#this is slowly turning into a book red account

[monzabee]

You ate and delivered and left no crumbs with the book question, but I am curious, what about the booktok books, queen?👀

it all started with the addicted/calloway series for me, i remember finishing it in like two months and there are ten books in total so it definitely got me out of my reading slump for sure. i love all the characters so much, but i will say that there is a weird ass age-gap between the two characters that just doesn't sit right with me, but it's another issue.

then there is the dirty air series by lauren asher, I MEAN. is it the best literary writing i've ever seen? probably not. but i will protect this series with my life it just hit home for me. if you want to read it, it is about formula one and the characters were actually inspired by actual drivers (spoiler alert! noah was definitely supposed to be charles, liam is rbr!seb and i will not change my opinion, jax is of course lewis and the love of my life santiago is carlos!!)

i also loved the sinners anonymous series, and yes, it is a mafia series BUT HEAR ME OUT, he burns the car of the man she's about to marry. we love a king whose love language is acts of service.

here's some more books i loved:

anything by ella maise, my personal fav is to hate adam connor, obvs.

the queen's cove series by stephanie archer - chef's kiss, amazing, spectacular, every single book is outstanding!!

chestnut springs series by elsie silvers - cowboys, hockey players, BULL RIDERS, overall very hot and very good and nice and perfect.

better than the movies by lynn painter - i fucking love wes and liz and can't wait for the second book, this a very cute rom-com inspired book!

i definitely have some more but i'd have to check my goodreads lol!

[voxsremotec0ck]

𝐖𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐄𝐲𝐞.ᐟ

ᯤ Vox x Fem!Reader

ᯤ Stalking, obsessive and possessive behavior, voyeurism, nsfw

˗ˏˋ While Vox monitors Alastor the Hazbin Hotel, he takes an interest in the newest guest ˎˊ˗

Vox could kill Pentious for getting caught before successfully placing a single camera inside the hotel

Now he was stuck just watching the outside of the damn place

He wouldn’t even be doing this if Alastor hadn’t come back to ruin his life

FUCK

Vox once again sat in his monitor room working on multiple projects while keeping an eye on the shitty hotel

When for the first time in months

A new sinner walked up to the tall building and knocked on the door

He didn’t recognize you which instantly put him on edge

Now there was ANOTHER demon he had to monitor

At first you were just another non-Alastor resident to him

But slowly you became something more

You spent a lot of time out on the balcony right in his view

Reading, morning coffee, or just playing on your phone you were almost constantly outside

Which confused him because who the fuck wants to look around at Hell but whatever

At some point he started to pay attention to what books you read and how you liked your coffee

His interest in you got to the point where he stopped caring about what Alastor was doing

All Vox wanted was a chance to see you

Eventually you consumed his every thought

You were just so…

Perfect

He needed to figure out how to get a camera inside your room

Turns out he didn’t even need to do anything because one day you brought one of his products

And that was probably the greatest day of his life because FINALLY he got to see you up close

You were even more beautiful with your eyes peering right into his monitor

Vox took a screenshot and saved it to a private folder

One that would quickly fill up

Now he had unlimited access to anything he wanted to know about you

Search history, social media accounts, what kind of shows you like to watch

He stored all the information away for when he eventually made his move on you

Then one night something magical happened

It was late and you were still up

Which meant Voxs was still up to

As you were scrolling through Hells twitter a clip from a porno popped up on your timeline

And instead of scrolling away you watched it

And Vox watched you watch it

Eventually you clicked on the account and scrolled through the multiple porn clips on it

Skipping any that included Angel Dust because he was your friend and that was just weird

Vox watched you through the camera

He watched as your pupils dilated and your cheeks turn red and your breath become heavy

He was so hard it hurt

And when it became obvious that you were touching yourself, the camera shaking and little noises falling from your lips

He pulled his dick out of his dress pants and stroked himself to your fucked out face

Vox couldn’t give to shits about the porn you were watching

Honestly he wished he could mute it so he could hear you better

But this would have to do

He wanted to see what face you’d make when you came

And so desperately wished he was the one forcing those moans from your throat

One day

One day he would get to pull your legs apart and push his cock inside of you

Making you scream his name loud enough for all of Pride Circle to hear

When you came your head tilted back on a long moan

Your eyes closing with a look of pure bliss

And Vox had never cum so hard

He felt himself glitching as he spilled all over his hand and desk

Fuck

If this is how it felt just fucking his hand to your little moans and pleasured filled face

He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be inside of you

Vox needed to find a way to make you his

The sooner the better

Sigh… I’m still trying to come to terms with the fact that I’m attracted to a man with a TV head

[cokou]

𝚃𝚛𝚊𝚏𝚊𝚕𝚐𝚊𝚛 𝙻𝚊𝚠 × 𝙵! 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

sum. an unknown substance had hit your face causing you distress, Law helped you rid of it. ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ tw. sex pollen. office sex. rough sex. ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ a/n. I love this trope and was kinda hoping to write it one day, which is this day!! Hope you guys enjoy :3 // do not translate or transfer to any other platforms, this is my only account, will not be crossposted anywhere. POLL DECISION.<33

As soon as the submarine resurfaced, you couldn't help but explore the newly discovered Island that was infront of your very eyes. Getting off the ship then walking to explore the forest like Island, you left trail remembrance of ribbons in each tree branches. While on your walk, you acknowledge all plant types that you come across of, such as tree's with various sizes, or various patterns of green, even small bushes that grew kinds of small red berries.

Walking around and distinguishing which berries or fruits are edible and poisonous, you come across a vine with a strange leaf and flower pattern, the flower being bigger than the vines itself, causing the vines to slowly give up on it. The flowers color hue was different, it was shaded a blackish red that faded into a greyish pink towards the middle. The vines were deep green colored and it grew thorns on it.

Curiousity took over you as you recalled all vines that you had studied on a book you had recently bought, most types of growable plants were there, but you certainly haven't come across this one. As you leaned your face closer to examine it, it's scent took over, the scent was flowery, sweet, and it reeked the smell of freshly cut grass.

Leaning your fingers through the vines, you touched the flower. As you tried picking it up, it squirted a pollen into your face, latching itself into your eye, causing you to scream at the sudden pain. As the others scream your name behind you, asking if you were okay. You had told them that something had just gotten into your eyes and that it wasn't such a big of a deal.

As the sun sets and the sky turns darker, you all had decided to call it a day and head back into the submarine before anything bad happens outside. Walking back behind several crewmates, you felt a burning sensation across your whole body, your mouth turned watery as heat pools between your legs. You had thought that you were just tired, or maybe even hungry and shrugged off the sudden feeling.

But as you make your way to your room, you felt the heat through your body again, rethinking about the way pollen had gotten into your eyes from the flower earlier, making you a tad bit concerned. You backed away from your room and proceeded to find your captains whereabouts to let him know what had happen. By the time you had catched him inside his office, you couldn't help but feel irresistibly horny.

—

"So you're telling me that a powdery substance got into your face, and that now you feel like you're burning?" Law makes sure that he had heard you correctly as you identify all the details of what had happened earlier.

"y-yeah, and I'm telling you— it's getting worser." As you finished the sentence, your cheeks had grown an even more pinkish hue.

"..That isn't likely to happen, what type of flower- or vine was it?" Even more confused, Law had no idea of what vine nor flower you talking about, talk about bad day.

"Well, it had a blackish red color and a bit greyish by the middle, and— the vines were dark green.." You were such sweaty mess right now, it's taking such a huge toll on your personality, causing you to slighty hump the chairs edge as you urge yourself to masturbate under the table while consulting Law, or just fuck it and take Law right here in his office.

"Hmm, well you do have a book th—"

"Fuck it Law! Please, take me right here right now!" As you ball your fist onto your thighs, having your thoughts win, you felt a pang of embarrassment wash over you.

Law looked towards you shockingly, examining how your face was bright red, and how you were 'burning'. He finally understood what you were trying to ring up on his mind. It wasn't any type of regular pollen that had brushed through you, it had some sort of aphrodisiac on it, causing your behavior to be distressed.

"Come here." He gestured you towards his lap. You obeyed him and made your way infront of him, slowly lowering yourself onto his thighs.

You felt his hands hold your hips, wasting no time, he lowered your bottoms all the way towards your ankles. Unzipping his pants, he lowers it to his knees together with his boxers, freeing his semi-hard cock, giging it a few pumps to harden its current state. He positions your legs onto his arms, and slowly lifting you up.

He latches you towards his cock, your wetness being enough to lube both of you up.

"Are you sure?" Taking a moment to reassure that you'll be fine with this.

"y-yeah, please." You reassured him.

Satisfied with your answer, he decides to slowly move you on his cock, making you bite a moan out of your lips. He continued thrusting you onto him slowly, making sure that you'll be just fine on his hands.

"No— don't hold back, please!" You held his hands, which were holding onto your legs.

Law hesitates with your order, but gives in as he knows that with your situation right now, you'd probably need it. Without a warning, his grip tightens and he continues thrusting you onto his cock faster.

The harder you contain yourself from biting back your moans, you eventually give up, your lips swollen from your teeth biting against it, causing blood to form on it. You released a low moan, enough to be heard by Law, followed with a much louder one, as you get used to letting out noises for him to hear.

Law jolts as you released a stream of moans from your mouth, causing his dick to twitch inside you. Feeling his dick grow inside you, your moans increase volume enough for the whole room to hear. Law hugs your figure whilst still holding your knees and thrusted harder and faster inside you.

You felt heat rushing through you as you about to hit your edge, you warned him with your upcoming release and he nods in response. A bit later, you felt climax jolt onto you as you released on his cock, embarrassment pangs through you as you realized what you just did.

Law slows his pace and continues thrusting inside you, making you release shaky breaths and panting. Law didn't stop even when you had reached your climax, now you felt a second one coming through. His pace once again picked up, being faster than earlier.

"L-Law— i'm, c-coming again—" warning him with your upcoming orgasm again, his pace picks up once again— this time it felt like volts of light colliding, your skins producing noises that you sworn could be heard miles away, your moans being louder and clearer, it was obvious that he was close.

"m'close— (name).."

"i-inside me— please!" As his pace slows down, you felt his release deep inside you, it was warm, warm enough to feed the coldness of his office.

He removes you from him, his release dripping off your entrance.

"Better?" He was panting and out of breath.

"Yes, thank you—" You stood up while holding onto the table for dear life.

"We should get you cleaned up, especially your face, you wouldn't want that happening again do you?" He leads you into the bathroom and hands you a towel.

If it meant by Law fucking you like that, maybe you shouldve preserved that little flower that gave you trouble, right? Definitely.

©Cokou 2024,all works belong to me. DO NOT TRANSLATE OR TRANSFER!

[soleilapproves]

catalyst - chapter 3

Life has many twists and turns- yours included getting rejected from med school and ending up as a manager for your burnt-out pro boxer ex. (sukuna x reader)

Note: fem!reader

fanfic masterlist / main masterlist

“And after you get your cast removed, you’re gonna go meet your therapist. You’re due for a session.” Sukuna couldn’t be bothered to listen to Uraume’s rambling. Not when you walked around in his apartment in those shorts that made you look so enticing. Those shorts wouldn’t have lasted a minute in his sight two years ago. Your body moved swiftly behind Uraume’s frame, which was slightly below face-level with him. 

As you cleaned his living room, his eyes followed your figure, putting away misplaced books and flash drives containing important fight compilations. You looked less exhausted now compared to when you first started working for him. It’s crazy what two weeks' worth of difference could do. Your figure looked a little fuller than before because of all the food you were eating with him, and the dark circles beneath your eyes were slowly disappearing. You also began replying to him with two sentences instead of one. 

He desperately needed to know what you had been up to. Most of your icing sessions with him were silent if you didn’t account for the loud sexual tension that was always there with how close you’d be next to him- smelling like his most ardent daydream. 

“Did you get all that?” Sukuna looked down to see Uraume with their eyebrow raised. 

“You weren’t listening to me, were you?” Uraume asked. 

Sukuna nodded. “Yeah, yeah, eat my vegetables, do my exercises.” 

His manager sighed and turned to see you bent over the couch, trying to pick up a pillow that fell behind it. “You’re such a dog.” The shorter individual grimaced before placing a binder full of information about shoulder exercises on the kitchen counter. “Do these every night. Make sure you ask her for help.” He said as he gestured towards your oblivious figure, still cleaning around the couch in a compromising position. 

“Uhuh,” Sukuna said with eyes trained on your bottom. He noticed that you were gaining some volume after eating meals similar to his. It worked out well for you because your shorts showed off your shape well. 

“Gross.” They pinched the bridge of their nose.

“She’s gonna drop you off at the therapist’s office, by the way.”

“Wha- why?” Sukuna’s eyes squinted. It was embarrassing enough for him to have his ex be hired to pick his life up; having her escort him to his appointments was another thing. “Someone has to make sure you actually walk through that door and not escape with an Uber. Besides, I have a hair appointment right after your cast removal. This bob doesn’t stay sharp on its own,” Uraume said while adjusting their hair. 

Short grey wire-like strands starkly stood out on your scalp. They looked like tiny plant stems sprouting from sod. You had always complained about being stressed from school, but Sukuna wasn’t expecting the effects to be this apparent. He wondered if your body was on its last thread before you moved in with him. 

He knew your dreams were important, but you had this knack for ignoring everything else and focusing on your goal. His hands itched to grab you by your shoulders and yell, ‘This isn’t you!’ 

You looked up at him after tying his shoes. “Shall we go?” 

Burning red irises stared back into yours. There was so much to say, yet so little came out of his mouth. “Yeah, let’s get this damn thing off.”

He smiled inwardly at the bunny loop laces on his trainers as he watched you pack your bag. 

-

Everything was unsettling. The clock ticking, the familiar smell of artificial vanilla wafting through the room, the blinds covering exactly three-seventh of the window (Sukuna knows too much about ratios because of all his training),  the propriety of the entire office (who even has coasters for different types of cups?), and worst of all, his therapist’s impassive face. 

Sukuna’s knees bounced as he watched the blond man in front of him write down his notes. The sound of his ball pen scratching against the paper created an uncomfortable ambiance. “You gonna prescribe me something? Don’t bother if weight loss is one of the symptoms.” 

“No, I was just doing my crossword puzzle. You’re well enough to avoid therapeutic drugs.” 

Sukuna scoffed. “Look, Nanami, reverse psychology won’t work on me. I know you’re prescribing me some shit.”

Nanami turns his notepad around to show Sukuna the latest New York Times crossword puzzle. “I’m much too educated to use reverse psychology.” And he was right. The PhD certificate displayed on his office wall and numerous awards in a small glass cabinet in the corner indicated that the man was good at his job. He was the only therapist who could approach Sukuna’s concerns without making him feel small.

Sukuna hated that. He hated when he felt like he was being poked and prodded at by doctors. He did not cope well with having moments of weakness, hence avoiding treatment. Everyone treated him like a broken doll. 

Which he wasn’t- he was a skilled fighter who just couldn’t push himself any further. 

“You’ve been skipping your last few sessions. Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for paid lounging, but I’m also curious. Why’d you come now?” Nanami asked, still not looking up from his engaging activity. 

“I want to get better. I-” he took a deep breath. “-have someone I have to get better for.” He couldn’t look Nanami in the eye while saying that. He hadn’t felt this self-conscious before a man for a very long time (except for Coach Yaga). It’s part of the reason why he avoids visiting Nanami.

“Is it-”

“Yeah, it’s her. So just tell me what I have to do.”

Nanami put his notepad down and crossed his legs, iron-pressed tan slacks refusing to crease. “I’m not a relationship counselor. I’m only here to help you.” The pro boxer could only stare out the window, where the car you dropped him with was parked. If he squinted, he would probably be able to see your sleeping face.

There was a hollowing void in his life after the breakup. It seemed he had lost his reason to live, even though Yuuji was there for him- someone willing to support him even after the big incident. With a wistful heart, he yearned to be someone significant in your life again.

“I want to be with her again, but I’m scared of what she’ll think of me.”

“Is it because of what happened in the past?” Nanami asked, calculatingly to the athlete on the couch across from him.

“Yeah.”

“There’s no right way to tell her. You can’t run away from what’s inevitable. How about we talk about the incident from two years ago? It might help you gather your thoughts and decide how to come clean to her.” Sukuna indolently nodded at his therapist’s suggestion. 

“But first, I must ask you something important- what’s a five-letter synonym for abdominal pain?” 

“Can’t believe I’m paying you three hundred an hour for this shit.”

-

Sukuna had been staring at you since you both returned from the therapist’s office. It wasn’t like his usual scrutinizing stare, where it felt like he was examining every inch of your skin. It was more like his head was in another universe; you were the only thing keeping him grounded. He was going to do it. Today was the day he’d tell you why he really broke up with you. 

He didn’t visit Nanami for nothing. He just needed to ease you into having a proper conversation with him.

You were massaging his shoulders after his routine shoulder exercise, and you were glad to be standing behind his head while seated. At least you wouldn’t have his intense gaze on you. He was shirtless again, and you were finding it challenging to keep your eyes on his shoulder rather than the expanse of his broad back. On the other hand, kneading your fingers through his firm muscles was quite relaxing after staying at the edge of your seat with him all the time. “You gotta massage near my collarbones now.” 

And your relaxation period ended. 

Without missing a beat, he pulled your arm and made you stand between his legs. His firm grasp then placed your hand where you needed to massage him. You wanted to reprimand him for moving you around as if you didn’t know what to do next, but you kept to yourself to avoid pointless arguments. 

Your skin felt hot, massaging around the socket of his joint. Your heart couldn’t help but waver with how his shoulders’ muscles rippled with every little movement. The tattoos made him hotter. You didn’t want to find him hot. There were better things to focus on.

Like his thick neck with veins popping out of them whenever you’d accidentally press too hard while massaging. Or his strong jaw. His sharp, bold jawline. Up to his beautiful cheekbones, to his beautiful nose, down to his perfect plush lips. 

You bit the inside of your cheek to bring yourself back to reality. You should not be thirsting over your boss (you weren’t sure if you would call him that, but without Uraume around, he was the closest to one).

“...so why this?” 

“Huh?” You were so distracted by his beauty that you didn’t even realize he had asked you a question. 

“You told me you were gonna go to medical school after graduating, so why are you working?” It wasn’t hot in Sukuna’s room, but you could feel yourself break into a sweat. It felt humiliating to announce your goals to the world just to fail at achieving them.

“Oh, I thought Uraume would’ve told you by now. But I, uh- I got rejected.” There, it was like ripping off a bandaid. 

“They didn’t mention anything about it. Also, all five of them rejected you?” You ignored how your heart jumped over the fact that he still remembered your dream schools.  “Yeah, all five.” You had to look away from his bewildered face to hold on to some of your already deteriorating pride. 

“But that’s crazy. You worked so hard for it since the beginning.”

“Well, it wasn’t hard enough.” 

“Bullshit, they were blind.” Sukuna’s breathing started to become shallow, and Uraume instructed you not to get him worked up during his resting period. “Sukuna, I’ll see you tomorrow. We’re done with the massage.”

“But-” 

“Kuna, please.” 

You said it. You said his nickname. He would have been elated in a different context, but right now, it just felt like you were trying to shut him up. So he let you escape. He let you go back to your room. He knew he couldn’t pressure you into talking to him, but he was ready to be patient. 

—

I can’t wait for you guys to read what I have in store for the next chapter 😼

taglist: @sukubusss @kyo-kyo1 @kensqueent @totallygyomeiswife @missthatgirl @iluv-ace @emoedgylord

[ccwpidsblog]

untitled — a.artlet

content warning: incel!armin artlet, male masterbation, slightt mommy kink, panty thief!minie, slut shaming, lmk if i missed anything i lit suck at tagging

cwpids notes: if this looks familiar it's from my old Wattpad account, this was originally a shiggy fanfiction but im not into mha anymore and wattpad deleted that book SAURRR just enjoy 😁🏹

armin artlet hated you with a passion. you came into his house and bothered him with your dumb staring and weak attempts to seduce him. his discord server and online friend knew everything about women like you. you'd try to take everything from him knowing his family was wealthy. that's exactly why you bothered him just like every other woman that approached him did. they didn't see armin they saw his money. he hated your stupid face when you batted your more than likely fake lashes at him and smiled at him with your fake smile, he hated the way your smell lingers when you leave a room, he hated the outfits you wore it was like you were begging for attention, he hated everything that has to do with you

his shirt was in between his teeth, left hand rubbing the soft cotton of your panties onto his cock,, his right was gripped onto the wall steadying himself. "fuck, y/n..." armin bit down onto his shirt harder, throwing his head back closing his eyes.

he was hot and bothered often, masterbating was something he did daily; he even had his fair share of toys. but this was his first time ever taking someone's underwear. he just couldn't help himself. sneaking into the guest bedroom while you were busy decorating the house for some shitty party his sister was throwing. he'd took the first pair he saw from the hamper. he felt gross not in the way he usually did while he stroked one out but in the best way. this didn't mean he did not hate you anymore; it was more of a lust thing he told himself.

he just lusted you.

"ah, faster..." he demanded of himself, his hands obeying his orders. the pace gradually picked up, using the same hand that gripped your panties tightly wrapping around his cock, while the other slowly smoothed up the skin of his stomach, feeling himself in ways he wished you could . armins hips bucked upwards into his hand, his quiet moans now turning into grunts of rapture with every thrust.

he imagined you on your knees in front of him allowing him to thrust himself into your mouth. begging for him to touch you in ways no one could "gonna cum, gonna fucking cum...ohh my god, more."

armin whined as he tightened his fist around his fat length, vigorously jerking himself off. his eyes flutter open to look down at how red and swollen his mushroom tip was, and how your panties were covered in his pre-cum, roughly biting down on his chapped bottom lip as he kept fucking into your panties, veins protruding with his grip tightening even further. "so tight, so tight."

"oh fuck, fuck mommy!" he cried out, voice breaking into a sob when his orgasm gushed out of him in hot spurts. placing his forehead on the cool tile he breathed heavily gaining his composure again. washing his hands and cleaning himself off his stuffed spoiled into his pocket. opening the door he came face to face with you.

his stomach twisted into knots as he stared down at you. your face scrunched and eyes watery like your were on the verge of crying, the braids you originally had in a bun were now down your back, it was your outfit that ticked him off. all these people here and you're walking around in a skimpy bathing suit. he didn't want to be mean or make you cry but it couldn't help himself.

"prancing around like an attention whore. not surprised since it's you."

[romanteacism]

A Butterfly and A Dragon’s Flight Chapter Five

Chapter Summary: Genuine kindness is rare in the Red Keep, and when Prince Aemond had a taste of it, he wouldn’t think it possible for him to ever bestow cruelty on the one who had shown that to him. Word Count: 5,704 Warnings: Realizations, Lady Elinora and Prince Aemond (somewhat) Getting Along, Concerned Elinora, Daeron Playing Match Maker

It’s impossible! The probability of it was slim to none, yet Aemond was kept up all night entertaining the possibility of him having any emotion other than loathing for Lady Elinora. He was greatly upset with himself as he even thought as such. Why was he even thinking as such? Of course, he held no attraction for the girl. And if he did, he surely would come to know immediately, yes? 

However, as Aemond thought of attraction, he had no words to describe it. Had he ever felt attraction before? He tossed in his bed as he thought about such questions. Surely, attraction was not the same as lust— what he felt at the moment was not of urges or bodily whims. If not lust, what then? He refused to believe that it was a fondness he felt, it could not be. He could not definitely say it was affection because he had no idea what that felt like, leading the prince to grow restless the entire night. 

Aemond looked upon the ceiling with a deep scowl, the first sun rays of the day began to shine upon his room. He only rests for a few hours, and to have the limited time of his respite be taken and consumed by a girl, he convinced himself he felt indifferent. He sat up and wore his eye patch, the deep scowl between his brows never disappearing as he readied himself for the day. 

As per his custom, Aemond began his day by walking along the keep. Simply inspecting his home, seeing if the servants did their duties and if everything was in order. But in truth, he is simply killing time as Ser Cole is still to wake so they can begin their sparring session. Aemond passed the godswood, the amber leaves alight with a golden hue, and naught a soul was to be accounted in the area. He then went on to the great hall, maids bustling around as they dusted and swept the room to tidy it from last night’s feast. “Good morrow, Your Highness,” he would hear the servants greet as he passed, and not once did he spare them a second glance. 

Aemond then ventured towards the library, the only time it was somewhat busy was in the morning when maesters searched for specific books needed for their study. The prince then walked past the guest wing, lord and ladies soundly asleep in their chambers. He was almost nearing the end of his routine when he turned to his left and saw the hall leading to the royal wing. Where the chamber of the girl who had haunted his mind lodged. 

Aemond paused in the halls for a moment. A voice in him was telling him to go about the wing, but his stubbornness told him to walk onward. But before the prince could decide for himself, he watched as a door slowly opened, and the girl he had been thinking about sneaking out of her chambers. Making quiet yet hastened steps to the staircase that was situated at the end of the royal wing. Aemond raised a brow, intrigued. Surely, she was up to no good. Aemond had naught a choice but to trail her. He followed the girl, hiding himself behind pillars and walls so she would not suspect that she was being trailed. 

Aemond was led to the gardens, no surprise to him, however, Elinora would usually venture to the gardens at a later time of the day, a fact that the prince was surprised to realize that he knew. Aemond would think she would go to the flowers, just as her usual custom, but the girl continued to walk onward towards the pond where she mourned the fallen butterfly. Aemond had hidden himself behind a bush as he watched the girl crouch at the edge of the pond and take a pouch from her pocket. 

Aemond decided to trail closer to see what Elinora was doing. When he was a few yards away from the girl, he realized that swans and ducks that inhabited the pond began to swim near her as if they already knew Elinora. The prince then realized what the girl was doing, she woke at first light and sneaked her way through the keep just to feed the ducks! Ridiculous. Or… endearing? Aemond scowled at himself at the thought. 

The prince quietly walked his way to the girl’s side, “What are you doing?” He asked the obvious. His voice and the sudden appearance of his reflection upon the water that the girl stared upon shocked Elinora. The girl let out a startled scream and almost fell into the water due to her shock, luckily, the prince was quick to act as he bent down and took hold of her waist to steady her. “By gods! Would you be quiet? The castle is still asleep,” He chastised as Elinora stood, but he never removed his hold on her. Quite odd since Aemond had never been fond of touching or being touched by another. 

“I’m sorry… you frigh— you caught me by surprise,” Elinora explained as she caught her breath. Quickly changing one word to another, she feared that if she said ‘frightened,’ it might offend the prince, however true the statement may be. Aemond pursed his lips as Elinora finally raised her gaze, and her jade eyes were met with his. “What were you doing?” The prince asked once more, unable to think of another point of conversation with the girl. Aemond frowned at himself at the thought. Before, he relished in the silence. However, now, why could he not control himself from speaking to a girl he convinced himself he felt indifferent towards? 

“Feeding them,” Elinora said, her eyes glancing towards the creatures that expectedly waited for her to return to her custom, but the prince hindered him from doing so. That is when Elinora realized that the prince still had a hold on her waist. “Uh… if you would excuse me, my prince, I think they’re quite hungry,” She said and tried to pry away the prince’s hands from her waist. Letting their skin touch and feeling the coldness of Prince Aemond’s hands. 

“They could feed themselves,” Aemond spoke, his hands savoring the touch of warmth that Elinora presented. “I know,” Elinora answered as a swan paddled itself closer to her hand where crumbs of bread were placed. “Why then do you do it?” Aemond asked as he, too, squatted next to Elinora, who attracted all the creatures. “Well, it’s quite peaceful here most days,” She began as she turned to the prince with the pouch of bread crumbs and implored him to feed the birds as well. 

Aemond’s first instinct was to frown and roll his eye at the girl, which is why it was surprising as he did as she silently said without question or mean reactions. “And I noticed the other days that they would fight each other for just a morsel of food,” Elinora finished her thought as Aemond threw the crumbs into the pond, a bread crust hitting a duckling. “Oh,” the girl said as she witnessed the scene, and the duckling quickly swam its way to her as if protecting herself from the prince. “Best not to harm them as you feed them, my prince,” Elinora said as she leaned forward and brushed the duckling’s head with her finger, smoothing its feathers. 

Aemond let out a quiet scoff, but he still did what the girl said—gently sprinkled the bread crumbs onto the water. “That is simply nature, my lady; it’s natural selection. The weaker will yield, and the strong will be triumphant,” Aemond remarked and turned to the girl, her small smile as she tended towards the creatures lessening as she registered his words. “Even so, it could be avoided for now.” She answered.

“You’re coddling them. Each day you do this, you make them dependent instead of them learning how to fend for themselves. Why would they search for food now when they know a lady would come and feed them and turn them fat?” Elinora frowned at the prince’s words, a pout coming to her lips as what she thought was a kind gesture was being criticized by the prince. 

Aemond heard no reply from the girl, only watched as she fiddled with a lock of her hair as she processed his words. No noise was to be heard except for the distinct chirp of birds and the silent slosh of water. Aemond sighed, perhaps that was not the right thing to say, he thought. He never second-guessed what he uttered before. He called it as he saw it. 

The prince tried to reach towards the pouch of bread crumbs again, but their fingers brushed as she took the pouch in her hands and abruptly stood, surprising Aemond. “Good day, your Highness,” Elinora muttered and quickly curtsied before hastily walking away from his presence. Aemond stayed there, comprehending what had happened and how quick she was to depart. 

He recalled what he said and sighed, the swans and ducks looking at him expectantly as if asking if Elinora would return. Aemond shook his head and dusted off his hands, walking off as the day was still fresh, yet he had already offended the girl. 

Elinora wandered about the castle, face flushed in annoyance and embarrassment. She was inside her head as she tried to erase all the prince had said, but it seemed to quickly etch itself in her head. The girl was not paying attention to where she walked and managed to collide with another. “Elinora? Why are you already awake?” Ser Gwayne questioned as he held the girl by her arms to steady herself. Elinora was brought out of her reprieve as she was met with the knight’s blue-green eyes. “I…I—” She stuttered, fearing if she told Ser Gwayne where she came from, he too would frown at her actions just as his nephew had done. 

Gwayne passed his gaze at the girl, a velvet pouch in her hands with a few specs of crumbs and a part of her dress damp and muddied. “You were feeding ducks, weren’t you?” Gwayne smiled, but it was not a cruel smile. “Yes,” She said quietly, making the knight smile fondly. “Well, I’m glad to learn that your stay in the capitol had not disrupted your customs back home,” the knight smiled. 

Aemond had managed to follow the girl again, a few meters away, as he eavesdropped upon her and his uncle’s conversation. 

“I’m certain you have entrusted the ducks and swan’s feeding to the groundskeeper?” Ser Gwayned questioned as he linked his arm with the girl’s. “I have. And Gerald had just written to inform me that the baby ducklings hatched!” She said, her mind now forgetting about her encounter with Prince Aemond. “Though it’s a shame I wasn’t able to witness them hatching,” She muttered as her shadow followed her. 

“You miss home, don’t you?” Ser Gwayne observed, seeing melancholy in her eyes. “I do,” she said. That little pond and the gardens in the Red Keep were the only speck of Highgarden she could cling to. 

Aemond felt an odd twisting in his stomach as he realized why the girl was feeding the ducks and swans. She only wished to recreate a version of Highgarden in the Red Keep, but the prince was too calloused to realize it and only shamed her for her actions. 

He trailed Elinora and his uncle further. Watching how effortlessly it was for his uncle to converse with the girl. Why couldn’t he hold a conversation without offending her? Or anyone, for that matter? Aemond froze as he locked eyes with his uncle, a curious look on his face as he glanced at his nephew. Ser Gwayne did not miss the peck of white upon the prince’s black trousers, bread crumbs clinging to the fabric, and the speck of mud on his knee. Aemond gritted his jaw as he was assessed and forced himself to cease trailing the two and finally return to his custom. 

“You’re frustrated,” Ser Criston remarked as the prince grunted when he missed to hit the knight. “I am not,” Aemond gritted as he once again returned to his attack position, but the knight shook his head, manner lax. “You clearly are— now tell me why or not, just as long as you do better in combat.” The knight suggested as he wielded his weapon in his hands. Aemond charged once more, but his technique was sloppy, and the knight was quick to dodge any of his attacks. 

“Ready to talk now?” The knight teased as Aemond had fallen onto the gravel-covered ground, causing a bloodied bruise to form on his chin; he simply ignored it. “I had told you it is nothing!” Aemond insisted and wiped away the blood on his chin with his sleeve, but Ser Criston only shook his head. “That shall suffice for now. You may leave and only return when you are truly ready to fight,” The knight dismissed his pupil, and Aemond no longer argued as he, too, had grown tired of being bested. 

Aemond walked about the keep again, trying to calm down his frustrations that he could not precisely articulate the cause of. He would like to blame Lady Elinora, but even he knew the girl was not to blame for his state. It was an internal struggle that he inflicted upon himself. 

Aemond passed the pond once more, seeing as Elinora sneaked her way to the edge of the pond to feed the ducklings once again. Aemond sighed, trying to go onward, but as always, his feet carried him toward the girl’s direction. Aemond once again announced his presence by making his reflection known, and just like hours before, the girl screamed, startled. Aemond sighed as he took hold of Elinora again, preventing her from falling into the water. 

“Would you please stop doing that!” She cried as she clutched her chest, never loving being startled. Her brother often did that to her when they were growing up. Waiting for her by the halls or her room, hiding and making his presence known with a loud, bellowing scream just to frighten her. Before Aemond could speak, Elinora removed his hold. “I know! I’m feeding the ducks again, and quite frankly, my prince, I do not care if I am making them dependent and… and fat, as you say. It is cruel to let them attack one another just for food when I can simply give them what they need!” Elinora burst out, her face and neck growing a bit red at the end of her outburst, and Aemond bit his tongue as he found a speck of amusement as it would seem he had agitated the girl. 

Aemond let out a quiet, amused breath as he parted his lips to speak once more, but Elinora spoke first. “You’re bleeding,” She said, eyes widening in concern, which Aemond was taken back. “It is just a cut. It’s no—“ Aemond ceased speaking as the girl quickly retrieved a handkerchief from her pocket and stood to her toes to gently place it on his wound. “You’ll need gauze, Your Highness— it must be disinfected,” Elinora fretted as she had always tended to her wounds as well as her brother’s because if her parents came to know of it, they surely would be chastised. 

“It’s just a scrape, my lady,” Aemond explained, but Elinora ignored his words as she was quick to take hold of his arm and drag him inside the castle. The small cut on the prince’s wound seemed to make Elinora forget all the frustrations she had harbored for him the past few weeks. “I am fine, Elinora; it is just a scrap— you are overreacting.” The prince grunted as his eye glanced toward the girl’s hand that was firmly clasped around his arm, which he then removed and switched her hold to his hand. 

“It may be just a scrap, my prince, but it could still get infected! Believe me, you would not want that.” She muttered as she led him to the maester’s tower. Aemond frowned as he noticed that the maesters that usually littered the tower were nowhere to be seen. Aemond felt the girl let go of his hand and made him sit on a chair. Aemond looked around the room, not entirely certain what was happening. Just a brief moment ago, Elinora was frustrated with him, and now she was searching cupboards and cabinets to find the necessary items to tend to his wound. He truly did not understand her. 

“The gauze is there,” Aemond pointed up to the cupboard, and Elinora was quick to retrieve the gauze needed along with vinegar to disinfect the wound and honey to soothe it. “You have done this before, haven’t you?” the prince observed as he lowered his hand, which was clutching the girl’s handkerchief to his wound. “My brother often gets into scrapes whilst he trains… or when he ventures into town,” Elinora explained. As she was locked inside the castle walls, Edward was permitted to go galivanting around the town, even at the darkest point of the night. Something that Elinora was completely jealous of, but as he explained to her, the only reason he was allowed to do such a thing was because he was a man; a bit unfair in Elinora’s eyes. 

“What had caused your wound, if I may ask, my prince?” Elinora inquired as she dabbed honey upon it, her nose in a scrunch as she never grew accustomed to seeing a wound up close. She hated blood and violence. Aemond blinked, quickly thinking up a story that would not disparage him. “I…I was training, and it would seem my sparing partner had grown frustrated at me and aimed to strike me while my back was turned— luckily, I was agile enough to act and only leave with just a small scrape.” Aemond lied, but he was relieved as the girl quickly believed his words. 

“That’s quite… cowardly,” She muttered as she cut to size the gauze. “Yes, quite,” Aemond agreed and stilled as he felt her touch on his chin, moving his head to look up as she positioned the gauze. Aemond met her eyes, the same warmness he felt the night before spreading in his chest. She was closer than she had been before, her scent now more pronounced, and Aemond could see a few specks of gold in her jade eyes. The prince was overwhelmed and quickly turned away. 

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?” Elinora fretted as the prince bucked away from her. Aemond gulped, “Yes, best be careful,” He said, forcing his voice to be stoic. “I apologize, my prince… but I’m almost finished,” Elinora said, quickly bandaging his wound. When she had, she stepped away, wary about the proximity they had. With her situated between the parted legs of the prince as she tended to his wound. 

“I’ll advise you to change the gauze before you go to bed, my prince, and perhaps dab honey upon it so it would heal faster,” Elinora suggested, and Aemond could not return his gaze to the girl as he felt the warming in his chest odd. His hand fisted the handkerchief she gave him, and the prince forced himself to nod.

 Elinora chewed on her lips and let out a breath, “Good day, my prince,” she curtsied and left, no longer waiting for his thanks, for it was ridiculous for her to expect such gratitude from the prince. Aemond finally raised his gaze just to witness the girl practically float out of the room. 

Aemond rested his back on the chair. A bit dazed at what had happened. How could she be so kind? Tend to his wound so much gentleness and attention even though he had scorned her just earlier that day. Aemond turned his gaze to the handkerchief that was still in his hands. The soft white cloth with the delicate embroidery of her first name’s initial and a blue butterfly now stained with specks of his blood. Aemond’s hand slowly brought it closer to his face, smelling her scent once more. He wanted to take another whiff, but as he realized what he was doing, how he was savoring her scent, his eyes widened, and he quickly tucked the cloth in his pocket to prevent him from doing such a thing again. 

“The duck’s eggs in grandmother’s lake have hatched,” Elinora remarked as there was silence in their familial supper. She hoped that the small information that was written to her by their ground’s keeper that had brought her joy would at least remove the tenseness in the air of their supper. “That’s nice,” Her father remarked with a small smile, and Elinora beamed upon him, hoping it would remove the edge that all the members of her family harbored. 

“Is… Is anything the matter?” She dared to ask, trying to capture the gaze of her brother, who had been staring at the peas for the majority of the hour. She watched as her family exchanged glances. “Your brother had seen you with Prince Aemond, alone, unescorted.” Her mother informed, making her brows raise as her brother bestowed upon her a stony expression. 

“Oh,” She said, as it would seem her brother had shared his concern with their parents. “I was feeding the ducks and swans in the keep’s pond, and the prince suddenly came. It’s not as if I invited him to join me there,” She explained as her fingers fiddled with the ends of her hair in nervousness.  “I saw you two running down the halls, hand in hand!” Elinora’s brother then burst out, shocking her with his accusatory tone. “Calm down, Edward, your sister is not on trial,” Their father warned. Elinora felt tears coming into her eyes as she was surprised that her brother would grow cross with her. Never once had Edward raised his voice when addressing Elinora, and now that he did, she felt a pit in her stomach. 

“I… I just had noticed that— that the prince was bleeding. I had just urged him to have it disinfected because he had no care… but it might get infected. I meant no harm, brother… I just thought it was the right thing to do,” Elinora muttered as her father held her hand from whom she sat next to. “See, Edward, nothing like you were insinuating was afoot, my son.” Their mother remarked. “Elinora knows what is wrong and right, do you not, my darling? We must trust her.” 

“I do trust her! It is these men! We do not know their true nature— they might take advantage of her!” Edward insisted and watched as their parents changed looks once more and as his sister only stared upon her lap, willing her tears not to shed. “You have a point, Edward… but you cannot accuse these men of something that has not yet happened.” 

“So you will wait until it does?!” Edward bellowed, but he was quickly challenged by Lord Tyrell. “Enough! We appreciate your concern for your sister, but you shall not raise your voice against us! Elinora will be fine, and she would tell us if any of the lords or princes, as you insist, would act untoward upon her!” Edward huffed and stomped away as he realized their once over-protective parents could no longer see reason. 

“I apologize for your brother, my darling,” Her father sighed and petted her hair. “I truly did not mean to upset him… and I did try to do as he told and avoid the men of court but—but the prince was bleeding and—“ Her mother hushed her as she stood from her chair and cupped her daughter’s cheeks. “We know, Elinora… and we do trust you. We know that you know what is wrong and right. You are cautious and calculated, that is all we could ask for,” Your mother said softly. “Now, go on, finish your meal so you can rest for the night.” 

Edward walked the keep halls, trying to be absolved of his ire. He held no ill will for his sister but rather the serpents surrounding her. “Good evening, Lord Edward,” Prince Aemond then appeared as he passed through the guest halls on his way to his own chambers. Edward gritted his jaw and saw the wound of the prince, carefully bandaged by his sister. “My prince,” He greeted bitterly. And Aemond frowned to himself at the tone of the lord but carried on to his way to the royal wing. 

Just as he stepped foot in the royal wing’s hall, he caught sight of Elinora on her way to her chambers. They locked eyes, and Aemond moved to speak with her, but she scurried her way into her chambers, leaving the prince alone in the halls. 

Something was off that evening, the prince thought. The usually cheery and well-mannered children of House Tyrell seemed to be sullen and dismissive. “Hello, brother,” Aemond suddenly at Daeron’s voice, the prince having been preoccupied the whole day as he went hunting in the woods with their eldest brother. “Where’s Aegon?” Aemond asked, glancing towards where the girl once stood before fully turning to meet the eye of his brother. 

“Well… I think you would know where,” Daeron said sheepishly. “Hm,” Aemond hummed in disapproval. “You have a wound,” Daeorn remarked as he stepped closer to his brother to inspect the bandage, but Ameond backed away, not used to having anyone in his personal space. “Did Elinora bandage that?” Daeron asked, his brother quickly frowning at his question. How would he know? 

“What?” Aemond bit as Daeron tried to inspect his bandages once more, but Aemond shielded it away from his gaze. “Did Elinora bandage your wound?” Daeron asked once more. “She always has a distinct cut when she bandages— there's somewhat of a heart shape in the gauze,” Daeron muttered as he followed wherever his brother turned his head. “Best dab that with honey, it’ll heal faster— or better yet, ask her for that honey with tea tree oil. It healed a nasty wound of mine in less than a fortnight.” Daeron informed, and Aemond frowned as his brother walked onward. “Well, come on now, lest you want that wound to fester,” Daeron remarked, and Aemond followed him as he knocked upon Elinora’s door. 

“I am fine; it’ll be gone by the next day.” Aemond gritted as they waited for the girl. “Nonsense, brother, I heard from Ser Cole how you… what do they say now? Ate dust in the tiltyard.” Daeron smiled, and before Aemond could reply, the door opened and revealed Elinora in her robe, her hair already undone. “Good evening, my princes,” She uttered in surprise. “Good evening, Eli,” Daeron smiled. Eli? The prince frowned at the way his brother addressed her. 

“Might I help you with something?” She asked, quickly glancing at Prince Aemond, who had a scowl on his face. “Yes, well… I see you had tended to my brother’s wound— very kind of you, but would you please give him that tea-tree-infused honey you have? We would be most grateful… wouldn’t we, brother?” Daeron said and nudged Aemond’s side. “Yes, quite so,” He gritted out, and Elinora was surprised as the prince actually agreed. 

“Well, of course,” Elinora said and expected the princes to wait by the hall as she retrieved what they asked for, but just as old habits began to shine through, Daeron welcomed himself in the girl’s chambers. Aemond tried to take hold of his brother’s collar, but Daeron quickly moved away from his brother’s hold. “You certainly bestowed your touch upon this chamber,” Daeron remarked as he looked about the room while Elinora looked through her vanity for a particular crystal jar. 

Aemond ran his gaze through the room, the once bleak spear chambers now had a warmness in them as Elinora lodged within them. “Oh, you brought Catherine the Caterpillar!” Daeron exclaimed as he took hold of a pillow in the girl’s feathered bed. It was just a regular decorative pillow, but it was tattered and had black beads sown into it to mimic eyes as well as two antennas. “Remember when your brother convinced you he could turn this into a butterfly if you gave him your desserts,” Daeron mussed, Aemond turning to Elinora to witness red creep to her cheeks through the mirror. 

“I did not eat sweets for two moons,” She remarked and finally turned with a crystal jar in her hands. “Here you are, my prince,” She smiled and handed the jar to Aemond, who swallowed thickly as their fingers brushed once more. He had never seen her with her hair down. Her dark, auburn locks were always neatly braided, and now a few locks perfectly framed her face, the curls now looser and a bit disheveled. 

Elinora chewed on her cheeks as the prince only stared at her, feeling warmness further in her cheeks as she felt him stare at her state. Her hair was yet to be brushed, and the only thing between her and her shift was a robe. “What do we say when one helps us, brother?” Daeron then interjected as his brother only remained silent. Aemond turned to his brother, a glare in his eye. “Thank you,” he gritted out, but his eye was pointed at Daeron, a warning in his tone. 

“That’s correct! But do not thank me, brother, I am not the one who bandaged you.” Daeron grinned as Aemond’s hold on the jar tightened to a point he thought it might crack. “You’re welcome, my prince,” Elinora quickly said, saving Aemond from further doing something he did not wish. As the words left her lips, two silver princes turned to her. “But if you would… I must be getting to bed,” She smiled, and Aemond quickly took hold of his brother so they could exit the girl’s chambers. 

“Good night, your highnesses,” Elinora curtsied, and Daeron bid her ‘good night,’ and Prince Aemond gave a nod. 

When the door closed, Aemond turned to his brother, who still had a teasing grin on his lips. “What are you doing!? You do not barge into and welcome yourself inside a lady’s chambers!” Aemond scolded, “Calm down, it’s only Elinora. I often do that in Highgarden; no one seems to mind,” Daeron laughed as his brother’s stoic facade was broken. “Even so! You offer her to scandal!” 

“Scandal? Nonsense! Everyone knows how virtuous Elinora is… and besides, however pretty she is, she is just simply not my kind of woman— do not get me wrong, I love her, but it’s the love of a brother rather than a man,”  Aemond grew confused at his brother’s words, until now, he was certain that Daeron harbored some attraction for the girl. 

“So you mean to tell me that you are not attracted to her… at all?” Aemond questioned, and Daeron nodded. “Gods, no! I see her as a sibling— and not the way our houses sees siblings.” Daeron clarified, and Aemond nodded in understanding. “You, however… I do nothing think you could say the same.” Daeron grinned, watching as his brother paused in the halls, taken aback by his words. “What do you mean by that?” Aemond gritted out, ready to deny whatever his brother would utter. 

Daeron sighed and smiled, “Brother, I grew up with Elinora— had to fend off men who vied for attention, and all of them always had the same look in their eyes when they looked upon her… and another look when she would smile upon them— you have the same look, Aemond. Hide it and repress it as you would; I can see it plainly. You like her.” 

“I do not! I…I— What you speak of is ridiculous! How da—“ Daeron was left amused as his brother ranted out his defense. “Your reaction is only proving me right, Aemond.” Daeron shook his head; Aemond stared at his brother, his eye twitching in irritation. “Do not fret, brother… you may have the same reactions as the others, but I have never seen Elinora interact with you as she had with the others,” Daeron consoled, and as if immediately, the rage on Aemond’s face turned to curiosity.     “What?” 

Daeron laughed at how quickly his brother’s mood turned. “Though men had always been vying for her attention, she never gave them a sparing glance— would not even converse with them with small talk unless she was quite literally forced to. But with you… I do not think I can say the same. Which is why I forced you two to dance the other night— Elinora never dances with anyone but me, Edward, or uncle, yet she still danced with you without being forced.” 

“What are you saying, Daeron, say it plainly.” Aemond urged, but his brother only let out an amused breath. “But where’s the fun in that? And I think you already know what I’m saying… come now, brother— they say you are the scholar of us siblings, surely you can figure out what is plain to our eyes.” Aemond only stared at his brother, the words resting on the tip of his tongue, but he refused to utter them. 

Daeron sighed, “You like her.” He stated. “And do not hold me to it, but I’m pretty certain that she likes you too, at least to some degree— you know what, I’m not actually certain. You have been a point of irritation for her.” Daeron laughed. “But on a more positive note, no one has actually irritated Elinora in the way you have, so… congratulations, brother.” Daeron smiled and finally left his brother in the halls with Aemond standing alone as another confirmed what he suspected and quite frankly feared. 

He liked Elinora… a girl whose hand was already promised to another. And Elinora liked him, they think. No one was actually certain, but the first revelation was enough to confound the ever-certain and stoic One-Eyed Prince. 

Tag List: @sapphirevhagar @dahlias-and-marigolds @shygardengalaxy-blog @m-riaa @summerposie

[bouncybongfairy]

Pathetic

Dabi x Fem Reader Smut

Summary: Dabi finds the fact that he doesn't even have to use his words to get your forgiveness after an argument quite piteous.

Word Count: 1.0k+

Ref Account: @kaionyx

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

You jumped hearing the door slam; judging by how the apartment shook you knew it was Dabi. Almost dropping the book you were reading into the soapy water. Spilling your wine glass you’d poured vodka into on the ground. Now causing you to scramble about the bathroom. Looking for your clothes as soap suds and water trailed down your skin. The door swung open and you almost slipped on the tile floor. Catching yourself on the towel rack. You were immediately taken back, he looked run ragged. Like he was jumped or something, walking over to the sink and hovering. Letting a mixture of blood and saliva drip onto the porcelain. Using the water to rinse his mouth before turning his attention back to you.

“Get the fuck out!” you screamed. 

The two of you had gotten into a blowout argument two weeks ago and haven’t spoken since. Involuntary tears burned your eyes the more you stared. He let his hair go white and it was more messy than usual; like he’d just woken up or something. A mix of the alcohol spilled onto the floor and his presence made a scowl paint over your face. He stepped over the broken glass, it crunched loudly underneath his boots. You tried your hardest to maintain your physical dominance, not leaning back when he approached. Keeping your arms folded across your chest, a little too tipsy to bother covering up. He tilted his head arrogantly to the side as he stared down at you. He noticed your breathing quicken, grabbing your arms and gently pulling them down to your sides. Purposely letting his thumbs rub down the sides of your torso. You hold your breath and tighten your core, trying to prove that it wasn’t affecting you. However your dilated pupils and the deep red flush across your cheeks suggested otherwise. 

He wiped the tears off your face, now letting his body fully press against yours. He was lanky which only added to his intimidation while hovering over you. Breathing heavy against your face, looking down on you with wild eyes. Like he couldn’t wait to get his hands on you. Although still angry and bitter from the argument; it was comforting to have him so close. Being able to smell him and feel his embrace against your skin. Taking in all the little details about him as this would be the last encounter. You brought your arms up and wrapped them around his neck. He moved his hands off your face and started to unbuckle his belt. The sound of metal clanking together made your knees shake a little. Letting his pants and boxers fall to the wet floor. He picked your legs up and pressed your back against the drywall. The back of your knees were being supported by his elbows. He lined himself up and slowly started pushing himself inside you. 

He let his forehead drop against your shoulder. For the past two weeks all he could think about was being engulfed in your heat. Feeling how your moaning matched up with the tightening of your walls around him was intoxicating to him. Groans flooding out of his mouth while trying to catch his breath without stopping. Slowly pulling fully out, biting down on your shoulder as the cold air hits his length. Fucking back into you letting his body weight nearly crush you. He was trying his hardest to be fully buried inside you. He couldn’t figure out what made you different in the way he couldn’t get enough of you. No matter how frustrated or fed up he got with the relationship he always came back. Like a moth to flame or Rue Bennet to a xanny. Pounding himself into you at a merciless rate while you whimpered and moaned into his ear. Your juices were leaking down his thighs which only added to how desperate his thrusts were becoming. Running your fingers through his hair, feeling how hot and sweaty he was. You used his hair to tilt his head to the side, allowing you to suck hickies onto his skin. Screaming into his salty skin, biting down as his tip hit your cervix. 

Without pulling out, he walks the two of you over to the bed. Letting his body fall on top of yours and continuously pounded into you. Grabbing two fist fulls of your hair and pinning your head to the mattress. The only thing he liked more than fucking you was watching your face while he did. Eyes rolling back with your mouth wide open, rendered completely cockdrunk and braindead. Breasts bouncing every time his length disappeared inside you. He could tell you were getting close, your legs were shaking; feeling your walls quiver and pulsate around him. He planned on holding out for longer but couldn’t take it anymore. Letting go of your hair and wrapping his arms around your neck. Keeping his cock deep inside you while pumping your belly full of cum. 

Moving himself in and out just enough for his load to start leaking out of you. He pulled out of you and moved his face down to your core and immediately started attacking your clit with his tongue. Holding your legs up as he buried his face between your lips, tasting himself while eating you out. You nearly ripped his hair out as you came; bucking and jerking your hips up. Ears ringing and holding your breath while waves of pleasure wash over your body. He tried continuing to flick and suck but you were too overstimulated. You closed your legs and took a few moments to catch your breath. He got up and took his tee-shirt off. Walking to the bathroom sink and wetting it with warm water. He came back to the bed and spread your legs, wiping and cleaning you down. You grabbed his arm and used the little energy left to cuddle next to him. He chuckled and pulled you into his arms, pressing kisses on the top of your head before both of you passed out.

[quiet-saint]

"𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐢𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞"

Pairing: Vergil/fem!reader, android!vergil/reader

Cw: nsfw/+18, spanking, some light degradation, a little angst, comfort at the end. Reader is a bit touch-starved, didn’t have a good childhood. I think that's it?

Summary: You were assigned an android by your father against your will. Vergil wants to make the situation better for you both but you don’t make it easy.

A/n: Y’all this is pure self-indulgence again. Idk I kinda don't like the way it turned out but i’m throwing it into the void anyway bc i spent way too much time on it. Not really proofread.

ִ ࣪𖤐

It's been a little over a month since your father–whom you haven't had contact with in years—assigned an android of his own creation to you. A combat android, built for protection and fit for bodyguard work. Part of the Sparda line, of which there have only been four created before the entire project was scrapped. Deviancy seemed inevitable.

Vergil doesn't talk much about his brothers and refuses to tell you about Sparda, the first android of their type. Whatever. You don't much care. You don't care much for anything these days, really.

Prior to Vergil's arrival, you lived alone. Apathetic in a shitty apartment on the outskirts of Red Grave City, away from your father's technological empire. You tried for years to get in touch with him but he left you to be raised by tutors and nannies that came and went. As you got older, you didn't want anything to do with him or his advancements in technology. So much so when you turned eighteen you never touched the money your father put into your bank account. Changed your last name and moved away. Thought that was the end of it. Didn't think you'd have anything to do with him ever again.

But here you are, living in a luxury apartment with the android your father assigned to you without your permission. Vergil's very presence dredges up years of resentment and abandonment you thought you buried so deep within you they ceased to exist.

It's no wonder then, why you begin to backtrack to your room as soon as you catch sight of Vergil seated on the couch in the dark living room. You turn on your heel, biting your tongue. You only spent time around him if you had to and even then you tolerated him.

You take a step back toward your room, being as quiet as possible, not wanting to draw the android's attention.

"Come here." Vergil says and you still, inwardly cursing. Of course he heard you. Android hearing and all that. You're certain he knows what your heart rate is right now, your temperature. You take a deep breath and turn back to face the living room, glaring at the back of Vergil's head as he flips a page in his book, continuing to read. Unaffected by the lack of light. Casual and relaxed.

"What?" You say sharply, crossing your arms over your chest in frustration, unable to resist the slight rocking back and forth on your feet.

"I want to talk. Come here." He repeats, with that same low, gentle tone he uses to get you to eat. The windows of the highrise apartment are blacked out, blocking out any potential prying eyes yet giving you a clear, if less bright, look at the large buildings of the city.

"I won't tell you a third time." You drop your arms to your sides and fight the urge to stomp over like a child throwing a tantrum. Slowly you patter over, hallway carpet giving way to smooth wood flooring. You come to stand in front of Vergil. He closes his book with a faint thump, sets it down on the armrest of the blue velvet chesterfield sofa. He then pats the space beside him. "Sit." Spoken like an order. You bite the inside of your cheek but comply, keeping some space between you two. The little lamp on the side stand comes on and you know it's Vergil's doing. You blink a little as your eyes adjust to the change in lighting.

"Okay. Talk." You mumble, glancing over at him. Unfair how he can look so impeccable. He's dressed in a white button up shirt and black slacks. The top two buttons are undone to reveal a bit of his pale throat and clavicle. His silvery-white hair is slicked back in his preferred style.

Vergil's shifts to face you, his knee a hair's breadth from bumping your thigh. He has an elbow resting on the back of the sofa, two fingers along his temple. "Oh? Two words this time. I didn't know you were capable." He says with a teasing lilt.

Your nails dig crescent moons into your right palm. "Did you ask me to sit here just to torment me?"

Vergil chuckles, the sound low, incredibly human and unexpectedly pleasant. "No. I... want to make things easier for you and I." That catches you off guard, your eyebrows pulling together slightly in a mix of confusion and surprise. Vergil is being nice, and you hate it. Hate the way he uses that gentle, patient tone. Hate the way it makes you want to give in and drop your carefully crafted detached demeanor. Hate the way hearing that tone makes you crave his approval. Your knee begins to bounce as you cross your arms over your chest. You huff in frustration as you turn your head to look at him. "Like anything will make it easier to be babysat by a fucking machine?" You snap.

In a flash Vergil grips your jaw, thumb along one cheek and his fingers pressing into your other, forcing your mouth into a pout. "Careful." He whispers leaning in, artificial breath warm as it fans lightly over your face. You can't speak clearly with the way your lips are pressed into an unwilling pout. Your eyes narrow as you catch the faint upturned corners of his mouth, anger flaring at the sight. His grip on your jaw lingers a moment longer before releasing.

"I don't need a hunk of plastic to—" You're cut off by Vergil's right hand fisting the collar of your shirt, exposing the warm soft skin of your tummy. You gasp in surprise. Vergil wastes no time in using his hold on your shirt to haul you over his lap, draping you over his thighs with ease. The action knocking a bit of air from your lungs. Your hands press flat along the rough area rug of the living room, your socked feet slip a little as you attempt to push yourself up and off his lap.

"I was wondering when you'd break." A warm hand comes down to press at your lower spine, resting just above the waistband of your jeans, the tip of a pinky slipping teasingly below the denim. The small skin to skin contact makes you dizzy, causing you to still, heart stuttering in your chest as your breathing becomes shallow. "W-what the hell are you doing?" You ask, craning your neck and pushing up on your hands to try and look at him, hair getting in your face.

Vergil's free hand reaches down to wrap delicately around your throat, not applying any pressure. No squeezing. His touch is soft, near feather light. Grounding, even. Vergil removes it in favor of giving your hair a brief stroke as if you're some pet in his lap and not a grown adult. He leans down a little.

"You," he begins voice quiet and a little rough in the low light of the living room. "Are going to say Yamato if you feel unsafe. Or if this gets to be too much."

Your breath catches in your throat, heat pooling in your stomach immediately even as your brain is slow to piece this all together. "W-what?" You ask in disbelief but there's heat low in your tummy and Vergil's hand on that bit of exposed skin above your waistband. Comforting, teasing, and intoxicating all at once. "I want you to say it now." Vergil's voice is a coaxing purr. You swallow, tongue darting out to lick at your lips, mouth suddenly feeling dry. "Y-yamato." You stammer, face hot as you hang your head.

"Good." Is all you get before Vergil's hands go to your jeans, fingers hooking in the waistband and pulling the denim halfway down your thighs. Swift and rough. You gasp, fingers digging a little into the area rug below you. Vergil runs a hand up the back of your right thigh, thumb brushing along the crease where your ass meets it, just below the edge of your underwear. You begin to squirm.

"I've been wanting to correct your behavior for a while now." He says and you huff in indignation. "M-my behavior is fine."

Vergil scoffs and pinches your ass cheek harshly. You jolt, a squeak tumbling forth. "Excluding the rude insults from a moment ago, you're rather... polite most of the time, yes." Vergil replies, running his palm over the area he pinched soothingly before giving a light squeeze. You moan softly. Embarrassment and molten want swirl in your stomach, your senses in overdrive. Vergil snickers. "But even I get tired of one word answers and sulking. I think I might have more of a personality than you." He says dryly as he grips the waistband of your underwear, bunching it up and pulling the cloth taught against your slit and you can feel how slick you've become. You press up a little on your toes, gasping as he pulls the fabric tighter, nearly wedging the fabric in your middle.

"Ah, wet already." Vergil all but purrs as he ghosts his thumb over the damp spot with his free hand. Your breath catches in your throat, heart beating wildly against your ribcage. He clicks his tongue in mock disapproval. "I've hardly done anything, dear. A few touches and a pinch really get you that worked up?" You whimper in humiliation as Vergil tugs the material down to rest under the curve of your ass.

Without warning Vergil's palm connects with the soft skin of your right cheek, stinging and sharp and aching. You cry out in surprise. "H-hey!"

"I want an apology." Vergil states coolly, rubbing and gently squeezing the reddening flesh of your rear. Your mouth struggles to form words, head full of want. Vergil scoffs and smacks harshly against your left cheek this time. Once, twice, three times before doing the same to your right. He hits sharp and hard, stealing the breath from your lungs. You've never been spanked before, haven't received any real physical discipline growing up. Your nannies and even your father in your early years opted for isolation. You wonder if you'll bruise. The thought shouldn't make you ache and leak but it does, hole clenching around nothing. "I-I'm sorry!" You squeal, panting as your arms tremble from holding a bit of your weight up at the awkward angle. He could have laid you over his lap on the sofa but you suspect Vergil wanted the position to be a little uncomfortable.

"Oh you can do better than that."

You swallow and collect yourself as best you can. "I'm sorry for calling you a hunk of plastic and a machine." You mumble, slumping a little, head hanging once more, hair hiding your face. Humiliated and turned on, out of your element and overwhelmed. The word yamato rests in your throat at the ready but you don't want to say it. You don't feel as if you need to.

Vergil hums as if in thought. "And? What of your behavior?" He asks, soothing his palm over the pink heated skin of your ass. You nod in understanding. "I'm... sorry for that, too. I-I'll stop... sulking." You stammer, the words awkward on your tongue. When was the last time you had to apologize for anything? When was the last you actually had anyone to apologize to?

"Better." Vergil murmurs, pulling the fabric of your underwear back up to cover you and you whine, aching and needy. Vergil hushes you as he pulls your jeans up to your rear. He taps your hip and helps you stand. His pale fingers tug at your belt loops, pulling you close to stand between his spread legs. Your hands go to his shoulders for support as your knees feel a tad weak.

Vergil looks up at you from his spot on the sofa, maintaining eye contact as he pulls up your pants the rest of the way. An unnameable intensity in his pale blue gaze. He smooths out your shirt, however the collar of it is stretched from Vergil using it to haul you over his lap.

"Sit with me." A soft command. He leans back against the blue velvet sofa, draping an arm along the back of it. The ache between your thighs begins to fade. You've never been in this sort of situation before. Fuck. You've hardly had a meaningful conversation with Vergil and you certainly haven't been spanked until tonight. Although it wasn't much. A million questions flood your head but you don't have the energy to ask them or word them properly.

Overwhelmed you fall back on simply listening. You settle onto the cushion beside him, ass aching. Vergil moves his arm from the back of the sofa to pull you further into his side. He tucks some of your hair behind your right ear.

"Are you alright?" Vergil asks and you nod as you stare at your lap. He sighs and his free hand comes up to gently grab your chin so you're forced to look at him. His brows are knit together, mouth set in a slight frown as he looks you over. "Come here." He says, not really waiting for an answer before reaching and pulling you into his lap, his arm moving from your shoulder to wrap around your lower back. Your left side grows warm as it's pressed to his front and his right hand rubs over your hip in a soothing manner. Unsure of how to respond to Vergil's affectionate physical contact you stiffen momentarily. You haven't been hugged since... when? You can't remember.

Gradually, you will yourself to relax, allowing your head to rest on his shoulder. You'd expect an android to smell like plastic but Vergil smells good. Like sandalwood and vanilla with the faintest hint of something metallic. Does he wear cologne? You wonder. Vergil's hand not on your hip goes to your hair, stroking softly, palm sometimes grazing your cheek. It feels good to be held. It's warm here. Safe. Secure.

A lump forms in your throat. Heat creeps into your cheeks as your vision blurs. A soft, broken sound leaves your throat as your lashes grow damp and spikey from tears that slide down your cheeks to trail down your chin. Vergil sighs again and you sniffle. A small strained "'m sorry" leaving your lips. Vergil shakes his head, using the pad of his thumb to wipe away the tears under an eye. "Don't be. I was prepared for this sort of outcome." You huff a quiet laugh against his shoulder that's more air than anything. "H-how did you know I'd cry?" You ask, sniffling as you blink back more tears. Vergil resumes stroking your hair. "Going off your behavior and your history, there was a high probability you would react this way."

"You can... calculate that?" You whisper.

Vergil hums. "Not accurately." He answers but doesn't bother to elaborate further.

Tired but not as overwhelmed, the gentle stroking of your hair and the warm hand on your hip has your limbs growing heavy.

"It's alright." Vergil murmurs, lips near your forehead. "You can sleep. We’ll talk more about this tomorrow."

As much as you try to fight sleep in an attempt to drag this moment out, to stay here, held and warm and wanted, it's impossible. Your body grows lax and your eyes fall shut.

"Sleep well." Vergil says, low and whisper soft against your hair.

ִ ࣪𖤐

Y'all idek...

[renalord]

✰ pairing: jing yuan x gn!reader

✰ synopsis: jing yuan and reader relax under a tree.

✰ warnings: none. fluff, and the two of them kiss.

✰ authors note: first real post on this account, treat it well. requests are open (navigation). not proofread. can you guys tell im in love with jing yuan

you were sure there was nothing better than being able to rest in the cool breeze, your lover’s head resting on your legs. his silver hair was soft against your skin, untied and spread out over your body onto the grass around. his face was covered from your sight by the book you held in your hands, eyes scanning across the lines of words on each page. it was colored a darker red than jing yuan’s hair tie, something that you used as a bookmark whenever he didn’t have his hair up. although you couldn’t see his expression, you were almost certain that it was one of content, eyes closed and a tranquil smile set on his lips. his lion, which was an unusual color of white, slept beside you, one gigantic paw resting on your already numb thighs. ouch. you had tried to move it prior to reading, but were met with a grunt from the big cat and decided to leave it alone. eventually your thoughts wandered, and you became too lost to notice the hand reaching up to slowly push down your book. jing yuan blinked at you, snapping his fingers to get your attention.

“hi.” his voice was quiet, soft. your hands let go of the book slowly, instead moving to press a few fingers to his face. your mouth curved into a smile, hair flowing towards your eyes as the wind began traveling in your direction.

“hi.” you replied, imitating his calm tone. he liked that about you, your demeanor was peaceful, one he could indulge in without worrying about himself. he also knew you were a hard worker, someone who could fight for themself and protect others at the same time, so moments like these were rare but special. honestly, it’s a miracle that you get to have these kinds of moments at all.

“i miss you.” jing yuan was definitely a man of few words.

“then maybe you should stop sleeping.” you rolled your eyes, running your fingers through his hair. seriously, how does he NOT have any knots at all? the general gave a huff of laughter, lifting himself off of your legs. one of his hands rested on the mane of his lion (which somehow hasn’t killed him yet), the other reaching up to touch your cheek.

“these are the moments where i can truly rest. i should be able to do so.” his tone wasn’t rude, you knew he was joking, still you couldn’t help but make a comment about his choice of words.

“don’t you take a nap everyday?” he deadpanned and you smiled. the wind picked up slightly, brushing leaves off the tree that gave the lovers shade.

“well.. they’re not always with you.” jing yuan replied back, gaze flickering from your eyes to your lips. it was only for a brief moment, but you caught it. curse you and your superhuman ability to observe everything around you. thus, without a second of hesitation, you leaned forward to meet your soft lips with his. his usually pale skin turned red on the cheeks, pressing his hands under your jawline. green leaves continued to fall, blown away by the push of air from jing’s lion as it woke.

there was truly no better person for you than him.

© 2023 all rights belong to renalord on tumblr. thank you for reading. i hope you had a great time. reblogs are always appreciated.

[thebelugawhalefriend]

The Men Before The Rose - Yan!Royal Harem x Reader

PART ONE

CW: RELIGIOUS THEMES, EXECUTION MENTIONS, Homophobia

Note: This is a sequel to the first story! An expansion into Rose's heritage and how the world works for them. As someone pointed out, it's rather sudden how the homophobia shows itself and comes off as unartful. So! This will mostly dive into the division about same sex couples.

Months passed before you could consider yourself okay again. The isolation from your family and friends was something you slowly had to overcome the pain of. It still stings like an arrow to the heart, but living on was the least you could do for yourself.

In the meantime, you decide to busy yourself with finding the history of the royals. Rose isn't too excited to share in his own history, only providing you one book. Even given the sparse information Rose would provide, his family's long time rule was no mere feat to scoff at. What draws your attention most is his direct father, Aquila. Upon seeing his name on one of the pages, you turn to read the chapter dedicated to his reign.

Before our red haired king had assumed the throne, Aquila Florian sat upon the gilded seat of power. Hair as golden as the rays of sun, eyes a similar shade. No man nor woman could even compare to his mere size- Murals along the castle walls could only paint his figure from the top of his chest if they wished to paint his face!

By his side was his appointed wife that he named Tyto. Her previous first name has been erased from our records, but his command ruled that her name be changed to fit his rigid structure. In fact, much of his rule came from...

The book quickly proved itself to be a rather boring account of events. But, there is perhaps another way to experience the story. You close the leather book in your hands and set it onto the dresser, lifting up and wandering out of the bedroom.

"My Lady, to where shall I accompany you?" You're well aware of the guard outside of the room, and yet he never ceases to surprise you when you step out. "I told you before, you can call me (Y/N)..."

"Not when you've been wed to the king. I've been ordered to call you Lady and nothing more."

"Then... Alright, I don't wish to cause you trouble. Do you think you could guide me to Rose's study?"

The iron clad guard pauses for a moment, "His... His study is more than private, Your Grace. I wouldn't be allowed to lead you there- much less fulfill my duty to your care."

You shake your head a little. It's always been this excuse time and time again, "Is it a sin to want to know more about the man I married? About the family I am part of now?"

"With all due respect, not even Queen Florian has ventured within the study. I cannot let you violate the trust of the king- nay, your husband..."

"He's violated my own trust the day he commanded I stay within these walls and never see anyone I care for again. I'm not just asking as a..." You struggle to utter the mere words, "As a royal, but as a confused human being... Please, I must see the study."

The walk to Rose's study was short, but the tension made it seem like hours. Charles is anything but a hard hearted man. A tender gentleman just above your own height. While he was commanded to keep watch by the threat of death, he couldn't bear to see another moment pass with you longing for more.

"Thank you... Thank you so so-"

"Please make it swift, My Lady. Rose will return in a few hours."

You nod, easily slipping into the unlocked study.

Creeeaaaakkk....

The oakwood door moans as it reveals the room to you. It took your eyes but a moment to adjust to the darkness inside, but there's no mistaking what you're seeing. The eerily large room holds plenty of large murals that paint the elongated walls. Moonlight mixed with dim flames of the torches just barely illuminates the inside from behind you, but God almighty you want to see more.

"I'll need light..."

Closing the door carefully, you snatch yourself a candle from one of the nearby side tables and hold it to a lit torch. After all, no noble could leave their castle barren of a lighting system. It takes you little time to slip right back in and start to walk along the hall of artwork. Strangely enough, this didn't feel like a study. No, this felt like a room dedicated to telling the tale of their rule. You can animate in your head just what each painting told...

Men upon horses trample over others of their own kind. White stallions proudly sported iron clad warriors upon their backs, while at their hooves were unarmored and weaponless men. Swords glowed a beaming sun yellow to declare a holy victory to claim the land they fought for.

A man with white hair stands over a crowd of adoring people and dogs. What's strange is that the dogs stand on hind legs and praise him as if they themselves are human. Horses behind the crowd also cheer for him, but all four hooves stay connected to the ground.

A single long line connects a chain of kings, each one holding a link within a golden chain. Most sport blonde hair and blue eyes, but the last king stands as an outlier. He holds golden eyes and curled red locks. Under them each is a name, but most of the older ones were too faded to read. 'Raven Florian/Lady Mourn - Aquila Florian/Lady Tyto - Rose Florian/Lady Azalea/Lady (Y/N)'.

Even if the third one isn't the last, you take a long pause to look upon the names. Your new marriage has quite literally been set in stone. Painted with your name under the striking red haired man. Yet, you keep going. You must know more about them! What stops you is the hall widening into a rather quaint room. Now this looks a lot more like a study, with a large red chair sat in the midst of bookshelves and a messy desk of papers and a journal. It's the desk you're drawn to first, picking up the most worn out journal upon it.

"Blank?" You look on the cover. The only thing even describing what could be inside were the initials AF written on the leather cover's corner. "What could you be hiding?" You set your candle close and sit down, starting to read the pages inside.

Day of 30th, December, 1201

Today has transpired like any other. My breakfast was rather lean, but I can't complain when dinner is to be grand.

You laugh softly at such an inconspicuous entry. Maybe this would be a silly little journal of thoughts. Most follow such an idea, but some entries catch your attention more than others.

Day of 14th, April, 1202

Joanne of Jonstown has been captured.

Your eyebrows knot in confusion, turning to the page behind it.

Date of 12th, April, 1202

A grand disturbance has taken place at Noble Stewart's wedding. A strange rogue appeared and objected to the union, disgracing the ceremony to declare a disgusting lust for his wife. Any sane man would have wrung her neck on the spot, but the rat got away before he could catch her. It's no matter to him now. I have hired Jasper and his men to bring her to justice. With any luck, he could receive his own spot here by my side...

Date of 15th, April, 1202

Her execution has been dated for three days from now. I suggested we string and quarter her for her sins, but my royal advisor suggested I treat her not as a mere criminal. Rather, we could give her the same treatment as we do for suspected dark arts users. Not only will this serve as a painful death one like her deserves, but will also set the further precedent for what is to come of unlawful relations. If one is to partake in disturbing the union of a man and a woman for their own desires, they are to be burned at the stake. I have no quarrel with what the royal advisor pointed me to, and have let him write the law. It's on her execution day that I shall decree this law and set it into swift motion.

With an uneasy hand, you turn it to one of the final pages.

Date of 18th, April, 1202

The law has been set, and all was well. Not a single soul objected to the law while the spectacle took place. The

"Have you no respect for my personal space?" You immediately shift your eyes from the book to see those familiar golden eyes looking upon you with scorn. Dim candle light in his hand flickering and lighting up the underside of his displeased face. His figure draws closer as you retreat into yourself.

"I-I'm sorry, Rose! I wanted to know more- I-"

"My father's words are about as much history as murderers are innocent!" He practically roars, snatching the journal away and towering over your frame. "I gave you the resource you wanted... I gave you all you could ever want to know. This?" He holds up the book, "These are the ravings of a madman that no person should EVER learn from!"

"Learn from?" You start to rise from your position, a little offended by his assumption, "I wanted to learn ABOUT your family! Is it not my right to know what my children will be born into? What I tie myself to?"

"My father's words and thoughts have died with him. There is no need to continue learning from his example."

Standing up from your position, you place a finger to his chest and start walking him backwards. "You can't hide what your family has done to innocent people! Your father was a horrible-"

"I KNOW!"

His right hand drops the journal, latching onto your shoulder to allow his anger to set deep within. The glow from his candle dims to let the dark features of his anger settle in.

"I know he was a horrible man. He ordered the execution of many people who did not deserve it. If he knew of what I have now... He would surely kill me." Rose sighs, letting you go and setting down his fading candle. "I come from a line of men who claim to know their faith. Who hoped that persecuting the innocent would cure them of their own sins. You want to know what I think?" He looks to the book on the desk with a wicked snarl. "I think they're all burning in hell for the rest of their days. My father, his father, and the ones who came before. The men he hired that still work in the castle? They too will burn for being so stuck in their ways..."

You place a hand under his chin, bringing him to look at you. "It's no use to hide the history of your lineage. You are the result of those men, whether you like it or not." He tries to butt in, but you're quick to pause his interruption. "But what they've done doesn't make you a horrible man. It's what you do now that truly matters, does it not? You wouldn't have executed them. You let my mothers live in peace despite the law your father put into place..."

With a hefty sigh, he cups your face and finally draws out a smile upon his own. "You still violated my trust, dearest. I didn't want you to wander..."

"You assume I'd be content staying in one room for the rest of my years." Your teasing is bold, but his laugh was moreso. "I suppose you're right. Come then, I guess I owe you a proper tour of our home." As you both approach the doorway, you pause for a moment in thought.

"What is to become of Charles?"

"Ah... Him. He can't go unpunished for disobeying my order, my dear."

Your blood runs ice cold, but Rose is quick to try and soothe your tense worry, "Calm yourself! He's not going to be executed- Lord almighty, did you forget my whole point of not being my father? He'll spend some time thinking over his betrayal and punished as severely as the crime calls for. Which... Isn't too cruel."

"Will he continue to serve for us?"

"That remains to be seen. Come! I'll show you to the bottom floor!"

[fishsticksloser]

If RoTTMNT requests are open, can I request a fluff Future Leo x Male Reader? Getting one for my bestie teehee, he is a simp :³

Fine Wine

F!Leo x male!reader

Warnings: playful banter, kissing, flirting, swearing, a tiny bit suggestive...

A/N: I had... Maybe a bit too much fun with this. To be fair, you left it open so don't judge me! 🫵 I hope your friend enjoys this. I don't blame him for being a simp... Have you seen my posts (or even my reblog account?)

You walk into Leo's room, he's sitting on his bed. His back against the wall, a book in his hand. "What're you doing?" Leo asks, setting his book on the table nearby.

"Ah. Just checking the fermentation that's going on in here." You tease, leaning against the doorframe. You smile brightly at Leo as he seems to get more comfortable. "You aging more like a fine wine or sauerkraut?"

Leo raised an eyebrow at your comment, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Oh, I see how it is. Comparing me to sauerkraut now, huh? Well, I'll have you know, I age like a fine wine, sweetheart. Full-bodied and just a little rough around the edges." He chuckled, his voice dripping with playful arrogance. "But hey, if you're into that tangy, fermented goodness, who am I to judge?"

You step into his room, standing next to his side of the bed. "Mmm..." You hum softly, gently cupping his cheek. "I'd say a very fine wine." Leo's eyes widened slightly at your touch, his smirk fading into a more genuine smile. He leaned into your hand, enjoying the warmth of your touch.

"Well, well, aren't you full of compliments tonight," he responded, his voice softer now. "Guess I must be doing something right if I've earned your praise." He paused for a moment, his gaze meeting yours. "You know, I could use a taste tester. Care to join me in sampling this 'fine wine'?" he asked, his tone suggestive.

"How could I possibly say no?" You laugh softly, feeling Leo pull you closer. "Think I'm drunk already..." You whisper as your faces get closer. Leo's expression turned more serious as he pulled you closer, his gaze locked with yours.

His voice dropped to a low, husky tone. "Drunk on what, sweetheart? The taste of adventure? The thrill of danger? Or maybe... just maybe... the intoxicating presence of a certain red eared slider?" His lips brushed against yours in a teasing manner, his tone laced with a hint of mischief. "Either way, I'm more than happy to be your drink of choice tonight."

"Oh? Are you dangerous?" You ask, smiling as your lips brush his. Your other hand cups his other cheek, noses bumping. Leo's eyes sparkled with a mix of amusement and desire as he felt your hand cup his other cheek. His lips curled into a mischievous grin.

"Dangerous? Oh, sweetheart, you have no idea." He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your skin. "I've battled countless enemies, faced down the Kraang, and survived against all odds. But the most dangerous thing about me?" His voice lowered to a seductive murmur. "It's the way I make your heart race, the way I make you crave more." His lips claimed yours in a deep, passionate kiss, his arm wrapping around your waist.

You kiss him back slowly, cupping the base of his skull. Your lips meld and mold against his. Leo's chest rose and fell with a mixture of desire and frustration as he pulled away from the kiss, his eyes locked with yours. "Damn... You'd make a pretty fine wine..." You mumble breathlessly.

He chuckled softly, his voice husky. "Well, sweetheart, I could say the same about you. Fine wine or not, you've got me craving another taste." He leaned in once more, his lips brushing against yours in a teasing manner before he pulled back slightly, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "But let's take it slow, shall we? We've got all night to savor the flavor."

Leo's lips lingered against yours, a hunger evident in his eyes. He chuckled softly, it's low and gravelly. His missing arm reaching out to you, but he leaned in once more, capturing your lips in another passionate kiss. Leo's arms wrapped around you tightly, pulling you onto his lap as your lips melded together. He lost himself in the taste and feel of you, his body responding instinctively to the closeness. His tongue teased against yours, exploring and savoring the taste of you, his body pressing against yours with a raw, desperate desire. His hand slid up your back, his touch firm yet gentle as he deepened the kiss, your tongues dancing in a passionate rhythm. In this moment, there was no past, no regrets, only the intoxicating connection between two souls. The world outside ceased to exist as he focused solely on savoring every touch, every breath, and every moment of blissful escape.

You slowly move your kisses to his jaw and neck, wanting him to feel loved and wanted. You gently bite his neck, humming softly. Leo's breath hitched as your lips and teeth grazed his jaw and neck, a shiver coursing through his body. "Good year..." You tease lightly, still keeping up the playful banter.

He chuckled softly, his voice laced with desire. "Oh, a connoisseur of fine wines, are we? Well, I must say, this year is particularly exceptional." He tilted his head back slightly, giving you better access to his neck, a low growl escaping his throat as you gently bit down. "But I must warn you, sweetheart, once you've tasted the best, there's no going back." His tone was filled with both amusement and longing, his body responding eagerly to your touch.

"Don't I know it... But I wouldn't have it any other way..." You whisper, biting his bottom lip and tugging it slightly. "Can't get enough..." Leo's eyes darkened with desire as he felt your teeth graze his bottom lip. He let out a low growl of pleasure, his body responding to your touch.

"You know, I've always been one to indulge in the things I can't get enough of. Believe me, sweetheart, the feeling is mutual," he murmured, his voice husky. "It seems I've found something truly irresistible." His hand trailed up your back, fingers grazing along your spine, as he deepened the kiss once more. The taste of you, the feel of your body pressed against his, ignited a fire within him. He couldn't get enough of you, craving the intoxicating passion that flowed between you.

[convexicalcrow]

By all accounts, Magic Mountain was a lovely place. The bases coming up around it all in various stages of progress offered glimpses as to it's final form. Cub liked hanging out in the cherry trees at the top of the mountain, watching the sunset. It was a great backdrop for his fireworks tests. High enough to be out of the way of people's bases, and with enough open sky to really show off how good they looked.

There was just one problem with Magic Mountain, though. Gem and Grian's bases were just... foggy. Damp, cold, foggy. For whatever reason, the weather around their bases was so utterly different from everywhere else, and Cub didn't really notice it until he was up on that mountain and could see the distinct changes in lighting and atmosphere that surrounded that part of the river.

it was a bit creepy, really. To be fair, Gem and Grian had been weird all season. Something about fishing and being close to the water had clearly done something to them. Which is not to say Cub had been immune either. He'd done his share of fishing while Grian was trying to get that mending book, more for moral support and company than anything else. There were worse ways to spend your time than hanging out with your friends while fishing.

One evening, he got curious. He'd seen Gem's progress at her base, seeing the crane reaching out through the fog and the bright yellow sparks from the power lines punching through the darkness. A bright red beacon beam burst through the top of the lighthous, as if it was a warning. Something...

He flew down and landed on the docks, immediately feeling the change in atmosphere. The night ceased to be clear. Thick fog rolled around him, preventing him from seeing too far. The skull across the river glowed ominously, its towering presence looming over the water. He might have shivered. Something here didn't feel right.

"I probably shouldn't be here," Cub muttered as he walked further into the base.

The huge anglerfish head that decorated the fish market seemed alive somehow, bathed in the eerie glow of the bulb at the end of the protrusion coming from the top of its head. Its teeth just seemed razor sharp. Cub didn't want to approach it. He was sure he just saw it breath, saw some kind of tongue moving in its lower jaw.

He walked slowly, moving towards the lighthouse. The two fish that circled it moved so slowly, the fog making them seem like ghosts that weren't really there. They made no sound save for the soft movement of their bodies through the air.

He turned as something large seemed to hit the water, causing a splash.

"Hello? Is someone there?" Cub called. "Gem? Is that you?"

There was no answer, and only small splashes. Perhaps fish just swarming. Maybe that was just a squid landing after flying out of the water. Maybe that's what it was. He went closer to the water's edge, trying to see if he was alone.

"What the hell-? What is that thing?" Cub murmured as he saw an unusually large dark shadow moving through the water. It was too dark to see what it was; it was only visible because of the moonlight that had barely made it through the fog to reflect on the water.

One of the power lines sparked again, causing Cub to startle. It was too loud in the dark quiet dockyards. Perhaps a sign he should get out of here.

"Maybe that was just squid ink. Maybe it got scared when it fell into the water. Maybe that's it," Cub told himself as he moved past the lighthouse, hoping to pass out of Gem's area and back into the clear night.

Perhaps something grabbed his ankle and dragged him under before he could leave. Perhaps there was nothing more than dark water and soft, gentle singing before he respawned in his bed, clammy and wet, with a jagged stab wound through his heart made by some creature he did not want to imagine.

"Man, I ain't never going there again. That place is cursed for real though," Cub said. And if even he was scared to go there, perhaps the fear was well placed. Something was wrong with Gem's base, and Cub wanted nothing to do with it.

[myloveforhergoeson]

That's All She Wrote - Chapter 31

Chapter Index

Find me on wattpad + ao3!

Chapter 31: The Music Or The Misery ~ 15k

“Mr. Rocque, Kelly, please,” Roxanne pleaded, shaking fingers threaded, palms pressed together. She would’ve gotten down on her knees to beg if she, the band, and their two bosses weren’t already in the back of the limousine headed to Brand New Day’s album release party. “The Big Time Rush booking fee is for interviews and photoshoots, and- and millionaire’s birthday parties. Not for an advertising campaign for a band no one has ever heard of!” 

Though she winced at her desperate tone of voice, she hoped one final appeal would make the two adults change their minds. Despite spending the last 24 hours making similar statements since Gustavo’s call at the movie theater, neither of them had budged in their decision for the band to attend the party. She’d even taken the fight all the way to Griffin’s office, sitting atop the Rocque Records building and adorned in the strangest taxidermy the assistant had ever seen, hoping that even he would think it an odd request. 

Turns out that had been a mistake; Roxy had severely underestimated how much Griffin seemed to like her. America’s fourth most powerful CEO was no better than his money-hungry adversaries and deep down she knew that… She just wanted someone other than her friends to take her feelings into account just this once. 

With Griffin’s word as law, and whatever Gustavo was afraid of in Obdul’s briefcase when the tall man tapped on it, the band was set to attend the gathering and adhere to Brand New Day’s request. 

When Kelly sighed, shifting her gaze from the soft glow of her BlackBerry in the back of the dark limo to the writer, she just slowly shook her head. “You heard Griffin earlier, Roxy. They’re paying customers and Rocque Records has a contract to fulfil. As much as you dislike these boys-”

“These two,” The assistant automatically corrected, feeling James’ hand slide onto her shoulder as the limo turned a corner. “These two,” Kelly continued after a brief pause, “There’s a lot of money at stake here.”

That was the same answer the talent scout had given her all day - the same corporate talk about contract fulfillment, legal obligation, and reputation. Bullshit. 

 “Griffin said we have to,” Gustavo added in a flat tone, red glasses matching the tint of a neon sign zooming by outside the window behind him, suggesting that he wasn’t all too thrilled with the night before them either. “So we have to. Set aside whatever crap has you all up in a twist about this party! It’s only a few hours, okay?” 

With a huff, Roxy crossed her arms and pushed back into her seat, watching the endless stream of cars out the tinted window beside the man’s head. Most of the time she and Gustavo were on the same page, especially when it came to breaking down emotional barriers in the writer’s room. If he was able to help her draw out the words to place on the page when she was struggling in the past, why was he so incapable of seeing her irritation now? 

“We’ll be okay, Rox!” From across the way, Carlos reached out to pat her knee, welcome warm contact on skin that felt as cold as ice. The charm from the bracelet she’d made him for Christmas jingled around his wrist. “The night will be over before you know it!”

Carlos’ optimism never ceased to amaze Roxy; She wished she could feel even a small portion of it at the present, but her confusing amalgamation of fear and anger had been busy building up in her system all day. Too much time had already been wasted worrying about Mag and Dani since they’d moved to Hollywood. Past memories playing in her head like a bad movie plagued her dreams, causing her to reach out for James in the darkness of her bedroom, only for the emptiness to creep in when she remembered a few walls separated them in 2-H and 2-J. Horrible flashes of whatever may transpire tonight took hold of her imagination when she was awake, only fueling the fire of emotions rooted in her belly. 

And even that felt ridiculous because Mag and Dani were just people she used to be friends with, not the supervillains of epic proportions her mind was making them out to be. The hurt and confusion then mingled with shame for expecting the worst from them, dragging up situations in which they’d looked out for her at local gigs or sat up and listened to her complain on the phone all hours of the night while she tried to work out a new tune or melody. All the fun they’d had playing together, advertising for their band wherever they could, and drawing up big plans to hit the big time together.

Then, the cycle of emotions started anew, because if they were such great people, how could they so easily take her work and pass it off as their own? How could they be Brand New Day without her?

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Roxy tilted her head back into the hard headrest, focusing on the hum of the limo’s engine since she’d been too fatigued to pick a radio station, and took a deep breath in an attempt to stave off the emotional overload.

Beside Carlos, messing with the material of his lap belt, Kendall nodded at his friend’s words. “Just a few photos for the news outlets and some social media posts saying how much we love the new album, then we’re so far out of here everyone will forget about Brand New Day in a week.”

Though both of them knew that the last part probably wouldn't be true, Roxy wanted to believe it anyway. Internally, she cursed her past self for all the time and effort she’d put into promoting Brand New Day to friends, strangers, and whoever would listen, wishing she could take back all the wishes on shooting stars in clear Minnesota skies that one day they’d blow up and get to move out of their nothing town. 

Too little, too late, the girl thought, feeling the unpleasant sting of her nails cutting into her palm as they balled into tight fists in her lap. At least we all got what we wanted in the end.

James must have noticed her discomfort; The hand on her shoulder trailed down her arm to unwind the mess she might have made of her palm with her fresh manicure. 

“You also… Don’t have to come…” Logan tried to add but quickly winced when Roxy countered his comment with a nasty glare. 

“Are you kidding me? I’m the only one who knows what those two are like! This is all part of their plan-” 

“Roxanne.” Gustavo cut her off with a grating exhale of her name, which was probably a good thing, because as far as she knew, there was no plan. For a few seconds, the humming of the engine was the only sound heard between the seven. “Being in the entertainment industry means sometimes you have to do things you don’t like to do. Do you think I enjoy playing babysitter for the five of you? No! But if I want to stay Hollywood’s number one producer, that’s what I have to do!”

“Oh, stop it Gustavo, you flatter us too much!” Kendall gasped with a sarcastic smile in a clear attempt to ease some of the tension radiating off of his boss and assistant, which calmed Roxy only slightly. At least one of them was able to keep a level head at the present. “We all know you love us too much but simply can’t admit it - out loud or otherwise.”

Grumbling something under his breath, Gustavo turned to look at Kelly’s BlackBerry, signifying Kendall had won that part of the conversation for now. 

The frontman looked over to her too, for approval or something else she wasn’t sure, but she did catch the upward quirk of his lips. Momentarily, some of the tension left her body and she finally let her head rest on her boyfriend’s shoulder. If there was one thing she could count on tonight, it was her four friends. 

Like it or not, this was happening, so she might as well suck it up and be the bigger person. In public at least; The big tub of chocolate chip ice cream in her freezer and the floor of her kitchen were already calling her name no matter how hard she tried to ignore it. 

Even if it wasn’t his intention, Roxy found comfort in Kendall’s subtle smirk. As good as friends Mag and Dani had been to her in the past, their bond didn’t even come close to the one she shared with the Big Time Rush boys and her new friends at the Palm Woods. So, she took it as a sign. One that screamed “We’ve got your back, Roxy! Always!” in bright, flashy colors, big enough to rival the magnitude of the Hollywood sign looking out over the city they so loved. 

Maybe James had noticed it too, his hand tightening in hers before pressing a light kiss into her hair. The two savored the last bit of physical contact they’d have before the prying eyes of everyone at the party because neither of them needed to add a potential relationship exposé to the list of things that might happen that evening. “Everything will be alright, baby. I promise.”

***

Bright, blinding flashes of light escaped the cameras of the photographers lined up in front of the party venue, giving Roxy the perfect opportunity to slip out of the limousine’s right door while her friends took up the attention from the left. 

Whoever had arranged this album release had gone to a lot of trouble to ensure there was mass media coverage, so the assistant figured she might as well use that fact to her advantage. No one cared about the people behind the scenes as long as celebrities were present. 

The chill of the Los Angeles winter air didn’t bite as much as it did back in Minnesota and Roxy’s nose wrinkled at the bitter scent of gasoline as the limo pulled away from the curb. Folding her arms over one another did little to curb the goosebumps forming over her skin; The temperature and her onslaught of unpleasant emotions were working in tandem to make her as uncomfortable as possible. 

While the boys took their time walking down the black carpet rolled outside the venue doors, it gave the writer some time to scope the place out before entering. From the outside, the building appeared somewhat run-down - chipping white paint revealing dark brown metal underneath, lights on the outer walls flickering, cracks in the sidewalk - but based on the other buildings around which were styled with the impeccable glamor of Hollywood, she figured it must have been made to give off the air of abandonment. 

People from Los Angeles are so weird…

However, the venue called back memories of the ancient dives and abandoned warehouses the punks of Duluth would take over for nights at a time, constructing makeshift stages in rooms covered baseboard to ceiling in graffiti to play shows. She, Mag, and Dani had only been to a handful of gigs like that, mostly preferring to stick to the basement and small local music venue circuits, but warehouse shows had been something they’d talked about doing more before the band’s untimely breakup. 

Brand New Day was already one album in and still getting to accomplish even more of the goals they’d made ages ago. 

Kelly and Gustavo trailed a few feet behind the boys, showing the invitation they’d received at Rocque Records last night to the doormen, and Roxy a few feet behind them, presenting her own hand-delivered invitation. The processes seemed far too formal for her taste, considering the three of them used to crash house shows uninvited all the time.  

The inside of the venue wasn’t starkly different from the outside, it still had the same general theming but was paid far more attention to. While not as large as a commercial building, it was slightly larger than the two dance studios of Rocque Records put together; There was a moderate amount of guests present. Around her, the white walls practically shone, as though they’d been scrubbed twenty times over, the wooden floor was waxed to perfection, and the high ceilings made it perfect for the chatter of the party patrons to carry appropriately while not making the space seem too packed. 

If she had to wager, she’d bet Mag and Dani weren’t given creative control, like Big Time Rush wasn’t at their first album release party, and their producer had likely taken that duty on to impress investors, Galactic Records employees, and even fans.

Fans, Roxy’s mind echoed, causing an unpleasant lump to lodge itself in her throat. Eyes sweeping over the floor allowed her to spot a table filled to the brim with drinks and hors d'oeuvres, likely her next stop, a makeshift stage in the back of the venue with a dance floor cordoned off, an area with tables and chairs, and a section where a long line of teens who didn’t look much older than her and her friends were lined up. In front of the line, a small plastic table, piled high with CD jewel cases, and, of course, Mag and Dani, chatting with attendees, signing autographs, and taking pictures with each and every person in line.  

It probably would have been a good idea to listen to the album before attending the party, just to know which of her private thoughts were currently being aired out in the world in the form of music, but when she’d opened up SnoobTube and saw “Heartswell Summer” on the home page, she’d slammed the device shut so fast she feared she may have shattered the screen. 

When it came to Big Time Rush and their musical accolades, Roxy tended to ignore what she could. She had no idea how many of their songs had been promoted by SnoobTube, the number of streams their songs had earned, the types of rankings on Billboard charts - Except for “Til I Forget About You” which James told her almost entered the Hot 100 - or the fan favorites. Music taste was so personal and subjective, she didn’t want to learn how the public felt about her own favorite Big Time Rush songs or which ones were more popular than others. 

If she were to start caring about meaningless numbers and public perception, she feared she would lose sight of the real reason she wrote songs and forgo personal art and expression for the sake of others. At their audition, she’d promised Gustavo she wasn’t interested in working for him for money or fame; That was a vow she intended to keep. 

Mag and Dani on the other hand, seemed to have lost sight of that already, basking in the attention their fans were giving them at the signing table as she glanced over one final time before making her way to the refreshments. 

The band and their bosses were somewhere on the other side of the venue curating the social media posts they’d been contracted to make, leaving the assistant to her own devices. Everything would be fine if her friends stayed on the opposite side and the other two stayed at the table until the performance Mag had mentioned at her door the other night. 

Whatever it took for this night to end, she’d be happy with. 

At the very least, whoever was catering the event had a wonderful array of delicious-looking foods on display. The smell of freshly baked bread and sweets curled around the assistant’s nose - so aromatic she envisioned herself floating over to the table like a character in a Sunday morning cartoon. Though attempting to enjoy herself this evening felt like a long shot, this was a good place to start. 

From the white tablecloth, Roxy took a small plate and piled it high with as many sweet things as she could find. Even if she and her old friends didn’t have too much in common anymore, it seemed as though she’d be able to rely on their superior taste in deserts for just one night. 

With a comical amount of food stacked up - Roxy told herself it was all to share with the boys because that’s what a good assistant would do - when she got to the end of the gorgeous display, she spied a brownie that she absolutely needed to have and reached for it. 

“Roxanne?” someone asked from behind her, and the writer slowly around, feeling like she’d been caught in the middle of something she shouldn’t have been doing. “I see you haven’t changed one bit!”

Eyes landing on the teenager in front of her, the fake smile Roxy’d been forcing all night slowly loosened into a real one. “Sydnee?”

The bright purple blush on Sydnee’s cheeks stood out against the brown rose of her cheeks, just as colorful as the rest of her outfit. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here!”

Neither was Roxy, admittedly, but why wouldn’t Dani’s girlfriend fly out for her partner’s album release party? 

Though the chuckle she let out was humorless, the assistant set her plate down and wrapped the far taller girl into a hug. Despite her issues with her old band, that was no reason to hold a grudge against those who had fallen out of her life because of it. She just wished she’d realized she might have to see others from her past at the party before running into them. “I was in the area. And the band I work for got an invite, so…”

Sydnee squeezed her back with such intensity Roxy feared one of her ribs might crack. “Now that I think about it, Dani mentioned you were staying in the same hotel! So, what? Got your big break after leaving the band? Have I heard any of your stuff on the radio?”

The question wasn’t meant to be condescending, and nothing in Sydnee’s tone made it sound that way, but Roxy was just the right mix of anxious and stressed to take it as such. Thanking the musical gods Sydnee didn’t ask her why she left the band, she took a breath and answered. 

“Not on any of the stations you listen to,” Smile faltering, she referred to Sydnee’s love of reggaeton. “Daddy Yankee and I don’t run in the same circles.” 

As if it were the funniest joke in the world, the other girl tilted her beautiful features back, a handful of long, lilac-beaded braids falling over her shoulders as they shook. “Come on! You know I’m all about Today’s Top 40 when those two fools aren’t around.” 

Thumb jerking in the direction of the signing table, the euphoria of seeing an old friend was virtually eliminated when Roxy remembered the real reason she was there. The both of them still had a huge line of fans to get through; Currently engaged with a pair of teenage girls at the signing table. 

“My fools are over there,” She shared, pointing in the opposite direction of the party space, where James, Kendall, Carlos, and Logan were all posing for a photo Kelly was taking, each one of them holding a copy of the album Barely Hanging On.

Even the title of the album had been ripped right from the pages of her book. 

Stone brown eyes following her finger, Sydnee’s eyes widened.

Inadvertently, Roxy held her breath, waiting for the usual reaction she’d get when offhandedly mentioning she worked for Big Time Rush to the new, young Palm Woods residents, but it never came. 

“No way! A three-piece band to a five-piece? You must finally have a bass player!”

More than once, Sydnee had made fun of her partner and friends back in Minnesota for their startling lack of a bassist. The jokes about them “almost being a real band” used to bother Roxy quite a bit, but these days, it certainly didn’t matter to her anymore.

Hands drawing around her waist, Roxy found herself looking down at the linoleum tile. “It’s just the four of them, actually. Having a girl around kind of defeats the entire purpose of a boy band. My role is more behind the scenes, writing, producing, assisting… But I’m part of the touring band!”

“Oh… A boy band? Wow…” Sydnee’s eyes flickered, dimples disappearing momentarily before she drew up another smile just as quickly. “That must be fun. I’m happy for you, Roxy.”

Just as the girl opened her mouth to thank her friend, she continued. 

“It’s just disappointing knowing I won’t see you, Mag, and Dani rocking out like I used to. Hard to believe you’d give up your own band for some assistant job.” 

A slap to the face might have been nicer than the insinuation that Roxy was a sell-out. The look on her face must have communicated her emotions, despite the daze swirling around her brain, as Sydnee’s brows shot up, hands flying out in front of her and waving wildly as she cried, “Sorry! I didn’t mean that in a bad way!”

I knew coming to this thing was a bad idea.

Sour taste entering her mouth, the assistant nearly gagged on her own spit as she tried to come up with something to say back - an excuse to end the conversation, some fake pleasantries, a question about the weather, anything - until Logan called her name from behind her. 

In an instant, the boys who had been busy creating their contracted advertisement swarmed around her; Carlos picking up the plate she’d left on the table and munching on one of the gigantic chocolate cookies she’d been stacking up before getting roped into the conversation with Sydnee.

Their first meeting had been at a party too, Roxy recalled, back during their freshman year. While Mag and Dani weren’t party people, the third of their trio was, and she’d been invited by one of the junior varsity cheerleaders in her English class to a kickback after the first football game of the season. Too afraid to go alone, she asked the other two to come as well. 

Mag had agreed to attend at Roxy’s promise it would be good to scope out which of the people at their high school might be interested in coming to one of their shows and Dani had agreed if they could bring their partner. So, introduced for the first time in the cheerleader’s crowded living room, the two girls danced the night away while the other two kept to themselves in the kitchen. 

While they certainly weren’t best friends, they were always friendly with each other, or so Roxy had thought, until Sydnee’s backhanded statement moments ago. 

“Hey!” Carlos greeted, sweet as ever, while some crumbs trailed down his front. Turning to his assistant, he questioned, “Who’s this?” 

Now outnumbered, Sydnee shot Roxy a sympathetic smile, sorry for how her words had come out. Regardless, Roxy brushed it off like usual, but the comment only added to her emotional pile-up. Tonight wasn’t about starting fights; Big Time Rush was collecting a check and getting out as quickly and painlessly as they could. 

“Boys, this is Sydnee Vélez, an old friend,” Pausing for emphasis on that last word, Roxy smiled so hard her cheeks began to ache. “She and Dani have been together, for, like, ever. Isn’t it sweet she flew all the way from Duluth to support them tonight?” 

One by one, they introduced themselves to the newcomer, more than happy to make a new acquaintance. 

From there, the boys were able to carry on the conversation as they moved to the seating area, and Roxy was able to zone out and take stock of the venue now that the party guests were starting to settle in. The line at the signing table had finally died down, Mag and Dani still sitting behind the black tablecloth as they talked about whatever, laughter carrying across the hall. Most of the fans were lingering around the roped-off dance floor in front of the stage, hoping to be as close to the barricade as possible for Brand New Day’s first performance post-album release. 

Gustavo and Kelly were socializing over at the tables set up by the refreshments, presumably networking with Galactic Record’s finest songwriters and producers though Roxy knew that they’d likely never speak again after this party ended… 

A pair of adult men who looked suspiciously like the Madden brothers walked in front of her, blocking her view of her bosses.

Ugh…

A bit beyond them, she noticed Mr. and Mrs. Huron, sitting together at one of the smaller tables, beaming with pride. Dani’s features looked almost exactly like their parents; Sharing the same long, straight brown hair, brilliant green eyes, and ochre complexion. The two of them were locked in conversation with Ms. McAllister, who wore a similar expression on her pale, sunken face. Unlike the Hurons, Mag and his mother were almost physical polar opposites, her wavy, straw-blonde hair didn’t come close to matching Dani’s midnight black curls, nor did his round cheeks compare to the hollowness of his mother’s. 

Between the two women, Mr. Huron was doing his best to translate their conversation into sign language for his wife and spoken word for Ms. McAllister.

Though none of the three adults had been thrilled at the band’s beginning, apparently it had finally paid off enough for them to show some support for their children’s careers. Roxy remembered long conversations with her friends, the two of them complaining about how their parents had forced them to aim for “realistic” aspirations, like Mag’s mother signing him up for an internship at the healthcare company she worked for, or how the Hurons had practically forbade Dani from playing shows toward the beginning of the band’s timeline. 

All things that, to the writer, seemed entirely ridiculous. Why allow your child to cultivate such an impressive musical skill and then try to clip their wings the moment they decide to pursue that instead of something conventional? 

That’s exactly what her grandparents had done to her father; There’s a reason he hadn’t spoken to either of them in seventeen years.

As much as Roxy couldn’t stand the two, no one could deny that Dani was an incredible, dedicated musician. There was hardly a time they were seen without drumsticks in their hands. They used to drive teachers crazy with their relentless tapping on desks while they lectured. 

Mag’s effortless skill on the guitar while wowing the crowd with his fine-tuned and captivating voice was no small feat either. Like the boys in Big Time Rush, he was a natural-born performer, craving the spotlight more than anything else in the world. 

The two of them were beyond talented; While they were all still friends it was hard to stand by and watch their parents try to convince them otherwise. 

Should I go say hi? The girl contemplated, turning to see her friends laughing at something Sydnee had said, before remembering the last time she’d seen the Hurons they’d busted the three of them for having a gig in their basement when they thought they’d be going away for the weekend. Ms. McAllister wasn’t her biggest fan either; Roxy had driven one too many needles into her son’s ears, lips, and nose to think she was a good influence on her “sweet boy.” 

Absentmindedly, her fingers rose to fiddle with her earrings, thinking of the piercings he’d given her in return. Then, she wondered if Mag or Dani had thought to send her father an invite to the party. 

Of all their parents, he’d been the one to foster their creative talent - Driving them to shows, helping them load and unload gear, and giving his input when necessary. Should there be anyone Brand New Day needed to thank for getting off the ground and breaking into the industry, it was Declan Somerset. 

Roxy blinked, figuring she should call her dad and tell him how much she loved him when this whole ordeal was over. 

“Psst,” Someone whispered from behind her, saving her from a stroll farther down memory lane. God forbid she start to remember the good times she’d had with her old friends. 

When she turned, Roxy found herself face to face with Carlos, still holding the plate he’d picked up from her earlier. Contagious grin reaching out to her, he shared, “One video of the live performance and a video with the band afterward and we’re out of here.”

“Oddly specific contract requirements but, that’s good.” The girl wasn’t able to say much beyond what she needed to. “Hopefully they’ll finish the…”

Line of sight reaching the signing table, the writer noticed the line had dissipated and Mag and Dani were nowhere to be seen. All of the fans were beginning to crowd around the stage now that they were allowed on the dance floor, pushing and shoving at one another to try and be on the barricade line and have the best view of Brand New Day’s performance of their first album.

Carlos followed her gaze. “Oh, yeah! Sydnee said they’re going to start up soon - Apparently, Dani is very good on the drums. She’s excited to see the energy they’ll bring tonight.”

“They’re one of the best…” Roxy swallowed the rest of her compliment.

“Why don’t you come and join us until then?” He suggested, pushing the plate in the direction of the rest of the band; Logan appeared to be in the middle of recounting a story, arms waving wildly as he spoke. In return, Sydnee gasped, covering her mouth with her palm. That was when James and Kendall jumped in, attempting to speak over each other to recount the next part of their tale. “When they’re done she said she’d tell us all about you before we met!”

Internally, the assistant cringed, wanting to cause any sort of distraction to keep that from happening. Maybe I’m strong enough to pull the tablecloth out from under the food…?

Instead, Roxy just shook her head at his comment, racking her brain for any kind of excuse to get her out of talking to Sydnee again. “I think I’m going to use the restroom actually… Look out for James for me, would you?” 

Taking a bite of one of the iced brownies, the boy in front of her nodded, “Sure thing, Rox. Holler if you need anything.”

Just as she went to turn away from him, she noticed James trying to get her attention from where he stood a few feet away. 

Hi! His wave indicated, before he tried to beckon her back over with the curling of few fingers.

No thanks! She willed back, taking a slow blink before pointing her thumb to the side, attempting to share, Be right back. 

Chin jutting out, she watched as his eyes flickered back to Sydnee, still showing interest in their conversation, before he placed his palm to his mouth and blew his girlfriend a kiss. See you soon.

Of course you will, I can’t stay away from you. Roxy thought, unsure of how to convey that beyond pretending to catch the imaginary kiss and place it on her cheek. 

Now flushed pink, she planted herself on the edge wall of the venue and followed it until she came upon a small hallway with the icon of a man and a woman hanging from a sign above the entry and decided that was good enough. 

As long as she could hang out away from the crowd for a little while, she figured she’d be able to coast through the rest of the night incident-free. No Sydnee, no Mag and Dani, no parents - Just her and her head, racing at approximately a thousand miles per minute. 

Maybe Logan was right, she silently concluded, finding herself in front of the washroom mirror. Dark bags were setting in under her eyes. A cooling splash of water from the sink to her face would’ve done wonders to calm her down, but it would come with the price of ruining the makeup she’d spent an hour trying to perfect. I don’t need to be here.

Too much time had been spent worrying about others in the hours leading up to this party; Just the thought of the boys and Brand New Day interacting tonight was able to launch her into a tailspin. In all that time, she hadn’t even thought to step back and judge how her attendance would take a toll on her as well. 

But the night’s almost over, she reminded herself, and on the way home, you can convince James to call out of work tomorrow and go on an adventure.

Yeah. That sounded nice. Deserved.

And that was enough to calm her pounding heart, watching her chest start to rise and fall normally under the burnt sienna of her halter top in the reflection. 

You will get through this. You always do.

Roxy ran a few fingers through her hair, smoothing it down at the part before taking both her hands and poofing it up, running her nails lightly back and forth across her scalp - Shaking out the negative thoughts and feelings stirring around up there. 

Now, her goal as she made her way out of the restroom and back over to her friends was to avoid anything else that might ruin her newfound good mood, as she pulled out her phone and googled “Most romantic things to do in Los Angeles” to pitch some ideas to James.

If she’d waited even a second longer before burying her nose and weaving through the mass of people in front of her, she would’ve caught sight of the untapped cable that had been laid to the stage directly in the middle of her path back to her friends. 

Without warning, the toe of her ankle boots slipped under the thick wire and as she mindlessly scrolled the webpage she found it caught. Cable growing taught, it completely restricted her movement.

Stomach lurching as she began to hurtle forward, Roxy let out an involuntary yelp, one hand clutching her phone while the other flailed helplessly as she went down, down, down… Right into the chest of the person standing on the path in front of her. 

Calloused fingers dug into her upper arm to steady her while her cheek landed on the leather lapel of a jacket adorned with dozens of buttons and pins. 

PROUDLY SERVING MY CORPORATE MASTERS read the white text on a blue background, encased in a small circular button right in her line of sight and Roxy let out a string of curses, scrambling to pick herself up and shove the person off her as quickly as possible. 

When she’d found that button at a thrift store in Duluth, she’d thought it a funny gift, but now, pinned to Mag’s jacket at his first album release party under one of America’s largest record labels, she felt as though the satirical element might have been lost on him. 

“Wow, now that’s one way to say ‘thank you,’” The boy joked, cracking an award-winning smile down at his former bandmate. “But I’m glad we ran into each other, actually-”

“I was just leaving,” Roxy cut him off, pointing vaguely at the space behind him. Eyes trailing to the side of him, she couldn’t even bear to look up at the singer as they spoke. “My friends are back there, somewhere.”

The sooner this conversation was over, the better.

Shaking out his fingers before crossing his arms, Mag let out a small hum barely discernable over the chatter of the crowd surrounding them. “Glad they got our invitation too! Of course, it wasn’t quite like yours… But it’s nice to see all of you showing up to support us. Did you get a chance to pick up a copy of the album yet?” 

“No sense in wasting twenty bucks on a CD I won’t use.” Channeling her best inner Dani impression, she let out what she hoped came off as an unbothered scoff.

As the girl took a step forward, trying to signal the end of the conversation, Mag took a step back. “Just hang on a second! I’ve got one here…” His hands fell from his chest and patted down his pockets with a few soft thuds. “Somewhere…”

Out of his inner jacket pocket, he produced the jewel case containing Barely Hanging On and extended it out to her. The cover featured a photoshopped image of the two of them, cartoonish expressions of horror on their faces as they pretended to hold onto the top of the H in the Hollywood sign. 

As he requested, Roxy reluctantly took the CD, hoping he couldn’t see the way her hands had worked up a slight tremor. Assuming that was all, she once more tried to continue on her way. 

“Hang on! Check the booklet, Rox. I left a little surprise for you in there.” 

The use of her nickname sent a sheen of sweat unpleasantly rolling down her back; He’d lost the right to call her that long ago and no matter how many times she kept reminding him, he just couldn’t seem to remember. That in combination with whatever he thought to point out as surprise-worthy and the girl was beginning to grow queasy as well. “I’ll find out later. Excuse me.”

 On her third attempt to maneuver around the boy in front of her, she made the mistake of glancing his way and finding the unyielding attention of his bright blue eyes, vast and endless. The kind of fixating gaze someone would love to get lost in.  

I can’t believe that used to work on me, she chastised her past self, cringing at how she’d misinterpreted their friendship and built it up to be far more inside her head. A year and a half ago, she’d be clamoring for any crumb of attention he could give her, and now it was as easy blowing him off as it was to breathe. Life’s funny like that…

“Please?” Mag inquired, a few of his black curls sweeping over his eyes as he tapped on the case with a black painted nail. “Think of it as a peace offering if nothing else.”

“A peace offering?” 

Immediately, not knowing what took control of her hands, Roxy popped the case open and slid out the insert, the picture of Mag and Dani staring back at her as she tucked the plastic under her arm and flipped through the small book. Going along with the theme of the cover image, the pages containing the lyrics, acknowledgments, and legal elements were stylized to look like a map of the Hollywood Hills. Mixed in along the way were photos, some she recognized from their early days as a band and others that appeared to have been taken throughout their journey in L.A. 

Nothing in particular stood out to her, so she kept her place using her thumb and used the paper to smack Mag on the shoulder. “Dude, whatever-”

That felt more casual than she’d liked, but she didn’t spend too much time dwelling on the action before he spoke again. “The credits?”

Roxy blinked up at him, mind going blank. 

Opening the booklet again, she could hardly get her vision to focus as she followed the line of text down the first page for the opening song, from the title to the lyrics to the compositional credits. It was there, in shiny black bold letters.

Lyrics and guitar composed by Roxanne Somerset.

Line of sight jumping over to the next page for the second song, there it was again, and on the third, the fourth, all the way through the complete tracklist. 

It must have been nearly impossible for her to contain the shock on her face, and judging by the cheery laugh escaping Mag’s lips, he found the way she tore through the book to look at every song to find her name underneath entirely amusing. 

“I just wanted to apologize,” He shared, “What happened the day you left the band was entirely my fault… You’d still be here with us if I hadn’t been such a complete ass. So, this is a thank you, an apology, and hopefully, a way to start making up as well - Our manager said she’d talk with your boss tonight and make sure all the writing copyright and royalties and whatever else goes to you.”

“Mag, I…” Roxy was at a complete loss. Ever since Brand New Day had unexpectedly moved to the Palm Woods she’d been worried about the two of them passing off her work as their own, skyrocketing to the top of the pop rock charts without so much as a thought about how it might have affected her. “You still took my songs. I wasn’t there for recording or mixing or-”

“I know. We fucked up, Rox, big time, but you know how badly we needed out of Duluth.” He looked up to the ceiling, taking a deep breath. “All three of us were bigger than that stupid, stifling town.”

Taking the case from where she tucked it under her arm, Roxy popped it back open and slid the insert back inside. “That doesn’t make it okay. Not in the slightest.”

When her voice broke on the last word, Mag’s head snapped back down, brow softening as he pulled one of his lip rings between his teeth. “Every song was done by the notes in your book - I swear. Just give the album a listen before you judge.”

“I don’t own a CD player,” She fought back. Sweaty fists balling up into her skirt, the writer breathed, “Anything worth listening to can be recorded onto a tape.”

At her words, Mag smiled, reaching back into the pocket of his jacket. A few of the pins could be heard clanking together. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten too much about you, Roxy. I know mixtapes are one of your favorite forms of communication and this is likely the most important one I’ve ever made.”

A black and white tape was pressed into her hands and Mag finally moved out of her way. Black and red flannel wrapped around his waist swaying with each step, he paused when they were shoulder to shoulder, dropping his mouth to her ear and murmuring, “Accept my apology or don’t. I just want my friend back.”

Roxy twirled the cassette in her hands. “Start with telling everyone here you didn’t write these songs and I’ll think about thinking about it.”

***

In the twenty minutes between meeting up with her friends and the house lights going down to signal Brand New Day’s show was about to start, Roxy had fumbled her way through conversations, not registering much of what was going on around her.

The day had already been too much. Fighting with Gustavo and Griffin, not to mention the disaster of a limo ride where the producer had all but yelled at her for voicing this party was a bad idea, and now, she had Mag’s so-called apology to consider. The cassette he’d given her was burning a hole in her mini backpack, one she could feel on the small of her back as she and the boys made their way over to the V.I.P. viewing area. 

To top it all off, she couldn’t even find comfort in her boyfriend until the party was over, despite walking right next to him, in case any of the news outlets attending the party caught sight of the two of them. With everything going on right now, that was only an added stress flowing through Roxy’s head. 

Slowly, as she, the band, and their bosses took their place at the set of circular standing tables beside the stage, she could practically feel the hemispheres of her brain pull apart from each other, resulting in one of the most splitting headaches she’d ever had. It was only added to once the Hurons and Ms. McAllister arrived at the tables in front of them. 

“Okay, here’s the plan,” Kendall whispered behind her, effectively pulling her out of the heavy daze she’d found herself swimming in. “Logan, you disrupt the fog machine and set it to produce as much fog as possible; If no one can see the band, they can’t play. Carlos, the stairs to the mezzanine are to the left, make sure the spotlights are out, okay? James, the audio control booth is being set up in the middle of the room. I took a peek earlier and it’s exactly like Gustavo’s - If you can mess with the microphone sound, I’ll take care of the instrument sound. And Rox…” The boy pushed a bottle of Peppy Cola her way, glass screeching unpleasantly across the table. “You just sit here and enjoy Brand New Day’s downfall. Everyone got it?” 

With three of the boys letting out an emphatic, “Yes!” it was quite hard to hear Roxy whisper, “No.”

From her right side, Carlos bumped elbows with her. “If you don’t want to stand around, you can come with me to the mezzanine! There’s probably a bunch of lights we can mess with.”

Enthused giggle leaving his lips, he linked his arm through hers and made a move in the direction Kendall had pointed out earlier. Though it jostled her a bit due to his hockey player strength, Roxy managed to hold her ground, feeling both of her hands fly up to the black tabletop, nails attempting to dig into the solid surface. 

When Carlos’ brow furrowed, he stopped trying to pull her along but kept their arms linked together. “Maybe you’d feel more comfortable at the audio booth?”

Roxy’s mouth opened to respond, but no sound came out. 

“I could use a hand with the fog machine, if I’m being honest,” Logan tried, tossing a weak smile in his assistant’s direction. Both of them knew he didn’t, he was just doing his best to include her in their plan to sabotage Brand New Day’s show. “If one of us follows the chord to whatever power source it’s hooked up to, we could manage to increase the electrical current flowing to the-”

“Guys, just stop for a second.” The cautious words from James caused the girl to increase her grip on the table as he cut Logan off. It was almost as if he were upset about something, though she wasn’t sure if he had some reason to be. 

Did something happen while I was away?

“Roxy? You don’t want us to do anything, do you?” He asked, plain as day. For a boy who was often quite lacking in situational awareness, he’d zoomed into her problem far quicker than any of their friends. 

Had they not been in a crowded room, she’d reach up, knot her fingers in his t-shirt, and pull him down into an earth-shattering kiss. 

When she shook her head, she was finally able to release her fingers from the table, though they soon resumed keeping busy as she began to pick at her cuticles. Now that they’d gotten to the root of the problem, she wasn’t sure she wanted to explain to them why she felt that way. 

Should she clue them into her conversation with Mag? It wasn’t any of their business, but they were her best friends. Maybe they’d understand where she was coming from, why she wanted to believe he was truly apologetic for his actions. But on the other hand, what if they didn’t comprehend why she was considering what they’d talked about? Any criticism hurtling her way would probably break her, let alone statements about her ability to judge character. 

There had been a reason she’d been pulled into Mag and Dani’s world their freshman year. The two of them had been good friends. Her best friends.  They’d given her a space to express her feelings judgment-free and had taken a chance on the least punk-presenting person in all of Duluth to help give rise to the band they’d built together. 

She didn’t want to forget the long nights they’d spent together, handing out fliers outside of record stores, hanging out in the radio station during her overnight shifts, or the shows they’d handcrafted, piecing the setlists together as though their lives depended on it. Even outside of their band, they’d been the first two to explore their hometown with her, they’d gotten through Mag’s father's passing together, and survived the horrors of American public schooling by each other's sides. 

Those were the people she remembered them to be; Those were the people she still wanted them to be. Was it so wrong to want her friends back too?

The pit in her stomach certainly told her it was.

Even if she wasn’t entirely sure she was still willing to forgive them for what they’d done, if Mag truly meant what he had said earlier, this might be the performance he makes it right, and Roxy wasn’t interested in sabotaging that in any way… Selfish as that might be. 

“No,” she confirmed, daring to pull her nails from the bloody mess she’d eventually make if she kept pulling at her skin and reaching down to her side to lock pinkies with her boyfriend. Though that wasn’t the physical comfort she sought at the moment, it would have to do for now. “If something goes wrong and it’s traced back to the four of you, Gustavo’d throw a fit. He’s already on edge…”

Looking around the table, she took note of nodding heads, until Kendall slammed one hand down on the table, causing her to flinch at the sound, practically shouting, “Rox, who gives a fuck? These two completely screwed you over!”

Kendall yelling at her? That was certainly a new experience - One she didn’t take well to at all. 

“Still! That’s my music they’re about to play up there!” She roared back, feeling the line that had been tightening all night finally snap, goosebumps prickling down her arms at the tone he’d taken with her. “That’s serious shit, Kendall! That’s personal. My heart is up there on that stage with every word, every strum of a guitar chord… Credited to my name or not, if the four of you hatch some stupid, wacky plan and ruin that, you’d be screwing me over, too!”

“Don’t you understand? People like Mag and Dani need to be taught a lesson! Or they’ll just keep getting what they want over, and over! Those two did some damage, Roxy, we see it whenever you try to keep an unfinished song from us or carry your problems alone-”

Chest constricting, Roxy didn’t bother to quell her words. Whatever was getting Kendall so worked up, letting him think it was fine to raise his voice at her affected her tenfold. “There’s nothing of mine left for them to take! It seems you’ve forgotten that’s your job now!”

Silence. 

James let his hand fall from hers. 

By the way her friends gaped at her declaration, she had been right to hold back the contents of her conversation with Mag. 

Finally, she found where they differ; Big Time Rush wanted revenge for what had been done to their assistant. Roxy wanted, needed, recompense. 

Carlos glanced somewhere behind Roxy before his line of sight made it down to the black tablecloth. “You think our plans are stupid?”

“Is… writing for us not fun anymore?” Across the table, Logan’s question further twisted Carlos’ knife.

And all at once, the conversation that was meant to bring the five of them together that night left the writer feeling fully isolated. Her heart throbbed, unpleasantly mixing in with the beginnings of a bass drum beat blaring through the stage speakers, blood pouring into her ears as the pangs of anger prickled her brow. Beginnings of anything she could possibly say next were swallowed up by the crowd’s ovation as the lights went up and Brand New Day took the stage - That was probably a good thing, too, because if Kendall wanted a yelling match, Roxy was just bothered enough to give him one. 

Of all the things she had to be right about that night, her statement about her heart being on stage rattled around her head as she recognized the opening riff to the first song, “Into the Night.” Based on the night of Brand New Day’s first show, an evening blazed into Roxy’s memory from the pure emotional overload, Mag began to sing the lyrics. His unrefined, raw, voice stood out from music perfectly, sounding like the punk singers he’d spent so much time learning vocals from on old CD tracks in his bedroom.

Goddamn it, the girl thought, taking everything in, it does sound just like I imagined it would.

As the song went on, she tried to reach out to James, only to find his arms crossed against his chest, watching Mag very intently as he jumped around the stage while he played. When she attempted to place a hand on his arm, he shrugged her off, not even bothering to look over in her direction. 

“Babe,” She called, almost directly into his ear, but the sound coming from the speakers was far too loud, drowning out any possibility of her soft tone reaching his ears. 

That, or more likely, he was pretending like he couldn’t hear anything but the music.

***

“Heartswell Summer” was the last song and lead single off Barely Hanging On. 

A song Roxy had written after Mag had gotten his driver’s license, when the two of them had taken his mom’s car keys and joyrode around Duluth the summer of their sophomore year. Taking on surface streets and highways together, daring to head down little one-way mountain roads, and overall, just enjoying the company of a friend.

Something had been… freeing about the entire interaction; The idea that someone she knew besides her father was able to drive her places was a major plus, but also, the ability to potentially play shows outside of their hometown. That excited the two of them more than anything. 

Originally, Dani was set to come with them on their drive to nowhere, wasting as much gas as they could before they would inevitably have to come back home and beg Ms. McAllister to refill the tank - none of them had ever pumped gas before - but they had to pass. Sydnee’s family’s upholstery store needed someone to cover the register while her sister had her tonsils out and they were more than happy to step up to the plate. 

Looking back, had Dani been there, Roxy wasn’t sure she’d have been able to come up with the song in the first place. There’s no way they’d let them listen to Mag’s Saves The Day CD or park the car at the cliffs of the North Shore, staring out the front windshield and admiring the beauty of the lake scene in front of them. 

The two of them weren’t talking about anything important, in fact, as she tried to search the recesses of her memory to try and take a guess as to what it was, she couldn’t even come up with anything. At one point, he’d turned to her as they spoke and his unwavering attention caused her mouth to go dry. 

Then, her heartbeat a little faster. Palms grew sweaty as she held tightly to the soda cup they’d gotten at the Bun In A Million drive-thru. When she laughed at whatever jokes he made, there was a little something extra behind it. 

Sure, she’d been on a date before, kissed a guy even, but none of the new feelings she’d encountered that day even came close to what she was experiencing in the passenger seat of Mag’s car. 

On the way home, they’d sung along to his CD until their voices were gone and the minute she got home, she locked herself in her bedroom and wrote “Heartswell Summer.”

A few months later, that song had been the catalyst for her humiliating departure from Brand New Day. 

Now, hearing the final chorus escape Mag’s lips, Dani, sweaty, but still expertly pounding away at their drum kit to round the song out, Roxy decided for the first time in ages, she was glad to have written it, even in the wake of the pain it had caused her. Without it, she’d have never considered signing up for Gustavo’s talent auditions, never leading her to meet Big Time Rush, never have allowed her to travel the United States playing her songs for crowds of thousands and thousands. 

The applause the duo had garnered was well deserved, no denying those two put on an excellent show. It was also evident Brand New Day had no place for her any longer, even if a small part of her had thought that there was the slightest possibility, and admittedly, that realization didn’t hurt as much as she thought it would. 

Roxy’s place was with Big Time Rush - A fact she’d overlooked tonight for the sake of the past and people she used to love. But that didn’t change the fact she wanted to get in Kendall’s face and scream, show him how upset his tone had made her, how he made it sound like she wasn’t able to solve her problems on her own.

Control freak… 

It had been a good while since she’d been this agitated, there was a reason she’d been drawn the punk music after all, feeling the need to get it out all at one person. She hadn’t allowed herself to yell at Dak after their break up or at Camille when she’d kissed James, because she thought herself better than that. Now, she was pretty sure if that blond boy got anywhere in her vicinity she’d explode.

The worst part? Though anger like this was healthy every once and a while, Roxy was usually able to channel it into something good, like a song, but her mind was just drawing blank after blank. A kid with a white crayon scribbling and wondering why nothing was showing up on the page. 

With no outlet like that, she knew she’d better keep her mouth shut before their fight evolved into something bigger than it already was. At some point, she’d have to apologize, especially for dragging the other three into it unprompted, but that was the farthest thing from her mind right now as Mag and Dani took their bows, stepping up to the microphone to say their thank you’s to the crowd. 

With the sound of clapping slowly starting to dissipate, Mag strummed a few chords on the baby blue guitar over his shoulder - The one that had inspired Roxy to write the track “Baby Blue” - before stepping up, joking, “That’s enough of that! Stop it!” before placing his hands over his heart. 

“Plenty of people in our lives deserve the applause far more than we do,” Dani followed, pulling out a sheet of paper from their back pocket. Sound of crinkling paper coming through the mic, they spoke in their usual nonchalant manner. “Even though you get to see the two of us up here, Brand New Day is far more than Mag and I.”

“First off, we’d like to thank our parents… Not very punk, we know, but we really wouldn’t be here without their constant and unwavering support!” 

Dani waved his hand up and down, prompting the crowd to cheer louder and louder, as one of the spotlights found its way to the table where the Hurons and Ms. McAllister were sat. An odd first choice to the girl, considering she could remember plenty of times they hadn’t been supportive. Considering she hadn’t been around them for a little over a year, what did she know about their current parental relationships?

Another lazy riff and Mag let it ring through the speakers before taking the mic again, “And of course, none of this would be possible if the lovely and talented producer, Chelsea Northrop, hadn’t taken a chance on our little band…”

The light found a middle-aged woman in the crowd, bright red hair contrasting greatly with the black of her power suit, and she politely waved. No trace of a smile on her face despite the band receiving so much positive feedback from fans in real-time. 

Running their hand down the written list in their hands, Dani smiled before crumpling up the paper and throwing it behind their back. They leaned into Mag’s grip on the mic. “One more person…” 

Roxy’s heart skipped. 

“...Well, more like a group of people: The fans! Thank you all so much for always showing up for us, buying our music, hyping us up online… The growth of Brand New Day can’t be attributed to anyone else. We can’t wait to keep making music you all love!” With a flip of their long hair over their shoulder, the house lights illuminated the crowd, and it appeared as though Dani was reaching down to the front of the stage to pull one of the setlists off and hand it to someone in the front when Mag drew his pick up and down the strings again.

With a few clicks of his tongue and a wry smile, the black-haired boy waggled his finger toward the audience. “Speaking of fans… Were any of you lucky enough to see us when we were a shitty little cover band back in our hometown?” 

One person in the audience cheered, “Hell yeah!” with an emphatic fist pump, inspiring Roxy to let out a “Whoo!” of her own from the sidelines, clapping her hands together as loud as she could just so the big room wasn’t so quiet. 

“Well then, you might have noticed we downsized from a trio to a duo - Fear not, our best friend Roxanne Somerset is still with us behind the scenes. Not only did she write every song we played up here tonight, and the entire album if I’m being honest. She also helped arrange all of the covers we played back home. Dani and I don’t think her nearly enough, so Rox, if you’re out there, what do you say to playing one more song with us?”

Dani froze, looking at the singer with wide eyes. 

Recompense. Just like she’d wanted. Only now she was learning she’d bit off far more than she was willing to chew when the same annoying spotlight Carlos had promised to bust found her on the sidelines, nearly blinding her. It took all she had not to bring her hands up to her face to block the light, and the crowd’s chant of, “One more song! One more song!” didn’t leave her much choice. 

Caught in a catch-22, Roxy didn’t have much time to mull over her decision. Play the song or don’t. Piss off Big Time Rush or piss off Brand New Day.

Accept my apology or don’t.

 Turning the offer down would just be downright embarrassing, especially in front of so many people, and when her eyes finally adjusted to the light, she could see her friends in the V.I.P. section staring straight back at her, trying to determine her choice. 

When Kendall slowly shook his head in her direction, Roxy just about lost it. 

She ran up to the stage, making sure to go out of her way to pass by the table the boys were standing at, because what did they know about her time in Brand New Day? How dare Kendall act as if he were the end-all, be-all of her life’s decisions? Playing in her own band, getting to own the whole stage, and interacting with the other two, was far more a rewarding feeling than being boxed in stage right at a Big Time Rush show. Not that Kendall would understand. He’d never even know the difference. 

Who cared if she played one more song with them? It was a good send-off, especially after Mag had admitted to a room full of people neither he nor Dani had written their own music - The first step in what she was now happy to consider a healing friendship. The boys would just have to get over it eventually. 

When she approached the band, Roxy didn’t think twice before throwing her arms around each of their shoulders, pulling them down into the huddle position they’d always do to debrief before their shows. Paying no mind to the crowd in front of them, Roxy took her time savoring the moment. 

“Thank you, both of you, for admitting that. Being so honest with everyone was pretty… Unexpected, but appreciated” She beamed, hair falling into her face, wrestling them a bit tighter. “And congratulations on the album.”

Mag was the first to fire back, “Thank you, Roxy. Seriously, I mean-”

“What song are we playing?” Dani cut him off, rolling their drumsticks between their palms. Small, lined intents covered the thick wood from top to bottom, a testament to how hard Dani went on their kit during the performance. “‘The Anthem?’”

“Oh, God, no. Not while the Maddens are here.” Cheek scrunching in disgust, Roxy couldn’t stand the thought of playing a Good Charlotte song while two of its founding members were somewhere in the audience. “The Replacements, maybe? ‘Bastards of Young?’”

“That song is ancient,” Mag laughed, light and airy, “I was thinking something more suited to Roxy’s taste… Not exactly punk, but how about ‘Bring It On Down?’”

The gasp that escaped Roxy’s lips might have been heard by the entire crowd, “You’re serious? I had to beg both of you to learn that one…”

“Sure. That one. Whatever.” Dani grunted, gently moving out of the writer’s grasp and jerking a thumb in her direction. “Just one problem, she can’t play any of the guitars here.”

“Think again, Dani!” 

Now that the huddle was broken, Mag slid a few steps side stage and pulled out his first electric guitar; The black, sleek instrument Roxy would always have to borrow for their more important shows instead of playing her shitty acoustic/electric.

Roxy childishly snatched it out of his hands, pulling the neck into her chest and rocking side to side, “I can’t believe you kept it strung like this!” 

In a flash the black strap was around her shoulder, adjusted as though he hadn’t played it once since she last touched it, and she reached out to his mic stand to take a pick. 

“I had hope we might play together someday… Call me sentimental…” He took a step closer to her and reached out a hand. Without thinking, she leaned back, eyes widening.

“Hey-”

If they noticed this interaction at all, they didn’t let it show. Dani struck their drumsticks together to signal the beginning of the song. If Roxy had any hope of getting through the song without messing up, she’d have to pay incredibly close attention to the time Dani was keeping on the drums.

Once more, Mag held out his hand, palm facing her this time in some sort of peace gesture before he went for her shoulder, adjusting the strap so it was smooth on her skin instead of the twisted mess she’d made of it when she slung it on the first time. 

Roxy had to look down at the instrument below her, not because she needed to see the strings to play, but to ignore the way his eyes shone under the bright stage lights. 

That, coupled with the fact “Bring It On Down” was one of her favorite Oasis songs had her thinking for just a split second that maybe it was a bad idea she’d chosen to join them… But when it came her time to strike the lead chord, hear it resonate out to the crowd as everyone began to move to the beat, that thought quickly left her mind. 

With a glance to the table with her friends, she tried to send a silent message to James that she wished it was him up there with her, but he was too busy speaking with Kendall, Logan, and Carlos - quite furiously by the quickness of his hand gestures -  to notice any of the fun she was having. 

***

Just as she left the stage after a final bow, placing Mag’s guitar back into its case on the side, she turned to look for Brand New Day, only to find the red-haired woman from earlier, standing right behind her. 

“Hey, Ms. Northrop, right?” She greeted, attempting to mask the small gasp of surprise that left her lips. Blood still pumping from the adrenaline rush of performing, the girl wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead. “They should put a bell on you… or something. Uh... Thanks for letting me play with those two again-” Stepping forward, Chelsea’s heeled boot smacked the wood of the stage as she extended a hand, and Roxy flinched, making it hard for her to return the woman’s handshake. 

“I’m going to cut to the chase.” Chelsea cut her off, very effective in doing exactly what she had said. “Do you like it at Rocque Records?”

Roxy wasn’t sure if the continued hammering in her chest was due to the performance anymore. “I do-”

“Gustavo Rocque is an unpleasant man,” the woman spoke over the rest of what Roxy was trying to say. 

If she’s trying to sell herself as more pleasant… It’s not looking that way…

“He has his moments, sure-”

“I have a contract here offering you your same assistant songwriter position under me and all four of the bands I manage.” From her large black purse hanging at her side, Chelsea opened a professional-looking ledger and produced just that; A thick, bound leather folder was thrust into the assistant’s hands before she had the chance to protest.

Immediately, Roxy pushed it back toward her as though the object was cursed, “Look, you’ve got the wrong idea. I’m not-”

“Open to the second page. Section 12-B. Line four.”

“No. I’m not going to do that, Chelsea. How about you let me finish what I’m saying?” The fury she’d felt toward Kendall earlier was starting to bubble up again, and though she had done her best to be cordial with this woman, getting spoken over was just degrading. “I’m not looking to switch jobs and I’m not looking to work with Brand New Day again, that performance was just for fun, okay? There’s nothing in the world that could make me-”

“Roxanne, I’m willing to offer you three times your current salary to come work for me at Galactic Records.” 

The next words that came out of Roxy’s mouth were a garbled mess of sounds dying halfway from her throat to her tongue. “Wha?”

“You’ve got forty-eight hours to let me know your decision. Please make the right one.”

Only at the sound of her heels smacking on the wood did the writer realize Chelsea was walking away. Click, click, click…

All the writer could do was stand there, dumbstruck at the offer, running the producer's words over and over in her head as she tried to make sense of all that had just occurred. The leather folder in her hands had held the key that would unlock the door to more industry opportunity, which, honestly, didn’t matter to Roxy in the slightest, but to walk away from triple the salary she made at Rocque Records…

From the boost in royalties this new album under her name would provide, she had figured, at least, she might be able to pay for her father to come visit, but with three times her current salary?

Screw Dad coming to visit… Dad could move here. We could live together again and see all the things we talked about seeing if we could afford it…

From somewhere in the crowd, Roxy heard Mag’s laugh ring out, clear and true.

Was this all a ploy to get my writing back in Brand New Day?

Even without confirmation, the thought of getting played by Mag McAllister again had Roxy’s eyes watering faster than the end of Titanic. Half-way a call for help, half-way a prayer, she shakily whispered her boyfriend’s name, “James… I need to find James…” before a few lyrics wedged their way into her brain.

The only issue? Her songbook and pen were in her backpack at the table and there was no way she was letting the other three see her like this right now. Frantically, her eyes scanned the side stage area, hoping for a pen, paper, anything that could help her get the lyrics down on paper before she forgot them, but her search yielded no results. 

Without thinking, she practically tore her phone out of her back pocket and opened her texting app to the first conversation, typing out. 

R: I walk offstage because this whole play is more than I can take 

Once that was out of mind, Roxy heard another line begin to play, but it was too loud to decipher over the chatter from the venue’s patrons. She needed to get out of there, now, somewhere quiet where she could get the lyric out before losing it. 

Good thing the ramp leading to the stage let out close to a hallway marked with a glowing red exit sign. 

R: I was one foot out the door, I couldn’t play that part no more

This new lyric finally erupted as the cool air of the Los Angeles night set in, lining the girl’s skin, a new tremor racking through her already shaking hands as her fingers typed out one last line.

R: The chemistry just wasn't there, I couldn't act like I didn't care, when I do, I do

How annoying. Roxy threw her head back, greedily gulping down the smoggy breeze in the alley outside of the venue. Still writing stupid songs about him to this day-

“Don’t tell me you came out here to complain about Mag. That’s your ‘I-Want-To-Complain-About-Mag’ face.”

“Jesus, Dani!” For the second time in as many minutes, Roxy jumped at an unexpected presence, this time coming from the stairs to the venue’s second floor, where Dani sat about halfway up, a lit cigarette between their pointer and middle fingers. “I’m going to put a fucking bell on you too, I swear to God…”

“O-kay,” Dragged out the drummer, making sure to pull the cigarette for a few beats too long before blowing the smoke out in Roxy’s direction. “Whatever that means…”

But, they scooted over, patting the rotting iron step beside them.

Bundling into her bare arms as they crossed over her chest, Roxy gave a grateful nod and descended a few steps to reach them. The last time they’d sat outside and spoken like this had to have been her last winter in Minnesota, right before the band broke up. Roxy couldn’t remember if it had been on her back porch or Dani’s, but either way, the gorgeous Duluth sky had left them ample opportunity to stargaze and talk about whatever came to mind. 

When she finally sat, the smoke’s earthy scent enveloped her nostrils, curling down into her mouth and making her crave the taste on her tongue. 

Maybe Dani noticed, or maybe they were just being polite, but they held the cigarette in her direction. 

Roxy just shook her head, “Not tonight, thanks… It’d ruin my ability to complain about Mag, don’t you think?”

The snort coming out of Dani’s nose had a little bit of smoke behind it. 

“For the record, I’m pissed at him too. I had no idea those songs were yours, Rox, not until I held the final copy of our record in my hands. There’s no way I’d agree to play them if I’d known.” For a brief moment, they flicked the ash down onto the ground below. Dani Huron was many things; a great drummer, a grassroots activist, a Good Charlotte fan. The one thing Dani Huron was not, was a liar. “Hmm… Doesn’t seem to affect my complaining at all...”

After the most emotionally tumultuous hour of her life, Roxy let out a small sigh, daring to lay her head down onto the soft t-shirt sleeve covering Dani’s shoulder, just like she would when they were smoking back home. 

Earlier in the day she’d never have dreamed of speaking to Dani like this ever again, but now, she just needed someone to talk to and it seemed as though they were more than willing to listen. Though it was a nasty habit, smoking always helped calm them down, cracking through their hard shell and allowing them to open up far more than in casual conversation.

“Dani, I am so sorry for thinking you had a part in that all this time,” Even the sigh at the drummer’s quip wasn’t enough to help swallow the crack in her voice. Of course, Roxy wanted to say it was okay, but at this point, her mind was so twisted, she had no idea who to believe. “Mag apologized for taking them earlier, actually, and I asked him to tell everyone it was my music. Then he did. So, I thought it would be cool to play with you again… For the sake of… A new friendship, maybe? But then that witch Chelsea offered me a job at Galactic the moment I got off stage. Three times my current salary. And now I have no clue what to make of everything… Am I crazy to feel like he’s just playing me again?”

“What makes you think I’d tell you if I knew?”

“Best friend code?”

“That’d normally work if we’d spoken any time in the last… twelve months, I think. Or you’d left Duluth with a goodbye.” They turned their face to the side, casting a glance over the alleyway below. “I called you, like, a million times when Project Pop canceled your show ‘for the foreseeable future’ because you’d ‘moved to the land of the stars.’”.

Screwing her eyes shut, Roxy dug the heels of her palms into her eyelids. “Again… Thought you were in on the whole song-stealing thing…”

Taking another drag, Dani let out a silent bout of laughter, shoulders shaking and sending their friend’s head bobbing up and down. Somewhere in the distance, a car alarm began to go off, interrupting the surprising silence of the big city at night. 

“Seriously, though, I want this band built off of talent, not lies. If Mag has anything cooked up, I swear on Bear he didn’t say a word to me.”

Visions of Dani’s enormous goldendoodle ran through Roxy’s mind. “Thanks, Dee… Out of everything that’s happened tonight you wouldn’t believe how refreshing this normal conversation is..”

“Oh?” More smoke curled out of their mouth as they breathed out the word, scratching at the black, metal ring stuck in their nose. “You’re always in the middle of the weirdest drama - and I mean that affectionately.”

“That trait 100% followed me to Los Angeles… You should meet the guys I work for,” The writer huffed as the corners of her mouth turned up, “I royally fucked things up with them earlier, too… Ugh, that apology is going to be so humiliating-”

The door the the venue slammed open below them. “Roxanne?” 

James said her name with a sense of urgency, one she’d never heard out of him before. 

“And that’s my cue… Catch you later,” Dani whispered, bumping shoulders with their friend before sliding down the stairs and back into the venue.

“Up here, babe!” His assistant called, shooting to her feet almost as quickly as Dani had, and taking a few steps to the ground. As James turned to the sound of her voice, she couldn’t help but throw herself into him, arms scrunching around his torso, “I’m so sorry about earlier, what I said was…”

When she pressed her ear to his chest, she could hear the rapid beating of his heart. Then, his arms were on her shoulders, physically putting her at an arm's length away. A cursory glance up and down his tall frame immediately told her something was wrong. Not only was his perfectly set hair uncharacteristically disheveled, but his stunning hazel eyes were puffed red under the halogen lamp hanging above the door, foot anxiously tapping on the ground as he pulled one hand off of her and reached into his front pocket.

Phone screen flicking on, almost as bright as that spotlight earlier, his fingers dug into her shoulder as he held it up to her, “What the hell is this?” 

Three white text bubbles filled her vision; The song lyrics she’d been unable to write down earlier had been sent in rapid succession. No wonder he looked so panicked… Receiving those three lines in a row would certainly freak anyone out. 

Intestines twisted, and the girl shook her head. Why hadn’t I thought of that before I hit the send button?

Her hand shot up to meet his, curling around the fingers that held his phone and lowering the device out of her face. If he could feel the claminess setting into her palms, he didn’t mention it.

As difficult as looking him in his bloodshot eyes was, Roxy assured him, “Lyrics! Song lyrics, James, nothing else. My journal was too far-”

“Lyrics? To a breakup song?” Though a chuckle left his lips, it was anything but gleeful. “Something inspired you to write that tonight?”

“It’s a bit early to call it a breakup song… It’s just three lines. They came to me when I hopped off stage, that’s all.”

 Sucking in a breath, James shook her hand off of his. The boy in front of her was physically shaking and it certainly wasn’t due to the low temperature outside. “Playing with Mag caused you to write this?”

Of course, that’s what she had said, opposite from what she’d meant. 

“The words are about him, baby, not you!” Reaching out for him again, she tried to place her palm on his cheek, but he recoiled from her touch, shying away from her like a vampire in the sunlight. For a second, Roxy had to swallow down some bile rising in her throat. “I think we need to go home and talk, okay? We’re not breaking up; It’s just a poorly timed text message.”

When his eyes glazed over, Roxy knew she had lost him. His utterance of “We… need to talk?” suggested he hadn’t heard anything beyond the first part of her statement. 

“Breathe, James, please. You’re going to pass out.” 

Like he had before, he only continued hearing what he wanted to, saying whatever he could to fit the narrative he’d constructed about the messages he’d received. Labored, but collected enough, he pushed out, “We do need to talk, actually. About you writing love songs about other guys!”

The lamp above the doorway flickered, and Roxy’s vision began to blur. A nasty flashback of Dak chewing her out in her apartment about hanging out with the band flashed behind her eyes. 

“How come it was a breakup song when you thought it was about you, and a love song now that you know it’s about Mag?” 

Asking that question through shakey breaths likely ruined how important it was to her to hear his explanation. 

Mouth flapping open and closed like a fish, James finally found his words as he read over the text messages again. “I couldn’t act like I care, when I do.”

Roxy ran one finger over her top lip to stave off the running she could feel starting in her nostrils. All her brain told her was that she needed to crash into him, squeeze him to death, run her hands through his hair as they spoke and maybe, maybe, he’d be ready to listen to her, but if she reached out to him one more time and he refuted it, she’d break down far sooner than she was on track to. “He just said some things to me earlier about my songs and I asked him to admit they weren’t his to everyone tonight. It’s just a little confusing where we stand now-”

“Who cares where you stand? You have me!’

“Will you stop implying I’m into him? I can’t think of any other way to say it, James! It’s just a stupid fucking song I was dumb enough to write down outside of my songbook and share with the world before it was done!” The writer cried. “And Kendall wonders why I keep that shit to myself… I’ve done my best to share my songs with you before they’re finished recently, but right now you’re just proving why I shouldn’t!”

“Right,” Huffed the boy in front of her. “Because communication is only a two-way street when it comes to anyone but you.”

Jaw falling slack, Roxy’s entire body grew numb. Out of everyone in her life, he was the person she’d been the most vulnerable with. Allowing herself to take the plunge into romantic entanglement together, both emotional and physical. Their entire relationship was built on placing trust in the other person. Just the hint of the idea James didn’t trust her anymore sent the tears Roxy had been holding back spilling out onto her cheeks. “This conversation is over, James. I can’t-I can’t do this right now. This night has already been so hard for me.”

Making way for the door behind James, she rammed her shoulder into his arm. He allowed himself to be knocked to the side. “Sure didn’t seem that way when you were rocking out with your lying, stealing, jerks of ex-band mates.”

Catching the heavy, metal door before it closed, Roxy stood halfway into the building, tossing her head over her shoulder to give her boyfriend one final glance before escaping to the crowd inside. “Sure beats the hell out of a jealous, combative, asshole of a boyfriend.”

She didn’t stop moving, not as she weaved through the tables by the stage to get her bag, or around the people getting down on the dance floor, when Gustavo called her name, or when her sock slid down her heel, digging into the bottom of her foot as she stomped to the front of the venue. 

Thanks to the large number of attendees to the album release party, nearly a dozen taxis were waiting out front to pick up anyone who hadn’t been lucky enough to arrange a ride beforehand. Around her, a handful of adults staggered on the sidewalk, who had taken advantage of the open bar, while others her age went this way and that with their CDs and other Brand New Day merch in hand. 

When she came across the first empty cab, she took a fifty out of her wallet and threw it in the window. “The Palm Woods hotel, as fast as possible.”

The cabbie didn’t need to be asked twice, and the minute the door to the backseat closed, they peeled away from the curb so quickly Roxy feared her head might spin off. 

Now that the party was in the rearview mirror, the girl was oddly relieved, though that didn’t stop the rush of emotions still completely overwhelming her. She was pretty sure she’d been crying for the last several minutes, if evidenced by the tear stains on the blank notebook pages in her lap, and the numbness from James’ words earlier still stuck around. 

How she managed to piss off all of her friends in one night might be some kind of new fucked up world record… One that would make the work day tomorrow anything but normal.

--

hi, lots to say about this one, but mostly that i'm sorry lol this did hurt very much to write!

roxy's lyrics come from an unreleased btr song called intermission if anyone was wondering.

i imagine brand new day sounds a lot like yellowcard (minus the violin) (that's a surprise tool that will help us later) and "heartswell summer" is heavily based if not lifted entirely from their song "with you around"

and as always, thank you for reading! be sure to let me know what you think <3 ily <3

[reyl0ct]

The low growl echoed through the empty warehouse, and although sensations were available to ghosts, Edwin could still feel a chill run down his spine. He turned very slowly to the snarling dog like creature. It looked unlike any canine he had seen before. The coat of the animal was like that of a border collie but with an ethereal tint of deep blue, the kind of dark blue seen only in the night sky. It's eyes were pupil less, iris' a pale blue with the outer most part of the eye and bright red.

"Hellhound? Cu-sithe? Church Grimm perhaps?" Edwin's mind raced through all the information he had read in his numerous amounts of books. Grasping at any sliver of information that would help him survive this dreaded encounter. He took a few careful steps backwards, but he didn't account for the scattered debris on the floor.

He tripped, landing hard on his ass and the dog lunged. Edwin closed his eyes and put up his arms in a pathetic attempt to protect himself, bracing himself for the inevitable impact of the beast sinking it's teeth into ghostly skin… But that never came. Instead the yowl of a cat rang out in his ears and the dog let out loud yelp.

Edwin opened his eyes immediately only to see a very feral black cat standing protectively between him and the aggressive dog. Upon closer inspection Edwin could see blood dripping from near the dog's eyes. The dog whimpered as it attempted to wipe the blood with it's paw. That seemed to only irritate the wound and blind it further. The dog turned tail and darted out of the warehouse, tripping over debris and running into walls as it departed.

Edwin couldn't tear his eyes away from the feline as it was engulfed in a familiar plume of purple smoke and flame. The Cat King stood in place of the feral cat with a familiar Cheshire grin.

"My my, You really take the part of Damsel in distress seriously don't you~?" he teased.

Any witty retort died Edwin's lips as Charles and Crystal chose that exact moment to finally make their appearance.

"Edwin! What happened!? Did you catch the dog?-" Charles had barely finished his sentence as he was suddenly slammed up against a wall. He had barely had the time to register that The Cat King tightened both his fists in the front of Charles' shirt and if looks could kill.

"Where were you? I thought you were his 'best friend'? Where were you when he was in trouble just now?" he hissed.

Edwin had finally gathered his senses enough to stand and quickly made his way to intervene when he noticed something dripping from the Cat King to the floor.

"You're bleeding!" Edwin and Crystal stood deathly still, the trauma from loosing Nico making it's way to the front of their minds. The Cat King looked at them both, not quite registering what they had said. Charles managed to shake himself free, causing the Cat King to stumble. Huh? That's funny, the Cat King couldn't recall anyone getting out of his grasp so easily. He swayed slightly. Charles fixed him with an apprehensive, but worried look.

"You alright Mate? That's a lot of blood…"

The Cat King reflexively placed a hand at his abdomen, where a steady pain had began growing in intensity. He pulled his hand away to look at the wet red substance and the realization dawned on him. It was blood, His blood. He looked up regarding the worried faces of the trio.

"Fuck…" was all he managed before he stumbled and collapsed onto the ground. His vision began darkening around the edges. He could faintly register the sounds of voices around him, but they sounded so far away.

"Charles! Help me!…. No no no, stay with me! Please!" the last thing he saw was the look of Edwin's worried face above him. He wanted to be smug, make a snide comment about Edwin caring for him, but his mouth felt so dry and he felt so tired. He felt his eyes flutter and close against his will. Everything went dark and he drifted unconscious.

***

Monty sighed deeply as he, practically dragging his feet as he carried the over full bag of ingredients. Since Esther had disappeared (Good riddance) he had found himself a new witch. The woman had bought Esther's house after she disappeared and of course she just happened to be a witch as well. The biggest difference though was that this one was uncharacteristically kind. He'd never met a witch like that, she was the exact opposite of Esther. Also she was really old, and she had a habit of treating him more like a grandchild than a familiar. She had even started teaching him a few basic spells after giving him a human form again.

Here he was out basically grocery shopping. Yes some of these were special ingredients from Tragic Mick's shop, the majority was food to stock the fridge. Meat from the butcher shop, celery, bread, milk. Despite his luck of finding his new master, his days in Port Townsend had become extremely dull. He couldn't help thinking about a few months back when the exciting crew of the Dead Boy Detective Agency had blown into town. They turned everything upside down and left just as soon as they had arrived, and although Monty had his heart completely broken, he couldn't help wonder what Edwin was up to now days.

His daydreams were cut short by a distressed whine coming from a dark alley way. He stopped suddenly, taking a few steps into the alley. There hidden in the shadows of a dumpster was a dog? The pattern of it's fur made him think of those herding dogs, what were they called again? Oh right, border collies, but they was something different about this dog. Being a familiar, Monty could easily fish out magic and this dog was definitely innately magical. The dog whined again and he felt his heart clench in his chest.

"Hey, Hey, it's alright. I'm not gonna hurt you." upon closer inspection he could see that the animal was wounded. A nasty few gashes over it's eyes. "Looks like you got into a fight with a… cat…" Monty inhaled sharply as he felt a wave of anger wash over him. Memories from the forest invaded his mind, memories he had been trying hard to forget. Memories of a certain so called Cat King. The dog whimpered pitifully again and Monty snapped out of his reverie, grateful for the distraction from his depressing memories.

He smiled sadly at the dog. "Don't worry, I'm going to help you." He looked at the dog, it was far too big for him to carry given his small size. He thought for a brief moment before rummaging through the bag and finding the meat he had picked up from the butcher shop. The dog instantly perked up at the smell of food. It licked it's chops and it's nose twitched in hopeful anticipation.

Monty tossed a small chunk of meat and the dog swallowed it quickly. Monty tucked a stray strand of his dark hair behind his ear before gingerly reaching his hand towards the dog. The dog regarded him hesitantly, before accepting that he wasn't a threat. It placed it's head against his palm and Monty laughed in relief as he gave the dog's head a few careful strokes.

"You poor thing, You can't see right now can you?" Monty gave the dog another piece of meat. "There's more where that came from, but you have to come with me." He stood up from where he had crouched down to engage with the dog and began walking away. The dog stood up and took a few hesitant steps forward. Monty turned back to the dog.

"It'll be ok, I'll talk to you, just follow the sound of my voice…" And the dog followed him.

To be continued?

[pochipop]

＃GENSHIN IMPACT !! ♡ — PRINCE AU/FORBIDDEN LOVE DRABBLES.

#. synopsis! — drabbles featuring tighnari, diluc, & ayato as princes who’ve fallen for a commoner reader .

#. characters! — tighnari, diluc, ayato .

#. warnings! — mentions of genre typical hierarchical discrimination .

#. alt accounts! — @ddollipop (nsfw) @yyolkchi (reblog/spam) .

#. others! — navigation & masterlist .

＃ TIGHNARI !! ♡

Curious Prince Tighnari who sends you love letters tied round the neck of stout pigeons; their beaks tip-tapping ever so gently against the sunlit window you sit beneath, a novel page tucked between your fingers. It’s been little more than a few days since you last saw him in the castle garden, your skin awash in comforting moonlight, but he writes to you nonetheless in delicate, melancholic cursive. He tells you of the longing you leave deep within his chest; —of the many times his mind has drifted far away to a place you reside alongside him as he flips through books in the castle library.

You imagine he sat down to pen this in the early hours of the morning light, rolling it gently, tying it ever so gracefully with a bright red ribbon that sealed his deepest desires inside. He tells you of the nights he’s spent tossing and turning atop his silken sheets, restless and fitful as he yearns for your sobering warmth. To have you in my arms, he writes, is the sweetest dream of all. And it’s one that he can’t often have, —one that goes by much too fast when it comes around under a blue moon.

Ah, —but those nights are none too average. The flowers in his personally-maintained garden seem to glimmer in the moonlight and sway like graceful dancers in the breeze. He holds you close amongst the flora, under a sky dusted with glittering stars; ones he swears shimmer just for you. The fur of his ears, a tall, proud symbol of his nobility, tickles your cheek when you rest your chin on the crown of his head. Sometimes, you find yourself wondering if you deserve a lover with such a lavish lifestyle; —if all the discontent you fear from both sides of the tracks have valid points laced within their venom.

Your lover soothes your worries down like a cat licking at the staticy fur of its kitten. His angelic touch alights your skin as he whispers words of love and devotion into your ear until the fire inside you has been stoked to heights once thought impossible for your demeanor. 

Tighnari slips a de-thorned, ruby red rose just beneath the scarlet ribbon, sending it off to find you.

I vow to you, my darling blossom, that we will meet again before the final petal of this rose has fallen from the stem.

＃ DILUC !! ♡

Pensive Prince Diluc who knows too much and is none too thrilled about stepping into the position of King in less than a year’s time. He was once the prize of his family, the gem of his nation, —a young man everyone thought would make the perfect ruler one day. However, now that the day is fast approaching, it seems like Diluc is in a constant battle with his thoughts and often daydreams about waking up a different person; someone simpler and much less renowned.

When he lies next to you like this, Diluc feels perfectly ordinary. He’s not the soon-to-be King, nor the preppy young Prince of his glory days; —he’s simply yours. And you don’t ask of him things he cannot provide. Your lips feel like sundrops sent from heaven against his neck, peppering along the column of his throat until you capture his mouth in an ardent kiss. He hums ever so softly, a sound that resonates like royal instruments from the back of his throat.

“Y/n,” he breathes when you slowly pull away, your forehead coming down to rest against his own.

Somehow, you know the next words falling from his tongue will be apologies for things you’ve seldom concerned yourself with. His propensity for shouldering the blame of generations that came long before him is much too great a burden to bear, even for a young man of his valiant strength. Thus, you’ve vowed (in silence, of course) to shoulder that burden with him, if only from the shadows.

You’re quite used to darkness, after all. . . It’s here that he meets with you under the humble moon, stealing kisses from your supple lips. 

“Don’t,” you say softly, in a voice just above a whisper, “—there’s nothing to say sorry for.”

Ah, but you’re so wrong. He knows he should apologize for the very state of affairs as they are, as he sneaks you around like you’re some sort of criminal who swept in from a nearby kingdom to swipe his heart away. He knows he should apologize for all the times he’s passed you by without a second glance, as if you were little more than a stranger when you’d woken up in his bed the very same morning.

Diluc swallows his apology, instead whispering to you something much more profound, something akin to miraculous for such a simple lifetime.

“I love you.” 

＃ AYATO !! ♡

Dutiful Prince Ayato who falls for you so deeply between lessons and hours-long studying sessions; seeking refuge in your embrace when his eyes go bleary from the stress. The weight of the kingdom rests heavy on his shoulders, but he braves the storm with a confident smile because he knows no other way. But when his head rests in your lap like this, you like to imagine that behind his sealed eyelids, he’s found some semblance of peace away from all the pressure.

He looks so ethereal, even when signs of exhaustion plague his handsome face. 

Your hand matches the curve of his cheek, his brilliant irises coming into view as his eyes peel open to stare up at you lazily. This is the first time in far too long that he’s felt so blissful and calm, as if sinking into you is all it takes to even him out and shelter him away from all the crushing responsibilities of royalty.

Here, with you, there are no expectations that he fears he can’t live up to. There’s nothing to plan for days in advance, careful thinking plaguing every little detail lest he make even the slightest of mistakes. Instead, there’s warmth and freedom, a chance to spread his wings and fly through the late evening sky.

“Love,” he says to you, voice dripping with milk and honey, “I’ll have to walk you to your quarters soon.”

You hum in acknowledgement having known the time for such was fast approaching, yet you make no move to hurry him along. Your fingers card through his hair, prodding softly at his sensitive scalp. It dawns on Ayato then that he much prefers the gentle brush of your fingertips to the frigid graze of any crown.

“You don’t have to come along,” you tell him. “It’s not like I’ll be getting lost.”

He appreciates the joke you make less so because it’s funny and more so because it makes you smile.

Ayato comes anyway, striding through the empty halls. They stretch on for what seems like miles in his lethargic state, suppressing yawns as his heels click against the glossy hardwood. Just inside your room, one of the small spaces offered to the help of the castle, the young prince matches the curve of your cheek to the plane of his hand. He brushes his lips past your own, diluting the urge to pull you in and kiss you with enough passion that it just might sync his heartbeat to your own. 

You’d do anything to have him stay the night, but the risk is much too great. It’s better if he returns to his room, —if he keeps his distance for now. You bite your tongue as he bids you goodnight, the taste of him lingering all the same.

[mrfeenysmustache]

The Moon Turns the Tide

Chapter 3

Based on @crescent-dreams SessKag fest day 3prompt: Mountain

Summary: After a stroke of bad fortune, Kagome’s life is uprooted.

She is moved into an unfamiliar community where she expects life will be very different- and much more miserable- than she’d hoped. But luck, she’s learned, can turn on a dime.

Also read on: AO3

————————————————————

One day, while hiding from the chores her mother liked to make her do to keep her “grounded and humble,” Kagome found herself in her father’s personal office.

In there, he kept his account books for the estate, things he’d picked up on his travels, old, antique maps, and an assortment of books on interests too niche to keep in the main library that anyone could access.

She was not often allowed in his office, and never when he wasn’t already in there himself, as there were far too many priceless and important things to risk to a child’s clumsiness, but since she was often a very well behaved girl, she knew this was the last place they would look.

So slowly and quietly, she’d crept up to the large wooden desk on the far wall and climbed up up up into the tall, leather chair.

In the middle of the desk sat a stack of new books. New books always started in her father’s office. He read them first and then decided where they needed to go.

It looked like finally, for once, she would get to see them first.

She pulled the first one off the top and looked at the gold, embossed lettering scrolled across the deep, leather cover.

Mountain Climbing Adventures

Tilting her head in curiosity, she opened it somewhere in the middle, flipping quickly passed several pages of endless words until she found an illustration.

A man, hanging off the side of a mountain by a rope tied around his waist.

“Oh my…” she whispered to herself, turning back to the beginning to read from page one.

The idea that anyone would want to climb something so big and tall and treacherous as a mountain amazed and terrified her. She lost herself in harrowing story after harrowing story, falling rocks, fraying ropes and wild animals and all the other misfortunes this man found himself in as he spent his time climbing up to places people probably didn’t have any business going.

And though she was riveted, Kagome decided that mountain climbing was best read about in books.

At least until now.

Her first ball had been a disaster.

City manners were so different from the ones that had gotten her through in the countryside, and she fielded many snide, judgmental looks as she fumbled her way through the night.

She didn’t eat right, sip right, stand right, wave her fan right and the dances they did were entirely unknown to her.

The second ball had not been better.

The third had been worse.

Now she sat in the carriage on her way to the fourth, wishing she could choose to climb to the tippy top of a high, storm cloaked mountain with a random husband on top if it meant she didn’t have to suffer through another stuffy, snobby ball.

But alas. This was all there was.

——————————

“I’m not going to another one!” She shouted, ripping the feather out of her perfectly coiffed hair and tossing it on the floor. “I’m not going and none of you can make me! I’ll be a seamstress before I try and make these stuck up, pompous, snobbish, self important nobodies like me!”

She was being immature and she knew it. Her mother had done all she could to prepare her in such a short time but it had not been enough and now she was worse off than when she’d first arrived. Her reputation was in shambles as she was seen as a clumsy, bumbling country bumpkin trying to infiltrate their sparkling society, and she’d had enough of trying to play their games and gain any ground.

“Dearest, it wasn’t that bad!” Her mother tried to soothe, but in answer, Kagome ripped a fine, silk glove in her haste to take it off.

“AAAHHGHHH!! You see? I can’t do this! I can’t be one of them! And after spilling red wine all over the host tonight, they certainly won’t let me try anymore.”

“She said it was fine.”

“She was trying to be gracious, but anyone could see the contempt in her eyes. And besides, everyone laughed and gossiped the rest of the night. I don’t even get sympathy dances anymore!”

With a sigh, Kagome’s mother gently pushed her hands away from where they flailed behind her back to lace her dress.

As she helped her undress, she hummed softly under her breath.

Hearing her mother hum or sing had always had an instantly soothing effect on her tempers and nerves. And it worked even now, despite how disastrous the entire evening had been.

“Here’s some good news then,” she said, pushing Kagome’s dress to the floor to work on her undergarments. “We’ll be going in a few days to the mountains. Your aunt’s late husband has a distant relative out there.”

“The mountains?” She asked, and her mother hummed in confirmation.

“Yes, they have a nice cabin in a quiet community. Your aunt pays a visit a few times a year to check on her aging in-laws, and she’s bringing more etiquette books for you to study. So we’ll get out of this stuffy city, breathe some clean air, and come back better than we left. How does that sound?”

“Good,” Kagome said, mind distant as her thoughts began to turn. Etiquette books aside, being anywhere other than where she was sounded like heaven.

But her earlier thoughts about mountains returned, and an uneasy feeling settled into her soul.