talk about their day. He showered with gifts, ranging from the romantic, like flowers, to the lavish, like diamonds, to the thoughtful, like a first-edition of her favourite childhood book, ‘Charlie and the Chocolate Factory’.

In the end, forfeiting bragging rights to Kate was a too small of a sacrifice. She loved Nathan, she wanted to be with him. Waiting until such time she could quit her miserable job for ‘coming out’ to her friends was absolutely worth it.

At exactly nine o’clock, a knock on the door jump-start Emily from the oven to skip over to the living room. She opens the door with a wide smile and says: “Hello!”

Nathan doesn’t say a thing, he prefers to let down the bags he’d been holding, picking up the woman by her waist and twirl her over the cramped living room, eliciting giggles from the redhead.

Reaching the middle of the room, he smiled broadly, kissed her nose and said: “Good evening, Emily. How you’re doing?”

“I’m fine. Better now.” She unwrapped herself from his arms. “Just sit down, I’ll finish dinner in a moment.”

“Great, I’m famished!” He says, boisterous. “By the way, I brought some wine.”

“I’ll grab the bottle opener.” She shouts from the kitchen.

Soon enough, Emily emerges with a carbonara, two glasses and a bottle opener and sets them on the table.

“And I brought another thing, as well.” The blond says, a wicked smile on his face.

The redhaired couldn’t help but smile over the man’s childish antics. “What is it?”

“Well, remember you said Tuesday you wanted to go out dancing?” He asks, but before she could answer, he continues. “I felt really guilty I couldn’t take you, BUT, I could bring an iPod and a sound box. So get ready, Em, ‘cause tonight we’re dancing on the hottest and most exclusive club in the city!”

Emily beamed at the surprise. She walks over to him and kisses him deeply, until them both are out of air. After they break apart, she says: “I love you.”

“I love you more.” He smirks and bends down to kiss her again.

She was up in the sky, and no-one would bring her down.

The party venue was a good two-hour drive from her place, across state lines. But it did not matter, Emily enjoyed driving on the highway, with the high speed cleansing her frustrations and the hustle-bustle of people driving across the land engaging her mind.

She enjoyed looking at the vehicles passing by, looking at the faraway license plates and conjecturing stories about its passengers, where they were going and from where they came.

The ferry that took her to Martha’s Vineyard was no less of an enjoyable experience, feeling the salty wind hitting her face and observing the great reddish-blue expanse of the ocean beyond the sound.

Once at the wealthy suburb, she drove to a small, wooded area near the country club. She decided to walk to the venue, her old, rusty and noisy Kia would certainly be too much of a difference from the imported, luxury cars that filled the valet service.

No, she was aiming a low profile that night, and that sky-blue old machine would not do.

The fifteen-minute walk from the gates to the main salon was harder than she expected, given the heels were less for movement and more for show. Her feet would remember this night tomorrow morning.

Emily reaches the ostentatious French doors at the club entrance and gives her invitation to the usher. The young man greets her with a smile and walks her over to her seat.

A server comes and offers her champagne, which she gracefully accepts a flute and made herself comfortable.

The party was about to start.

“Emily, please, say something.” Nathan pleaded, looking hurt at her while she just shrunk further within the couch. The woman was silently looking at the void for over fifteen minutes now.

“I think you should leave.” Emily complied, letting out the phrase in a hoarse voice.

He really wanted to fight, to scream, to stay and have her react. Even if it meant she would throw something pointy and hard at him.

But, in the end, the whole thing was breaking his heart as well and he was never one with high threshold for pain, so he complied to her wish and walked over to the door. Before stepping out, he turns back one last time and says: “Call me if you want to talk. Anytime.”

Emily did not respond. After Nathan shuts the door on his way out, she did not make a sound. She enjoyed the silence of the house, she noted the tiny steps of bugs in the kitchen, the dripping of raindrops on the windows and the leakage on the sink.

The first thought that hit her with some reasoning came who knows how later in the day, and it was a simple phrase.

Nathan’s engaged.

An arranged match, he said. Kassidy Marquez’s family controlled port infrastructure around the Gulf of Mexico, and it was a big move for a shipping company, as large as it was, still confined within the Northeastern Seaboard.

He came by that afternoon to tell her of his father’s decision, to have him wed the young girl. He confessed to know Kassidy from college, and to have casually dated her in the past, but assured Emily of his ‘undying love and devotion’.

Nathan also expressed his intentions to maintain a relationship between them, even on the event of his marriage.

She didn’t want to think about it. She couldn’t think about it now. She was out of breath, like she was drowning in dry land.

She just wanted to draw the drapes and pretend she was dead.

“Oh my, Emily, you’re such a delight!” The older woman says, laughing of something the girl had said.

“You’re too kind, Mrs. Franklin.” The redhead smiled politely.

“What’s your relation to the couple, again?” The other wonders, remembering she had not been told.

“Oh, I’m a working colleague of the groom’s.” She responded. “Speaking of which, it seems they’re ready to have their first dance. Would you care to accompany me?”

“I’m much too old!” The woman complains, good-naturedly. “Go along! I’ll see them from over here.”

“Please, Mrs. Franklin, you’re much too youthful to call yourself old. But if you excuse me, I love this part of weddings.” Emily stood up and walks over to the dancefloor, blending in with the crowd watching the newlywed couple.

The bride was a looker, with her long black hair and tanned skin, a shine on her eyes like a blushing virgin, that freshness of going on to a new life. Her luxurious and pristine Vera Wang dress highlighted the posture of a young aristocrat and flew through the room like a curtain dancing on the wind.

But if we’re judging by appearance, the groom was the pretty one. He looked every bit like a fairy tale prince, with his tall and lean frame, white skin as if he had never met the sun in his life, and the blond hair combed backwards. The suit was midnight black, perfectly tailored overseas, and with sapphire cufflinks to give a finishing shine of upper crust.

They twirled through the room the whole fifteen minutes of Blue Danube in flawless grace, and without breaking a sweat. Soon after, they started the rounds through the guest tables, to receive the congratulations from the various guests.

A good hour later, when Nathan and Kassidy reach table 13, which contained the looser relatives on the Sterling family, they are greeted by the recently-widowed Great-Aunt Susett Franklin.

“Oh, my darlings!” She kisses each of their kisses, much to the displeasure of Kassidy. “Congratulations on the nuptials! It is such a wonderful adventure, and I hope yours to be filled with bliss and bounty.”

“Thank you, Aunt Susett.” Nathan says, politely. “How do you like the party? I hope you’re not feeling too alone out here.”

She laughs, dismissively. “Not at all! Emily has been keeping me in good company the entire party. Lovely girl, that one.”

Kassidy made a face. “Emily? I don’t remember an Emily at the guest list.”

“I don’t think you’ve met her, honey. She says she’s Nathan’s colleague, from work.” The older woman comments, in passing. “A shame you’ve come by just when she left to freshen up. She seemed so eager to congratulate you!”

A cold shiver shot through Nathan’s back. It couldn’t be, could it? After months of silence, she wouldn’t come to great lengths to attend the reception. However, he certainly did not know any other Emily, lest one who worked for him.

His ocean-blue eyes run through the venue, looking for that unmistakeable red hair.

And, then, he sees her.

She looked as beautiful as ever, with the dress and the accessories he had gifted her over the months of their relationship. But her eyes were different, they seemed dead and filled with tears.

She set her sights on him and seemed to pierce his soul with it and all he wanted to do was scream.

But it did not last long, as on the next second she turns around and leaves the party.

The blond muster some stupid excuse and dashes after her, not caring what anyone would think or say. He underestimates a seasoned woman on heels with a very good reason to run, as he couldn’t find her on the hallway by the salon, nor at the entrance hall to the country club.

Nathan would only be able to catch up under a willow, a short walk from the main gateway of the club. “Emily! Emily, wait!” He says, and reaches for her arm, pulling her close and forcing her to face him. “What are you doing here?”

“I came for the free booze. What do you think I was doing?!” The redhead shouts to his face. “I was torturing myself like the idiot I am.”

“You’re not an idiot.” He responded, severe. “Why didn’t you call me? I’d come to you.”

The woman scoffed, incredulous. “And drop your wedding?”

“I dropped it now, didn’t I?” He shoots her a side smirk, trying to dispel her hostility, to no avail.

“Don’t do that!” She shouts. “Don’t try to charm your way out of this. It won’t work.”

He sighed. “Okay. But I can honestly say I really missed you.”

“It. Won’t. Work.” She repeated.

The blue-eyed man shrugged. “It’s no trick, but believe what you want. Why you’re here?”

“I thought I needed to see it for myself.” She declared, her voice wavering. “Shock therapy, I guess. To force myself to let go.”

“You know you don’t have to if you don’t want it.” He looked pleadingly at the woman, who stood tense and straight like the willow next to them. “I love you. I want you. We can make this work if we really want to.”

“Look, Nathan, I get why you did what you did. I get that you left me for Kassidy, and that what we had wouldn’t have a future. But don’t ask me to be a part of your Boston Brahmin fantasy.” She shot him a look. “If you can’t be in it for the whole thing, at least let me find someone who is.”

The reality of things start to catch up to the young aristocrat. “So you’re just gonna leave? You’re abandoning me?”

“You left first, Nathan.” She coldly accuses. “You left me all those months ago when you said you’d be marrying Kassidy. And I’m not going down with the ship, I’m sorry.”

The blond start taking steps backwards, trying to focus his eyesight, blurred by the pain he felt on every muscle of his body.

Seizing the opportunity to leave, Emily looks back at him and says: “I really loved you, you know?”

“I know.” He manages to respond. “I love you, too.”

“I truly hope Kassidy makes you happy.” She said with a melancholic smile on her face.

“She won’t.” He responded, but the redhead had already left.

Emily ran the rest of the distance to her car, where she hastily took off every piece of jewellery and tried to clean off the make-up, ruined by the tears.

When she calmed herself minimally, she started the engine and drove away.

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