#to say I was amazed by that sheer number would be an understatement

[diableasura]

Listen I know nothing about the les miserables fandom and honestly i didn't even know there was a fandom but long story short I got my hands on an actual masters thesis based on the fandom writing around les mis and in particular about the ship between enjolras and grantaire (they actually used the term enjoltaire on a real university end of masters thesis) so congrats to the les mis fandom cause you have a strong soldier out there who wrote 30 pages analizing enjoltaire and their ao3 fics.

[pastanest]

if you’re wondering why I’m having to repost this, or why you were perhaps previously following me but no longer are, please refer to this post. I was able to retrieve this thanks to @dreatine - thanks so much!! ♡

Spencer Reid x she/her!reader

Nobody Like You

Penelope had been ranting to Spencer about this girl for 3 weeks. It was unavoidable, Spencer was on crutches and had to stay with Penelope while the team went away on cases, so when Penelope returned from a run to the coffee shop and was in a state of shock, Spencer was the only one there to console her. He asked her what had happened, and she said she’d met the most amazing person in existence. Naturally, Spencer assumed she was referring to a guy that she was attracted to, but he was soon corrected. Penelope began rambling about this woman, this incredible woman, who just struck up a conversation with her, paid for her drink, got her phone number and left. Spencer thought this seemed like a decently normal interaction with a generous person, but he was again corrected. Everything he tried to infer about this woman, Penelope corrected him by expressing just how fantastic she was. She only saw her that one time, but it was enough to be the topic of conversation every time she and Spencer had a spare moment to talk about anything that wasnt a case.

Three weeks later, Spencer was officially able to fly again, so he thought the conversations about the mysterious, wonderful woman were over. But lo and behold, as soon as he got back from his first case, Penelope ran up to him, and to say she was freaking out would be an understatement.

“SHE TEXTED ME! SHE! SHE TEXTED ME! SHE‘S INVITED ME TO A BAR! TONIGHT! YOU HAVE TO COME WITH ME SPENCER! YOU HAVE TO MEET HER! YOU HAVENT MET HER YET! YOU HAVE TO!”

She wore Spencer down via hyperventilating until he agreed, which was not an attempt at manipulation so much as Penelope’s personality of wanting the best for others. It just so happened that ‘the best’ right now was Spencer limping his way to a bar with a cane in his hand, to meet a woman who was the main topic of 3 weeks of conversation with a friend.

As they neared the bar, Penelope looped her arm around Spencer’s free one, the one that wasnt holding his cane, and leaned close to him.

“She’s the girl that people would wait their entire lives to see again.”

That statement took Spencer by surprise, the sheer weight of it enough to shock him into starting to realise just how incredible this person might be.

The two of them entered the bar to find that it was, much to Spencer’s relief, not too crowded.

“There she is.” Penelope said breathlessly, seemingly unable to believe her eyes.

Spencer followed her gaze, until his eyes landed on you. It was like you were your own force of gravity, pulling people’s glances to you. And judging by the small group of people that surrounded you, the gravity you held pulled people towards you as well as their glances. You were laughing, running a hand through your hair and staring intently at the person who was talking to you, anyone could tell that you were a good listener just by seeing the way you looked at the person opposite you. He noticed that you didnt interrupt anyone, you patiently waited for your turn to talk, and every time you did, everyone in the group smiled. There was a man behind you, but it didnt look like he was standing behind you like a boyfriend might, instead it looked like you were trying to block him out of the conversation, and Spencer was immediately curious as to why.

You replied to the person talking to you and the entire group erupted in laughter, you included, but then your gaze left the people around you. Upon seeing Penelope, you grinned and waved her over, and Spencer heard Penelope gasp at the gesture. She had texted you to ask if it was alright if she brought a friend, to which you said “of course!!”, but when your eyes took in Spencer’s form, it was not the same look that you gave Penelope. You were curious about him, you didnt know him yet, but you would.

Sensing that it could be difficult for Penelope and Spencer to integrate with the group of people around you that they arent familiar with, you approached them and met them halfway as they walked towards you.

Pulling Penelope into a warm hug, Spencer noticed your eyes closing and a smile plastered on your face, your eyes only opening when you pulled away from her. You’d obviously noticed the cane Spencer was holding, because you held the appropriate hand out for him, allowing him to shake your hand with his free one.

“Hi, Im (Y/N), it’s lovely to meet you.”

(Y/N), wow. He’d heard your name before, on other people, but for some reason when that name is yours, it’s so different, so much more. It fits so perfectly he cant find the words.

“Hello, Im Spencer, and likewise.” He smiled, and you smiled back, letting go of his hand.

“I’ve only just met these people, but they’re nice, do you mind hanging out with them or would you rather hang out just us? I dont mind.” You offered them options to help them feel more comfortable, and Spencer was really starting to understand why Penelope was obsessed with you.

The pair looked at each other and shrugged wordlessly, before Penelope looked back to you. “We dont mind meeting the group!”

As much as Spencer would usually thoroughly dislike that idea, having you there put Spencer at ease for a reason he couldnt quite place. There was just something about you.

You nodded and smiled, leading them over to the group and introducing them. There were two couples, and then the single guy, the one who was standing behind you. Spencer took note of his name, Michael. In the same way there was something about you that he liked, there was something about Michael that he definitely didnt, and he could tell that you got the same impression.

It didnt take long to figure out why. Michael’s eyes didnt leave your body, until you mentioned Spencer’s name. It was like a male animal recognising another male in his territory, he was immediately threatened.

“Who’s this pirate looking mother fucker?” Michael said, laughing at himself.

His joke wasnt remotely funny, it didnt even make sense, and nobody laughed. Spencer was going to let it slide, but you spun on your heel, facing Michael, who was taller than you, but you still managed to tower over him somehow.

“Were you trying to make a joke that compared Spencer to a pirate, despite pirate’s having peg legs and Spencer having two human legs with a cane? I really hope, for your sake, that’s the alcohol talking, and not a complete lack of braincells. I’ve been dealing with you breathing down my neck all night, and after pulling a stunt like that? You’d better leave before I make it impossible for you to ever have children, bud.” Every word you said had venom dripping from them, and Michael was absolutely terrified.

The entire group was, Spencer and Penelope were too! There was something about the way you delivered those lines, the power and confidence you had, Spencer was trying to catch his breath. Michael scoffed, attempting to sound unfazed, but as he headed for the door you casually glanced around the room and stuck your foot out in front of him, tripping him up. The security guards, assuming Michael was too drunk to stand, dragged him out of the building themselves.

You smiled at Spencer with innocent wonder, as though you hadnt just threatened a man and almost broken a considerable possibility of bones by tripping him up.

“Im really sorry about him, Spencer, did he upset you at all? ‘Cause I’ll gladly go and trip him up again.” You reassured him, and Spencer chuckled.

“That wont be necessary, Im alright, thank you.”

The night continued like normal after that. Well, as normal as it could with you there. It didnt take long for both couples to head home, leaving just you, Penelope and Spencer at the bar. Penelope had a considerable amount to drink, creating some hilarious conversations, but that did reduce the time you could all spend together, because you wanted to make sure she got home alright. You drove Penelope home yourself, slightly surprising Spencer by telling him you‘d only had water while at the bar. You were full of surprises.

After quite literally tucking Penelope into bed, you drove Spencer home too, and walked him to his apartment. Not like his bodyguard, but as his friend, it just so happened that your conversation didnt end until you reached his front door.

“I had a lot of fun tonight, Spencer. It really was lovely to meet you.” You said, referencing the words you’d used to greet him earlier that night.

“Likewise.” Spencer smiled, using the same reply he’d had to your words all those hours ago.

You sighed and smiled back at him. “Well, see you around.”

With that, you started walking away, but Spencer stopped you.

“In all the places I’ve been, all the people I’ve met...there’s been nobody like you.” He said, so spur of the moment in his words that you could tell he hadnt rehearsed them.

“Really?” You questioned, looking over your shoulder at him.

“Really. And I dont know about you, but I really dont want to say goodbye to someone so impossible.” Spencer explained.

You turned around completely to face him and crossed your arms. “Spencer, what are you asking?”

“Do you...want to stay for dinner?” He asked.

You laughed, but took a step closer to him. “It’s 3am.”

Spencer smiled. “Breakfast, then.”

You shook your head, but a smile stayed on your face. “Ok, sure.”

He unlocked his front door then, and the two of you entered his apartment, which you immediately complimented. Upon reaching his kitchen, the two of you decided on pancakes for 3am breakfast, and you started cooking. Spencer flipped the first pancake straight onto the floor, and you laughed so hard that you ended up on the floor too. It was an utterly hilarious, but perfect, and completely understandable 3am experience. But eventually, you had successfully crafted a small tower of pancakes.

“I think it’s safe to say you are not a master chef.” You teased him.

“I dont know what you’re talking about, every single one of those was crafted by me and only me, you simply stood there.” Spencer claimed, the ungodly hour having ahold on both of your sense’s of humour.

“Oh, I just stood here? Stood here and did what, huh?” You crossed your arms as you dramatically interrogated him.

“Stood there and looked good!” Spencer exclaimed.

You threw your arms in the air in victory: “Ha! You just complimented me! So I still win!” The rules of how to win or lose in whatever this conversation was, were blurred, but at least it made sense to the two of you.

Spencer gasped in mock horror. “No you dont! I made all the pancakes!”

Your arms fell from their place in the air, instead finding their place loosely wrapped around Spencer’s middle. “Personally, I think that you thinking I look good is far more important than pancakes.”

Spencer very dramatically considers this for a moment, his face transitioning from a frown, to raised eyebrows as he looked up at the ceiling in pretend consideration.

“That’s-“ He started, but cut himself off by kissing you, one of his arms wrapping around your back as the other scooped under your legs, swinging you up in his arms and carrying you over to his couch.

Well, what else did you expect two adults to do at 3am after making pancakes?

[wrenhyperfixates]

Stay the Night

Pairing: Loki x reader Summary: Your fear of thunderstorms leads you to invite Loki to stay the night at your place. Warnings: none A/N: Happy reading :)

Tag List: @lucywrites02 @frostedgiant @lunarmoon8 @twhiddlestonsstuff @lokistan @lowkeyorlokificrecs @gaitwae​ @whatafuckingdumbass​ @castiels-majestic-wings​ @kozkaboi​ @cozy-the-overlord​ @birdgirl90​ @myraiswack​

Disclaimer: Gif not mine

It was raining. No, that was an understatement. It was pouring; torrents of water attacked your house. You thanked the powers that may be for letting you get your leak fixed last month. You didn’t mind the rain, not really, but this was just depressing. And the strength of the storm was a little scary, too. The claps of thunder seemed to rattle the very foundation of your house, and you jumped a little every time. There was only one thing making the relentless downpour bearable. Loki.

“Darling?” he asked, concern lacing his voice. “Is there something wrong?”

You tried to relax your visibly tense body. “Yeah, I’m ok. Totally fine.”

He looked unconvinced, but kept his skepticism to himself. No need to pry, he supposed. He took your hand in his and used his thumb to rub circles on the back of it. He hoped it would help calm you. There was a time he never would have been so bold as to initiate contact, but you changed that. You’d shown him it was ok to do. With you it was, anyway.

As another boom of thunder filled the air, you squeezed Loki’s hand tighter. He gave you another concerned look. He wasn’t very fond of thunderstorms himself, and he wondered if the same thing was plaguing you. The thought reminded him of his brother, and then the Tower. He really should be getting back home, but how he so hated to leave you, his precious mortal.

You’d met him one day in the Tower. You were the receptionist on the first floor, and more often than not, Loki chose just to teleport in and out. At that time, it had only been a month since you’d gotten the job, and you’d yet to see the god. For whatever reason, he decided to use the front door that day. You stopped him as he tried to walk through the security measures without checking in.

“Excuse me, sir,” you’d said. “I’m going to need to see your Tower ID.”

“Oh, darling,” he’d said. “I do not think I need any verification. Perhaps I should introduce myself. I am Loki of Asgard.” He’d bowed and placed a kiss to the back of your hand.

“And I’m in charge of this reception desk,” you’d replied, puffing up your chest and blocking his way. He laughed a little. “And I need some ID.”

“Very well,” he’d sighed. As he searched for the little card, you let out a breath of relief. You’d never had this trouble with any of the other Avengers. He finally found it and presented it with a charming smile. “Aha! Here we are, darling. Are we all good here then?”

“Yup,” you said, swiping him through. “Have a nice day, Loki of Asgard.”

“And to you too, but I do not think I caught your name.” You gave it to him, and he’d repeated it with yet another smile. “I look forward to our next meeting.”

“Me too,” you responded with a shy grin back at him.

He made sure to always use the door after that, usually waiting until he got to the desk to pull out his ID, giving him a chance to chat with you. Your friendship quickly blossomed, and you both developed feelings for each other. Not that either of you would admit it out of fear the other wouldn’t feel the same.

Right now, he would just teleport home, since your friendly face wouldn’t be there to greet him with a smile. He didn’t really want to go, but he also didn’t want to overstay his welcome. You hadn’t given him any reason to think he had, it was just his nature to believe that was so.

“I had better take my leave before it gets too late,” he told you, making to stand up.

“No!” you shouted with an unexpected urgency. “Uh, what I mean is that you shouldn’t go out in this storm. Why don’t you stay the night here? If that’s not weird, of course.”

His heart beat a little faster as you desperately clung to his hand. Of course he could tell you that it was no trouble; with his magic, he wouldn’t have to set foot outside. But he could tell this was about something more than you were saying. Besides, who was he to turn down some more time with you?

“It is not weird at all, darling,” he replied, getting comfortable on the couch once more. “It sounds like a wonderful idea. Thank you for the offer.”

“You’re welcome.”

He brought his arms around you and hugged you to his chest, gently running his hand up and down your arm in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. From the way you relaxed against him, he supposed that it was. As the episode you were watching finished, you flipped through the channels and landed on the Food Network. The food on the screen caused an embarrassingly loud grumble in your stomach, but Loki just beamed at you.

“Are you hungry, darling?” he asked. “Perhaps I could make us a snack?”

“I’m the host,” you replied, with a shake of your head. “I should be providing the food.”

“How about we make it together then?” he suggested. “What would you like?”

“I’m craving nachos right now, if that’s fine with you.” You were met with a blank stare. “Do you not know what nachos are?” you exclaimed in disbelief.

“I am afraid I do not,” he chuckled. It never ceases to amaze you how there was always some other new Midgardian food to introduce him to. “I will gladly try them, though. You will have to take the lead on the cooking, of course.”

You nodded your head and led him to your kitchen, pulling out the ingredients you’d need. You cooked the chicken while Loki cut up the tomatoes and lettuce. You instructed Loki on how to prepare the rest of the toppings while you melted the cheese on the chips. All the delicious aromas filling the kitchen only served to make your stomach growl louder. You sheepishly giggled as the both of you loaded up the plate with everything you’d made.

“Are they ready, then?” Loki asked. “Should I try it?”

You excitedly nodded yes. He picked up a chip with all the toppings on it. He sniffed at it before closing his eyes and taking a delicate bite. His eyes shot open in excitement as the flavors exploded on his tongue. He quickly polished off the rest of the chip.

“It is delicious, darling! You are quite the talented chef, you know.”

You shifted your weight, never sure how to react to a compliment. “Thanks, Loki. You are too.”

He gestured to the plate, and you took your first bite. As you stood at the counter, chatting and eating, you almost forgot about the storm raging on outside. Well, that was until you finished the dish, and thunder sounded once more, the rain attacking with a revived fury.

“Do you wish to go to bed now?” he inquired, mistaking your masked fear as exhaustion. “I hope I have not kept you up.”

“No, not at all,” you were quick to reassure him. “Actually, I want to stay up a while longer. We could even make a pillow fort! That is if, uh, if you wanted to.”

“That sounds like a splendid idea, darling.”

You’d introduced him to the notion the first time the two of you were up late together, and he’d taken to it immediately. You’d suggested he should be the prince of the fort, but he’d insisted that you take on the role of monarch. He did the same now as you gathered the pillows, blankets, and cushions, setting to work building your haven on the floor and couch.

“Well, darling,” he said, leaning back and pulling you with him, “I think we did a pretty good job.”

“Even better than last time,” you agreed.

As you turned the TV back on, you found you were more interested in studying Loki’s face than watching the movie he’d picked. He was so beautiful, down to every last detail. Realizing the sheer number of times his perfect, pink lips had formed the word darling made your heart skip a beat or two. He’d been saying it since he first met you, but it was different now; softer, more caring. He thought what was actually a thrill induced shiver was a sign that you were cold, and carefully draped a blanket around your shoulders, holding you even closer than before.

“Are you truly feeling alright?” he fretted. “You are not feeling ill, are you?”

“No, Loki. Don’t worry. I’m totally and completely fi-”

Thunder cut off your sentence once more, and you whimpered, confirming his suspicions from earlier. Before you could explain the involuntary reaction away, Loki cupped your cheeks and looked deep into your eyes.

“Darling!” he exclaimed. “You are afraid of the thunder.”

“I am,” you wailed, burying your head in your hands as his arms wrapped around you. He held your head to his chest, rocking back and forth ever so slightly. “I am. This is so embarrassing.”

“Nonsense. I am rather terrified of it, too. Far too many unpleasant memories of Thor’s temper tantrums and combat training,” he grimaced. “Does it carry the same kind of horrid association for you?”

“Mhm. When I was a kid,” you said, taking a deep breath, “a bolt of lightning struck the tree in my front yard. It fell over, and the entire house was soon engulfed with flames. My family and I were all ok, but it was scary.”

“And understandably so!” he comforted you. “I am so sorry you went through something so horrid. I promise you are safe here with me, though. I will never let anything harm you.”

You lifted your head and looked into his eyes, only to bury it back in the crook of his neck at another clap of thunder. He rubbed your back again and comfortingly shushed you as you whimpered more, reassuring you that you would be alright. That he would make sure of it. All of a sudden, that was the only noise you were hearing. Well, that and the TV. Everything else went quiet. You dared to peek up, and saw Loki smiling at you, but with concern in his eyes.

“What happened?” you asked, perplexed by the sudden silence of the storm outside.

“I have cast a spell. A bubble of silence of sorts,” he replied. “It is a talent I developed for when things get really bad.”

“Thank you. It’s perfect.”

“You are welcome,” he whispered as you snuggled closer to him. He placed a kiss to your head and immediately feared he’d overstepped. “I am sorry, darling. I hope I have not made you uncomfortable.”

“On the contrary,” you said, pecking him on the lips, “I wouldn’t mind more.”

He recovered quickly from his shock and moved to kiss you again. It was sweet and gentle, yet you were drowning. Drowning in his scent, his taste, his everything. But you didn’t mind. If the air was taken from your lungs, this was a good way to go.

“I love you, Loki,” you said, a radiant smile gracing your face.

“And I you, my darling.”

As you kissed again, you thought that thunderstorms might not be that bad, after all.

[littlefreya]

The Captain and the Maiden

Summary: Plain and simple, the Captain is your first.

Pairing: Captain Syverson x Reader

Word count: 2.7K

Warnings: Deflowering, sexual intercourse, unprotected sex, cunnilingus. 

A/N: By request from Anon! Thank you @agniavateira for being my beta and muse :3

Title: The Captain and the Maiden

There you are, decorated in white lace, your heart pumping with agitation while the captain stands in front of you, his broad, hairy chest pumping air slowly. He tilts his head like a big, ragged dog. 

“You’re a wha....”

“Virgin.” you answer, rolling your eyes nervously and a little bit vexed. You shouldn’t have said anything, you can already see the rushed exchange of thoughts behind his soulful blue eyes. 

The bulky man is certainly planning his escape, too afraid to take away your “chastity”.

But the right corner of his lips eventually twists into what begins to look like a small smirk, his eyes hungrily observing your body while he flicks his tongue. 

“How in the hell does someone like you remain a virgin for so long?”

You shrug, your mind quickly running through a list of failed conquests and the numerous times your heart got broken. “Didn’t find the right guy? Didn’t have time between college and maintaining a job to pay out my student loans? You pick.”

You sigh, ready to feel disappointment when your devoted soldier moves toward you and within seconds the air becomes shallow. His eyes glint darkly and you glimpse at his nether region, noticing the outlines of his engorged organ as it begs to for you.

“This makes me Mr. Right Guy?” he inquires with his pure Texan accent that melts your insides. Taking another step forward, he stands so close that the cups of your bra brush against his hard, naked torso with every breath you take. He leans his head down, forehead bumping against yours while he breathes in your scent.

“It makes you…”

The rest of your sentence is swallowed by his mouth as he pulls you up and conquers you with a succulent kiss. You’re not given a chance to resist, to fight back. The captain overpowers you, his tongue setting fire through your mouth and lungs, dancing with yours in a fight for dominance in which he wins with ease. 

Large hands seize your waist, lifting you with ease and placing you on the queen-sized bed. He crawls on top of you with menace. Sy is all muscle and fury, smothering you with his weight. His flesh is hot against yours and you’re almost embarrassed by your aching instinct to cling to this burly beast. His hands grope your body with zeal, and the only thing that runs through your mind is the same pathetic little prayer that you chant with wanton.

“I ain’t no tender man, babygirl.” he warns you as he breaks from your lips, his rough beard burning your skin as he trails down your jawline and then your throat. “But what I am is a southern gentleman and I promise I’ll treat ya right.” 

As if possessed, your spine curls and lifts from the mattress to the lingering kisses Syverson trails down your naked skin. He licks at your sternum, his coarse hands skillfully unclasping your bra and discards it before his tongue snakes around your peaked nipple and teases the soft flesh. You want to tell him you don’t need any preparation, that you’ve been waiting for this moment for way too long and you just want him to fuck you already.

But no words manage to form on your lips as Sy’s fingers thread through your nipples and he continues to explore the uncharted path of your body attentively.

“Has anyone done this to you before?” he murmurs against your lower belly between a chant of wet kisses, rubbing his bearded chin at your sensitive flesh and sneaking his fingers beneath the bend of your expensive lace underwear.

“Onc...once. when I was in college,” you stammer, hissing through your teeth. Your body shakes as he kisses your belly with a hum and slips your panties over your sheer thigh-high stockings.

“I appreciate this, by the way.” he exclaims, referring to the sexy lingerie you bothered to wrap yourself in for tonight: a Victoria’s Secret best white lace, almost ceremonial. It lasted less than 5 minutes before both your bra and underwear ended up on the floor next to Sy’s worn black shirt.  

Heat spreads through your body, spilling from your cheeks to your neck and gathering at your loins as Syverson spreads your legs with as much gentleness a brute like him can muster. You watch as he hooks your legs above his shoulders with intent, your thighs still covered in sheer white silk, countering the tanned muscles of his shoulders. 

You suck in your lower lip as you watch his head lowering between your apex. The fact that your thighs jitter around his neck is not lost to you. Flushed and ashamed of how intense your yearnings are, you throw your head back and shut your eyes while his hot breath welcomes your womanhood.

“Oh god!” 

His wet tongue snakes between your folds, smearing you with languid tease, enough to run through the length of your folds and make you whine like a whore. Your fingers twist around the bedsheet, your toes curling in the air as your ankles hover over his back.

“Christ, babygirl, I haven’t even started yet.” he taunts you and dips his tongue into your sweetness again, traveling between your folds carefully, tracing the shape of your labia and dampening it with his saliva. His thick beard adds roughness to the mixture, scratching your inner thighs as he moves his face between your open legs, learning the mysteries of your body.

Skillful lips press gentle loving kisses to the freshness of your mound, circling the entire region patiently, your whimpering pleas encouraging him to dwell around your juices and collect every rich drop. You’re swollen and throbbing, moaning with frustration at Syverson’s torturous measures. 

You can’t see his face, yet you’re convinced he is smiling smugly just as you know the sky above is blue.  

His fingers hold your lips open and you gasp as he licks your seal carefully, attempting to dip his tongue in the small gap as much as possible before he laps his tongue over the hidden pearl of your mound. He twirls around your clit with a low hum of delight that vibrates against you, making you shudder with a hiss. You are teetering on the edge, throwing your head back and forth on the pillow as he suckles, lavishing you inside the cavern of his mouth. The pleasure is so much that you are edged on begging him to stop yet the only thing coming from your mouth are deep, loud cries. 

Syverson has every intent on turning you into a mewling puddle, restraining your inner thighs while you squirm and continues to suck your clit skillfully until your body arches and explodes into rapture in his mouth.

“Fuck!!!” you pant, landing your back on the mattress heavily. “I get it now.”

Sy chuckles dryly, wiping your juices off his beard “Get what?”

“Captain… “ you adjust your breath “Captain Cunnilingus, I finally get why they call you that.”

His laughter thunders through his chest as he moves to lie on top of you once again, his hands reaching down to unzip his cargos and he pushes them down his legs to join the messy pile on the floor.

The last thing that surprises you is that Syverson likes to go commando.

“I think I got you wet enough, babygirl.” he growls, kissing and nipping your neck, his hands squeezing your buttocks, and his erection pressing hard against your soft belly. You shiver just from the size of it, your cunt throbs once again with both fear and excitement.

His knuckles sooth your temple, his eyes meeting yours with an ocean of compassion that only you are able to witness. 

“Ready?” he queries, searching for approval in your gaze.

You nod right away. You’ve been ready since the moment “big Sy” defended your honor at the bar against that jerk who squeezed your ass. No one ever fought for you, not till that day. You were just a small town girl with a sad list of terrible life choices and failed dates yet there he was. Handsome, big, and way beyond average, willing to risk a fight for you. 

You were tempted to just lose your virginity to him in the pub’s toilet. But he settled for your number instead.  

Holding you carefully in his strong bulging arms, Syverson flips you over so he is seated with you straddling his lap. You feel sinful, your wetness drenched upon the meat of his groin, you can’t help but stare at his velvet pistol which rests proudly against the side of your thigh. 

While inexperienced, you have seen your share online, and it would be an understatement to say Syverson is large.

“Easy darlin.’” he teases you with slight humor in his baritone and reaches to grab his thick erection in one hand while the other takes hold of your hip to assist you on top of him. Your fingernails mark crescents on his shoulder with just the tip of his flesh pressing at your gates. As desperate as you are, you feel a needle in your heart and your skin prickles as he begins to lower you onto his cock.

“F-u-c-k!” you hiss as you feel him splitting through you inch by inch. He pushes through your virginal canal, unwrapping your silken walls with his incredible girth. The pressure inside your own body overwhelms you, the sting of his entry making you dig your nails onto the hard muscles of his shoulder blades. A deep growl matches your sobs as he lingers, easing into a slit which is impossibly taut. 

But you’re are unwilling to be that girl anymore, the sweet small town virgin too afraid to ever make a move, pathetically waiting for “the one”. Whether it is Sy or not, you force yourself down his shaft, gasping along with him as the two of you fall into daze, amazed by the tight friction your bodies produce. His entire cock fills you, and you nearly break apart feeling him deep in the pit of your gut.

A low grunt emits from his lips. His hand soothes down your spine as you still, adjusting to the new sensation of being whole. You haven’t even noticed that your eyes went shut until Sy’s fingers stroke your cheek and wipe the wetness that formed in the corners of your eyes. 

Blinking your gaze at him, you find a calm sea, reaching into the depth of your heart.

“Good girl,” he utters, stroking your hair back and leaning to kiss your forehead. As patient as Syverson is, you can feel his thick cock as it twitches inside you. You are too hot, too tight, and your lush walls are closing around him. The  throbbing is unbearable for the both of you, increasing the more you prolong. 

Your breath comes in fumes and loud yips as you begin to ride the large man. You pull yourself up along the length of his solid erection, his ridges stroking down your stretching walls before you fall back on his cock, fulfilling the sudden emptiness that’s devoid of your pull.   

As dominant as he is, Syverson allows you to control the rhythm to a point. His control is a thin thread, threatening to snap. His large hands tattoo bruises onto your flesh as he grips you tightly and his teeth nip your breasts as you throw your head back with every plunge made into your body. You had your fears; that it will hurt too much, that you won’t climax with him inside you, having never experienced anything like this before. Yet every thought washes away from your mind as you rise and fall onto him and pleasure ripples through your organs as you grind into one another.

Seeing your movements become more fluid, Sy begins to buck his hips into you, pushing back into your cunt, reaching that spot so deep inside it makes you yelp like a crazed animal. He makes your entire body electrified, the bone of his pelvis grinding at your clit and his hands reach to squeeze your ass, parting your cheeks to make you even more stretched for him.

You are almost unable to rationalize how and when the captain took over, pushing you down on his meaty shaft. You realize that you enjoy this, having him take over, grunting against your throat while forcing you down his cock. It’s as if he turned into a beast whose only purpose was to seek and fill your womb. 

“Harder!” you hear a yell and before you even realize it was you who gave the command, you are whirled back onto the mattress with Sy on top, thrusting into you with the dedication of an ardent soldier. He kisses you sloppily, holding his elbows at the side of your head so not to crush you with his weight while he thrusts into you with lewd grunts.  

Tides of ecstasy begin to hit your core, washing closer and closer to the shores of your pleasure. You reach your hands to grab his ass, nails biting into his muscles, forcing him so deep it hurts. That pain is all you need to sink into your own waves of pure orgasm. You come as you never did before, wrapping tightly around him, achieving a sense of becoming whole in every inch of your soul.

Sy growls into your ear, and an onslaught of curses greets your flushed ears as he jackhammers your convulsing cunt so vigorously the bones of your hips feel as if they’re going to fall apart. Unable to fight your body’s protests, his own orgasm takes him within a split second, his seed sprouting into your womb while he pants hoarsely on top of you. 

Sweaty and breathless, he teases your lips into a loving kiss while remaining sheathed inside you. A gentle hum tickles down your throat, the heat of his elixir soothes you while his weight presses you down. Even though he is making it harder for you to breathe, you are anxious of his departure from your body. You lay your head against his peck, your hands clutching his back gently.

“Oh babygirl,” he cradles the back of your head, pressing a tender kiss to your hair. “Did I hurt you?”

You smile against his chest, feeling a bit more wicked than you ever did before. 

“Not in a bad way.”

___________________________________________________

DM me if you wish to be added/removed

[hopelesshunny]

the love languages part iv: quality time (f.w)

pairing: fred weasley x fem!reader

summary: fred wakes y/n one morning so that he can take her on a secret adventure.

warnings: kissing, mentions of war, mentions of death, mentions of eating/food, mentions of marriage/engagement.

word count: 2.2k

a/n: i was so excited to write this part as unlike the previous part of this series, quality time is my personal love language. i'm also quite excited to write the final part of this series as well as finish and post a number of wips so get ready for lots of writing soon!! luv ya'll so much.

*all photos are from pinterest*

series masterlist // part i // part ii // part iii

A quiet groan left Y/N’s mouth as the sun pushed its way through the sheer drapes of hers and Freds shared bedroom. As she began to regain consciousness she could hear the birds chirping outside the window, excited for the morning, she could smell the familiar scent of fresh coffee brewing, but most importantly, she could feel the bed sheets beneath her instead of the comforting rise and fall of her boyfriend's chest. Sighing, she pushed herself out of bed and followed the smell that was escaping from the kitchen, slipper clad feet padding across the wooden floors.

“Mornin’ angel.” Fred smirked, pouring her a cup of coffee and placing it in her eager hands. “Thought I might have to carry you out of bed.”

“What time is it?” She muttered, laying her head against his chest as Fred placed a hand on her back, rubbing small circles.

“It’s 7 in the morning love.” He spoke into her hairline, causing her to pull back from him with a bewildered look.

“It’s Saturday, Freddie.” She exclaimed, still staring at him with a slack mouth.

“I know.” He chuckled, placing a kiss to the side of her head. “I’m taking you somewhere, so drink up.” He said, tapping the coffee cup before pulling himself from her to head back to their bedroom.

She turned to watch him as he sauntered down the hall, a smile forming on her lips at the sight of him. Lucky was an understatement, Y/N often thought that she must have been a saint in her past life and was being blessed in this lifetime with Fred Weasley. From the moment she saw him in first year, her in a uniform that seemed much too big for her body and he with flushed cheeks and a bright smile, she swore to herself that he was the man she was going to marry. In her second year when she watched him and George prank the Slytherins relentlessly and laugh loudly at their stunned faces, she remembered thinking that his laugh was like medicine, it could surely cure any illness. During third year she often found herself staring at Fred constantly from across the Great Hall, hoping that he would return the glance. Then came fourth year when she finally caught his eye, so much so that as he and George ran down the hall, attempting to escape some self-inflicted trouble, he almost ran directly into a wall due to his staring.

Since that moment that had been inseparable - it had begun as Fred’s adolescent attempt to flirt with her but grew into the most beautiful friendship she ever had, when she couldn’t get the hint that he was interested in being more than that. Which is why his invitation to the Yule Ball shocked her in sixth year and his early departure from Hogwarts destroyed her in seventh year. Looking back now all of that seemed silly, from that first glance she caught of Fred she knew that they would find their way together somehow and after the war when she finally had the nerve to walk back into the shop to see if he made it out alive that’s exactly what happened.

The heavy door to the shop creaked as she pulled it open, her heart had plummeted to her stomach as soon as she saw the building from down the street. She was scared, terrified that the ghastly war had taken Fred as its own, so scared that she had pushed off confronting the possibility of it until now.

“Hello?” She called into the empty space. “Freddie? George?” Please be alive, please be alive, is all her brain could muster up to think.

“Y/N?” A voice called from the back. “Y/N!” George shouted as he came into view, running towards her to smother her in a hug.

“Hi.” She spoke softly into his chest, still fearing the fate of his twin. “Fred?” She asked quietly when she pulled back from the hug, concern and worry lacing her features. But the raging storm of guilt and terror within her was calmed when George flashed her a genuine smile and turned to call towards the back room.

“Fred! It’s Y/N, she’s alive.” With that Fred came bustling out from the far end of the shop, his eyes bloodshot, hair messy but that golden smile still plastered on his face. When she saw him tears that she had been holding back for days came flooding down her face as he picked her up, wrapping his arms impossibly tight around her body. George chuckled to himself before making his way up the stairs leaving two lovers that were too stubborn to realize they were lovers to finally become lovers.

“You scared me Y/N.” Fred whispered into her neck. “I thought I’d lost you.” She let out a choked sob before pulling back to look at him.

“There was so much happening, I couldn’t find you.” She said. “And then once it was all over I was worried th-that something had happened and that you w-were.” She trailed off, trying to find the words that made the most sense to her in this very moment but before she could, he was softly shushing her, planting her feet on the ground and placing a sweet kiss to her forehead.

“No need for any of that. I’m here, you’re here, we’re okay.” He spoke, her face in his hands. “I guess now’s as good a time as any to tell you that I’m in love with you Y/N.” He chuckled, earning a giggle from her.

“Fred Weasley, I am way ahead of you on that one.” She retorted, leaning up to capture his lips with hers.

“Okay Weasley, where are we going.” She said, emerging from their bedroom to find Fred on the couch, his head resting back on his neck before snapping it forward at the sound of her voice.

“You know.” He started, getting up from the couch to move toward her, placing his hands on her waist. “I see you every single day and it still feels like that first time I almost snogged the wall trying to catch a glimpse of you.”

“Always a charmer, you were.” She giggled before he reached down to grab her hand, pulling her out the door and down the street. He swung her hand in his as he pointed out abstractly shaped clouds saying they looked like her hair in the morning or her butt when she leaned over to pick something up.

“You still haven’t told me where we’re going.” She spoke.

“We’re going right here.” He said, pulling her into an ice cream shop. “Well, we’re starting right here.”

“Starting?” She questioned. “What do you have up your sleeve, Freddie?” He chuckled at her inquisitive state as she never really trusted Fred when it came to surprises because it typically ended in her hair being dyed a garish colour or something seemingly delicious tasting absolutely horrendous. But this surprise was good, he reassured her with a soothing hand on her back.

With ice cream cones finished and Y/N’s mind still wandering, the pair was now standing in a lush garden in the countryside, wisteria trees blowing gently in the summer breeze as Fred clasped his hands over her eyes. When he finally pulled them back to reveal the gorgeous sight in front of her all she could manage was a gasp, taken back by the pure beauty of the garden, so much so that she hardly saw the picnic blanket he must have set up ahead of time.

“It’s beautiful Freddie.” She whispered, her hand pressed against her chest in amazement.

“Just like you.” He said, wrapping his arms around her from behind, resting his chin on top of her head. “Hermione actually told me about this place after she leant you that book about trees.” He chuckled, recalling the memory of his girlfriend passionately telling him about a different tree somewhere in the world every morning.

With that he ran and landed on the blanket with a thud outstretching his arms as giggles bubbled from her mouth. She gladly accepted his offer however, laying on the blanket with him, her back against his side as she gazed up at the bright blue sky, through a veil of wisteria, her hands finding his to gently run her fingers along his knuckles. From their position on the ground Fred had the perfect view of Y/N’s face, the face he had memorized so many years ago, the face that lit up the first time he had ever spoken to her and everyday since then.

He and George sprinted down the hall, Filch hot on their heels as boisterous laughter filled the air, adrenaline running through both their veins like hot lava, setting their bodies on fire. Then he saw her, coming around the corner, books clutched tightly to her chest as her eyes wandered out the window, but his remained solely on her. A little too much it seemed because when he finally forced his line of sight away from her, he found himself face to face with a wall, just inches away from having his face planted flat against it. He brought up on his heels before ducking away into a closet, George after running far ahead of him.

He cracked the closet door open just enough so that he could steal a look at her, he watched as she giggled and shook her head and then made her way down the hall. Was she laughing at him? Was she laughing at him because she thought he was funny? Or because she thought he was a fool? He thought about this for a moment before finally deciding that he could make either one of them work. Once the coast was clear and he was sure he was no longer being chased, Fred practically fell out of the closet and began sprinting down the hall again but this time in the opposite direction, in the direction of her. When he finally caught up to her, he layed a gentle hand on her shoulder causing her to turn towards him before he doubled over out of breath.

“Just give me, give me one second.” He said, holding his hand up to signal for her to wait. She chuckled at him as he then decided to take a seat on the ground still attempting to pump air into his lungs. Y/N sat on the floor of the hallway with him, pulling her knees up to her chest as he looked at her in surprise. “I’m Fred Weasley.”

“I know.” She said before giving him a shocked look, angry at her mouth for betraying her. “I mean, I’m Y/N Y/L/N.”

“I think we’re going to be great friends.” He replied, while she flashed him a smile that could light up the entire castle on the darkest of nights.

Great friends they were, if you consider great friends, people who can’t sleep without each other, kiss each other good morning and good night and just about a thousand times in between everyday, they were the best of friends, if best friends were in love with one another. Fred couldn’t imagine his life without Y/N in it, couldn’t bring himself to imagine being with someone else, she was all he ever wanted, all he’d ever need.

“Is that a squirrel over there?” Fred questioned. “Climbing up that tree?” He pointed to a tree in the distance, causing Y/N to sit up straight, shielding the sun from her eyes with her hand as she squinted in an attempt to see what Fred was on about.

“I don’t see a squirrel.” She scoffed. “You must be seeing things Fre-.” She started, turning around to see Fred kneeling on one knee in front of her, a silver ring propped up in a velvet box grasped in his hands as his eyes searched hers. Shock ran deep on her face and a rush of nerves took over Fred as he couldn’t quite read her reaction.

“Y/N, from the moment I met you I’ve wanted to do this. I’ve thought about asking you to marry me almost everyday since fourth year and hell if I had a ring back then I would’ve done it. But I have one now so I’m asking-.” Fred began, still tentatively studying her face.

“Yes!” She cut him off, launching herself into his arms. “Yes, I’ll marry you any day and I would’ve married you when we were fifteen if you asked.” She peppered his face with kisses as he laughed loudly, slipping the ring onto her finger. Tears pricked her eyes as she pulled back to look at the new addition to her hand but her eyebrows knitted themselves together at the collection of numbers engraved in small font on the underside of the band.

“Numbers?” She questioned, shooting him a quizzical look as he chuckled.

“Coordinates.” He responded. “To the exact wall I almost hit the first time I saw you.”

taglist (join here!!)

@onlyfreds @fandomhideout @lilypad-55449@youngblood199456 @thanxxskz @emma67 @gaycatlord-stuff@alicetweven @a-castle-of-glass @youcantbesirius@omghufflepuff @izzyyy-1​ @70sweasleys

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[goodwriterwithbadhabits]

Love Letters

I have no idea how this turned out, I opened a word doc, blacked out and ended up with this. 

Master List

~~ “I would write you poems until my hands worked no more. Would play you music until my fingers bled. Shakespeare himself would have to rise from his tomb to stop me writing you sonnets. No words will ever convey the love which spills from my heart, but I will try to do so every day.” Johnny reads the letter loud, a smile on his face as he looks over at you. You’re certain your face conveys the sheer horror you’re feeling, and judging from the laughter that bubbles from him, it does. You’re frozen in the doorway of your own dorm room, staring at the man lounging in your desk chair, the man who’d just found your second best kept secret. “So, how much does it cost to get one of these letters?” 

“What are you doing?” His eyebrow hikes up at your question, and he gestures to the stacks of envelopes and the typewriter sitting on your desk. 

“You’re the one writing all the love notes around campus right? What if I want to send one to someone?” You blink at him a few times, still in shock, but step into the room properly and shut the door. 

“How’d you find out about this? Who told you?” You question, dropping your backpack on the floor and crossing your arms over your chest. He mimics your pose, though still in your chair. 

“Who said anyone told me?” He challenges, “I figured it out.” 

“Bullshit. I’ve been doing this for almost two years and no one’s been the wiser. The only people that know are my customers, so who told you?” He’s silent for a moment, not pretending not to size you up. You can feel your heartbeat in your chest, and part of you wants to celebrate having your crush alone in your dorm room, but the other part of you remembers he’s here for a love letter, not you. 

“Are you going to stop writing for them if I tell you?”

“Maybe, or maybe I’ll just revoke their long term customer pricing. Who was it?”

“Yuta.” Your eyes roll automatically at the name, you should have known it was him. 

“Of course it was. Did he refer you, or did he just tell you?” Johnny shrugs, clearly loving how annoyed you’re getting. 

“Maybe both. You haven’t answered my question.” 

“One time letters to someone are 25, self letters are 35. If you’re wanting a long term contract it depends on the frequency of the letters, contents and subject.” You finally relent, trying not to let the disappointment cloud your voice. 

“What’s the most expensive contract you have?” You motion for him to get out of your chair, which he shockingly does, so you can grab your clientele binder and find your contract sheets. He flops down on your bed while you work, watching you flick through the almost shockingly thick binder. 

“Someone pays me 75 dollars every other month to write three page long letters to send to his girlfriend overseas.” You tell him, pulling out a contract, “This contract is legal, by the way, I had a friend of mine in law school draft it. I only write the letters, I don’t deliver them and I am not responsible for the reaction of the recipient. You can’t get me in legal trouble if things backfire, nor can you demand a refund. You cannot ask for personal information about other clients, and no I won’t tell you if you’re giving a letter to someone who is already receiving letters. Any questions?” You finally look up from your contract, locking eyes with the boy sitting on your bed. 

“Would you handwrite a letter for me, or is it typewriter only?”

“I try not to handwrite letters, just in case someone might recognize my handwriting.” He smiles again, and you have to look away, trying not to blush. God, how did you get so unlucky? When you had started writing these letters, it was because of your crush on Johnny. Your roommate freshman year had found a letter you’d never planned to send and asked if you would write one for her to give to the girl she liked. From there, your little business blossomed, and now you had upwards of 30 clients, all paying you to write about Johnny without knowing. 

“Do I have to tell you who my letter is for?” 

“Nope, all you have to tell me is whether you know them personally or not, and if there’s something about them you want me to talk about.” You drop your binder on the desk, turning to face him once more. “I’ll also need your contact info, phone number or email preferably. I take cash, venmo, and cashapp, you have to pay before your first letter, and if you make it a long term thing, then you pay upon receiving the letter.” He nods, his lower lip sticking out slightly. 

“OKay, lets do one letter for now, and depending on their reaction, we’ll see about sending more.” 

“No problem, just fill this out for me, and we’ll get started.” You pass him the contract and a clipboard to write on. “For the first letter, I always have my clients tell me about the person they’re wanting me to write about, that way if you meet face to face, the letters still sound like you.” 

“What’s your major again?” 

“Psychology, with an English Lit minor.” 

“Makes sense.” The two of you are quiet for a moment while he fills out the form, and you take the chance to package some letters, ironically, one was for Yuta, who was definitely getting a scolding when he came to pick it up. “Alright here.” You don’t look at him, only extend your hand for him to place it in. You can feel him watching you as you finish up your work, marking who still has to pay for your work. “So, have you ever written a letter for someone, like from you?”

“Yes and no.” You weren’t sure why you even answered. 

“What do you mean?” You sigh, putting your papers away so you can move the typewriter front and center. 

“Every letter I write is about the person I like, that’s how it started.” You explain, “Yeah, it sounds like I’m writing about someone else, but it’s always about him.” 

“Ever had to write one for him?” You can tell he’s actually interested in this, but you shake your head, not wanting to talk about it more. 

“Don’t worry about my love life, Johnny, lets work on yours.” You grab a notebook, spinning to face him, ready to take notes. “Tell me about your person.” 

If you told me you were Eros, I would believe you. From the moment I saw you, the arrow of love had pierced my heart and rendered it useless to all others. Were you a god, I would be your most devoted priest. My lips would sing your prayers and praises until there was no oxygen left at your altars. Your mind rivals that of Shakespeare and Einstein, and I wish on every star that one day I may be privy to your innermost thoughts. Your eyes hold the universe, and your hands: my heart. You fill my dreams, and soothe my nightmares. Had I an ounce more courage, I would say these words to your face, but in truth, no words could accurately depict the love I have for you. It bubbles from my heart, courses through my veins and clouds my mind. I would give you the world, the moon and all the stars in the sky if you only asked, but now I can only give you this letter and hope you will not think ill of me. Yours ever, Johnny

“Here, all done.” Johnny barely has the chance to knock on your door the following day before you’re shoving the lilac envelope in his hands. “It’s not super long, but it’s pretty expressive, if you want more just let me know, I hope they like it.” You don’t give him the chance to reply, instead just shut the door and try not to start crying instantly. Every word you had said was true, and he was about to give it to some rando. You wanted to cancel every other letter people had asked for, so tired of writing about a love you couldn’t have. A knock on your door makes you huff, just wanting to lay down for a while. “What?” You demand, swinging the door open to find Johnny still standing there. He holds the envelope out to you, his other hand deep in his pocket. 

“Here.” 

“Do you not like it? I can rewrite it.” You offer, hesitating to take it. No one had ever hated what you’d written, to say it was a bit of an ego crusher was an understatement. 

“No. No it’s amazing, its everything I wanted to say. You did an amazing job.” He extends his hand again, not looking you in the eye. “But its for you.” 

“What?” 

“When I learned it was you-” He huffs, “Look, I’ve had a thing for you since English 101. You’ve always been super smart and gorgeous, but I’ve been too scared to say anything cause you were always writing these sweet things, and I figured they’re for someone else, so I didn’t want to pressure you into something. But I might not get accepted into my Masters and I didn’t want to leave without saying-” 

“Johnny.” He stops speaking the second you say his name, his eyes snapping up to yours. Your face is warm, and you can feel your eyes watering. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“You.” The bewilderment on his face is almost funny. 

“Me?”

“Yes you. Every single letter I’ve ever written has been about you. Even this one. I wrote you a love letter only to have it be for me.” You can’t help but laugh at the irony of it all. 

“Wait, really?” He’s laughing a little as well. 

“Yes you idiot. I’ve been so scared Yuta had told you, I was even gonna go cry once you left.” You admit, wiping at the tears that were falling. 

“Oh no, don’t cry.” He pulls you close to his chest, his head resting on yours. “Let me take you for lunch. Then maybe you can tell me some of those sweet things you’re always writing about me.” You both laugh at this, pulling away from him. 

“Don’t think I’m going to let this ruin my business, Johnny Suh, I’ve still got to pay for my coffee habits.” 

“Only if I get to read the letters first.” 

“Deal.” 

“And I get to see your client list.” 

“Not a chance.” 

[cablesscutie]

Zutara and number 20!

Thank you for sending this - sorry this took so long! I decided to write it as a follow-up to this ask.

“I just want to see you happy.”

“So you set me up with a guy that passed out on your couch?” Katara raises an eyebrow as she regards Ty Lee over her mug.

“He doesn’t usually do that!” Ty Lee defends. She would never try to set one of her friends up with anyone that wouldn’t be good for them - especially Katara. “That was just a rough night. I swear, Zuko’s a really great guy. I’ve actually been wanting to set you up for a while, but he’s sorta shy about blind dates.” This is an understatement, but it won’t hurt Katara not to know that.

“So how’d you get him to agree?” Ty Lee bites her lip. She can’t outright lie to Katara, but she is pretty sure I got my girlfriend to blackmail him would just lead to Katara going back to the drawing board of finding a friend of hers that Aang didn’t know to bring as her date. This task got significantly harder when Ty Lee helped her weed out the options that would absolutely not understand that it was just an “as friends” thing. Half their friends seem to be in love with Katara at least a little bit at any given time. Ty Lee will even admit that prior to getting with Mai, she had spent a while as part of that half.

“I showed him your Instagram?” She winces as she says it, the expression on Katara’s face already registering danger.

“You what?”

“Well -” Ty Lee cuts herself off. She can’t really justify her actions here. Even if she’d gotten Zuko to tentatively agree based on blackmail, she had still sent him her Insta in hopes that Katara’s looks would make him more inclined to show off the more endearingly awkward parts of his personality, rather than the reluctant prickliness she knew would drive Katara straight from apprehension to loathing. She doesn’t feel great about compromising her feminist ideals to intentionally make Zuko play nice out of sheer thirst, but if they both let down their towering, barbed-wire-covered walls for just a moment, she’s pretty sure it can lead to something amazing. “Yeah,” she finishes lamely.

The ensuing lecture lasts long enough that Ty Lee finds herself wishing she’d gotten a top-up on her tea before starting down this road, and includes a solid minute of silence while Katara searches through her phone for a screenshot of an article in her women’s studies class. Because spirits forbid she paraphrase. Irate Katara always brings receipts, even when chewing out her friend for “actively subjecting her fellow woman to the male gaze.” Ty Lee is too good a friend and too keenly aware of her own internal hypocrisies and contradictions to point out that Katara hadn’t been too concerned about avoiding gaze when she’d asked Ty Lee to take some shots of her new swimsuit that would, quote, “make Jet eat his stupid heart out.” So she just nods along, letting Katara make her valid points, unaware that Ty Lee has already come to terms with the dubious morality of her approach.

At the end, when Katara is taking a long, satisfied sip of her matcha latte, Ty Lee leans forward to take hold of her free hand, their fingers tangling familiarly. “What can I do to make it right?” she asks. Katara’s forgiveness is easily earned most of the time, the asking usually the bulk of the price. When a grin starts at the corner of her mouth, it transforms her face, revealing Rebound Katara, one of Ty Lee’s favorite agents of chaos.

“I mean, you showed him mine, so…” she waggles her eyebrows, and Ty Lee giggles, fishing out her phone. Zuko doesn’t post anything on his Instagram except occasional vacation photos that he’s never in. Ty Lee, however, has plenty. She opens up her album from the last big trip to Ember Island, and slides the phone across the tabletop. Katara flips through the photos, her eyes widening the further into the album she gets. When she gets to the one of a shirtless Zuko holding Kiyi on his shoulders to throw a volleyball over the net, she quickly locks the screen and pulls her hand back like she’s been burned. Ty Lee takes no small amount of satisfaction in it when Katara looks up at her and declares, “I am going to die.”

send me a number!

[strange-lace]

Concert State of Consciousness

IT’S FINALLY DONE! I HAVE NOW MADE A FANFIC FOR THIS ROLESWAP AU! I didn’t expect this damn thing to get this long but here I am, once again! Kind of happy with how everyone’s characterized, though Demon Kid ended up a bit more sinister than I intended. I definitely had fun writing the dynamic between Mei and Green though.

Hope y’all like it!

To say the city was abuzz with excitement would be an understatement.

For the past couple of months, the name DJ Horns has been spoken with increasing interest as his music suddenly began to be played on the radio constantly. And most people wouldn’t deny that it was good, electronic yet incredibly varied depending on the song. But what interested people the most about the musician was how mysterious he was, active on social media and yet nobody knew his face and only the barest of personal details. Even his voice was a matter of debate with him using a voice synthesizer even when talking normally on his social media.

It was the perfect storm to allow DJ Horns fanbase to start from nothing to practically explode over time.

And the same musician had just announced that he would be doing a live concert right at the heart of the city, even playing “secret tracks” that he had yet to let anyone hear until now.

People were practically fighting to get themselves tickets, Mei herself included that chaos. She had been swept up in the excitement of DJ horns since the very beginning and was willing to do whatever she had to get tickets for her and Green to that concert.

Leading her to the unfortunate situation she was in now. Kicked out of the ticket venue and by the time the ban would be lifted, she knew all the concert tickets would be sold out. Oh and Green had to bail her out from getting in trouble with the security guys.

“I don’t get what the big deal was, everyone was fighting dirty to get first pick at those tickets!” Even with his shades, she could tell that Green was rolling his eyes at her.

“Oh gee, I don’t know Mei. Maybe it’s because you nearly tore a guy’s hair out!”

“That’s what he gets for trying to say I was only a fan to get the attention of other guys! Now I’m gonna miss the concert of a lifetime,” Mei groaned, a pout on her lips. Green’s scowl of disappointment softened as they walked into Pigsy’s Noodles, starting to feel bad. It’s not like the guy wasn’t being a jerk after all.

“I suppose I could see about pulling some strings to get us some decent seats, if it means that much-” He was cut off by a crushing hug from Mei, who easily lifted Green off of his feet and began to twirl them both around in sheer jubilation.

“You’d do that for me?! Thank you so much Green, you’re the absolute best!”

“Yes, yes, your appreciation is very evident now please put me down before you crush my rib cage,” he wheezed, letting in a deep gulp of air once he was freed. Mei appeared sheepish at the unintentional show of strength. “As I was saying, there’s probably a couple scalpers I could cough two tickets out of without much trouble.”

“I still question how you have the money to just do stuff like that casually, make hundreds of gadgets, and build our secret base.”

“You have your mysterious ways and I have mine Mei.” Before Mei could question further, Pigsy voice interrupted them both, looking a fair bit of a mess.

“There you are kid, we got a mountain of orders for you to deliver! Oh, and this came for you and Green in mail while you were gone, no return address though weirdly enough,” he said, shoving a load of noodle orders in Mei’s arms alongside two unmarked envelopes: one orange and the other green. The sound of something crashing in the kitchen tore Pigsy’s attention away, causing him to let out a string of curses as he went back into what sounded like chaos.

Green took the envelopes off Mei’s hands while she struggled with balancing all the orders in her arms, studying them with interest. Upon closer inspection, each envelope simply had “To My Heroes” scrawled on the front in elegant writing and sealed with a black wax seal on the back. He found himself impressed at all the sheer amount of effort put in.

“Fancy,” he commented before gently opening the green envelope. His eyes widened at what he found inside. “Looks like I won’t need to pay any scalpers for tickets.”

“Wait what do you mean? Gimme that!” Mei said, putting the orders down on the table to snatch the orange envelope and tear into it with desperate ferocity. There were practically stars once she took in what was inside: front row tickets to the DJ Horns concert and even VIP passes.

The windows of the restaurant rattled the slightest bit as the sheer force of her screams of joy.

Green didn’t even flinch as his ears were assaulted, used to this level of volume, while unfortunate bystanders winced in pain or jumped in surprise. He found a handwritten behind the ticket in his own envelope and curiosity getting the better of him, began to read it.

“As a token of thanks for always keeping this city safe, here’s free front row tickets on me! Can’t wait to see you both tonight in front of the crowd! ♡♡♡

- DJ Horns”

“How… suspiciously generous of him,” Green drawled, an eyebrow raised at such a note.

“What’s suspicious about it? We do save the city a lot and somebody’s just showing their appreciation for it! I see no problem with it,” Mei argued, pausing in her celebrations, which involved her doing a handstand on one of the stools and didn’t even seem bothered holding the position.

“Mei, this implies that he hand delivered these here without anybody noticing. Why go through all that effort to be sneaky?” It just didn’t sit right in the pit of his stomach, something smelled rotten about this to him.

“Because he’s a mega famous celebrity, he’s probably worried that making a big deal out of us giving these could make people upset or something.” It made sense to Mei, who wouldn’t free tickets from their favorite music artist and be upset that someone else was given that opportunity? She did a small flip from the stool to land next to Green, wrapping her arm around his shoulders until they were close enough that their cheeks were squished together. Despite the closeness, Green looked more uncomfortable about being tugged down to Mei’s height than anything else. That and how blinding her smile was.

“C’mon Green, I get the skepticism but it’s just a concert. One night where we can be normal teens enjoying the fruits of our labor in protecting this place, what’s so bad about that? Plus, it’ll be fun! So how about it?” Mei said, almost sounding desperate. Green remained silent for a moment before letting out a defeated sigh, only giving her a tired smile as he returned the one armed hug.

“Oh alright, you win. I suppose a break sounds nice right about now considering how things went with Demon Kid last time. Why look a gift horse in the mouth?” He conceded, willing to let his suspicion aside for a night of just not having to worry about anything but having a good time and enjoying music. Especially after yesterday, Green was still amazed that the demon managed to make something like perfume into a weapon of mass annoyance.

“That’s the spirit! This is gonna be the night of our lives!”

At least that’s what she thought, until her trinkets were literally snatched out of her hands.

“After you finish your deliveries for the night kid,” Pigsy interrupted, looking a lot more put together now that whatever disaster that had been happening in the kitchen was under control. Excluding the number of stains on his apron that weren’t there before of course. It took Mei a moment to process that her precious tickets weren’t in her hands and she was quick to bring out the puppy dog eyes.

“But- but Pigsy-” Pigsy showed no sign of giving in, having years to build a resistance to all of Mei’s tricks.

“I’m sorry Mei, but we’re way too swamped to let you run off with no one to do all these deliveries. Once you have all the deliveries done, you can have these back. But only after, so you better get started,” he stated, leaving no room for argument. And even if Mei tried, the smell of something burning had Pigsy back in the kitchen just like that with even more fervent curses, this time with her tickets tucked into the pockets of his apron.

Mei let out a groan and smacked her forehead against the countertop in despair. Green merely patted her back in sympathy to her plight.

“There’s no way I’m gonna make all those deliveries and not miss like half of the concert! Unless…”

Oh no, he recognized that look in her eyes anywhere.

“Mei, no. I know exactly what you’re thinking and I’m telling you right now, no. No music is worth facing Pigsy’s wrath if he finds out you skipped out on work for a concert. Which is what exactly will happen, he always finds out,” Green warned her, even taking off his sunglasses to look her dead in the eyes to get his point across. Mei winced at that, remembering what had happened last time she tried to skimp on work.

The power of Pigsy’s “I’m not mad, just disappointed” is something even DBK should fear.

“Look, I’ll record whatever you miss if I don’t see you by the time it starts. Might not be the same but it’s better than nothing.” That offer seemed to perk Mei up from her bout of disappointment, hopeful eyes peeking through her thick hair bangs.

“Promise?”

“I promise. But if you don’t want to miss the whole thing, you’d better do what Pigsy says and get started on the deliveries. Especially since I think that pile has grown since we got here,” Green said, pointing to the small mountain of orders which indeed had gotten bigger since passed off to her. This time, he was more prepared for the bone crushing embrace which came his way and thankfully had his arms free enough to return it.

“Thanks Green, you’re the best! Hopefully I’ll see you there before it all starts!” And just like that, Mei was off like a whirlwind with all the noodle orders in her arms. She excitedly loaded them into the shop’s delivery cart and drove off with a strong stomp in the gas pedal, the cart’s tires squealing in distress before driving off.

With a weary sigh, Green took his leave as well though he couldn’t stop looking at the ticket and note in his hands. 

Even with Mei’s assurances, something about the situation still did not sit right with him.

“For once, please let me be wrong,” Green whispered to himself, not noticing a suspiciously familiar monkey-shaped marionette creature eagerly watching him from the rooftops above. On the other side of the puppet’s eyes, her creator couldn’t help the manic grin off of his face as the pieces started to fall into place for his plan.

Green had to admit that he was expecting this many people packed into the area when he rolled up to the concert gates on his motorcycle, Mei still nowhere in sight. Though he certainly made sure to update him on how the deliveries were going.

A familiar ding sound on his phone made him pause, giving an exasperated smile at seeing another text from Mei.

“WHY ARE SO MANY PEOPLE ORDERING NOODLES TONIGHT??? got done w 3/4 of the orders, if i hurry i should be there before opening act’s done. if anybody tries to steal my seat, i give you permission to use lethal force. don’t let me down! <3”

“Maybe if you didn’t send me so many texts, you’d be getting the deliveries done faster Mei,” Green mumbled to himself fondly as he climbed off his bike, blissfully unaware of the stares being sent his way. As usual, his hair was a mess of black and pale green spikes as he pulled off his helmet and he let out a soft huff, attempting to put order to the mane that was his hair as he made his way inside.

Green let out a low whistle, impressed as he walked further in to discover the place was decorated head to toe with fluorescent neon lights, state of the art music equipment, and a giant disco ball hanging from the ceiling which added another layer of glitz. It was almost disorientating, the onslaught of neon colors, lights, and music from all sides but in a way that was also exhilarating. The harsh glow of red, orange, and purple was a bit much for Green but at the same time it filled him with a sense of giddiness that made him begin to understand Mei’s desperation to be here.

His heart did a slight leap of excitement once he found his seat. It was one thing to read he had a front row seat and another thing entirely to see how close he was to the stage. And a completely separate thing to see a note on the seat, scrawled with a familiar extravagant writing which welcomed him and Mei with hopes that they would enjoy the show.

All too soon, all the lights went out and Green could feel his breath pause before they returned with full force alongside familiar music which seemed to make the entire room pulsate with its vibrations. Multiple spotlights shined on the stage and the crowd went wild with cheering as DJ Horns finally showed, looking just as bombastic as his set up.

He wore an ornate metallic helmet decorated with large horns that protruded from the forehead which shined a rainbow of colors under the neon lights. A dark fur lined coat was draped over his shoulders with a matching suit underneath and metal lined gloves on his hands. Overall, he looked like quite a character to Green though there was niggling in the back of his head that this should be someone that he could recognize. The grip on the arms of his seat tightened.

His eyes took in the still empty seat to his right and he began to gnaw his lip in worry.

“Where are you Mei?” Green asked himself before the synthesized voice of DJ Horns interrupted his thoughts.

“What is up everybody? You all ready for the show of a lifetime?!” A loud cacophonous roar of cheers answered him, which he soaked in without a hint of shame in his posture. “That’s what I like to hear! And we have some very special guests tonight right in the front row, the Monkie Kid herself and her partner, the Green Dragon!”

Green couldn’t help the flinch when a spotlight suddenly shined down on him, leaving him feeling exposed to hundreds upon thousands of eyes which zeroed in on him the vacant seat next to him. Yet he still forced on a smile which was more teeth than anything else, not quite appreciating being put on the spot like this. The musician’s shoulders seemed to tense in disappointment once he also noticed being down one of his special guests, yet he was quick to shake it off.

“Seems it’s more like one special guest, but no matter! We’re still going to make this a night that the city itself won’t ever forget! The first and unfortunately, only, live concert by the one and only DJ Horns!” He was met with gasps of surprise and even a couple cries of despair at this bombshell. “I know, I know! But there’s a reason for this, my dear fans. Because after tonight, you’ll all know the man behind the mask and I’m sure you’ve all been dying to know who it is. Am right?!” DJ Horns teased, hands reaching for his helmet.

The manic energy of the entire building seemed to escalate to almost out of control levels at that announcement, people scrambling for their phones to get the chance of capturing his face before anyone else. Green would have been among them if that uneasy feeling hadn’t begun to grow into full on paranoia, as if his very being could sense that the other shoe was about to drop. He was so tense that Green felt like he couldn’t breathe.

“Please let me be wrong, please let me be wrong, please let me be wrong,” he chanted to himself, his grip tightening to an unbearable degree as DJ Horns finally pulled off his helmet.

Unfortunately for him and everyone else, he wasn’t wrong.

His heart practically stopped as his eyes were welcomed by an unfortunately familiar face: spiked brown hair held up by a golden circlet styled like horns, dark eyes framed in orange and red pigment, and a fanged grin that promised nothing but trouble.

Demon Kid.

And his grin only became larger once he took in the shocked silence, particularly Green’s horror ridden face. He looked extremely pleased with himself as he took advantage of everyone struggling to process what was going on to prepare for the final phase of his plan.

And would it be a sweet victory for him.

“Oh, I’m going to treasure that look on your face for the rest of my life, Dragon Boy. It’s certainly a shame that the Noodle Girl couldn’t join in on the party but, eh, she’ll come eventually.” Green had finally overcome his horror, sword in his hands and making a mad dash towards Demon Kid on the stage. Yet the demon remained unaffected as he put on the finishing touches. “Because by the time I’m done, everyone in this whole city will be dancing for my king like my puppets. Starting with all you!” 

And with that, Demon Kid put the volume at max and blasted the entire building with his music. The sheer force of the sound sent Green flying back, crashing into now abandoned seats as people attempted to escape. However, to their horror, all the doors were locked and barricaded. Leaving them trapped and at the mercy of the music assaulting their ears from all sides and one by one, civilians fell to the floor as they tried their hardest to muffle the noise. Yet as if a sentient force, the melody managed to slither its way in and overwhelmed people’s senses like a tidal wave with one simple but overpowering command.

And that command was to obey.

Green climbed to his feet in a daze, struggling to focus with the sheer volume and the strange whispering that seemed to be coming from nowhere and everywhere. And already Green could feel his mental walls crumbling, he wasn’t going to last long before he succumbed to the strange power.

Mei.

He had to warn Mei.

He scrambled for his phone, barely able to take him the most recent message from Mei stating she was heading back to get her ticket back from Pigsy. Clumsy fingers fumbled to type out a warning and relief flooded his nerves once the message was sent.

And just in time as Green found himself being dogpiled by multiple people, their eyes glowing a hollow and ominous red. He struggled yet the mental strain of fighting to keep control left him weak and vulnerable, sword just out of his reach. Impish chuckling invaded his ears and before he knew it, Demon Kid was right there. And while the demon typically only had a couple inches on Green, now he downright loomed over him and radiating smugness.

“Still fighting huh Dragon Boy? Almost impressive! But there’s no point in fighting anymore, the spell will wear you down one way or another. So save your energy, you’ll need it when you and Noodle Girl help me conquer this city in the name of my king. It’ll be awesome, just you wait!” The childlike giddiness would almost be endearing if Green wasn’t fighting a mental battle that he had no chance in winning, not against this kind of magic.

“Mei’ll stop you, she always does,” he grit out, eyes already taking on a faint red glow.

“Oh I wouldn’t be so sure of that, after all I’d like to see her fight against her best friend when he’s under my control. But that’s not for you to worry about. Now, give in Dragon Boy,” Demon Kid commanded and like that, Green found himself being pulled under into a strange haze, only able to think of obeying the commands of his puppetmaster. The demon couldn’t help the joyous laugh as he watched Green’s eyes become red much like the rest of his little army.

Mei had been driving like a madwoman towards the concert the moment she read Green’s text.

“it’s demon kid using spell to hypnotize people don’t have time can already feel control slipping need to destroy his set up and stop the music before he gets city”

“I swear if he’s hurt Green, I will make him wish he stuck with making music,” she hissed to herself before letting out a growl at another red light slowing her down. “To hell with this.” Mei summoned the staff, slamming one end against the street and keeping a tight grip as the staff extended, sending her and the cart sailing above the streets below.

Mei barely flinched at the rough landing in front of the building, only feeling a flash of guilt at the state of the cart. She could pay Pigsy back for the damages later. Staff held tight in her grip and headphones on to buy herself time, Mei was ready for anything. And upon taking notice that all the doors appeared to be either locked or blocked, she did the next best thing to get inside.

Pole vault and smash her way through a window, miraculously not cutting herself on the glass.

She tumbled forward upon landing and took in the scene before her.

Her headphones certainly didn’t stop her from feeling the bass practically rock the foundation of the place yet what Mei found more worrisome were the people. Instead of rushing to attack her, they were all dancing to the beat of the song and looked almost perfectly normal. Except they were all too in sync and choreographed, as if Mei found herself in a music video than anything else. A shiver traveled down her spine as they all seemed to be watching her yet gave her a wide berth to catch sight of the stage.

Her blood boiled at the sight of Demon Kid, perched at his station but wiggling about showing he was barely able to sit still in anticipation.

“There you are, you had me waiting forever for you to get here!” He exclaimed, almost happy to see Mei before he caught himself and schooled his expression back to a businesslike indifference. “Not that it matters, you’ll be joining the Dragon Boy soon enough and we can start taking over this city!”

“Not while I have these headphones on, asshole!” Mei screamed over the music before rushing towards the stage, ready to smash Demon Kid’s equipment to pieces. It was only out of a vague sense of danger which flared in the back of her head and dodging at the right time that she managed to evade being skewered in the side by a sword.

The sight of Green, eyes lifeless red and moving around as if a stiff marionette being led around on strings, was definitely one that Mei was going to see in her nightmares for who knows how long.

Leaping to dodge another swipe of Green’s sword, Demon Kid’s cackle seemed to echo in sync with the music.

“Well then we’ll just have to rip those headphones off your pretty head ourselves! Minions, if you please!” Following the demon’s command, the hypnotized civilians stopped their dancing and attacked.

And Mei soon found herself swarmed and being attacked on all sides. It soon became more of a deadly game of tag, keeping herself out of the reach of her countless pursuers and evading Green’s relentless attacks. She was running out of time and space, she needed to think of a plan.

Fast.

Her eyes soon caught sight of the stage lighting above Demon Kid’s set and it was as if a lightbulb went off in her head.

It was risky and she only had one shot.

But Mei was always one for risk.

With a quick change in direction, Mei dashed towards the center of the swarm and just before she was pulled in, she took aim and threw the staff towards the stage lights. She could only be left to hope that she didn’t miss as a hand grabbed her ankle, only to be face to face with Green. His blank face now alight with a victorious grin before they were left tumbling along the floor in a desperate bid to grab one another.

Mei grunted as she found herself pinned down by Green, the neon lights causing his sword to gleam with menace as he held the tip to her throat. His other hand ripped off her headphones without mercy and her own ears were overwhelmed by the music.

“C’mon staff, don’t let me down,” she said, doing her best to fight as the spell soon attempted to creep its way in her head too.

“Well done, my dear puppet,” Demon Kid congratulated Green, pride practically emanating from his being. “Any last words, Noodle Girl?” His victory was practically guaranteed now and he couldn’t wait to see the look on his king’s face.

Which only made the demon confused at the sight of Mei’s smirk, her eyes focused upwards.

“Yeah. Might want to look above.”

“What?” Demon Kid did so and his heart stuttered at the sight of the spinning staff pinballing across the walls before colliding with the heavy duty wires which held the stage lights.

And cut through them without ease.

Without any suspension, the stage light rig surrendered to the forces of gravity. Demon Kid hurriedly dived off the stage to save himself, narrowly missed being squished by the rig. Unfortunately, his music equipment was not granted the same luck and was crushed in a shower of sparks, cutting off the music.

Blissful silence took over the area and Mei let out a sigh of relief as the sensation of something prying at her mind vanished like mist. And she couldn’t help a smile as the red vanished from Green’s eyes, signifying the end of Demon Kid’s control on him. He let out a groan, crawling back to consciousness as if waking up from the world’s worst nap, before realizing where he was.

“Mei? What happened? Are you okay?” Green was quick to get off Mei and help her back to her feet. She simply gave him a hug, content to see him safe and sound now. He accepted the hug without complaint, feeling less like he was struggling to gather his ability for free will again after having it ripped away. They were quick to break away as flames licked at their backs and they were faced with Demon Kid, his hair now flames as he took in his now ruined DJ equipment.

The duo took fighting stances, only for the demon to take a deep breath and have his hair to return to normal.

“Well, looks like you both got me beat this time. Here I thought I had it all in the bag but then you pulled that off-the-wall solution out of nowhere! And I admit, it looked cool as hell! I’ll give you two this win, here’s a little something for it,” Demon Kid said before tossing a bundle their way, which Mei caught with a look of caution from Green before they unwrapped it. To their mutual surprise, it was two letterman jackets emblazoned with the DJ Horns logo on the back and sleeves.

Before they could question him on this, Demon Kid gave the two a cheeky week before vanishing in a whirlwind of fire and smoke.

After a moment of stunned silence, Mei wordlessly took one of the jackets and put it on.

“After all that, you’re still willing to wear anything associated with DJ Horns?”

“Hey, this is merch I’ve never seen before and you gotta admit, we’d make this look good.” She even struck a pose to prove her point.

With a resigned groan, Green followed suit by putting on the other jacket and silently agreed that the jackets did make them look pretty good.

[pixie-in-trebleland]

Just Another Manic Monday

“Chaser, I don’t think that’s how the hinges work on a door.” Jackie stood off to the side of their kitchen table as he watched his husband fumble with the building plans that were covering its surface.

Chase rolled his eyes and straightened his ball cap on his head. “Listen, Jacks, we managed to build the whole fucking building. I don’t know why the fuck this, of all things, is giving me as hard of a time as it is. I mean, seriously, how fucking hard is it to just anchor in the bolt?!”

“Well, maybe having it hooked onto the door might be a great place to start?”

“I didn’t want to put it on the door in case it didn’t latch properly! The guy down at the shop said this would do the trick!”

“Do...you still have the packaging for it?” Jackie asked. He reached for his silver thermos on the counter behind him, smiling a little as he noticed the packed boxes tucked semi-neatly against the cupboards.

Chase sighed and searched for a moment before grabbing the cut plastic package that was once the home of the hinge. It was only a matter of seconds after reading the package’s label that Jackie started to laugh.

“Chase, this isn’t for a standard door.” he explained.

“What?” Chase narrowed his eyes as he grabbed the package back from Jackie, reading it carefully. He couldn’t help the groan that escaped his lips before he threw the package down to the floor.

“How did you not see it was for one of those cat doors?”

“How the fuck am I supposed to know that those bloody doors have a whole separate hinge to them?!” Chase brought his hands to his face at an attempt to hide the shame.

“Well…” Jackie chuckled and took a sip from his thermos.

“Well what?”

“The hinge is way smaller, mon realta.” Jackie picked up the door part in his hand, eyeing in closely. “I don’t think this little piece is strong enough to hold a normal sized door in any way, shape, or form. Maybe the doorknob, if it needed a hinge at all, but...not the door itself.”

Chase slumped in his chair and rested his head against the paper-covered desk, exhausted. It had almost been a full year and six months that they had been working on their new place, and the finishing touches were all that was left. After the honeymoon that had been long overdue, the newlyweds had taken a long, painful look at their apartment and realized that it wasn’t enough for their ever-growing family. With funds set aside for their future endeavours together, the two decided that they were going to build their own place, their way.

Between the cafe’s traffic and the house being built, it was the understatement of the century to say that both Chase and Jackie were tired.

“Listen,” Jackie smiled as he walked towards his husband. He placed one of his hands on Chase’s shoulder and squeezed gently. “We get the truck in an hour, and everything is packed. A hinge is nothing to worry about.”

Chase sighed, leaning into his husband’s touch for a moment. “I wanted everything to be perfect.”

“Who’s to say it isn’t?”

“The hinge. The doors aren’t on yet on any of the rooms. I mean, the front door is on tightly, and the backdoor to with that weird fucking lock you chose for both of the doors, but the doors to the bedrooms and stuff aren’t on.”

“How many doors is that, exactly?”

Chase paused for a moment and closed his eyes in an attempt to count. “There are two for our bedroom, one for Critter’s room, One for Ari’s, another for Ryder’s, and the one for the guest bedroom on the main floor. So...six?”

“Coincidentally an even number?” Jackie teased. Feeling strange towering over his husband for once, he sat down next to him and opted to bounce a leg instead.

“Listen,” Chase chuckled. “I know Jack is a part of this now and he’s opted to stay with his cabin and Ricky Roo Ra, but the extra room will be handy. We can actually have the other kiddos come and visit, or ta mère and sister, or Skye...anyone. We will actually have the space, Jacks!”

Jackie couldn’t help but smile as he watched his husband talk. Chase’s dark brown eyes were alight as he spoke about his plans, his dreams, his motions getting more and more lively as he spoke.

“I really...really hoped it was going to be perfect.” Chase’s voice softened as he spoke. “I haven’t taken Critter yet to see it. I just...man, I really want this to go smoothly.”

“Hey,” Jackie took Chase’s hand gently, the papers rustling beneath their now intertwined hands. “It’s perfect the way it is. The little details that you made sure are in there? I’m sure she’s gonna love it. I’m sure we are gonna love it. Our nesting spot, yeah?”

Chase smiled and squeezed Jackie’s hand gently. “Yeah. Our...our nesting spot.”

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

With the final boxes in the back of the truck, and the bikes and other necessities they decided to keep from the storage space in their apartment complex, Jackie, Chase, and Critter loaded themselves up into the car and moving truck. The cityscape quickly changed to the lush, autumn hues of trees as they drove into the woods. Critter, in total surprise, was glued to the window in the car with Jackie.

“We’re moving out here?!” she tried to keep her excitement contained as she felt her tail wagging gently behind her.

Jackie chuckled and took a quick glance at his kiddo through the rearview mirror. “He really didn’t take you out here to see?”

“Nope.”

“Well, he’s...pretty excited.”

“That’s not how he looked on our way out.” Critter chuffed, getting comfortable once more in her seat. She gave Ducky and Lucky a couple rubs before she turned her gaze back to outside the window.

“There’s been a few hiccups, kiddo, but I’m sure they’ll be fine.”

They drove the rest of the drive in silence, the radio blasting some kind of energetic music. Jackie didn’t know what it was, but he knew it was coming off a playlist that Chase, or Jack, had more than likely made during one of their blaze sessions. It wasn’t long before they pulled into a stone driveway that was connected to a house that would have stood out in the city like a sore thumb.

“We’re here, I guess!” Jackie beamed as he turned the key in the ignition and swung the door to the car open, dodging as his kiddo whizzed by him.

“This is our house.” Critter screamed as she stood in front of the large home with the wrap-around porch. With ash-toned panelling and dark accents along the outside the home, it almost resembled the cottages that would be seen on postcards. To the left of the home, a large tire swing swung gently in the breeze, the moving truck parked near the large shed to the right of the home.

Chase was already working his way through the contents of the truck, moving box after box down the metal ramp with sharp thuds from his work boots. He smiled as he saw his family. Wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, he made his way over to his daughter.

“So?” he panted and dusted off his ripped jeans. “What do you think?”

Jackie bounced over and jumped onto the ramp of the truck, getting to work. He’d been idle for too long anyway, but he couldn’t help the smile that crossed his face. This was their home, now. “It’s amazing, Chaser.”

“Not you!” Chase snorted. “We built this together. I’m asking the kiddo.”

Critter, to say the least, was in awe of the home in front of her. Her tail wagged violently and she swung on her heels, trying to get the excitement out. “This is ours, dad?”

“All ours.” Chase smiled, “Took us sixteen months, give or take, and some heavy duty planning, but...yes. The Brody-Byrnes Burrow. Do you wanna see inside or...are you just going to pitch a tent out here? Cause I think the camping gear is...very, very buried in the moving truck.”

Critter rolled her eyes and gently punched her dad before she leaped up the three stairs, onto the porch, and through the open front door.

Most of the furniture had already been moved in days prior to the rest of the truck being packed, but it still warmed her heart to see just how large and cozy the home was on the inside. With earthy, neutral tones, and furniture that both of her fathers had picked, the living room was set up with two, chocolate brown couches that hugged the edges of the beige rug on the floor. A TV was anchored to the wall, the walls themselves of the hallway and the living room a cape cod blue to compliment the brown tones. The stairway leading to the upstairs was closer to the back of the house, with the kitchen and backdoor also in that direction.

“You should head upstairs while we grab some boxes, kid.” Chase beamed. “Your room is the second door on the left. First door on the same side is the loo!”

“‘Kay, Dad!” Critter smiled as she made her way up the stairs. She called out behind her as she continued upwards, “I’ll be down to help, too. Don’t think that I’m letting you and Dad Two do all the lifting.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, kid.” Chase chuckled and stepped outside towards the truck, grabbing the boxes he had already moved.

Critter, in an attempt to not break anything in excitement, paced herself as she moved towards the room Chase said for her to go to. She couldn’t help but notice that none of the bedrooms were missing doors, but she decided to pocket the question for later. When she reached the room, she froze in place at the sight in front of her.

The room, to say the least, was simple in design, but spoke volumes to her. With soft blue walls and sheer, white curtains blowing gently from the breeze outside, the room was quite large for its location in the home. A Queen sized bed was tucked in the corner near the window, the crisp, white footboard of the bed meeting with the edge of the windowsill. A matching white desk was adjacent to the door, with paint splotches strategically splotted across the surface and legs. It had been a summer project that she and her dads had done as a way to cure summer boredom, but she couldn’t help but smile at the small, blue handprint that was slapped on the side. Critter giggled, remembering Ryder running to place his paint-covered hand on the desk as a gift to his sister.

She stepped inside the room and was overwhelmed by emotion at the sight of a small, silver and gold locket sitting on the desk. Overwhelmed enough, that she hadn’t noticed Jackie standing behind her with a few of her boxes.

“You found our gift, huh?” he asked quietly, a relaxed expression on his face.

“Huh?” she picked up the locket gently, opening it to see a small, black and white photo of her and her two dads on their latest camping trip.

“We wanted you to have something special.” Jackie explained, “It was supposed to be here for your birthday, but as always, there were complications with the order that Chaser did. He said they were the wrong colours or something.”

Tears began to escape Critter’s eyes and she held the locket close to her chest. “Thank you.”

Jackie placed the boxes to the side of the door, and in one fell swoop, pulled his daughter in for a hug. “We got you, yeah?”

She nodded against his shoulder, the warmth filling the room. They both were so full of love as she pulled away.

“We should...probably help Dad out.” She smiled, “Don’t want him getting himself into trouble.”

Jackie couldn’t help but laugh. “He’ll more than likely get stuck between boxes or something.”

As if on cue, Chase could be heard from outside, his voice echoing from the inside of the truck.

“I’m...going to take a guess he got stuck.” Jackie sighed and made his way towards the stairs. Critter was right behind him, giggling.

They were home at last. The Brody-Byrnes Burrow did, after all, have a nice ring to it.

The End.

[1994sunflower]

locked out of heaven. (m.c)

pairing: michael clifford x reader

genre: angst

word count: 10.2k

involves: infidelity, light self-deprecation, language, mentions of sex, mentions of violence

summary: every dream had its ending. the moment where you wake up and reality hits you. that was how it felt when, at a moment where it felt like everything was perfect, everything was normal (especially your relationship with michael), everything came crashing down. after that, nothing was the same, it couldn’t be.

this is the sequel to heaven to you. read that first to understand this story.

heaven to you. | part two 

There was a lot that came with dating Michael Clifford. You found that out quickly.

♔

It came with whispers.

Even with three years of dating him, those were the hardest to get used to. They were worse when you were with him. The constant stares and whispering rumors that you heard faintly in the background each time you walked or sat with him.

You weren’t really shocked. If you were an outsider looking in, you’re sure you would be equally as surprised by the couple as everyone else was. Though, you’d like to think you’d be more inconspicuous about it.

Your height difference was enough to pick up looks. You weren’t teeny tiny but you might has well have been when you’re next to him. Not only is your short stature obvious next to his tall one, where you have to crane your neck to look to his face. But even his shoulder widths were enough to cover your entire body. But you liked it, you liked feeling so small and protected with him and he liked protecting you. When he was standing behind you, he almost looked scary compared to you.

Scarier even was your personality difference.

You were a shy pacifist that preferred the silence of the library and your focus on academics. Soft colors made up your entire closet, your preference for lilac and baby pink obvious in your everyday outfits. You tried to be kind to everyone and a smile was always adorning your face.

Michael relied on violence and found solace in parties, alcohol and sex. He wasn’t good with school so he never tried and he had a rough past that landed him in jail more than once - a fact he seemed to pride himself on. His upper body was covered in tattoos that read out obscene words and scenes. His wardrobe was almost exclusively black and he was never in a good mood unless he was doing one of his aforementioned hobbies.

But you two worked. No one really understood why. You weren’t even sure yourself. But when you looked at Michael, you didn’t see his reputation. Instead you saw someone that made you feel accepted and electrified in every sense. He didn’t try to change you, instead he loved your innocence (maybe to a fault) and opened you up more to the world while simultaneously keeping you safe. You didn’t try to change him, you loved his tattoos and you respected his vices even if you didn’t agree with them while you simultaneously kept him grounded and as out of trouble as you could manage.

♔

It came with violence.

You hadn’t meant to walk in on the scene. You were going to be late to your biochemistry class after staying too long at your physic professor’s office hours. So you decided to take a shortcut: going behind the looming library building and through the bus loop.

But as soon as you reached the backside of the building, you saw Michael’s familiar figure. He wore a black leather jacket and tight jeans. His hair fell messily in front of his eyes. You almost called out to him before seeing his angry expression. A string of curse words left his mouth. Then your eyes trailed down and noticed another figure.

The smaller figure was curled up below Michael, trying to shield himself and was held up only by one of Michael’s hands twisted in his t-shirt. The other hand was punching the boy’s face and stomach violently and without hesitation. There was a sickening crunch each time his fists connected with the boy’s cheek.

The image of your boyfriend being so ruthless, with the smaller boy cowering under him and his attacks, left a bad taste in your mouth. You weren’t used to seeing him that way; this wasn’t the sweet, smiling boy you knew.

You weren’t naive, you knew he did this. But since you starting dating, he had been a lot better with controlling his anger, less people were beat up on the daily due to his fists. Obviously, today was not one of those days.

“Michael, stop!” You called out and immediately, his fists stopped their violent actions and he looked up to see you running to him. He never acted violently in front of you, going at lengths to wait for your departure to let out any frustration. Michael wanted to protect you. He didn’t want you to see him in that state and start to fear him, he didn’t want you to be around so much anger, especially his own. And now you knew why.

Michael had stepped away from the boy, watching you silently with clouded eyes. You stepped in between him and the still crouching boy.

“Are you okay?” You asked the boy in front of you, your eyebrows furrowed in worry. You leaned down to be at his eye level. The boy only stared at you.

Michael pulled you by your arm, placing your securely under his arm. “He’s fine.”

But the boy’s bloody face and scared eyes told a different story.  But nonetheless, you allowed Michael to pull you away. You were just relieved he had listened to you and left the poor boy alone. You weren’t sure what he’d done to Michael but you knew from experience that even the smallest thing could set Michael off.

When you tried to look back, Michael’s body shielded you from the scene.

♔

Most of all, it came with some insecurities.

You were a virgin when you first met Michael. And Michael was, well, not.

Michael went to every big party campus had to offer. Parties - that’s what he became known for. He became king of the campus because of them.

In those parties, he did everything short of killing himself. He drank, he did drugs, and most importantly, he had sex. And a lot of it.

He went home with a different girl every night and made it quite obvious that he had absolutely no preference. All he asked for was someone hot and someone who could please him.

Whispers followed his name because of this. ‘He never fucks the same girl twice’ quickly became an almost motto for him. Well, except for you. You quickly not only became the exception to that rule, you also became the girl that broke it.

You knew how experienced he was when you first started dating. While that fact itself didn’t bother you, it actually ended up being a big asset to your sex life (because you couldn’t deny how good your boyfriend was in bed), to say you had been hesitant to have sex with Michael was an understatement. Not because you didn’t want to but because you were sure you wouldn’t measure up. You were inexperienced.

Luckily for you, your boyfriend seemed to have quite a preference for that. In fact, he loved it. He constantly told you how hot it was to be the only man to ever touch you, to be the one to take your virginity, to take your innocence. He would still mention it, especially in bed, even years later.

And while Michael had made sure any and all insecurities when it came to making love were destroyed, he couldn’t quite find a way to stop your other insecurities.

Mainly because they were personified every corner you turned. You saw all the girls before you that, while had never gotten to know him as intimately as you did or had ever been his girlfriends, had experienced him in the same way you did.

You wished you could say jealousy didn’t affect you. But as you saw the sheer number of them, walking alongside you on campus, sitting behind you in class, it was hard for it not to. Harder still, was to look at them and not compare yourself. Compare to the sexiness and seduction all of them exuded. Because while Michael said he had no type, cute was definitely not on the top of his list. Unfortunately for you, you seemed to embody that.

Worrying about being enough for Michael was a constant in your mind, at least when you were alone. Being in Michael’s presence somehow made any insecurity fade away into nothingness, replaced with only feelings of belonging and love.

♔

Two braids rested at the front of your black hair while the rest of it was in waves falling over your tan shoulders. In fact, your hair was covering your entire upper body as you folded your arms on the table in front of you and covered your face in that little sanctuary.

“Why is physics so hard?” You muffled out.

Ashton and Michael were seated in front of you in your little table at the student Union. While Ashton didn’t tear his eyes from his phone at your outburst, Michael ran his fingers through your hair comfortingly.

“You know what’ll make you feel better?” Ashton suddenly spoke, bringing both you and Michael out of your silent moment.

You raised your head just in time to see him push his phone out to both of you, a digital flyer for a sorority party was on screen. “It’s tonight.”

Michael stayed silent as you stared at Ashton with deadpanned eyes, “Don’t you have an exam tonight?”

You watched his excited grin fall in amusement. “Crap, I forgot.” His tongue poked at his inner cheek, “Well, you two can still go.”

Michael shook his head, “We’re just going to stay at home.”

You sighed before taking Michael’s bigger hand in your own. “I can’t today, Mikey. I have a big biochem exam tomorrow that I really have to study for.”

It was hard to miss Michael’s crestfallen expression. His plans had just fallen through and while, if it were any other class, any other exam, you would let him come over while you studied, you couldn’t this time. Especially when you knew if he was around, you wouldn’t exactly get much studying done.

“But you should still go!” You tugged up on his hand for emphasis. “Have fun, I know you haven’t been to a party in months.”

Which, truly, was an amazing feat for Michael. Considering how much he loved partying and how big of a portion in his life they were. Even more amazing was that he hadn’t been to a party alone in years. Since you started dating, to be exact. He did it for your benefit, really. He would always prefer being with you. But you trusted him more than anyone and you loved him more than anything which is why you wanted him to let loose, be social. Have a good time.

But Michael frowned slightly, “I can just chill at my house.”

Or study for your own exams, you stopped yourself from saying because that would only result in a huffy Michael, which wasn’t exactly prime for you to convince him of anything.

“Come on dude, there are some people on this campus that are forgetting who the king of greek life is.” Ashton pushed Michael’s shoulder, laughing. “Besides, you can go with Calum, he’s the one that sent me the invite.”

Calum was Ashton’s close friend, and Michael’s by association. You’d met him once or twice and his shy smile and kind eyes were enough for you like him. Michael liked him quite a bit too, for someone who hated nearly everyone. They weren’t as close as he was with Ashton especially since Calum lived with his frat but he was the guy Michael went to early on in his college career to get access to the parties he had become so known for and Michael appreciated him a lot.

So, that was all it took an already tempted Michael to smirk and nod back in agreement. “Fine. I’ll go check it out.”

You couldn’t help the smile that illuminated your face. After months of feeling guilty, like you were inadvertently forcing Michael to change and abandon his hobbies and interests, you finally felt relieved. It was also a plus that this would maybe soften Michael’s reputation of being untouchable enigma that had seemingly strengthened in force after the two of you had gotten more serious.

♔

You hadn’t talked to Michael since you left the Union. You went straight home to study and had fallen asleep in the middle of it. It was 10am when you finished your exam and you finally had a chance to call him.

If he ever picked up.

Usually he picked up immediately. But you had called twice and there was radio silence on his end. But, you didn’t fret much. Instances of his hangovers came to mind and him oversleeping was a very big possibility. So you didn’t think much before heading to his house. In fact, you expected to find the house deadly silent as Ashton was in class and Michael was passed out in his bedroom.

What you didn’t expect to find, as you used your key to the broken house, was to see Michael standing in the middle of the living room. He was shirtless, the artwork adorning his entire upper half on full display, his jeans unbuttoned and standing in front of the scratched up black couch that you had an unwarranted amount of fondness for.

Just his appearance itself wasn’t that jarring. What was though, was the half naked girl sitting on the couch, staring back at you. She was blonde with big blue eyes. Her slacked jaw and wide eyes should’ve been enough for you to connect the dots. Hell, her bundled up shirt that she clutched to cover herself up should’ve been enough.

But maybe it was because it was a truth you didn’t want to accept, that you didn’t want to make sense of. Maybe that was why nothing was clicking. In fact, you were frozen at the scene in front of you, unmoving and silent.

No. This couldn’t be happening. The world seemed to be crashing around you but you were stuck in place.

That was until you heard Michael’s familiar voice curse. “Y/N.” Was all he said and that was all it took.

Finally, your breath stuck in your throat. The tears sprung in your eyes. You felt dizzy and your body was cold with the fear and complete betrayal that soared through your blood. You couldn’t breathe and you couldn’t talk as you shook your head and took a step out of the house you no longer felt at home in.

The hurt was so much, it almost felt like it was manifesting itself into physical pain. That was the only explanation for the sharp stabs you felt to your person.

It was then that you finally registered him as a person that could hurt you, did hurt you. In the worse way possible. He cheated on you.

It was then that you saw him as the person everyone else had warned you he was.

You saw Michael’s face. The horror displayed so vividly on each detail of his face. His shining eyes wide with the fear of being caught, his eyebrows furrowed and his head shaking as if he himself were trying to reject what he had done. His tattooed arm stuck out as he took a step towards you, as if to try to grab you before you could leave.

But he was too late. You had already sprinted out of the doorway and into the sidewalk. And if you’re petite size gave you any advantage, is that you were fast. Faster than a half naked, barefoot Michael could be anyway. And that was what counted.

You barely heard the frantic calls of your name and the angry and tearful yell that followed them. But you didn’t stop, you didn’t care if you were making a scene. You only flinched particularly when you heard him kick a metal trashcan, the clanging sound making your already fast heartbeat go into overdrive.

Hot tears were streaming down your face by the time you got back to campus. You only stopped running then, when you knew there was no way he had followed you. You couldn’t breathe, your breaths were coming out in short spurts and you were gasping for air to fill them in. The world felt tilted and as if it was caving in around you.

You couldn’t talk either. You learned that the hard way when you picked up your phone and dialed the only person you wanted to see at the moment. “Maia?” Was the only thing you managed to get out before your words slurred as your cries got in the way and your vision blurred by the tears. You wanted to collapse, to give in and disappear. It felt like your heart was going to do so.

But first, you had to get away. Maybe then the betrayal would go away, too.

♔

Michael was seated in the same position he had been seated two hours ago. Right in front of your apartment door.

“Mike. Dude, don’t do this. Let’s just go home.”

Michael glared up at Ashton with tearful, yet hard eyes. “My home is with Y/N. You go back if you want to so fucking bad.”

That was the truth. Without you, the house felt barren, without life. Even if you didn’t even live there, you made it a home. It was also true that he couldn’t quite bear going back to that house. The house where he had made, it felt, the biggest mistake of his life. Even bigger than all the times he had gotten arrested, nearly expelled, nearly killed. Even bigger than all that because now, he had lost the best thing in his life, the best thing that had ever happened to him. You.

That particular thought brought back the never-ending ache in his heart. His hand went up to press his eyes as he felt the tears he had been trying to hide since the morning rush down his cheeks.

It was an accident. It was all an accident, one he made when he was too drunk to notice. Too drunk to figure out that it wasn’t you he was with. All he felt were hands and he wanted it so desperately to be you that he convinced himself that it was, that you finished studying early and you were there for him. And his body responded thinking it was you because you were the only one he would ever react for.

He should’ve known though, your sweet moans were different, your small, tight body, the one he knew and loved so well, was replaced with an unfamiliar one. The hair was different, your deep chocolate eyes weren’t there. It was different from the moment it had begun, when he picked who he thought was you up and they didn’t squeal and hold on to him tighter like you would. Your sweet, melodic moans sounded off, they weren’t the ones he loved to hear. Your cunt didn’t squeeze him in like it always did. He didn’t feel that pulsing love he always did. It didn’t feel good like it always felt with you. Even as he groaned out your name. It was supposed to be you.

But he wasn’t in his right mind to realize it wasn’t. His body did, to an extent. He didn’t touch ‘you’ or talk to you like he normally did. It could’ve been the alcohol but nothing about that night felt right. He’d gone soft about halfway through because it at least was able to recognize that it wasn’t you, it wasn’t the woman he swore to be faithful to. Not that it was enough. While he attributed it to the alcohol, it should’ve become very obvious right when it happened, hell right when who he thought was you made him wear a condom. He never wore condoms with you. You were the only girl he’d gone raw with.

He just got carried away, it was his first time back to a party in a while and he felt electrified. He couldn’t control himself, let alone turn the cups down when he got offered more and more drinks. No, he drank more than he ever had in a while, he reclaimed his title as the king of the campus. Not that it was a title he ever wanted. Not when it meant losing you.

Michael felt like he was going out of his mind. His fingers pulled at his hair in frustration, his heart beating erratically. He had searched for you desperately. He tried to follow you out of his house but there was so far he could travel barefoot. Instead, he had been forced to go back inside and come face to face with his regrets.

“Get the fuck out.” He said through clenched teeth as soon as he walked back into his living room. Partly to control his anger and partly to stop from crying. Michael didn’t look at the girl in front of his as he spoke. He couldn’t. It would’ve been too much. Too much to see who he had just broken his relationship, broken the girl who had always been to good for him, for.

“Excuse me?” Even her voice made him cringe away.

Unluckily for her, he was not in the mood to be patient. So when his fist punched the wall next to him, leaving cracks behind him, she jumped just like he expected. “I said get the fuck out.” He yelled, scaring her.

And she was gone. Just like that. How easy an ending for something that had just destroyed his life as he knew it.

He didn’t even know her name. He had slept with her once before, a long time ago. That much he knew. But he didn’t care enough to know anything about her, then and now. The sex sucked and, as his throat closed up, he realized that he might have irreparably broken something he treasured so much for an impulsive, awful night with a forgettable girl.

His movements were rough and frantic as he tried as fast as he could to get dressed and go after his girl. Part of him wanted to throw his head against the wall, maybe then the pounding in his head would calm down. Maybe then he wouldn’t feel like his world was crumbling around him.

Michael couldn’t remember how it happened. Why it happened. One minute, he had arrived to the party, the other he had been given an endless supply of alcohol - a gift for choosing Tri Delt as the location for his re-emergence into the party scene. Then, he woke up on his couch with a naked girl beside him. A girl that wasn’t you.

The way his heart dropped when he realized what happened was something he had never experienced before. The way his body felt heavy and frozen with the implications was terrifying. His already pounding headache from the hangover was nothing with compared to the sheer panic and anxiety that filled his body. It was hard to breathe. This wasn’t happening.

Michael was on his tenth call to you by the time Ashton knocked on the wall to signal his entrance to his room. He was just heading out, your sweet voice filling his ear as he went straight to voicemail again. It was a testament to how completely out of it he was when he walked right into Ashton. And even more when he didn’t even stop to look at him but instead pushed past him towards the outside.

You weren’t answering. His fingers were turning numb at how much he texted you by the time he had visited your apartment, your classes, the library. Anywhere he could think of. He wasn’t sure if anyone had looked at him or talked to him when he was out. Everything was a blur. All he could think was your face. The horror you looked at him with when you walked in.

It was just his luck for you to walk in just as he finally processed what happened, what he had done. He didn’t even get the chance to kick the girl out. Instead, he got to witness first hand him destroying the one person he loved more than he loved even himself. Just like he destroyed everything else in his life.

And now you were gone. You disappeared and he couldn’t find you and a part of him was scared that he had lost you for good.

“Michael.” Ashton’s voice sounded a lot more firm as he took a hold of Michael’s arms and pushed him to a standing position. “Mate, she’s probably not going to want to see you.”

Since his lack of luck at finding you, he had marched right over to your apartment, sitting right in front of your door and had made it his mission to stay there until you came back. Then you would have to talk to him, have to see him. Maybe it was more for him than it was for you. It was already midnight and there was no sign of you

Ashton must have figured out what happened as he followed Michael around all day. He might’ve even seen the half naked girl running out of his house and put the dots together. Because Michael was sure he didn’t tell him. He couldn’t possibly have because if it hurt that much to even think about, there was no doubt in his mind he could’ve said it out loud in a confession.

Michael broke free from Ashton’s grasp. He never really got mad at his friend, other than you, he was the only one who knew how to handle Michael and his appreciation and care for Ashton ran deep. But at that moment, Ashton’s words struck a nerve that Michael wasn’t ready to touch.

“You don’t fucking know that. She’s still my girl and I’m going to wait for her to come back so we can work it out. We always do.” He sneered in the shorter boy’s face, daring him to challenge him. But he wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince.

Unfortunately, it seemed Ashton didn’t realize the sensitivity in which Michael was operating at. Didn’t understand that the Michael standing in front of him was not the same as his best friend. No, this one was scared and running on pure adrenaline.

Ashton sighed, ruffling his own hair. “I hate to break it to you bro, but I don’t think that’ll happen this time. You cheated on her.”

It was that word that broke Michael. That made his body, that already felt heavy as if his blood was made of lead, feel almost crushed with the reality. His reality. Michael was not very good at dealing with panic, it was not something he ever had to feel. Usually, he caused that feeling in others.

So his options on how to react to his sins being laid in front of him were limited in his mind. Either he could hyperventilate and break down like he wanted to. Or he could do something else to release his pent up emotions. And that’s exactly what he did.

He punched Ashton directly on his cheek. As hard as he could. But it didn’t feel as satisfying as it usually did. No, the pain in his chest was still there and the feeling of lightheadedness when he remembered waking up to that girl or seeing you run out of his house didn’t go away. The tears running down his face, making him stutter out for breaths, were still there. When Ashton went down, he almost wondered if he had broken his cheekbone.

Ashton groaned, his hand cupping the side of his face protectively. “I’m going to let that go because I know you’re hurting right now but fuck dude.”

Michael just stared down at him, he couldn’t even focus enough to feel bad. What he wanted to do is find out where you were and drag you back, beg for forgiveness. He just wanted you back in his arms, where you were meant to be, to kiss you and forget that this bloody day had ever happened, to make love to you and show you how you were the only one for him.

He clenched his hands into two tight fist, so tight he was almost surprised his palms didn’t start bleeding.

♔

Your eyes were red and your head hurt by the time you got off the bus at your best friend’s house. Half an hour away from campus and half an hour away from the man that had broken your heart. The man you never thought would do that, disrespect you with a girl who clearly didn’t care he was your boyfriend; the entire campus knew who you were and if not, they at least knew you were dating Michael. Any action against that was purposeful.

Knocking on the door was more of an reflex than a thought out action. In fact, you weren’t thinking much of anything. If you allowed yourself to, your mind would betray you. It would take you back to the moment when you walked in on them. When you saw the love of your life just come down from having sex with a random girl. When your heart was broken.

It had gotten so bad that you didn’t even look surprised when the door opened to reveal Justin’s friendly face and smile. Instead, you just stared up at the tall blond in front of you, tears still rolling freely down your cheek.

Justin opened his mouth to speak, his eyebrows already pushed together in worry, when an even more familiar face popped her head out from behind him. Her brown hair (slightly fried from how long she spends in the pool), brown skin, hazel eyes and bright smile was everything you needed to see.

Maia gathered you in her arms, “He was back in town from midterm week so I thought getting the gang back together would help.” She explained without you needing to ask. That was why she was your best friend. And that’s why you were there, you needed someone.

But without her meaning to, as you took a seat on her plush couch, she just reminded you of why you had to show up in the first place. Your boyfriend had sex with another girl. So when you cried out even harder, Maia froze. Your sobs were loud and racked your chest devastatingly. It got to a point where you didn’t have enough oxygen left, leaving you heaving heavily, looking for air.

But you couldn’t stop. It was your only outlet to let out your hurt but even that didn’t feel like enough. It was an invisible pain and no matter how much you tried, it was always there. Weighing you down.

Why? Why had he done it? Why couldn’t you have been enough?

Everything had felt so perfect. You hadn’t had a fight in months, you thought your relationship was healthy and going well. What had changed?

It was then that all the insecurities that you worked so hard to push away came running to you. You couldn’t please him enough in bed, you were too childish, not pretty enough it would make sense. But that didn’t make you feel better.

No, as Maia laid you so that your head was laying on her lap, you almost felt worse. You felt bile in your throat at everything that had happened. Michael had touched another girl, felt her, looked at her in the way he was only supposed to look at you.

Maia had begun braiding your hair soothingly. You still hadn’t spoken but she and Justin took up that job easily. They tried to get you involved, but after minutes of you not talking, they decided just the sound of their voices would suffice.

But you couldn’t really hone in on their words. Instead, their voices acted as the background music to your thoughts. Which bounced from Michael’s face, to the stupid couch, back to Michael and finally to you.

You had trusted him. You told him to go to that party because you trusted him so entirely. You told him to have enjoy himself. Your heartbeat quickened and you felt like you were hyperventilating again, maybe it was a panic attack. All you knew was that you wanted to hit your head repeatedly at the memory and how stupid you were.

Now, you didn’t know what was worse. That he slept with another woman or that you so blindly trusted him that the thought that he would ever cheat on you never even crossed your mind. You were so stupid. You hid your face.

Even more so because, even with the evidence displayed right in front of you, you still couldn’t completely wrap your mind around it. How could your boyfriend, the sweet, loving, protective boy you had fallen for do this to you? How could he be such a monster? A part of you didn’t want to think that he really wasn’t the person you had always seen him as. But it wasn’t a mistake.

I guess I’m no longer the only exception to his never sleeping with the same girl twice rule. Not that you cared about the title. You cared more about what it meant. That you were no longer special to him, maybe you never were.

You hadn’t stopped crying even after a few hours at Maia’s house. It felt as if your tears were infinite. Your heart still felt like it was being constricted. You still felt this deep rooted pain that felt so real you weren’t sure if it was ever going to go away.

Dazed, you realized that night had fallen. Time had flown so quickly, but then again, you becoming a human shell likely had a lot to do with that. A part of you wondered if Michael was looking for you or if he had simply gone back to find another girl, a prettier more experienced one now that he didn’t have to deal with you. Your head shook violently to try to physically rid yourself of that thought.

It was funny, how quickly you had started to believe him capable of such monstrous things. Because the truth was, he always had been. Who knows how long he had cheated on you. With you the naive, little girlfriend who hadn’t even suspected it.

“I should go.” Your voice was hoarse and cracked uglily when you finally spoke. You were already moving to sit up. You didn’t want to go back. In fact, going back to campus, to Michael, where you were sure the rumors of your humiliation had been spread far and wide was the last thing you wanted to do. Your breathing turned shallow and quickened just at the though. But you had to. You had already skipped all your classes today and while it felt like Michael had taken away your present, he would not take away your future. You wouldn’t let him.

“What?” Maia’s voice sounded surprised, “No. No! You can stay here, we’ll have a girls day tomorrow and…”

But you were already shaking your head. You took a deep shaking breath. “I-I have classes tomorrow. I’ll be fine.” Then you hugged her tightly. You closed your eyes when she conceded, she knew you well enough to know you needed this. School would be your escape. Even if your mind was jumbled.

It felt nice to hug her. It made you feel loved in that moment. It made you remember all the good times you’ve had with her before which, at that moment in time, you desperately needed to remember the good.

Maia returned the phone she confiscated from you the moment you arrived, which had been turned off. You made no move to turn it on. You weren’t sure if you were afraid to see Michael’s texts and calls or to see the lack of them.

Justin had been silent throughout this but as you got up, he did as well. “I can go with you. It’s dark and you’ll have to take the bus alone otherwise.” His hand ruffled the back of his hair sheepishly, “It’s on my way home anyway.”

“You live an hour away from her university.” Maia deadpanned from beside you. Her eyes narrowed at him in a silent conversation that seemed to exclude you.

You looked between them for a second before reaching out to Justin, “Thank you. I’d like that.”

Because you didn’t want to be alone. You couldn’t trust your mind just yet.

♔

The bus was empty with only the two of you sitting in the very back. Everything outside was pitch black so reality almost felt distorted in the brightly lit bus.

Justin was silent beside you and you appreciated his thoughtfulness. But you needed a distraction, you were still shaking.

“You were right about him.” You choked out and even the indirect comment about Michael made you force back a sob and made the tears stream down again. But you delicately brushed them away with your ring finger. “He’s, um….not a good guy.” Your lip quivered as you tried to control your voice. You couldn’t help but remember the last time you were on the bus with him, where you had defended Michael. The irony was almost laughable.

Justin bit his lip for a moment, taking in your distraught appearance. While you were still shaking and your small figure looked even smaller, at least that’s how you felt, he looked as put together as always. An expensive bomber jacket rested easily on his broad shoulders and so did the khaki pants he wore with it. It was almost nice to have him so calm beside you, like a rock.

Eventually, he sighed and nodded, looking straight ahead. “I don’t take pleasure in being right about that.”

And you could hug him for saying that. He was so nice. And reliable. He was Justin. For a few seconds, you wondered what would’ve happened if you had confessed to him back in high school. Maybe you would’ve started dating, he would’ve been your boyfriend. And maybe you wouldn’t be in this pain right now.

But as you let out a humorless chuckle, the what-ifs disappeared. “I thought he was different.” You cleared your throat, trying to clear the self-pitying tone you had taken on. “I thought he loved me and sure he had his issues but we were working through them. He was so patient and determined with me….I never thought he would be capable of…”

You stared out the window to your left but unfortunately, Justin was seated in that direction and he caught your gaze easily. “I’m not exactly sure what he did but I know you Y/N. Or, at least I knew you in high school. But the Y/N I knew then was so smart - smarter than me - and she wouldn’t let her boyfriend destroy her.”

“He’s not my boyfriend.” You answered without really thinking. But it was the first time you had said it out loud, first time you even thought it. And the reality of it pushed down on you so much so that you gasped out loud. You never thought you would break up, let alone like this. Part of you thought he was the one. Yet here you were, you’d lost the most important person in your life. You wished desperately that this wasn’t your reality. But it was.

He had taken everything from you. Your love, your heart, your trust, hell even your virginity. Maybe that’s all you were good for in the first place to him. Sex. And eventually, he got bored. Like he always did. Like his reputation declared.

Justin’s dark eyebrows shot up at your confession before looking away, maybe to give you some semblance of privacy.

“I’m sorry.” He said softly, under his breath. But after a moments pause, he lowered his eyes to look at you straight on. “I’m really sorry, for whatever happened. You don’t deserve it.”

The truth was, you didn’t deserve it. You liked to think of yourself as kind, smart and a hard worker. You didn’t deserve what you had walked in on. To see the man you love come down form being so intimate with someone else. You didn’t deserve to have your heart trampled. You didn’t deserve seeing your first real boyfriend and love dressing himself after spending the night fucking another girl.

But it didn’t really matter what you thought. Because it was what happened. You could all but picture Michael’s hands touching her body, his face filled with pleasure as he got off, his words; the words that you loved to hear so much in bed, how his language was so dirty but somehow so wonderful to hear from him as he pleasured you. Those words being directed at another person.

You wanted to throw up.

Cold numbness seeped to the tips of your fingers and the bottom of your feet at the thought. It was like you were shutting down.

“He was my first real boyfriend, did you know that?” You sniffled. “We weren’t even supposed to get together. It was an accident. I was walking back home from study tables and he had just gotten out of a fight. We never would’ve even met if it wasn’t for that night.”

You stared at your hands as you tried to fiddle feeling back to them. You were rambling, you knew that, but it was the one thing that kept you from breaking down: remembering the good times. Before Michael ruined everything.

“It was dark out and he was bleeding. I didn’t even know him but I forced him to come back with me so I could bandage him up. I felt bad for him, I thought he had gotten robbed or something. Plus, I thought it would be good practice for med school anyway.”

“I didn’t know anything about him at the time. I was never in the same crowd as him so how could I, really? He was so sweet that night. He barely even spoke except to say thank you. And then after that, he was always there for me. He was understanding, supportive, and he made me feel like I was his world. That’s how I saw him. Not the angry boy you and everyone else knew him as. For me, it was just his appearance that was intimidating but even then I learned to see beauty in what everyone else feared. But maybe I just saw what I wanted to see.”

Maybe you had never known Michael at all. Because the Michael you knew never would’ve done this to you. Maybe he never loved you at all, only made you feel like it to make it easier to play you.

You had a headache.

Justin gnawed at the inside of his cheek and it dawned on you that he was silent because he didn’t disagree with you. He couldn’t defend Michael or tell you that you were wrong because he truly believed Michael was a bad person, a monster.

“Justin, I’m so sorry for what happened last year.” You whispered simply because you couldn’t take reliving any more regrets. “You didn’t deserve that. And I still…” You felt like you were going to be sick. “I still forgave him after that. Oh my gosh, Justin I’m-”

Justin’s strong arms wrapping themselves around your body cut your next words off. And you were thankful for it because the more you thought of how much Michael had done, how much you had been a doormat, the more pathetic you felt. And being so hidden in his arms, behind in large frame, you felt protected. Protected from the world and its cruel reality.

Maybe that was why, when you pulled away from the hug, you leaned up to kiss him so resolutely, without thinking. Your lips met his gently. It felt different than kissing Michael. No, his lips weren’t as familiar as Michael’s were. The kiss didn’t feel full of love and longing at the same time. It wasn’t a deep or passionate kiss you had gotten used to with Michael. It was only a peck.  

A quick one at that because as soon as Justin processed everything, his hands took a hold of each of your forearms and pushed you away gently.

“Y/N.” He breathed out, his blue eyes searching yours in confusion.

One of your hands reached up to touch your lips in disbelief. What had you just done? Why did you do that? “I-I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I did that.”

It felt wrong. His lips weren’t Michael’s soft ones, his arms weren’t the strong, protective inked ones you were used to. His eyes were too open. He didn’t have the scent that was mixed just right with smoke that you had grown to love. It was all wrong.

Justin scanned your face for a second before releasing a deep sigh. “You’ve been through a lot today. Okay? That much can effect your impulsivity. It’s fine.”

You were already shaking your head, though. Tears sprung into your eyes. How could things have changed so much that this was how your day ended?

“No, that was not fine. I can’t believe I just did that. I swear I didn’t even think about doing it, I just…”

“Don’t worry about it.” Justin’s voice was soothing. He looked away to the front of the bus for a moment. “I can walk you up to your apartment if you want.”

You hadn’t even noticed your bus stop. “No, um, I can make it back on my own. Thank you though…for everything”

“No problem, call me if you need anything.” Justin’s friendly smile was back. You nodded and made a move to leave but his hand on your wrist stopped you. “I mean it Y/N. For anything.”

It was hard not to feel a small tinge of regret when you nodded. He really was the perfect guy.

You were still embarrassed when you left your seat and got off the bus. You hadn’t meant, or even wanted to kiss him. He was right. The events of the day, this impossibly hurtful day, had finally weighed in on you. Made you act out.

When you stepped onto your apartment floor and made your way to your room, you felt lifeless. Any semblance of energy left in you was gone and everything about you felt dreadful.

It was hard to control the ache in your heart when you didn’t see Michael there, waiting for you.

♔

Michael had been persistent for weeks. And he had no plans on stopping any time soon.

Since the moment you had left, he had left you countless calls since he had let himself be persuaded by Ashton to leave your doorway. Calls (73), texts (247), voicemails (19), dm’s (24), facetimes (48), anything and everything he could. All of which were met with silence. And his already broken heart crumbled even further.

The first time you saw him the day after, it was on your way to your first class. Your mouth dried up as you saw him pacing in front of your class building, no doubt waiting for you. Your heart thumping rapidly in your chest, your fingers tightened around your notebooks and you turned right around, heading to the back entrance.

It was right at the time he finally noticed you. Because you heard his desperate pleas of your names and while a part of you was embarrassed at the amount of people around to see the scene, you were also grateful that the sheer number of students walking around made it harder for Michael to reach you in time. In fact, as you finally made your way inside, you glanced back to see Michael still shouldering his way past everyone else. He pushed a smaller boy out of his way so roughly, the kid fell to the ground. But Michael’s eyes were focused on you. You had never seen them look so desperate and sad, practically begging.

There was a knot at your throat as your vision began blurring due to the tears in your eyes. A single droplet trailed down your cheek as you closed the door and made your way in, your breathing coming out stuttered and uneven as you began to hyperventilate. It was too much. Seeing him so soon after. But you wouldn’t give him the chance to speak to you. There was nothing he could say to make it better, to make you forgive him. Not this time.

♔

Michael watched you ignore him for the millionth time this week. He was showing up to every single one of your class buildings in hopes to see you and get you to talk to him, listen to him, forgive him. He was following your schedule more religiously than he had ever even glanced at his own schedule.

But each time, each day, each week, you would find a way to allude him. You found new entrances, you would walk in with a pack of students that, in your small height, would mask you. One time you even tried walking in with your professor, thinking he wouldn’t dare disrespect a PhD like that.

You quickly found out that he would do a lot for you as he marched right up to both of you. But you had still ran away. Leaving him with a broken heart and a desire to hurt something. His hope was dwindling and with it, his sanity. His heart clenched at the idea of not having you anymore. His entire body went cold at it.

Weeks without talking to you, having you with him, laying next to you was slowly killing him. He felt like he was missing something and it was worse knowing what it was but not being able to do anything about him. You two had always been able to figure things out because you had a heart of gold that allowed him to learn from his mistakes, made him want to.

But now you were gone and so was every once of goodness you had brought into his life with you. He had used up all of your patience and love and now he felt shriveled. You weren’t his anymore and that thought had him punching the first thing he saw, which was a wall and only resulting in a probable broken hand.

Michael was never one for relationships. In fact, before you, it was the last thing he wanted. He preferred to just have sex, no strings attached and he was happy to live his life like that. But then you came into his life and suddenly, he couldn’t imagine living without you.

You were his world, you brought him back to life and it was like the sun came out in his life, like he could smell the roses for the first time with you beside him. He saw what he had been missing, a good loyal girl at his side to support him, encourage him, give him the love he had so little of in his life. All you ever were to him was good, you did nothing but love him and respect him. You didn’t try to change him but instead brought out the good in him. Good that he, and everyone else, was convinced didn’t exist within his hard shell.

Just like he couldn’t imagine a life without you when you first got together, he couldn’t imagine a life after you. But as he was currently starting to live it, he easily decided it was not the lifestyle he wanted. He wanted your kind eyes and happy smile on him, he wanted to hear your sing-song voice, listening to you ramble on excitedly about whatever had made you happy that day. He wanted you.

You who still looked so effortlessly perfect even when your eyes were now puffy from the hours of crying, even when your lips quivered every time they laid on him. Even then, he couldn’t imagine someone prettier, more beautiful, than you.

Your black locks had been straightened in an attempt to hide your face from him, your clothes more gray and baggy, but that didn’t stop his heart from lurching every time he saw a glimpse of you on campus. The lighthearted, happy aura that you always exuded had been destroyed. And it was his doing. He had successfully ruined the one person he feared of truly corrupting the most.

His lips curled in disgust at himself, at his actions and if he wasn’t in public where everyone was watching him, he could cry. Truth was part of him hated himself for being the reason you were hurting so much. It killed him to see you cry and even more to know that he was the cause of it. You didn’t deserve what he put you through.

The way you looked at him was particularly hard for him. You looked at him like everyone else did. Like he was a monster and for the first time, he felt like one. But to see the love of his life, his soulmate, look at him with those eyes, with the eyes he thought he would never see, at least on you, was devastating. Even if he knew you had a right to.

He should’ve never gone to that party. He hadn’t even really wanted to go. Sure he liked parties but when given the chance between them and you, he wouldn’t hesitate to leave them behind just to be in your presence. It was something he knew you felt guilty of, ‘taking him away’ from them but you never had a reason to. He was more than willing to do so, he wanted to. But when he got there, he got carried away at the familiar surroundings that he did miss, at least to an extent.

His body felt poisoned with a deep regret. He was an idiot. He was an idiot for letting you go, for taking advantage of your trust, for deciding to go without you or Ashton to help ground him when he knew Calum would likely get too distracted, go off on his own to get himself laid rather than be Michael’s backup in case anything went wrong. For letting himself get so piss drunk that he couldn’t even control himself or his thoughts. For doing something that triggered what he had known was a big insecurity of yours: that you were too inexperienced for his liking.

An insecurity he thought was stupid because how could you believe you were undeserving of him when it was so obviously the other way around? How could you not believe that no matter your innocence, your inexperience, you were the best he’s ever had? No one knew what he liked in bed as much as you did and no one could please him as well. It was one of the many things he hadn’t considered getting a girlfriend would bring, someone who knew his preferences and could give them as well as they could take them (and, man, could you take it). His dick twitched involuntarily just at the thought.

You pleased him more than enough, more than anyone ever had. But it was important to you. He had never even thought of cheating on you, never wanted to. Ever since you started dating, it was very obvious you were the only girl for him. Especially when he broke almost every rule he had set for himself when he started dating you: no girlfriends, fuck a girl only once and move on, and no feelings. Because with you, how could he ever look at another girl the same way. How could he imagine ditching you for another girl when you were everything he could ever want.

But he did and now he lost you. All because of one night. One lousy night he didn’t even bother thinking about after it was over, one he wished he couldn’t remember. Because it felt wrong, it felt wrong to imagine himself with someone other than you. Even though, while it was happening, he had convinced his mind so much that it was you. Maybe because he wanted it to be so much, wanted himself to not be making the biggest mistake of his life.

A flaming hot anger licked through Michael’s body, an anger at himself. How he wished he could go back in time and stop everything from ever happening. He would’ve stayed home, he would’ve waited to see you the next day after your exam. You would still love him and he would still feel completed with you next to him. Everything would be okay. But it wasn’t.

Michael was leaning with his back against the brick wall of the library you frequented, uselessly hopeful that maybe you’ll walk past. Maybe you’ll finally talk to him. Maybe he’ll stop feeling like shit. He hit his head back against the wall, not minding the pain.

“So.” Michael heard an amused voice next to him. He moved his head just slightly to see a shorter girl, slightly taller than you, leaning her shoulder against the wall he was on. She was a brunette with a very low cut shirt. At a previous time, she would be exactly Michael’s type. But now his type was a lot more specific: you. Your small stature, your loving eyes and kind personality. Your innocence.

Michael didn’t glance twice at her as he returned his gaze to the students passing by. He wasn’t going to waste time on a random girl when he could be looking for you. Not when the whole reason he was on campus, spending all his days and energy there, was because of you.

But she wasn’t deterred by his obvious lack of interest. Her long acrylic nails trailed down his arm, tracing the outlines of his tattoos. Like you used to.

He snatched his arm away from her quickly and roughly. His heart was thumping at the familiar gesture, a gesture that just made him yearn for you more. You were the only one who he had let do that, the only one he had felt safe enough to be so vulnerable with.

And he missed it. He yearned for those moments of being vulnerable with you, safe in your arms instead of sulking alone in his dark room, letting ugly tears run down his face as he had been for the last few weeks. He missed the good moments where you made him feel normal.

The girl blinked up at him, her blue eyes widening in what appeared to be faux-innocence. “Rumor has it you’re single now.” Her smile was anything but, “And since I hear you’re over that ‘no fucking the same girl twice’ thing I was thinking…”

Michael didn’t know what was more disgusting. The fact that his misery and breakup were a rumor, one that detailed the night he fucked up, one he had no doubt had spread to you and caused you even more pain inflicted by him. Or that anyone could think he was looking to hook up with someone when he was so obviously in love with you, so broken that he betrayed you and so completely convinced that no one would ever compare to you. He adored you. Her sultry look couldn’t even touch your natural pureness in his mind, the innocence you embodied that was naughty just for him. The way your body has only ever known him. No one could get him off like you could.

Or maybe what was worse was hearing it being put into words that you were no longer his girlfriend, that you two were no longer connected. It was something he hadn’t allowed himself to think because it hurt so much. But to hear it being formulated into words, made it so much more real.

Without thinking much about it, he grabbed the girls shoulders and push her roughly against the brick wall. It wasn’t enough to seriously hurt her but it was enough to knock the wind out of her.

His eyes were fiery when he leaned down to make sure she got his next words loud and clear, his words coming out of gritted teeth. He wouldn’t let anyone disrespect you or your relationship, the beautiful thing it was, ever again. “Don’t you ever - ”

But his words got caught in his throat. Not because Michael was against threatening a girl. No, he stopped because of her eyes. Her scared eyes. Only it wasn’t her eyes that he saw in that moment, they were yours. The hurt, confused and betrayed eyes you had given him when you walked in that fateful morning.

He felt like he had been delivered a blow as he slowly backed away from the girl. He couldn’t face you then even if you would give him the time of day. The fear in your eyes, the self-doubt, the betrayal followed him around in his mind constantly, like a ghost.

He was haunted.

♔

@imagines-to-die-for​

[sunsetinmyvein]

The Radio Station - Chapter Three - Stay Another Hour or Two

A/N - Sorry this one’s a smidge late, guys. Been laid up a bit these last 48 hours. 

19th of September, 2013

 Unbeknownst to her, Matty had been just as excited about a second interview as she was. After the praise she had given both him and his music the first time, he had found himself a bit smitten. Waiting for the next time he was in London to hope that the station reached out again had been mildly nerve-wracking, but his patience had been worth it. It gave him the chance that he wanted. He had given her his number in the hopes that maybe she'd make a move. If she came to him first, that saved him a lot of trouble and allowed him to side-step any awkward tension if it turned out she wasn't into him. She hadn’t managed to get out to Reading around her other work obligations, but she’d let him know that she tried. He had hoped this would be the start of more frequent communication. But, they hadn't really had much of a chance to act on anything in that regard. Because as soon as the full-length album was out, the station wanted Matty back on the show.

“It feels like it was only yesterday that I was here.” Matty laughed from the seat across from her as she fiddled with a few things on her side of the desk.

“It’s only been a month, I think?” She mumbled, clearly focused on something.

“About that, if I recall.” He nodded.

  “No George this time?” She asked absentmindedly.

“I'd rather have you all to myself.” She hummed a noise in response that made it hard for him to work out if his flirting had landed or not. But he did think that maybe she was trying to avoid looking directly at him. And... maybe blushing? “Been up to much in the last month?” He segued.

“Not particularly.” She said with a shrug. “You? Touring?” She asked back, but he skipped right over that.

“Haven't been painting the town red? Going on dates? Suddenly acquired a boyfriend?” He asked as nonchalantly as possible, suddenly busying himself with his phone.

She let out an abrupt laugh as she finally looked over at him, “No, Matty.” He just nodded thoughtfully. “Come on, you dork. Let's do this.” She said, looking fairly amused by his antics as she pulled her headset back on.

  “And we're back, with a voice a few of you might find familiar as he was on the show only a month ago.” She gestured to him to do a little introduction.

“Hi, it's Matthew Healy from The 1975.” He spoke in a calculated voice into his mic.

“Back again so soon?”

“That's what I get for complaining it was too long last time.” He said with a light laugh.

“But you've done a lot in a month! Your full length, self-titled album is out now, you played Reading and Leeds, and you're even playing at the O2 Sheperd's Bush Empire tomorrow.” She listed off.

“Yeah! We never stop, really.” He chuckled as he shook his head a bit. “The acceleration over the last six months has been crazy fast. But we’ve been a band for such a long time so it feels justified.”

“Your enthusiasm and motivation is truly next level.”

“Gotta keep the hype going, you know?”

“Has it left you guys feeling a bit worn out?” She questioned. “That sort of non-stop lifestyle would've burnt many people out by now.”

“Ah, no way! We’ve had five years of doing nothing. This is fun.” He grinned broadly. “I’ve got a break of about a week and a half  over Christmas, but I’ve gotta move into  a new flat. I’ve got loads of stuff to move. I had to buy luggage while on tour. I have so much fan stuff now – letters, drawings, puzzles of my face.” She couldn't help but laugh at the thought of that and how surreal it must be.

  “So, the album is out now. Have you been happy with how it was received?” She asked.

“Like everything that we do, it was totally down the middle. Half the critics absolutely loved it, half of them hated it. I think Vice called it the worst album of the year.” He said with a loud laugh. “It’s so funny how subjective music can be. But I don’t really care, you know. Our fans have embraced it massively.” He smiled.

“Well, it went to number one!” She reminded him.

“Yeah! That was pretty awesome. The fact that it went to number one is amazing.” He huffed with a look of giddy disbelief as he pulled a hand through his hair. “We didn’t really need any kind of statistical validation to be proud of that record, we were as proud of it as we could be as soon as we finished it. But it was nice to know that people still like good music.”

“I can imagine that would've been quite satisfying for you guys. It definitely deserved to reach number one.” She said with a nod.

“You've listened to it?” He asked in curiosity.

“Yeah, I’ve listened to it a bit.” She confirmed with a nod. “Actually, 'a bit' is probably an understatement.” She corrected.

“Oh really?” He blurted out eagerly before clearing his throat and trying to dial it back. “That’s cool.”

  “Are you able to tell us a bit about the thought process behind the album? What ties it all together?” She questioned. He noticed she didn't have a notepad this time like she had previously.

“I don’t think there’s a concrete narrative that runs from the beginning to the end. It's not that sort of album. We knew we wanted to make a long album. Sixteen tracks, you know. But I suppose it’s all about me and my relationships, like the EPs…” He hummed for a moment as he tried to pull his thoughts together. “The album ended up being like a scrapbook of conversations and situations that kind of, when it was all put together, made this story of our youth? I think that’s what the album is.”

“Stylistically it’s all quite different, some of the songs sound like they could be from entirely different artists, let alone on the same album.” She noted.

“There’s a bit of a stylistic polarity, it’s quite genre-bending, the sounds.” He nodded in agreement. “But then again, we kind of wanted to make one of those records like the best pop records from the 80s. Like Michael Jackson on Bad. That was kind of the vibe we wanted to do. We didn’t pull any punches. We didn’t think we need to be a bit ‘cool’. We thought we’d just do exactly what we want.” He explained simply.

  “That attitude seems to have resonated well with your fans.” She continued.

“Well, we wanted people to feel about our record the same way we felt about records that were really important to us. I want people to love the album, I want people to be able to not listen to the album because it reminds them of someone, I want it to bleed into humanity.” His passion for his music was unmistakable. She felt it was a shame that her interviews weren't filmed, so much of his personality and sheer enthusiasm came through in his expressions.  

“It's interesting that you've been able to achieve that sort of appeal with something you've described as so personal and so heavily based around your own experiences.”

“The more specific you are, and the more honest you are about you, the more grandeur the idea becomes. Because if you give someone a really, really specific idea instead of something vague, they can read into it so much more.” He said thoughtfully. “It’s immediately captivating. Rather than a vague idealism that you may or may not have experienced. Whereas if you hear a really specific thing, hopefully across the album there will be something that someone could really,” He clicked his fingers with a look of sincerity, “immediately feel you’ve experienced.”

  “You would've definitely gained some new fans now that the album is properly out. I believe I've even heard of a few big musicians singing your praises.” There was always seemingly some artist or other causing a stir on Twitter by tagging The 1975 in their tweets. “Do you guys have any biases towards someone who's famous being a fan? Or do you see all fans as equal?”

“Oh, well, you know, all fans are equal. I mean it’s nice to be validated by those you respect and interesting to be validated by those that you don’t. But that is a nice thing about it – when your heroes become your peers. But…” Matty made a face like he was trying to pick his words carefully, “I don’t really care about the whole celebrity thing very much, it doesn’t really mean anything. My parents are famous. I grew up around it. I kind of understand what it means – or more importantly, what it doesn’t.”

“Do you find that sort of celebrity complex of what that attention means gets to you?” She asked.

“Sometimes.” He shrugged. “It's weird reading so much about yourself. Am I actually this celebrity person I see on my phone or am I me? I don’t really know.”

  “Leading on from that then, how are you finding being a role model to so many people now that your celebrity status has grown so much?”

He instantly grimaced. “I’m really uncomfortable with it. Part of me thinks, it’s better they look up to me than a lot of people I know. But I shouldn’t have that responsibility as a 24 year old guy… y’know?” He huffed. “It’s hard for me, because I don’t really hold dear a lot of the values that fame presents. But the world of fame, the world of celebrity, has picked me up from a life of obscurity and put me into this whirlwind of money and bollocks and girls… I think we kind of invest in our own relationships a lot.” He stopped himself for a minute as he took a drink from the mug of tea she'd given him. “I don’t know what to say to a lot of these kids. The whole thing of becoming a figure of sexual desire, that’s understandable. That comes with the territory, that comes with young girls, that comes with them growing up. But the idea of me becoming a figure of intellectual desire? Something people look up to as almost an orator or a speaker or somebody with opinions? That makes me feel uncomfortable.” He shook his head as he scratched at the back of his neck. “Because I’m not this honest person that’s been depicted in the media. I’m very, very defiant about being honest lyrically, but that doesn’t come from a place of genuine lack of care – I’m actually really neurotic and insecure. The only reason those lyrics are like that is because I wrote that album before anyone knew who we were. I didn’t have to think 'am I being too honest?' ”

  She paused for a moment as his words sank in. It hadn't been her intention to get him onto such a heavy topic, but he certainly seemed to have no trouble dissecting his thoughts on the matter and she was certain her listeners would be enjoying the insight. “Let's shift onto a lighter topic.” She started, knocking him back to reality. “I've probably heard interviewers ask you about the origin of the band name... three dozen times by now since I asked in our first interview?” Matty chuckled at that, but urged her to continue. “Is it validating to know people are so interested?”

“Good question… I don’t know. I think because… I get a bit tired of it. “ He admitted truthfully. “I really, really appreciate it when someone looks at an interview from my perspective and how it might be for me, because I’m the one who does the majority of them. I don’t know why people are so interested in the name. But then I think, hold on a second, if I didn’t know where a bands name came from would I be genuinely interested? And maybe I would… I think people like to understand music. They like music to be something that’s really consumable and palatable and understandable. Whereas we’re the total antithesis of that, aren’t we?”

“I'm almost tired of hearing it come up in interviews.”

He laughed loudly, “Yeah, so am I.” He nodded. “So. Am. I.”

  “That seems like a good point to cut away to a few tracks.” She said with a sigh as she pushed herself back into her chair. “Do you have any requests off the album, Matty?” She asked.

He thought about this for a moment, “What's your favourite off the album?” He asked with a smirk.

“At the moment? I've been listening to Girls a lot.” She answered as she began queuing it up.

“Then let's hear that.” He nodded decisively.

“You heard it, folks. This is Girls off The 1975's self-titled album.” She said into her microphone as she watched Matty take his headset off and sink back into his chair. “Sorry for getting you onto such an intense tangent there.”

“It's all right, I'd rather have an intellectual conversation than have to repeatedly explain the band name.” He said with a short laugh. “That's why you do good interviews - you ask proper questions.” He added as he finished the tea.

  They chatted a bit about what they'd been listening to lately, what bands they thought were going to headline next year's festivals, before eventually the interview picked up again. “We're here with Matty of The 1975, and just before we heard their song Girls. Now, Matty,” She leaned forward, and for a moment the look in her eyes made him feel like he was in for another hectic question. “I heard a lot of controversy about the video clip for that song being in colour.”

He couldn't stop himself from chuckling. “Yeah... But it wasn't our first video in colour!” He said defensively. “When we put out the album version for Sex, that came from the idea that everything got so big so quickly, but we still wanted the album version out there before the album came out, you know, to impose our identity and say this is who we are. With that we did a new video for it and it was in colour, it was the first video in colour and everyone went mental. We were made aware that a lot of kids were saying stuff that we were ‘conforming to a major label’ you know, the whole cliché’d band getting too big.” He waved his hand dismissively. “And we got obsessed by that idea because it’s… so not true. It’s so ridiculous. And we wanted to make a video about that – about conforming to a major label. Because music videos are silly, we wanted to make a tongue in cheek video. We just wanted to make a pop video that was really aware it was a pop video. We knew it was obviously gonna split people down the middle but… whatever…” He finished with a shrug. “It was funny.”

  “I agree, I thought it was pretty funny.” She replied with a smile. “What do you hope people are getting out of the album now that it's out there for them to listen to?”

“I can only hope that they react in the same way that I do. Because I can only make music for me. Therefore I can only expect people who are likeminded to embrace it in the same way that I do. When we finished Robbers, I cried my heart out. When we finished Settle Down, we went on a night out on the Friday, and it was like five in the morning and I made the engineer steal the keys to the studio and we went back and broke in to listen to the record all the way through. If a song doesn’t make me laugh through joy, or it doesn’t make me dance, or it doesn’t make me cry, or it doesn’t provoke me to be really introspective, then we just fuck it off. Just leave it.” He answered, before quickly trying to summarise himself. “I want our music to make people think about their own life more than our music.”

“That makes sense. The best music always reminds you of specific moments and people in your life.”

“Exactly.” He grinned.

  “I heard rumblings that you're already working on the next album?” She asked, watching as he nodded a bit. “I suppose I shouldn't have expected any less given how little time off you allow yourself.”

He let out a laugh, “Yeah, you'd be right. Although, we've had this one ready to go for nearly a year and had some material leftover from it that didn't quite fit in, as well. The new album sounds mental already… it’s very... weird…” He frowned down at the desk as he played the tracks through in his head. “I can’t really tell you what it sounds like. I think it’ll probably be closer to the EPs. We’re so confused now about our lives, that I think this record will be a genuine representation of our confusion in different cultures and different cities and different mindsets.” He explained. “But who cares? We’re only making it because we wanna make it.”

“And from what you've said, song-writing is a big part of your expression.” She prompted.

“One hundred percent. I can’t have a record that is so self-deprecating and self-aware and then be interviewed and not have that translate in the way that I am. Because this band is a genuine extension of my identity, all of the music is me trying to figure myself out lyrically.”

“Has that process taught you much?” She questioned.

“Yeah. It's helped me get my head straight about a lot of stuff. But mainly I’ve really learned that I have a creative responsibility. I used to think I didn’t have any responsibilities when it came to my art, because it was mine. But I’ve realised that so many people genuinely invest in it. I do have a responsibility for it at least to be as good as whatever preceded it… hopefully better.”

  “All right, we're nearly out of time.” She sighed, straightening up in her chair. He threw a disappointed look her way, forcing a smile out of her. “But before we call it, last time we spoke was right before Reading and Leeds. How was it?” She asked.

He let out a bewildered sound before speaking, “Reading and Leeds was like a culmination of everything that has happened. It was amazing.” He started with a faraway look in his eyes. “We went to that festival – it was the first festival we ever went to as a band. Just to watch. You don’t expect more people to come and see you over the course of one festival period, because it seems too fast. But we were definitely pulling much bigger crowds by the end of the Summer, it was mental.” He said as he shook his head in disbelief.

“I told you that you guys would be really hard to get a hold of in the future.” She reminded him. “We've had Matthew Healy of The 1975 on the show with us discussing their latest self-titled album. It's out now in stores. Go do yourselves a favour and give it a listen. Thanks, as always, for chatting, Matty.” She said with a sharp nod.

“Always a pleasure.” He said with a grin.

  By now, she was expecting him to hang around as she talked through her outro and switched back to the music. He stood up and walked around from his side of the desk, leaning against the wall as she faced him.

“So, where are you off to now?” She asked as she pulled her headset off and placed it on the desk. “Gonna go fill up your free time with overworking yourself more?” She added with a playful smile.

He scoffed, “We don’t get free time. When we do have free time, it’s in London, where we don’t live, when we’re in a hotel, and you have one day off which you do your washing in.” He answered as he rolled his eyes. “But, I assume that you do live near London?”

“Around these parts, yes.” She said vaguely. “Why?”

“We're stuck up here for a couple of days, if you wanted to get a drink or anything.” He suggested with a casual shrug.

“I appreciate the offer, but stand by what I said before.” She started. “It's easier to keep work separate. I've seen it get messy for colleagues.” She elaborated.

He nodded in understanding. “All right, well...” He let out the breath he was holding. “You have my number.” She watched him walk out of the studio as she tried to get her heart rate back under control.

  * * *

  She probably should've known better than to go out that night knowing that Matty was around London. But her friends had invited her out for a drink, and it was Thursday, it was close enough to the end of the week. And most importantly she felt like she needed a drink after being in such close confinement with that man. Thankfully, her professionalism was easy enough to maintain at work (despite his best attempts at flirting). However, when she was faced with the dilemma of George and Matty walking into the bar they'd been in for the last couple of hours, after she'd already had a few drinks, the lines between work and social life were suddenly a lot less obvious. She shrank back down into her seat slightly, hoping that he wouldn't notice she was here and she wouldn't have to deal with the uncomfortable feeling in her chest. But it was too late. George noticed her and instantly pointed her out to his mate. Fuck sake, George. Matty flashed her a friendly wave, which she returned anxiously. At least he didn't walk over. He and George walked across to the other side of the bar and started playing pool.

  She mentally checked out of her friend's conversation after that - finding it too hard to not focus on Matty when he was in the room. The magnetism he radiated was annoyingly undeniable. She nodded occasionally and made approving noises here and there when there was a pause in the conversation for a response. But eventually she was dragged back to reality and actually had to give a response when she heard one of her friends calling her name. She looked over to them with her eyebrows raised, asking them to repeat the question.

“I said,” They laughed before repeating themselves, “we’re going to grab some food down the road. Are you coming?”

“Uh…” She mumbled, suddenly meeting Matty's gaze across the room. “No. I’m not hungry.” She shook her head. “Might hang around here for a bit.”

“Suit yourself.”

  Her friends grabbed their things, promptly leaving the bar and thus leaving her to her own devices. She briefly considered that staying here might be a bad idea, but that thought was quickly squashed by the smile Matty threw her way. “Fancy seeing you here.” He grinned as she walked over to where he and George were standing.

“Should've known you'd find me somehow or another.” She said in amusement as she watched George sink one of the smalls.

“Hey, don't blame me.” He held up his hands in defence. “This bar was his idea. Right, George?” He asked as he turned back to the table.

“He's right.” The drummer nodded.

“We just wanted to get out of the hotel for a bit.” He explained with a look of innocence. “You wanna get in on the next game?” He added, suddenly looking eager.

“Sure.” She shrugged as she pulled a barstool over and took a seat.

  As she watched them play out their game, she noticed that George was a much better player than Matty was. “You don't seem to be very good at this.” She noted as Matty missed another shot.

“It's still our first game. I need to warm up.” He replied as he rolled his shoulders.

She hummed thoughtfully, “I dunno, George is kicking your arse.”

“George, tell her that I'm not that bad at pool.” He said with a frown.

He shook his head, “I’m not getting involved. This is between you two.”

“I'll show you.” He grumbled under his breath as he took a sip from his beer. “Next game. You and me.” He said with a nod.

“You're on.”

  The game took a little longer to finish up than what she had initially expected as Matty tried to hone his skills. She ended up excusing herself to get another drink right before George sunk the last shot.

“Good game, Matt.” He said as he cracked his back. “I'm gonna head back to the hotel. You coming?” He asked as he nudged the singer in the ribs.

Matty eyed the girl standing at the bar. “Nah, I'm gonna stay for a bit.” He answered.

“All right. Don't kick on too late.” He said as he clapped a hand down on his friend's shoulder. “Remember, we've got a show tomorrow.”

“Yeah, yeah. I won't.” He said as he brushed off George's hand. Matty racked up the balls and set up the table again as she came over with her drink.

“Where's George?” She asked, quickly looking around.

“Went back to the hotel.” He answered abruptly.

“Oh.” Was all she could muster in response. No longer having the buffer of someone else suddenly made this situation feel quite... different.

“I've got a wager for you to prove I'm not as bad at this as you think.” He said as he held out the pool cue to her. She raised an eyebrow in question. “If you can beat me in a game, I’ll buy you a drink.”

“And if I don’t beat you?” She questioned with a sceptical look.

“Then you’ll have to buy your own drink to have with me.” He shot back, holding her gaze. He offered out his hand and waited for her to shake on the bet. After a moment of weighing up her options, she shook his hand firmly. “You break.”

  For a man who wanted to make a bet on his skills, they hadn't really seemed to have improved any since the last game. After about ten minutes of playing, he had only sunk one ball in comparison to her four. It seemed that he was practically handing out free shots.

“I feel like you’re losing on purpose.” She accused eventually.

“What gives you that impression?” He asked as he shot the cue ball directly in between every possible ball he could’ve hit.

“What were you even aiming for just then?” She huffed with a laugh.

“I was trying to do a bounce shot off the cushion into the five.” He lied as he took a drink. “Your shot.” He handed the cue back to her.

She looked back at the table, seeing that the five was nowhere near where he ended up. “Sure.”  

  “So...” He started, leaning back against the table. “I thought you said earlier that you like to 'keep work separate'?” He asked casually as he busied himself looking at his fingernails.

“What a good thing neither of us are working right now, then.” She muttered as she sank another ball.

“Hmm, seems that way.”

“And I didn't exactly intend to hang out with you this evening.” She added, taking her second shot and holding the cue out to him. “It's not my fault you invaded my Thursday night.”

“You say that like you're not having a good time.” He frowned as he took it back.

“I wouldn't be here if I wasn't having a good time.” She answered honestly. As soon as he heard that, he sank his final shot. He watched as the eight went straight into the corner pocket. “You… you just lost the game?” She asked in confusion.

“What a shame.” He sighed. “I guess I owe you a drink.” He said with a shrug as he brushed past her and walked to the bar. She should probably feel a bit more confronted about the fact that he'd just lost that game to spend time with her, but her brain was too clouded with the knowledge that he'd just lost that game to spend time with her.

  They continued playing pool as Matty brought over the next round, and for some sudden reason, they seemed to be a lot more evenly matched. It was unquestionable how easily the conversation flowed between them, and it was also pretty easy to see the chemistry quickly forming.

“I'm not as good with girls as people think I am.” He debated as he took his shot, after hearing her prattle on about how much women fussed over him on the internet.

“You don't need to be good with girls at this point.” She said as she rolled her eyes.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t think you realise how many people want to date you, Matty.” She laughed. “I mean, you’ve got a queue longer than the one to get into Glastonbury.” He couldn't help but join in with her laughter at the reference.

“That doesn't mean anything if I'm not attracting the right people.” He pointed out.

“What sort of people are you aiming to attract?” She asked in an attempt at nonchalance, intentionally looking away from him to hide her nerves.

“Someone like minded. Other musicians, people in the industry,” He paused, waiting until he had her attention before he finished his sentence, “cute radio presenters. That sort of thing.”  

  As her brain ticked into overdrive at this, she heard the bartender call out for anyone wanting last drinks. It was getting late. “I really need to be getting back home.” She groaned.

“Ah, but the bar doesn't close for another hour!” Matty protested.

“I've got work tomorrow.” She said, shaking her head. “And you,” She punctuated her sentence by jabbing him in the shoulder. “have a show.” He gently took her hand in his, using it as an excuse to pull her closer to him.

“I've done worse than play a show while I'm tired.” He argued, trying to convince her to stay a little longer.

“Well, I have a level of professionalism to uphold.” She smiled back at him. “When are you back in London next?”

He thought about this for a moment, “January.”

“That's forever away.” She said with a frown.

“Good thing you've got my number then.” She nodded slightly, suddenly finding herself losing her voice when she noticed his expression shift. He leaned in closer, and before she'd really had time to properly process it or kiss him back, he'd already moved away. “Keep in touch, love.” He grinned.

Taglist: @imagine-that-100 @dot-writes @tooshhhy @robinrunsfiction @approved-by-dentists

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[suckerforspace]

Saturday's class, or Thursday's coffee? Part 2

Thank you for all the love and support on part 1 of Saturday's class, or Thursday's coffee? I've been working on part 2 of this story and amazing idea by @skam-mix and I want to share it with you guys. Hope you enjoy! ❤️

Artwork by the amazing @skam-mix

Part 1

Sander can't seem to stop fidgeting with the zipper of his leather jacket. It's safe to say that Sander is nervous about his coffee date with Robbe.

He has checked the time on his phone multiple times in the past minutes. His eyes move to the skatepark, just the sheer thought of how it all started brings a smile to his face. Although he acted confident, when he asked Robbe on a date, he was so nervous the young man would turn him down.

When he first saw Robbe, he immediately noticed how good-looking the skateboarding teacher is. Then when he saw Robbe interacting with Tomas, it was like something inside of him switched. And then there was the almost-kiss.

It is all Sander could think about ever since he and Tomas walked home from the skatepark on Saturday while pretending to listen to Tomas telling him all about what Robbe had taught him.

It's a few minutes past two in the afternoon as Sander once again nervously runs his hand through his hair and checks the time once more.

Just then Robbe comes around the corner on his skateboard, of course, and Sander feels all his nerves dissappear.

"Hi, I'm sorry I'm late," Robbe apologizes as he hops off his skateboard.

"It's okay, I got here early," Sander says, "How are you?"

Sander feels Robbe scan his body with his eyes, totally checking him out, which makes him smile confidently. When Robbe notices he got caught, he blushes and bites his lip. "I'm good, great right now to be honest."

"I'm glad, me too. Let's go inside, shall we?" Sander opens the door to the cafe for Robbe to walk in first, or more so for him to check out the long-haired boy without getting caught.

The two boys get in line in front of the counter, "Do you know what you're getting?" Robbe asks Sander, looking up at him. "I was thinking of getting a coffee and an apple pastry." Sander answers. "Good choice, I think I'm going for the cherry pastry."

Once it's their turn, Robbe orders his coffee and pastry. Before he can grab his wallet, Sander stops him by putting his hand on his shoulder, "I'm paying. You can find a table for the two of us." Robbe is about to disagree but the look on Sander's face says he's determined to pay. Robbe nods and gives him a small smile, "Okay, thank you."

Robbe finds a table towards the back of the cafe. Sitting down, he can't help but look at the boy in front of the counter and feel extremely lucky to be on a date with the handsome Sander Driesen.

As soon as he got home from the skatepark on Saturday, he called Jens and told him about Sander. He didn't want to tell him about the almost-kiss, but Jens somehow knew Robbe had left something out and convinced him to tell him everything.

To say his best friend was excited for him would be an understatement. Jens had made him promise to call him immediately when Robbe got home from his date today.

Robbe snaps out of his train of thoughts when Sander approaches him with their coffees and pastries. He places the tray on the table and takes a seat opposite to Robbe.

"This is the cherry pastry," Sander says as he points to one, "no wait, it's this one." He points to the other one. Robbe chuckles, "Are you sure?"

"No, I actually can't remember. She told me but I forgot, I'm sorry." Sander sighs, rubbing his face.

'What an idiot', he thinks, but Robbe puts him at ease. "It's okay. I'm not allergic or anything, are you? We can just pick one and find out as we go."

Sander looks at Robbe and smiles, "Okay, here we go." Their gazes lock as they both take a bite of their pastry. "Apple." "Cherry."

"I actually like this apple one. How is my cherry pastry?" Robbe asks. "It's good, we can share if you want?" Robbe takes another bite, letting Sander know that he is, in fact, okay with sharing.

"I might like this one better, but I'd have to take a bite of the cherry one to confirm," Robbe says with a flirtatious look on his face.

Sander holds out his pastry in front of Robbe's mouth, but as the boy leans in to take a bite, Sander pulls away jokingly, "Too slow.."

Robbe pouts and Sander feels bad for him, holding out his pastry once more. This time Robbe grabs Sander's hand to make sure he can't pull away again. The touch of their hands makes both boys feel like they are set on fire.

Robbe's gaze locks with Sander's as he takes a bite of the cherry pastry. He nods his head, "This one is really good, too." Robbe holds out his pastry, their gazes still locked as Sander takes a big bite of it. "I like both," Sander says with a wink.

The boys share the rest of their pastries in the same way. They ask each other questions to get to know the other.

Robbe now knows Sander works at a music store in town (his favourite artist is David Bowie, they exchanged phone numbers so Sander can send him the link to one of his playlists) and that he's a single dad to Tomas, who is staying at his friend Noor's place today.

Sander now knows Robbe is still studying, but he spends his free time playing videogames or going to the skatepark with his friends.

It's almost 5.30 PM when Sander checks the time, "We've been talking for over three hours and I could carry on for much longer if I didn't have to go home and pick up Tomas."

Not believing they've been at the cafe for so long, Robbe checks the time on his phone, ignoring the multiple messages and missed calls from Jens.

"I guess it's true that 'time flies when you're having fun'," Robbe says as they both get their stuff and make their way outside.

"I had a great time today, Robbe," Sander says as he leans against the wall of the cafe, dreading to go home and end the date.

"Me too, I really hope this isn't a one-time thing." Robbe takes a step forward, decreasing the distance between them as he grabs Sander's hand. Sander looks into Robbe's eyes, then at his lips, back into his eyes again.

He pulls Robbe closer and leans in, as does Robbe, closing the distance between the two of them. Soft lips touch for a brief moment. Robbe smiles as they pull away and rest their foreheads against each other.

"I hope that isn't a one-time thing either," Sander says, to which Robbe answers by kissing him again.

"I really need to go," Sander whispers against the smaller boy's lips, before pressing his lips to them a few more times, unable to stop. He has to physically push Robbe away from his lips.

"See you soon?" Robbe asks, grabbing his skateboard. "You can see me anytime you want, skater boy." Sander kisses Robbe one more time before moving away from him.

"Saturday's class, or Thursday's coffee?"

"How about Saturday's coffee?" Sander replies, turning around and walking backwards so he can see Robbe's reaction, which is a bright smile, before turning around and walking away with a bright smile on his own face too.

A/N

I think that's it for Saturday's class, or Thursday's coffee? Let me know what you think!!

It's my first try writing a wtfock fanfic and I really enjoyed it. If I have the time and inspiration to write more, I might someday. ✨

[orwocolor]

happy birthday, baby

Pairing: Joe Mazzello x Reader

Word Count: 5.8k

Warnings: Smut, dirty talk, spanking, unprotected sex, a dash of breeding kink (18+ ONLY)

Summary: It’s your birthday, and even though Joe can’t be there for you during the day due to his filming schedule, he has the night to make it up to you.

Author’s Note: This fic was requested ages ago by the darling @queenspur. I am so terribly sorry it took forever! But here we are, two months later. I also need to be frank and admit that the idea behind gifts mentioned later on in the fic is 100% copied from one of britishfilth’s audios. The rest (well, most of it - I listened to that audio quite a few months ago and I may have accidentally been more inspired by it than I remember 😂) is a creation of my imagination and dirty mind.

the gif is mine

You were staring at yourself in a mirror, mesmerised by the way your new lingerie hugged your body and accentuated your curves. The small thing that could barely pass as an item of clothing left very little to the imagination. It was a black set consisting of a lace bra with an intricate pattern and decorative strings leading from the bridge of the bra to the straps and crossing the top section of your breasts, a matching garter belt which fitted the line of your hips perfectly, and sheer black thigh-high stockings with ribbons of the same colour interlaced into the fabric near the hem and tied into small bows on the back of your legs. There was also a dark plum satin robe, currently resting on your bed as you couldn’t tear your gaze away from your reflection in the bedroom mirror.

When the mailman had brought your delivery, you expected a new set of kitchenware that you’d been eyeing for some time and which you’d mentioned to Joe a while back when he asked you what you wished for your birthday. But the white box had a suspiciously large satin bow on its cover, and it was way too light to contain colourful kitchen utensils and pans. You dialled Joe’s number, but the call went straight to voicemail. He must have been filming at that moment. You hung up and sat down on the floor, cross-legged and ready to inspect the box. After a few seconds of turning it in all conceivable ways, a note slipped away from underneath the bow and fell on a soft carpet. You reached for it and slowly picked up the paper card.

Happy birthday, my love! Open the box and follow the instructions inside. J.

Once you finished reading the note, you eagerly grasped the ends of the bow and tugged. The satin skimming down the box, you lifted the lid and spread open the extra thin featherlight paper, impatient to see what was inside.

Breathlessly gasping, you stared in bewilderment at the beauty right in front of you. The lingerie was laid out in the box so that the bra, garter belt and stockings were at the display, placed over the purple robe. Your fingers grazed over the lace of the bra cup and you slightly shuddered at the thought of wearing it tonight.

It hadn’t escaped your notice that a pair of knickers was missing, and you had to chuckle out loud. You hadn’t expected anything else from Joe, and truth be told, the image in your head of you wearing the lingerie got even racier.

You pulled out the delicate pieces of fabric and spread them out on your bed, thus finding another sheet of paper at the bottom of the box.

Joe’s instructions were clear as day. You were to enjoy your special day to the brim. He wouldn’t have time to go out for dinner with you as he’d initially planned, since his filming schedule did not allow him to, but he promised he would make it up to you in a few days. He’d booked a table in your favourite restaurant and called your best friends to go out with you in his stead.

The corners of your lips gradually rose as you skimmed through his words, pausing every now and then to decipher his handwriting. When you reached the last paragraph, you were forced to do a double-take.

After you return, get ready for me, birthday girl. When I get home, I want to find you in our bedroom wearing the lingerie I gave you and waiting for me, on the bed, on all fours. Eyes front, no peeking back. There are more gifts to come, baby, but you must show me you deserve them. Be a good girl and don’t let me down.

There was nothing else added, no signature or anything, and the last four words resonated in your head for the rest of the day.

The moment Joe had found out you loved being bossed around in bed every now and then, he didn’t everything he could to be the perfect dom for you. Although truth be told, sometimes, the façade slipped and the Joe you knew and loved shone through, but that was what made all those moments special and unique.

To say you enjoyed your birthday was an understatement. You had a free day, which meant there was no shift for you to cover, only the amazing amount of time dedicated to your little self. You went out shopping, browsed through the new IKEA that had opened recently, watched your favourite film, called your family, and met up with your friends for dinner.

Once you returned home, you still had some time before Joe would arrive and so you ran yourself a bubble bath, lit up several scented candles, and played some relaxation music, decidedly pampering yourself as much as you could. Yes, it all smelled of a cliché, but it was your birthday after all, and a cliché here and there had never hurt anyone.

Humming, you exited the bathroom, a towel wrapped around your torso. You halted at the foot of the bed, your eyes tracing the lace laid on the sheets as silence fell over you. Biting your bottom lip, you untucked the corner of your fluffy towel and tossed it aside.

You put on the lingerie with great care; you wanted to look perfect. It reminded you of your first school days when you’d still had the energy to make the effort and the desire to make jaws drop with a little smirk and a single wink of your eye.

After you put on some mascara, you applied a dark red shade lipstick on your lips, spreading the substance with your fingers and resisting the urge to bite at them in the anticipation of what was to come. Not being able to hold down your excitement, you felt a pleased smile tugging at the corners of your lips as they revealed a set of teeth, and you pressed your palms to your cheeks, feeling the heat spreading there.

The moment you added the finishing touches, you rushed to the full-length mirror to admire Joe’s gift and your handiwork. Your reflection left you slightly breathless and you couldn’t tear away your gaze.

With not a single clue of how long you had been standing there, admiring yourself, you heard a key rattle in the front door, your head shot up, and your heart stopped beating for a split of a second.

Blinking away your frozen-like state, you jumped to the bed, hastily put on a pair of patent stilettos which you’d dug out from the deep bottom of your closet, slipped on the plum robe, the satin kissing your heated skin soothingly, and tied the smooth belt firmly around your waist. Initially, you had thought that the robe would ruin the whole look, but the moment you bent down, you realised that in the position like that, it reached the middle of your bottom cheeks, leaving your pussy bare and in plain sight.

You crawled onto the bed and placed yourself in the centre, your legs slightly spread as your knees rested against the soft sheets and your fingers dug into the throw pillows. You positioned your body in such a way that your arse would serve as the most delicious welcoming sight for Joe’s eyes to fall onto the moment he would enter.

The rustle of air that pierced the quietness of the room as you took a deep breath to calm your restless heart and buzzing nerves was the last sound you registered before the bedroom door swung open and Joe entered the bedroom.

And then, you did not dare to breathe.

Seconds dragged, each one of them agonizingly slow, and you stared at the headboard right in front of you, waiting for Joe’s next move. You’d heard the door open, but it seemed like he froze in the doorway, taking you in.

“You’re sure it’s not my birthday today?” Joe chuckled, but the sound of his voice had a dark edge to it, tinged with desire matching your own.

Footsteps could be heard, muffled by the carpet as he inched closer, and a light thud sounded in your bedroom as he dropped his jacket to the floor.

The mattress underneath you dipped with his weight and you registered the rustle of fabrics as he crawled towards you.

Without touching you, he grasped the purple satin between his fingers. As he slowly lifted the hem of your robe, he exposed your arse to his eyes and a small groan rumbled in the back of his throat. He pushed the satin up and let it rest on your lower back as he admired the view.

Joe was kneeling behind you; you could feel the heat radiating from him as he made no move to touch you yet. It seemed like some kind of twisted torture to you, sweet, delicious torture that caused you to crave more. To be touched, kissed, caressed, groped, and just properly fucked.

You almost jumped out of your skin when a feather-light touch of his fingertips made contact with the back of your thighs. Gasping, you relished in the feeling of Joe’s fingers dancing up and down your heated skin as they left trails of goose-bumps in their wake. Every time his hands inched closer to your bum, you shuddered involuntarily, the sensation going straight to your core, settling there and causing you to tremble as you sank your teeth into your lip, holding in the noises that were gradually forcing their way out of your mouth.

Leaning over you, Joe pressed his front against your back, and you threw your head back, rubbing your temple against his newly grown out stubble. The aroma of his shampoo and skin enveloped you and you breathed in the familiar scent.

“Happy birthday, baby.” Joe’s words brushed over your ear, sending a shiver down your spine, which involuntarily caused your hips to buck as your arse firmly pushed against Joe’s groin, the coarse material of his jeans shifting your focus to the bare state of your core. The sensation made your mind race. This time, with clear intention, you moved your butt up and down, pushing yourself against the outline of his cock covered by the denim. Your walls clenched in a vice-like grip around thin air when your skin made contact with the cold metal buckle of his belt, and your arms started to shake. You weren’t sure how long you could stay in that position.

“Oh my, look at the mess you’re making,” Joe rasped and cleared his throat when he drew himself up again. He must have been just as hot and bothered as you were, the teasing having made you both ache with want for something more. “You’re already dripping wet, my love. Ah, your juices are all over my crotch.”

You twisted your neck and turned your head to look for yourself. The view that greeted you sent another jolt of pleasure into your core and your breath hitched. Joe was wearing a simple black t-shirt, the short sleeves revealing his strong biceps, and a pair of blue jeans, the leather jacket that he had disposed of earlier lying in a heap on the floor. His fingers were splayed on your buttocks, fitting perfectly as if they were carved by gods for one purpose only – to grope your arse and never let go. His hair was ruffled, his eyes sparkling and mouth slightly agape as he stared in bewilderment at the result of your grinding.

That was when you noticed the wet patch on his trousers, your arousal glistening in a nightstand lamps’ light, and you moaned, almost inaudibly.

Smack.

Your jaw dropped and you jolted forward, taken aback by the sharp sting on your butt cheek which sent a burning sensation across your skin.

“Did I give you permission to turn around?” Joe grunted and gave you another spank with the flat of his palm, hitting you harder this time.

“No,” you whined into a pillow and braced yourself for another blow.

“Yeah, I didn’t think so.” Another smack hit your other cheek. “Do you know what that means, baby girl? A birthday or not, I’m gonna have to punish you.”

You nodded, wordlessly accepting whatever was to come.

“I think ten spanks will do but I want you to count for me. Think you can do that?” His voice turned sugar sweet for a moment and his hands were stroking your buttocks. Until another sharp blow landed on your skin.

“One,” you breathed out, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Come again?” Joe demanded and the following slap was so hard it sent you forward, your arms giving up as you burrowed your face into the pillows.

“Two!” you sobbed once you freed your mouth, and you almost came in an instant when Joe chuckled darkly behind you.

With each slap on your tender skin and each syllable falling from your lips, you felt yourself growing wetter. A blow after blow, you reached number ten and collapsed on the bed. You realised Joe was showing some amount of restraint, since usually after a session like that you would be feeling the sting all over your arse for a few days. However, it still hurt slightly, but the pain was bearable.

“Good girl, you’re my good girl. Shhh, baby, shhh, I’ve got you.”

He soothed his hands all over your body, dragging them against the smooth material of the robe you were still wearing, the lace of the garter belt, the nylon of your stockings, and your exposed burning hot skin.

“Come here.” He pulled you up by your waist and you leaned against him, his chest firm against your back. You tilted your head and chased his lips, moaning into the kiss once he finally granted his permission and opened his mouth to welcome your exploring tongue.

He kissed you like that for a few moments, catching your bottom lip between his teeth every now and then and tugging at it playfully. Soon, you were breathless again, so you broke the kiss and took great gulps of air into your lungs. Joe’s lips moved to your cheek and eventually latched onto your earlobe, sucking relentlessly.

His hands weren’t idle either. They groped your breasts, squeezing and pushing them together, and it didn’t take much for you to feel your nipples getting hard under Joe’s ministrations. After a minute, he untied the satin belt, pulled it out of the loops, and opened the robe, growling desperately into your ear. Pushing it down your arms, he slipped the piece of fabric away from you and tossed it aside, the satin pooling on the floor.

“Oh god, you should see yourself,” he growled into your ear and gently bit on your earlobe, “so sexy in your pretty gift,” his fingers sent shivers down your spine and you rocked your hips against his crotch, “and needy,” he chuckled.

You moaned loudly as his fingers dug into your sides and you arched your back.

“I know I promised you more gifts, but I need to taste your first,” he whispered hotly and rubbed his hands against your arms, reaching your wrists which he promptly pressed to each other in front of you. He retracted the satin belt of your robe and tied them together.

“Lie on your back,” he instructed, and you did so, right after he gave your arse another playful spank. God, it seemed like he couldn’t get enough of your backside tonight.

It wasn’t an easy task with your tied hands to change the position, but you managed. Hissing quietly, you scowled when your butt landed on the soft blankets, but you refused to concentrate on that.

“Good girl,” Joe praised and grabbed your wrists, pushing them above your head and attaching the belt to the headboard. You gave it a few experimental tugs to see how rigorous he was. Admittedly, quite a lot; it would be hard to free yourself on your own. Not that it would ever come to it and you would need it, but the thought of you being completely putty in his hands excited you to no end.

His fingertips ran down the exposed skin of your arms, making you shiver and whimper lightly. Drawing intricate patterns on your soft skin, Joe made sure you felt every brush of his fingers, locking his eyes with yours.

Not dropping your gaze, you poke out your tongue to wet your lips, the movement not escaping Joe’s scrutiny as you prolonged the action more than necessary, leaving your mouth invitingly open afterwards.

Your breath hitched when he leaned in closer, pausing mere millimetres away from your mouth.

You started to lift your hand to run your fingers through his auburn hair, pushing him forward and closing the distance, but the restraints did not allow you to. You giggled at your fail attempt and Joe joined, his eyes sparkling with mirth. Even without your aid, he bent down and caught your bottom lip between his lips, sucking on it before his tongue forced his way into your mouth. Deepening the kiss, Joe moaned, the sound muffled by your mouth which responded in a similar fashion.

Eventually, he broke the kiss and straightened his back, his palms pressing against your thighs, opening your legs for him. He was still fully clothed and your need to tear down his shirt, jeans and boxers reached indescribable heights. But your hands were tied, literally, and all you could do was wait for him to undress.

He, however, did no such thing. Pushing your stocking-clad legs deeper into the mattress, pinning them down, he bent over and latched his lips onto your opening, the wetness that had developed there over the past moments letting him push his tongue inside you with ease. Your eyes rolled back when he lapped at your juices, swirling them and tasting them, the sound of him swallowing the evidence of your desire bringing you faster to the edge than you would like to admit.

His fingers replaced his tongue as he pressed two digits into your heat, relentlessly bending them in the come-hither motion, while he positioned his tongue to your clit, flicking the nub at rapid speed. His eyes locked on yours, he gauged your reaction, every intake of breath and every tremble.

You were sure to go mad any moment, the sensation sending you reeling. You whimpered and moaned and screamed and sobbed, occasionally chanting Joe’s name in a desperate prayer for him not to stop.

Your body was mindlessly tossing on the bed as if your limbs could not settle upon one position, a fuzzy feeling settling in your stomach, making your toes curl in your shoes and your arms flex as they pulled at the satin belt.

You felt yourself fast approaching orgasm. Biting your lips, you arched your back as Joe kept sucking on your clit, hard, as if his life depended on it. You found yourself at the edge, all you needed was a little push.

“Ouch!” Joe suddenly yelped and tore away from your core, pain in his eyes.

“What is it, what happened?” you asked breathlessly, panic settling in your stomach as you shook, the unsatisfied anticipation vibrating through your veins.

Joe took hold of your legs which had apparently wrapped around his shoulders at some point, his fingers gently but firmly separating your intertwined ankles.

“I love you, birthday girl, but we’re gonna take these off, okay?” One by one, he took off your stilettos. As he stretched down to place them on the floor, you noticed a long red line marking his back. Oh, fuck! You must have hurt him with your heel! There was no blood, thank God, but you still felt like the worst girlfriend ever.

“Joe, baby, I’m so sorry,” you kept repeating, truly regretting it.

“Nah, babe, it’s nothing. But I haven’t even given you your present, yet! Would like to do so without getting any injury,” he chuckled and placed a soft kiss on the tip of your nose, freeing your wrists from the restraints as you scrunched up your nose, his beard tickling you.

“Does it mean I’m going to get my gift now?” You grinned at him, glee in your eyes.

“Gifts, love. Plural.” He kissed you soundly on the lips, pressing softly his forefinger against them afterwards. “Wait,” he whispered and with a wink left the heat of your body as he bent over the edge of the bed and sunk down, rummaging in his bag.

“Are the knickers in one of them?” you asked matter-of-factly, rubbing your tender wrists.

“I beg your pardon?” Joe said, lifting his head to give you a confused look over his shoulder.

“The knickers that go with this set,” you explained as your hand vaguely pointed to the lingerie that you were still wearing. “These things usually include knickers.”

Joe chuckled at your deduction. “Yeah, you’re right, there was a pair knickers there as well,” he admitted, and you gave him a triumphant smile. “But how could it be your birthday gift if I intend to take it back?” He pulled himself up on the bed and turned to you, his hands hiding something behind his back. “No, baby girl, I’ll let you wear them one day, teasing you the whole day, making you incredibly wet, and then I’m going to take them back once they’re properly soaked.” He smirked mischievously and an audible gulp you made gave away your apparent interest and excitement over that scenario.

He closed the distance and gave you a hungry kiss, your fingers finding their way to his hair, burrowing in his locks and enjoying the newly granted freedom.

He sat up on his heels, and you followed him, not a having a single ounce of desire to let him go.

“Happy birthday, my love,” he whispered against your lips, nuzzling his nose into yours with affection.

Darting your eyes downwards, you found two boxes in his palms. They were neatly wrapped up in quality paper and cute little bows were stuck at the corners.

“What’s in them, then, if not the knickers?” you inquired, suspiciously staring at the two boxes.

“Open them and you’ll see.”

Carefully, you reached for one of them, the package heavy in your hand and you proceeded to tear down the wrapping paper, the bow flying somewhere behind you. Joe was watching your every move intently, but the moment you lifted the lid, he brought his eyes to your face, paying attention to your reaction.

All you did was stare and frown, no sounds coming out of your slightly agape mouth.

After a few beats of silence, you turned your focus to Joe.

“Scissors?”

He chuckled at the deep line that had appeared between your eyes as your eyebrows contorted in incomprehension, and he placed a soft kiss there. “Maybe you should open the other one, it will make sense.” He was so anxious about the presents, he was literally bouncing on his heels, the energy that seemed to never leave his body rushing through his veins at extra speed.

“Look, Joe, if that’s your way of telling me you wanna attend origami classes, there are other ways,” you giggled, stripping the other box of its paper, still unsure what this was about, and gave him a playful nudge. It wouldn’t be the first time of him announcing you some new hobby of his in a rather unconventional way.

“God, woman, you can’t help yourself, can you? You’re gonna ruin the whole surprise. And besides, in what universe do you use scissors for origami?! It literally translates as ‘folding paper’,” he scolded.

How dare he, correcting you on your birthday. The audacity! You blew him a raspberry. “Somebody’s already an expert, I see.”

Shifting his weight, he moved behind you on the bed, pulling the shirt over his head and discarding it on the way, and hugged you from behind, watching over your shoulder as you opened the other box. Your breath hitched slightly before you finally got to it, his exposed skin against your back sending warm sensation right to your pussy. Blinking, you shifted your focus to the gift.

There were condoms. Lots of them. Unused, thank God, but all taken out of their packages.

“Okay, care to explain the gifts to me? ‘Cause I don’t get it.”

“Well,” he started, and you craned your neck to find a light blush gracing cheek, “the thing is, you know, it’s a symbol. I want you to cut them. Shred them into a million pieces.”

“And I’m supposed to do that because…” you asked as Joe placed the scissors into your palm.

His lips drew closer to your ear, his hot breath making you shiver and your eyes close.

“Because tonight,” he whispered, “I’m gonna fuck you raw.”

You swallowed audibly.

“I’m gonna shoot my load into you,” Joe continued, renewed confidence seeping through his voice as you kept your eyes shut. “I’m gonna paint the lovely walls of your cunt with my cum. And who knows,” he chuckled darkly, “maybe I’m gonna put a baby inside you.”

You whimpered at the notion, feeling your legs closing as they rubbed against each other, relieving some of the tension. When you pressed your back against Joe’s form sitting behind you, he dropped his hands down to your hips and squeezed them in between your thighs, spreading you open for him. His fingers slowly walked up your inner thigh until they reached your aching pussy, rubbing your folds and spreading the wetness there.

“You want that, don’t you?” Joe’s voice enveloped your whole being and all you could focus on was his words whispered hotly into your ear and his fingers playing with your clit. “Ah, my love, you’ve wanted this for a very long time. I know, I know,” he cooed with understanding when a soft moan passed your lips. “Show me how much.”

He wrapped his palm around the back of your hand and guided you to take hold of the scissors. With no need to be told twice, you dug the condoms out of the box and proceeded to cut them.

The bedroom was filled with the sound of the scissors and your occasional bursts of laughter. It was so absurd, yet the sensation extremely freeing, as you felt the latex give in under the sharp blades of the scissors while Joe’s fingernails dragged along your thighs, leaving a trail of goose-bumps in their wake, and his mouth was sucking dark hickeys along the column of your neck when he wasn’t hiding his pleased smiles at your glee into your skin.

After a few moments, the box was full to the brim with tiny pieces of latex and you unceremoniously dropped the scissors down on the floor, slinking down against Joe’s torso, your chest heaving and the strings of your bra digging into your breasts with every deep intake of breath. He wrapped his arms around and caressed your cheek.

“So, how do you want me, birthday girl? Are we going to go with the classic and do it the old missionary-style? Or do you want to be on top? Or maybe you’d like me pounding into your little pussy from behind?” he waggled his eyebrows at you and you weren’t sure whether to laugh or moan with desire at the notions.

Eventually, your lips curled into an amused smile and you turned around in Joe’s arms, realising how much you loved this ridiculous man when you saw his beaming face, and yet his eyes were dark with lust matching to yours.

“I want to ride you,” you whispered against Joe’s lips before you opened your mouth and captured them, moaning softly and urgently into the kisses.

Pressing against his shoulders, you pushed him on his back and straddled him, your hands quickly finding their way into his hair as you kissed him soundly. It was then when you realised that he was still wearing his trousers, but you set your mind to making short work of them.

Joe helped you as much as he could, even though it proved to be a tougher proposition than you’d expected as his skinny jeans clung to his toned legs.

With a few fits of giggles and an accidental kick in your thigh, for which Joe apologised profusely, you finally managed to get Joe rid off his trousers. You eagerly reached for his briefs and pulled them down too, his erection springing free and leaking precum.

You could not resist but taste the liquid that streamed down his cock, dragging your tongue up his shaft and swirling it around the slit. You placed a gentle kiss there and grabbed him by the base, feeling him throb and harden as another stream of precum poured out of his slit, right into your ready mouth.

The desperate moans and whimpers that were coming out of his mouth seemed like a symphony to your ears, and so you opened your mouth wide and pushed his cock inside, swallowing and feeling the head hitting the back of your throat.

He gasped and shoved his fingers into your hair, before he changed his mind and begged you to stop.

“Wait, wait, wait. If you really want me to fill you with my cum and make you pregnant, you really, really need to stop.” The last syllable was a mere sob as you hollowed your cheeks and sucked hard on his cock, your grip on his shaft firm and adamant.

He had to sit up and swat your hands away when you released his cock with a wet pop. Grabbing you by your hair, he pushed you up and crushed his lips against yours, swallowing your complaints. Shuffling up his body and playfully biting his lip before you pushed him back, you grabbed his cock again, giving it a few pumps, and placed it at your entrance.

Taking a deep breath, you sank down on him, a delicious inch by a delicious inch, until you bottomed out, your toes curling and eyes rolling back. You clasped your muscles around him and the whimper that rewarded you put a victorious smile on your face.

“God, you feel so good,” you moaned as a shudder ran down your spine at the sensation of being filled by Joe’s cock, feeling every ridge of his shaft in your welcoming heat as he stretched your walls.

At first, you rocked gently against him, getting used to the feeling of his bare cock buried deep inside you, gasping as you rolled your hips and tried different angles.

You caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and groaned. You looked like a goddess of darkness in that lingerie, getting what you wanted. You watched with excitement as his cock disappeared in your aching cunt, again and again.

Joe reached for your hands, interlocking his fingers with yours, his thumb caressing the skin on the back of your palm. You promptly pushed yourself up and slammed back against him, this time with more force, which caused you to moan in unison.

You both had been so riled up that it didn’t take long for you to quicken the pace and get closer to mind-shattering orgasms. You bounced on his throbbing cock, up and down, up and down, using the hand in your grasp as leverage. Eventually, you felt the familiar tingle in the tips of your toes and fingers, the warm sensation unfolding and capturing every fibre in your body. The knot in your lower stomach tightening, you were almost at the edge and based on the grunts and veins that had popped up on Joe’s strained neck, it was safe to say that he wasn’t far behind with his release.

“I’m gonna empty my balls, baby, right into your pretty little fertile pussy, hm?” he grunted.

You nodded, your throat tightened with vigour and anticipation. Joe knew you like the back of his hand and could tell all you needed was a little push to reach your orgasm

And so he dropped one of his hands to the place where your bodies were joint and his fingers found your clit with ease, rubbing at it at speed to match your thrusts, while he brought the other hand u your body and wrapped it around your neck, squeezing.

It was all it took for you to fall over the edge, shaking against Joe’s body as a wave after wave of pleasure spread into your body like wildfire, licking on your insides. You tossed your head back and screamed, the muscles in your cunt spasming uncontrollably around Joe’s relentlessly pounding cock as he grasped you by the garter belt and kept pushing his hips upwards, chasing his own release.

“God, darling! You’re gripping me so tight. I think I’m gonna, I’m gonna—”

He did not get the chance to finish the sentence as his cock twitched deep inside you and soon enough you felt hot sticky ropes of cum covering your walls. Your legs were no longer able to hold you upright and you collapsed on his lying form, your body still trembling with the aftershocks while Joe’s cock kept spurring his seed deep inside you.

You lay there like that for a few minutes, neither of you willing or having the energy to move.

It was Joe who first came to his senses, pushing slick hair out of your face and rubbing your back as he placed a soft kiss on your forehead, your eyes closing and eyelashes fluttering in joy over the affectionate gesture.

Gently, he rolled you over and pulled out his cock, a flush of your mixed juices immediately trickling down your thighs and making a mess on the bedspread. Joe perched up his head on his arm and watched you with utter love and adoration. He rested his other hand on your stomach, his fingers dancing across the soft skin.

“I can’t wait for us to be parents,” Joe admitted in the quiet of the room and you found yourself agreeing with him.

“Do you think we already…” you prompted.

“Who knows,” he said with a smile and pressed a kiss to your stomach. His fingers bumped into a piece of synthetic fabric and his smile grew wider as he placed the bow that had fallen of his presents earlier underneath your belly button. “Maybe in no time, you’ll be giving me one of the greatest gifts in the whole wide world.”

~

Taglist: @lv7867

[foolishlovebugbaby]

skz’s reaction to their s/o being a classical musician

requested by @wxnterlee​!! i hope you like it, sorry it took so long hkjdhfkhsg <33

bang chan

The first time he’s introduced to you is at a busking event at a christmas market

It’s the holiday season, so skz being skz they wanted to really feel that christmas spirit

But as they’re strolling, they reach this live band playing christmas tunes

And usually those mellow, low-key songs would play around this time of year but this band was anything but that

It was lively and every synonym for jolly

And as he scans the band, his eyes finally land on you

You’re playing the saxophone with so much energy and really feeling the music that his eyes are just so drawn to you

He can’t explain it, but he can’t take his eyes off of you

It doesn’t help that you’re extremely attractive either

His eyes never leave you through the entirety of the performance, and you definitely take notice

Mans is as subtle as a gun lmao

You make it a point to smile at him directly after the first set of performances because ure cheeky like that, and you immediately see him flush in the cold

So now he frequents the market and always makes sure to catch at least one performance of yours 

But then one day you approach him and chan internally yells because he’s in a hetero panic 

But then he chills out because you’re so warm and inviting and you both get to know each other slowly

Needless to say, the rest was history

As a boyfriend, chan is your number 1 hype man

And i mean Hype Man

He always makes it a point to watch your performances whenever he can

Esp whenever you have big recitals that get you all nervous, he’s always there no matter what to cheer you on and give you a pep talk and take you out for a celebration dinner afterwards

And he loves the way you light up when you play

The sheer passion in the way you perform and in everything you do in general makes him fall so deeply in love with you each time

He’s also a clown and never fails to try and attempt to play the saxophone whenever you have it with you

He fails miserably, but he’s cute and you love him more than anything else :’)

lee know

Knowing the crackhead he is, the only reason why he was able to meet you was because instead of booking a cinema ticket for frozen 2, he booked a musical titled Frozen II

The show had nothing to do with badass sisters and magical talking stones (it was some winter musical or sumn, minho wasn’t sure), and the moment he realised this, he was all pouty

But then he scanned over the orchestra and thought that for once his dumbass worked with him and not against him

Because there you sat, looking as ethereal as ever, playing the harp

He swore up and down you were a goddess

Like, hera or aphrodite’s reincarnate

The only magic he saw that night was you, and he was more than happy about that

He tried his hardest to meet you, to tell you what an amazing job you did, but alas, he couldn’t reach you because visitors weren’t allowed to go backstage

So he got all sulky and :(( as he exited the theatre

But by a miracle, as he was walking back to his car, he saw a certain someone struggling with bags and equipment of all sorts as they walked out of the back entrance, and minho’s heart skipped a beat when he realised it was you

Of course he rushes to help you bea=cause chivalry 

And he makes it a point to compliment you and make small talk as he helps you to your car

As fate would have it, the two of you become good acquaintances, then close friends, and even closer more-than-friends until you finally had the guts to just ask him to be your boyfriend and you don’t even take a breath before he says yes

Minho as a bf is minho as a bff but on lsd i swear to god

He already goes to majority of your performances, but when that boy is cuffed jesus christ he makes sure he’s in the front row for every damn performance no matter how small

You’re his harp-playing goddess who walked straight out of eden in his eyes, how could he not???

He’s also humorously afraid to go near your harp because he knows the moment he’s within arms length from it, something will go wrong

Being the weirdo he is he always finds a way of personifying your harp and whining about how you spend much more time with it than with him

And you’re like??? And he’s all like :((( 

So you just have to give him a cuddle and boop

Ugh what a cutie

changbin

Dark rapper meets classy cello player???? 

An aesthetic.

Because you both are polar opposites in the music world, the only reason you knew about him is because your mutual friend had dragged you to an underground rap battle (much to your dismay) as a way to “get you out of your shell”

As much as you thought you’d hate it, you really enjoyed yourself

Esp when you laid your eyes on Changbin

Just everything about his aura was so enthralling to you and you so desperately wanted to get to know him and asked your friend to introduce you, but to no avail :((

After that, you didn’t really see him again

But one fateful night, unbeknownst to you, your friend had dragged changbin all the way to your music studio because he was in desperate need of a recording booth as the ones in the company were all occupied 

When he entered, what he did not expect was to witness an absolute daydream right before his eyes

You sat inside the booth playing the cello, recording a snippet of a symphony you so desperately needed practice on, and hadn’t noticed them walked in, too concentrated on the music sheet in front of you

But oh god, to say changbin was impressed was an understatement

Dang he thought he produced good music, but the music that you made???? 

Absolutely magical.

When you ended the piece and looked up, you almost had a heart attack

Literally jumped out of your seat a lil bit because they both were just staring at you

But once you both introduced yourselves, it was like you both were two sides of the same coin

You both grow closer and realise that you really are opposites of each other

But in a good way??? like everything is so complimentary

So you shared your playlist of symphonies and he shared his playlist of lyrical masterpieces and these songs suddenly become the soundtrack to your love story 

Ugh he’s such an amazing boyfriend because he helps you with his recordings and vice versa

You’re both super critical of your own work so the pair of you make it a point to remind each other of how good you’re doing 

And just being with you opened up this whole new world of music for changbin 

He’s so grateful for it that he can’t describe it in words

He even asks you to record small pieces so that he can add them into his music

And you have a habit of turning skz’s and his own music into cello versions

Thank god opposites attract

hyunjin

Mister dancer over here loves going to dance workshops of different types

Hip-hop, contemporary- you name it

So when he signed up for a 2-week modern dance class, he definitely got more than he bargained for

He didn’t know what he was supposed to expect, but goddamnit he did not expect to have his limbs feel like they were falling apart

So after class, when everyone had left, he literally just laid on the floor all sweaty and tired wanting nothing more than to crash n sleep

But then !!

He heard a piano melody echo through the room, a mix of melancholic yet romantic notes floating through the air

And when he lifted his head up to look for the source of the sound, his eyes settled on your figure at the other end of the hall

As it turns out, you were the pianist for this specific studio and for all modern dance productions

You didn’t notice him at all- mostly because the lights were dimmed and mans was too busy dying on the floor to make his presence known

But dear lord did your music make him feel some typa way

He just wanted to dance to it, express himself through it

So once you finished, he just clapped from where he was on the floor without getting up

Think lazy seal on its back

Nevermind the fact that he literally almost made you scream

But you both introduced yourselves properly to one another, and let’s just say that hyunjin started to look forward to his bone-breaking classes a lot more than he would’ve thought

At first it was purely because he thought u were cute and he had a middle school crush on you

But then as the days progressed, he found himself more and more drawn to you and the way you played the piano

Always so concentrated and the expression on your face mimicked the piece you were playing

And agghfhf he loved being able to dance to your melodies

So when his lil 2-week excursion was over, he was all :(((((((((((((x10009283 because he knew he wouldn’t be able to see you as often

So he mustered up all his strength to ask you out on a proper date

Now, when you both become official, dear lord is this man always going to ask you to play something for him

Literally the ABC’s would suffice 

He’s just so smitten with you and your love for the piano that he always wants to see you play because it lights up your entire face

And when you compose pieces just for him to dance to, his heart m e l t s

He also always begs you to teach him, but he’s such a flirt that not much teaching goes on lol

It makes me feel loopy imagining hyunjin dance to the melody his s/o plays like do u feel me ohmygod idk what to do w myself

han

Han’s first encounter with you was purely accidental

Like a literal accident

As in, he was just walking down the sidewalk not really paying attention when he ran into you

You, a clumsy violinist who had just exited your apartment complex in a rush to get to your lesson that you were already late for, suddenly found yourself knocked over and on the sidewalk in a daze

Jisung was h o r r i f i e d

He rushed to your aid, helping your disoriented self stand up but

Your fall was the least of your worries

Because there, strewn across the sidewalk, was your life your love your baby

Your violin

You rushed to it and inspected it for any dents and scratches and phew

Thank god your hard case protected it for the most part, save for minor dents and scratches

So you let out a breath and finally face the culprit of your heart palpitations

And suddenly you’re given a different set of heart palpitations because big, round eyes of an extremely, unfairly handsome man looks at you with concern and guilt and you suddenly forget how you ended up there in the first place

Lots of apologies from han’s side and he offers to buy you a drink 

But you’re in a rush so you tell him nah

But he’s like pls pls and so you’re like but i have to go and he’s like i’ll wait for u and you’re like O-O o-ok,,,

So he sits awkwardly outside your practice studio, but the moment he hears and sees you play through the glass window, he feels the wind knocked out from his chest

So now he just makes it a point to get to know you by asking you out more and more 

Like changbin, when you both become a thing, your relationship revolves so much around your mutual love of music 

And he lovesss getting to help you improve and vice versa

And on your one year anniversary he bought you a replacement violin to make up for the one he scratched up during your first meeting and you’re just like :’)))) i would’ve destroyed my violin a thousand times if it meant getting to meet you :’)))))

felix

Like minho, it’s Felix’s sheer crackheadness that allows fate to cause the two of you to meet

Like one day he decides on a whim that he wants to learn the viola so he books classes on the first learning centre he sees on the internet

But when he got to the class,,,,

As it turns out, the one that he booked was for beginner kids, not beginner adults

Cue tiny heads plus yours snapping to the door and staring at a blushing felix

Not only did he just embarrass himself in general, but the moment he saw how attractive you were he just wanted the world to swallow him whole

But he paid a good amount of money for it so he sucks in his cheeks and decides to stay for the class

He’s so awkward when he comes into the room ksdfjs you find it so cute because even though he’s like more than twice the height of the kids, his face and expression are just as small

You introduce yourself and vice versa, and you begin teaching everyone the basics

Immediately felix has a crush on you

And he wonders whether there’s a big age gap because uhm you’re a teacher and he’s a student

But turns out you do this as a side job and are a performing arts school student with the same age as him and he’s just like :DDD 

So now he always makes sure to come to class on time

Actually, even earlier than on time because he wants to get some alone time with you before the rest of the class cockblocks intervenes

And slowly you both develop a strong bond

Even though he’s a crackhead and it’ll take you 2757264597 years to explain to him the difference between a viola and a violin, you don’t mind because at least with him being your boyfriend, you can give him a kiss to shut him up abt it :)

Even after his viola classes ended and you both became official, he still had a lot of interest in learning that instrument so you always teach him

And he offers to pay for lessons but you always reject it because duh hello you’re my bf shutup just give me a kiss and buy me ice cream instead??

And he teaches you a thing or two about dance, even though you look like those blow-up mascots in front of car dealerships whenever you do

He thanks the universe that he’s goofy and a crackhead, because at least he now has you :))

seungmin

So on a trip to a jazz house is when seungmin first met you

Yes, a jazz house

Don’t ask why but skz just wanted to go okay let them be

They watched multiple groups perform and were having the time of their lives

But something about you just caught seungmin’s eye

You were apart of the last group coming to perform and you played the double bass

He thought you looked so goddamn cool and slick whenever you played 

And he found it adorable the way the instrument was almost the exact same size as yourself

Like chan, he’s about as subtle as a gun with the way he looks at you

And he’s so enthusiastic during the performance, always hooting and clapping after each song 

And you take notice and find him so absolutely adobable because who wouldn’t

And after the performance he even yells encore so loudly and the rest of skz just laughs at his antics

But mans is so shy to approach you afterwards

He can barely move towards you 

It takes a jeongin a hyunjin and a whole ass changbin to mentally and physically push seungmin to say hi to you

And after a whole 10 minutes of convincing, he finally does

And you both talk and talk and talk that he doesn’t realize all the boiz left him

Traitors

So the two of you make plans to meet up another day

Another day becomes two

Then three

Then ten

And soon enough (after much pushing again from the entire skz) he asks you to be his officially

He always tries to show up to any and all of your gigs, big or small

And he’s sooooo boastful about it it’s so cute like he’ll have videos saved on his phone of you playing and send them to anyone and everyone

His parents, the skz gc

Almost sent it to jyp himself too lmao

You’re just so cool to him that he wants the rest of the world to know it as well

But, like minho, he won’t go near your instrument

He’s so intimidated by it it’s hilarious

So he sticks to watching it from afar and hfkjhkgjfh

Big smooch 

i.n

During a music event is when jeongin first laid eyes on you

But not because he saw you perform

Your performance group shared the same backstage lounge as skz and everyone was just getting to know each other

And you and jeongin really clicked well because you both were the youngest and the same age 

He had absolutely no clue who u were tho and he didn’t want to be rude so he didn’t ask what kpop group u were from

But as it turns out you weren’t apart of a kpop group at all

You were apart of an orchestra doing a special stage and you played the flute and jeongin was just like O_O when he found out 

You played the flute and damn did u play it well

Jeongin just stood in front of the screen astounded and seungmin did not and will not stop clowning him for it

After it ended, jeongin was quick to congratulate and compliment you 

And he rambles about how it was so unexpected and you blush so much because he’s so cute

And so you both exchange numbers and frequently text from then on, becoming really good friends

And then slowly developing feelings for each other

Cue cute highschool confession tingz

Jeongin as a bf is super adorable

He’s always asking you to send voice notes of you playing the flute

But not just to any song

He’ll request crackhead ones like the wii music, some trot song, into the unknown

And you’re just like????? Okay, my quirky king

And in return you force him to send voice notes of him singing more trot songs

He attempts to play your flute

But he always messes up but he’s so adorable that you tell him he’s doing great just so that he keeps playing cutely

:’))))))))))

choosing to do ot8 now,,, it’s difficult to imagine skz as ot9 in my head then be brought back to reality of ot8.. please understand :( but i will take separate woojin requests

[missjosie27]

Year 3 Part 3- Access Denied

Hey, guys! Really short chapter but the future ones will be much longer. Already at work for Year 4! Nothing much to say except I hope you enjoy! Bigger things are yet to come!

‘Work’ proved to be an understatement during the month of September.

With the addition of two electives, school work suddenly became much more difficult to manage. Of the ones David took, Care of Magical Creatures turned out to be quite wild. He didn’t really have much interest in animals but having Charlie in the class certainly helped him get along (though he remained hopeful about possibly seeing a dragon). The class was run by a rather eccentric man by the name of Silvanus Kettleburn, who had been at Hogwarts since the 1940s. That longevity was evidenced by the sheer number of injuries he had sustained during his time spent with creatures which included but was not limited too- a fake prosthetic leg, an eyepatch over his left eye, and a metal claw for a hand. Though Professor Kettleburn preached safety and caution, he himself did not always live up to such standards, as he constantly was being healed by Madam Pomfrey. Case and point was the first day when he received severe burns from fire salamanders. 

“This is nothing,” Charlie told him afterwards. “Legend has it that he was ten times more energetic than this back in the day. The previous Headmaster Armando Dippet placed him on probation sixty two times!”

Such a comforting thought.

There was no immediate risk of injury in Ancient Runes though David could tell right away that the class would not be easy. Professor Octavius was an extremely competent man at his subject but deciphering and learning ancient languages, codes, and other magical artifacts was not for the faint of heart. Bill Weasley told him that it was useful for curse breaking and one of the main reasons he took it was the focus on Ancient Egypt. He would hold off making a judgement just yet. Either way, it meant more homework for all of them.

Adding on to this was his own personal popularity. As he was reminded by Rowan, any secret at Hogwarts didn’t remain one for long. As returning students recovered from the shock of the previous year, rumors spread quicker than wildfire about his involvement in the cursed ice vault. Far from being seen as mad or miniature version of his brother, most regarded him as a hero who saved the school. The Slytherins weren’t too keen on congratulating him but aside from Merula and her squad he didn’t face much trouble from them either. It was an unfamiliar feeling, but David couldn’t deny it felt good.

Combining all of these factors, and the possibility of learning more about his brother at Hogsmeade, he was becoming increasingly distracted which would later come back to bite him.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Two weeks before Hogsmeade, Professor McGonagall made an appearance in the Gryffindor common room to collect all the permission slips.

“All third years please line up with your written signatures from your parents. The first Hogsmeade weekend will be October 14th on Saturday,” she announced.

David, Charlie, Rowan wasted no time in dashing upstairs with Ben in tow. Even Jae seemed eager to stamp his ticket to the all wizarding village. 

“Is Hogsmeade really all it’s cracked up to be?” Ben asked. “My parents couldn’t understand the appeal, but they allowed me to go anyway.”

“Trust me, mate. You’re going to have your mind blown by how amazing Hogsmeade is,” David told him enthusiastically. He’d personally never been but his parents and brother had regaled him many times about it…before the dark times.

“Bill’s gone loads of times,” Charlie added. “Says the experience never gets old. Even as you get older.”

“Especially since it will allow me to meet with contacts a lot more,” Jae said, giving a shifty grin. No one bothered to ask him what that meant. Sometimes with Jae it was better not to know.

By the time they reached Professor McGonagall, the girls had already turned theirs in (Olivia Miller was already giggling about a new brand of nail polish). However, when David approached his head of house she frowned.

“Mr. Grant please step to one side.”

He obeyed but did not like the way she looked at him when she said. Any time Minerva McGonagall used that tone it meant nothing positive.

“I’m sorry, Grant but I cannot allow you to visit Hogsmeade.”

David picked at his ear and strained in order to ensure he heard her correctly.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“You heard me, Mr. Grant.”

He began sputtering like an old worn out automobile.

“But-but…why?”

“Unfortunately, I am under specific instructions to forbid you to leave school grounds even with a permission slip.”

Instant indignation crept into his bones as he tried to resist giving a trademark sardonic remark.

“My parents, of all people, signed this slip. Now all of a sudden for no apparent reason I’m not allowed to go? How the hell is that fair?”

For a second he feared going too far with McGonagall, but thankfully she did not take away points.

“You seem to forget why you are at Hogwarts in the first place. Given your disregard for school rules, endangerment of others, and lack of self control, I have plenty of reason to prevent you from going to Hogsmeade.”

“I promised I’d meet Hagrid and meet Madam Rosmerta at the Three Broomsticks,” David continued to complain. “Professor, she knows more about my brother.”

He thought a family appeal might soften her heart, but he thought wrong as the Transfiguration master held firm and her posture was as uptight as ever.

“You are demonstrating my point. Like your brother you are too focused on trivial matters as opposed to your grades and schoolwork. Do not think I haven’t noticed the slip in your marks.”

“Oh, come on, I always get top marks in your class.”

“It is not my class that the concern stems from,” Professor McGonagall huffed, and David swore he saw the steam coming out of her nostrils. “Professor Flitwick has informed me that your charm work has suffered considerably since last year. If you want to earn Hogsmeade privileges, you will need to earn them Mr. Grant. And nothing you say will change my mind until I see evidence of that fact.”

David wanted to scream, shout, stomp his foot, do anything to show he wasn’t going to take this lying down. That he was not being held to the same standard as everyone else. How many poor marks had Jae received in his time at Hogwarts. He knew that either his parents or Dumbledore was behind this. Yet, there was little choice but to take her words in stride.

“Yes, Professor.”

“Good.”

As she walked away, no one looked him in eye (Charlie began whistling), not even the older students. David began muttering under his breath before a familiar voice began chastising him.

“Grant, don’t blame McGonagall. I know she’s tough, but she also has a point.”

He saw it was Angelica Cole and resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“Oh boy what a shocker. The person who enforces the rules supports the person who also enforces the rules. What a coincidence.”

“I’m well versed to your quips by now,” his prefect told him. He was almost as tall as her by now yet her stern gaze did not waver. “And you need to approach this differently.”

“Don’t pretend you’re any more objective than she was,” he shot back. “I know I lose as many house points as I gain but can you not point out my every flaw for once?”

“I’m not telling you this because I want to kick you while you’re down, Grant. Do as she says: study hard, improve in charms and she will treat you fairly. You know this as well as I do.”

There was something odd about the way she was speaking to him. In the previous two years, she would have been either condescending or lecturing. But ever since the incident with Ammon Lucian and helping Blishwick defend his sister’s honor her attitude towards him had noticeably changed. 

“Why are you saying this?”

“Because I’m trying to help you. You’re more than just Jacob Grant’s little brother and you’ve shown that time and again. Now it’s time for you to show you’re also more than wisecracks and causing trouble.”

If he didn’t know better David could have sworn he saw an uptick in Angelica’s mouth as she walked away. Almost as though she were humoring him in her own unique way. He almost didn’t notice Rowan come up behind him.

“I’m sorry that happened, Dave,” he said. “In front of everyone no less.”

“It’s alright,” he said shrugging. 

“For the record I don’t agree with Professor McGonagall banning you from going to Hogsmeade. But there is a bright side to this.”

“Which is?”

“You still have a couple weeks to raise your grades in order to come with the rest of us. And I’m not going without you.”

David gave a reluctant grin. He also knew that Rowan despite his misgivings was also ensuring he met with Madam Rosmerta in order to learn more about Jacob. He was also being a good friend.

“Well then, guess we better hit the books.”

“I’ve studied in nearly one hundred places all across Hogwarts and I can safely conclude that the library is the most efficient place to improve one’s marks in a subject in two weeks’ time.”

Thinking back to what Angelica told him, David gave an affirming nod. He wasn’t going to let a minor inconvenience like a bad charms grade stop him from going to Hogsmeade. 

“Then that’s where we’re going next. Let’s go.”

[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, @theydraggedmein!

Thanks for the amazing prompt! You asked for so many of my favorite things I had a hard time choosing and ended up with this. I hope you like it!

Read on AO3

*****

I Would Love to Love You

According to Scott, or more accurately, Scott’s sources, the gathering is in Colorado this year, on pack land high in the Rockies. It takes Erica and Stiles three hours on the highway from Denver and another forty minutes of winter-worn winding country roads to get to the Miles pack’s cabin, queasily diving in and out of cell reception.

By the time they arrive, Stiles has a cramp in his calf and he’s regretting the red vines he insisted on buying on their way out of the city, but the mountain air is crisp and fantastic. They’d spent the last leg of the drive with the windows down and the heat turned up, car flooded with the scent of pine forest. Erica hadn’t even complained about her hair once.

“Well, well,” she says, stepping around the car to stand next to Stiles and stare up at the lodge in front of them. “It looks like cabin was a bit of an understatement.”

“Yeah,” Stiles agrees, grabbing his duffel and laying a hand on the doorplate. “You wanna?”

“Always,” she grins, and they walk in together.

They step straight from the drive into a room of plush carpets and overstuffed leather couches. The fireplaces at each end of the room are large enough for Stiles to stand in, carved out of pale, mottled marble. Across from them, wide doors open onto a sweeping wooden deck.

“Hmm,” Erica runs her hand along the back of a tufted silver velvet armchair, raising an eyebrow. “How lush.”

“If you say so,” Stiles says, but she’s right. There’s a lambskin tossed over the chair’s matching ottoman. A pair of moose antlers adorn each fireplace, garlands winding around candelabra where they’re draped across the carved mantelpieces. He hikes his duffel bag high on his shoulder and stands up straight. “You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” Erica sighs, and together, they step out onto the deck.

An open meadow ringed with cabins and canvas tents stretches before them. Wood smoke drifts over the heads of the werewolves gathered on the grass. A dozen of them, half-shifted, chase each other in and out of the pines where the meadow bleeds into dense woods at its edges, mountains dwarfing the treetops in the distance. Stiles takes a deep breath in, tasting the smoke and the mountain air.

He’d known the gathering was a big deal but this is beyond anything he imagined. He’s never seen this many wolves in one place before, never more than the ones in his own pack, and Satomi’s. But here, there are hundreds: laughing, arguing, milling around the firepit at the center of the meadow. The atmosphere in the space is sharp and heady, anticipatory.

“I’ve never been to a werewolf summit before, but this definitely looks like one,” Erica says quietly. She’s scanning the crowd, nostrils flaring, shifting her weight to stand slightly in front of Stiles.

He rests a hand on her arm, squeezing lightly. “Yep, sure does. What do you say we find our cabin and get settled in? Then we can get started on making friends and trying to get an introduction to the Joergers.”

“Good idea,” she nods, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. If Stiles is overwhelmed by the sheer number and noise of the werewolves at the gathering, he can’t imagine how she feels. “Let’s do that.”

“Don’t leave yet,” a young man calls from behind them, stepping out of the lodge. “They’re about to announce the first challenge.”

He’s tall and thin, and followed by a girl with brown hair all the way down to her waist. She’s carrying a pile of snacks that she abandons on a chair on her way to them.

“The first challenge?” Stiles turns toward him, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes.” He glances between their blank looks. “I take it you haven’t attended a gathering before.”

“Nope,” Erica says. “So why don’t you explain it to us?”

“Oh, he will,” the girl snorts, ripping open a bag.

“The challenges are a way to show everyone how valuable you’d be as an ally or packmate,” he says, gesturing toward the field. “The participants are assigned a team and sent into the woods to try to steal a talisman from the other teams while defending their own. The last team standing wins. There’s a points system for the players, too, so everyone can—”

“Wait,” Stiles interrupts. “To demonstrate our physical fitness, strategic thinking, and ability to work on a team we’re going to play capture the flag?”

“No — no, it’s not capture the flag,” he protests, flustered. “It’s a traditional territorial defense competition.”

“It’s capture the flag,” the girl next to them confirms, crunching on a pork rind.

“Got it,” Stiles nods slowly. He learned a great many things in his thirteen years attending summer day camp before everything in his life reoriented to revolve around supernatural beings and ley lines and the Nemeton. How to absolutely kick ass at capture the flag was chief among them.

Spending the past five summers turning his spark of magic into a full-fledged flame probably hasn’t hurt his chances any, either.

“It’s not,” the kid insists, but before he can continue, the clanging of a giant bell echoes through the meadow, and as it gets louder and louder a chorus of excited, joyful howls rises up from the meadow in response.

“Werewolves,” Stiles sighs.

++

They’re at the gathering to forge alliances, not to win werewolf capture the flag, but Stiles does anyway, with the help of a small glamor or two to render him silent and scentless as he scrambles through the undergrowth in search of the other team’s talisman.

They aren’t very organized — they’ve only left one person to guard the wooden disk that they’ve tucked in the hollow of a burnt-out tree, and as soon as he’s chasing off after another werewolf, snarling in warning, Stiles slips out of his hiding spot and snags his prize.

“Like taking candy from a baby,” he laughs to himself — what, like he’s going to miss the opportunity for a classic line like that? — flipping the talisman over his knuckles as he goes to slip back into the trees, when he nearly runs headfirst into an incredibly naked muscled torso.

He looks up. The torso belongs to one alpha werewolf, shirtless and surprised. The blue band on his wrist tells Stiles they’re playing on the same team. “You got it?”

“Yep. And I’ll be the one to bring it back,” Stiles challenges. Every hair on the back of his neck is standing up, even though he’s not scared in the slightest — in fact, this guy is way hotter than he is scary, standing there barefoot in the middle of winter with leaves in his messy dark hair, smears of dirt on his arms, along his stubbled jaw. No, this is more like a static charge running up his spine, prickling along the small of his back, warming his cheeks. He shakes it off.

“In that case,” the werewolf says, holding his hands up and taking a step back. “Don’t let me stop you.” He pauses for a long moment, looking at Stiles. The corner of his mouth quirks up in an almost smile, and then he’s gone — turning and running back into the woods, but not before Stiles gets a one last look at him and the giant spiraled tattoo between his shoulder blades.

“Thanks, big guy,” Stiles mutters under his breath, shoving the talisman in his pocket and ducking back into the undergrowth. “But you couldn’t even if you tried.”

++

“Look! I made the leaderboard at the werewolf summit!” Stiles crows over dinner later, kicking Erica under the table and pointing at the wall with his fork.

“Fantastic,” Erica drawls. “You’re camper of the week. But can we actually do what we came here to do? Maybe we can even go home early.”

“Right,” Stiles says, spearing a chunk of carrot and settling in. “William Joerger is supposed to be here, but I haven’t seen him yet.”

Stiles knows this is hard on her — she’s gotten so much better at control in the years since she’s been bitten, but it was a long road for all of them after the rogue alpha tore through town and left a trail of newly-bitten teenage werewolves in his wake. New situations like this tend to still be difficult, even without hundreds of other werewolves in the vicinity.

“I miss Boyd,” Erica says, pouting as she picks at the venison on her plate. “How badly do we need an alliance with the Joergers, anyway?”

Stiles sighs. his isn’t the first time they’ve had this argument and he’s getting tired of it. “Technically, we can live without it. But if we can make a connection with them, we can make a connection with dozens of other older packs that are more traditional and reclusive and can tell us more about the Nemeton. They’re our neighbors and our best bet.”

“I still say we should have just driven up to Truckee and talked to them face-to-face. We could be skiing right now.”

“You know they’re too traditional for that. Another pack wandering onto their territory without a formal invitation? We’d be dead before we made it halfway up the mountain.” Stiles swipes a crust of bread through the sauce on his plate. “Without an introduction, we’re screwed.”

“And now we’re here,” Erica points out. “Playing werewolf capture the flag and eating in a giant dining hall with wolves from dozens of packs in Bumfuck, Colorado.”

“Winning at werewolf capture the flag,” Stiles corrects her, pointing at the leaderboard once more. “Winning.”

++

Stiles should be thinking about finding William Joerger, but instead he’s thinking about the werewolf in the woods when he leaves breakfast the next morning. Why didn’t he try to take the token from Stiles? What was it about him that made Stiles feel like he had touched a live wire? What color even were his eyes, anyway? Maybe that’s why he smashes full-tilt into the girl from the day before as she’s coming around the corner to the dining hall and lands on his ass on the strip of parquet flooring between the rug and the door.

“Hey, grace.” The girl offers a hand to help him up. “You might want to watch where you’re going.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Stiles groans. “Thanks for that. I’m sure this had nothing to do with the way you came around that corner at full speed.”

“Definitely not,” she grins. “How did capture the flag work out for you yesterday?”

“Not too bad.” Recovered, Stiles points at the board on the wall. “That’s me. Stiles Stilinski, McCall pack, from California.”

“Nice,” she says. “I’m Cora Hale, from the Hale Pack. Our territory’s in the Hudson River Valley.”

“So Cora, let me ask you something.” Stiles glances around — except for them, the lodge is blessedly empty — and lowering his voice. “Is it just me or is this whole thing —” he waves a hand toward the meadow, “— slightly weird and totally absurd?”

“You’re not wrong,” she says. “On either count. It’s kind of like… summer camp.”

“It’s a little…odd. That they do this every year.”

“It’s ridiculous,” she agrees. “And old-fashioned, and upholds stupid pack hierarchies. But my brother is a pathetically stunted hopeless romantic and totally clueless, so here I am.”

“He sounds like a real catch,” Stile says dryly.

“Yeah, well,” she sighs, shrugging. “He’s not so bad most of the time but something about the possibility of true mates makes him all… weird.”

“What? Mates?”

“Well, yeah. That’s the whole point of this entire gathering thing — or, that’s how it got started, anyway. Packs used to send their betas to try and find their true mates. Make an offer of courtship, see if a bond flares, walk away married. Now,” she shrugs and gestures around them, the wolves clustered in front of the fire, walking down the hall, two young betas talking quietly in a dark corner. “In theory, they’re here to find mates. In practice, they’re here to find someone to date, maybe formally court. Give the traditional gifts. Definitely to get laid by the end of the weekend.”

“Wait, you’re serious?” Stiles asks. “Everyone else is here to get engaged? We thought — I mean, we’re here to form alliances.”

Cora blinks at him. “Dude, duh. How do you think alliances are formed?”

“I don’t know!” Stiles gestures furiously. “Introductions. Negotiations. Treaties. Ceremonial gifts for allies. Not true mates and courtship and whatever this is!”

“I mean, you’re not wrong. But the oldest and easiest way back in the day was this. Gather over the Wolf Moon, compete in a bunch of stupid games, find someone to bone down, and leave with new packmates and allies. It’s tradition,” Cora shrugs.

“So instead of meeting potential allies and strengthening my pack, I’m spending the weekend at a werewolf singles’ sleepaway camp,” Stiles says flatly.

“It’s more like—” Cora starts to answer, but her voice is drowned out by a sudden chorus of howls rising up from the meadow outside. It sounds like every werewolf in the meadow is joining in as it grows louder and louder, finally coming to an abrupt silence.

“What the hell was that?” Stiles asks, blinking.

“It’s the hunt,” Cora says, and they step outside, just in time to avoid the rush of stragglers hurrying from the dining room out to the meadow.

“What’s the hunt?” Erica asks from behind them. At least someone is focused on the task at hand — Stiles keeps getting distracted by the crowd. There’s what must be a courtship presentation happening behind them, a tall, blond wolf kneeling and pulling an ornately carved wooden box from inside his jacket and opening it to reveal a fine gold necklace studded with rubies. Stiles stares, transfixed.

“This is the stupidest idea we’ve ever had,” he blurts out. “I don’t know what the fuck I’m even doing here.”

Erica laughs at him.“Right now you’re going to go on the hunt, whatever that means. Don’t forget about Joerger.” She pats him on the back. “We’ll figure the rest out when you get back.”

+++

Stiles finally finds Joerger beside a frozen pond, although ‘finds’ is a generous term: Joerger has Stiles cornered, pushed up against a tree trunk, a clawed hand fisted in the lapel of his jacket.

“Hand over your token, honey. I don’t want to have to hurt you.” Joerger leers and snaps his teeth. “Pretty little human like you has to be careful… accidents can happen when you play with wild animals.”

“I don’t think so,” Stiles says. This dude is… something else. “I’m gonna go ahead and keep my token, and pretend you didn’t say that last part. In fact, consider this your chance to take that back.”

The wolf barks out a laugh. “Nice try, human. You’re all alone out here. There’s no one for miles.”

“That’s too bad. I’d really like for someone to hear you beg me to let you go.” Stiles flexes and stretches his fingers, feeling around in the earth for the trees surrounding him. They shudder at the contact, branches rustling, sending a shower of leaves drifting down into the clearing.

“You — you’re the spark,” the wolf says, and lets him go, stumbling backward, eyes wide. “From that mutt pack in Beacon Hills.”

“Yep,” Stiles grins and sends roots shooting up out of the forest floor to twine around the wolf’s shoulders, yanking him down to the ground. He howls in frustration, trying to pull free, but the roots have grown over his arms, tangled around his ankles, woven around his waist. Stiles walks over, ignoring William’s low growl, and slips his fingers into the wolf’s pocket. They don’t need an alliance with the Joerger pack badly enough to put up with creepy predators and speciesist assholes like this guy.

“Thanks for these,” Stiles says, counting the tokens. There are seven gleaming silver pieces cupped in his palm. He pockets the coins and stands, headed deeper into the woods. “See you around.”

“Wait! You’re just going to leave me here?” William shouts after him.

“Oh, but I am,” Stiles calls back. That asshole can find his own way out.

++

Four rootbound werewolves and a handful of tokens later, Stiles climbs onto a granite shelf behind a towering juniper bush — the scent should keep everyone away while he rests — and stumbles into the alpha from the day before.

“It’s you,” Stiles says. His arms break out in goosebumps and his skin feels charged with static.

“And you,” the werewolf agrees. At least he’s wearing a shirt this time — though it’s a henley with thumbholes of all things — but he’s just as barefoot as he was the day before. The alpha gives him an evaluating look. “You wouldn’t have anything to do with the werewolves I’ve been found tied up in tree roots and vines, would you?”

“No idea what you’re talking about,” Stiles says, shaking his head. “And I’m absolutely sure that whoever did this had very good reasons and every one of them earned it.”

“That’s some impressive magic. Whoever did it must be pretty powerful.”

“It’s nothing special,” Stiles shrugs, and tries to shake the weird tense feeling out of his shoulders. “Amateur stuff, really.”

“I guess you’d know. You’re doing pretty well, according to the leaderboard. Amazing, for a human.” The werewolf grins a little, like werewolves do: crooked, predatory, a few too many teeth. For some reason, it doesn’t put Stiles on edge when this guy does it. Maybe because he looks impressed, not hungry. “I’m Derek. You were talking to my sister back at the lodge.”

“Stiles. From the McCall pack in California.” He looks up at Derek. He’s standing very, very close — they never really moved apart after bumping into each other — and looking down at Stiles. It’s intense, like an electric current running through Stiles from head to toe. He wants it to stop, and he doesn’t. “Aren’t you going to try to take my tokens?”

“Like you said before,” Derek says. “I don’t think I could if I tried.” He raises his eyebrows and turns to jump down to the forest floor.

“You’re not wrong,” Stiles says, grinning, watching him go. A strange, unbidden thought bubbles up in the back of his mind: he wants Derek to stay.

“I’d say good luck,” Derek says as he walks away. “But I don’t think you need any.” With that, he takes off running into the woods, and he’s gone.

++

“According to Cora, we were supposed to bring courtship gifts to this shindig,” Stiles tells Erica over breakfast the next morning, slicing into a baked apple half. “Specifically, a crown, a book, and a knife. Apparently big game was a traditional gift way back in the day, but everyone got tired of washing blood out of their clothes and the carpets.” Stiles watches a tall, dark-haired were unwrap a circlet from a fine cloth and present the token in her pale hands. The woman before her smiles slightly and nods, lowering her head to accept the gift — it’s a thin, gilt crown laden with tiny nests and songbirds, pearl eggs nestled in each one. It’s stunning.

“We’ve got one of those,” Erica offers. Stiles nods, thinking back to the illuminated medieval bestiary tucked into their luggage back in the cabin. “Good thing we’re not actually here to court anyone.”

“Yeah, good thing.” Stiles agrees, clearing his throat. “So hey, have you met Cora’s brother?”

“The pathetic one? No,” Erica sips her coffee. “Why?”

“No reason,” Stiles says. “We were on the same team in capture the flag. And I ran into him yesterday, during the hunt.” He pokes at his eggs. “He’s… intriguing.”

“Aww,” Erica grins over her mug. “Does somebody have a little crush?”

“Maybe. I don’t know. I don’t know him or anything. But, probably, yes. If having a little crush means he sends chills down my spine and I have the uncontrollable urge to fuck him until he cries and spend the rest of the night cuddling, staring into each others’ eyes and naming our future children. Is that too much, do you think?”

“Yes,” Erica says without hesitation. “Definitely. But too much is kind of your brand.”

Stiles laughs, groaning, and rests his forehead on the table. She’s not wrong.

Erica finishes her breakfast, but Stiles goes back for seconds. When he makes it back to his seat with a plate full of apple crisp, Cora’s there, biting into a slice of bacon.

“Good morning,” she says, raising an eyebrow. “I hear you’ve met my brother.”

“Yep,” he says. “Sure have.” He’s not sure where this conversation is going, and what’s more, he’s not sure he wants to find out. A shiver runs across his shoulders, remembering the weird, electric buzzing he’d felt with Derek in the woods the day before.

“Erica said your pack is from Beacon Hills.” Something about the way she says it isn’t quite friendly.

“That’s right.”

“Interesting. We’re from Beacon Hills, too.” And suddenly, Stiles’s brain makes the connection — the Hale family, burned to death in a house fire deep in the preserve, his dad coming home during breakfast, smelling of acrid smoke, tired and sad.

“Oh my god. You’re—”

“There’s something you should know,” Cora ignores him, barrelling onward. “About true mates. They’re rare. Rare enough that some people think they’re a myth. But the connection between them is strongest at the height of the full moon.”

“Okay,” Stiles says slowly. “What does that have to do—”

“I haven’t experienced it, but other people in my family have. Or did,” Cora reaches for another slice of bacon. “They said it was like an electric current running through their bones. A ringing in their ears, or a weird humming feeling in their ribcage. Different for all of them, a little unpleasant. But compelling. That’s what a true mate feels like when you meet them.”

“Oh,” Stiles says, heart skipping in his chest. He can barely manage to swallow. He doesn’t know what to say or think, can’t quite wrap his head around what all of this means, doesn’t know how to believe it. “But I’m not a werewolf.”

“Doesn’t matter. You’re pack,” Cora says, tossing her napkin on her plate and pushing away from the table. “Come on. It’s almost time for werewolf red rover.”

++

Stiles can’t sleep that night. He washes his face and brushes his teeth, changing into pajamas and siding into bed, but he can’t settle down. Wide awake, the moonlight limning the curtains, he tugs the comforter tighter around his body, blinking at the ceiling and turning to stare at the cabin door. Erica is breathing steadily the next bed over, nothing but a knot of blonde hair peeking out from under the coverlet.

It’s not until just shy of midnight that the restlessness shifts into something else — buzzing under Stiles’s skin, sparking in his mind, tugging him upright and alert. He blinks and he’s at the door, feet shoved into his boots, pulling his coat on over his pajamas, distracted, and he steps out into the night.

The meadow is empty, even the stragglers gone to bed, or gathered around the fires in the hall, he guesses, glancing over at the faint sound of laughter, can see shadows gathered on the couches and heads bent close. He doesn’t care — he’s pulled away by the feeling that dragged him from his bed in the first place. He knows, bone-deep, that what he’s looking for isn’t in the hall.

The wolves are out running tonight, except one: Stiles barely see him, but the thrumming at the base of his skull tells him it’s Derek, hovering at the edge of the forest, and waiting for him.

++

Stiles gently rests a palm flat against the pile of logs, focuses on the rough bark on the tips of his fingers. He thinks about warmth and light, a welcoming hearth. He exhales a slow breath in a cloud of frost, and when he opens his eyes, a crackling campfire leaps to life. Stiles takes a step back, shaking out his wrists.

“Thank you,” Stiles says to the fire, rolling his shoulders, stretching his neck. He realizes, coming back to himself, that Derek’s never seen him do this before. He chances a glance over his shoulder.

Derek’s not looking at the fire at all. He’s focused on Stiles alone, gaze surprisingly soft, awed. “Stiles,” he says finally, “that was…”

Stiles laughs uncomfortably. “Ha ha, yeah. A fun trick, huh?”

“No,” Derek insists. “No. That was amazing. You’re… I’ve seen magic before. But I’ve never seen anything like that. You didn’t have to do anything, you just — How did you learn to do that?”

“A little bit of inheritance, a little bit of luck, a little bit of necessity… It’s kind of a long story,” Stiles hedges, rubbing at the back of his neck. He’s so sick of blushing every time he talks to Derek Hale - it’s fucking embarrassing. He seriously can’t wait for this stupid gathering to be over.

“I’ve got time,” Derek says, the barest hint of a smile on his lips — more like a quirk, Stiles thinks. Not quite a smile.

“Well,” Stiles huffs out breath. “When we were in high school a few years back, my best friend was bitten. It was a rogue alpha, and the local hunters were kind of useless and more trouble than they were worth, so we had to handle everything ourselves. It was a complete and total disaster at the time, but at least we all survived.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah. Crazy, right? Then, after that, it turned out that the alpha had bitten someone else, too, but he had turned into a kanima. So the laughs never stopped. At least that time the local emissary decided to help us. I was supposed to trap the kanima with a ring of mountain ash all the way around an old warehouse. But he didn’t give me enough. I still had twenty feet left to go, too. So I closed my eyes and imagined that there would be enough, that I could keep everyone safe, just this once.

“And it worked. When I opened my eyes, the circle was complete. I shouldn’t have been able to — I didn’t have any training, and there really, really wasn’t enough. But it worked,” Stiles says. “And we lived.”

“That’s incredible,” Derek says, staring at him, and Stiles feels a tingling sensation shoot from his shoulder to his fingertips. “Usually magic doesn’t just manifest on its own like that.”

“Turns out my mom might have known a thing or two about this,” Stiles admits. “When she was still alive. But I’ll never be sure. After that happened, though, I started working at it, trying to be useful. Pull my weight a little.”

“So you’re in a pack?” Derek asks.

“Kind of. My best friend Scott is alpha of the pack. I hang around with them a lot, but they already have an emissary, so.” Stiles shrugs. “I’m sort of the spare.”

“But you’re so powerful,” Derek says abruptly, sincerely. “You should be a second, at least, if not an emissary.”

“Yeah, well,” Stiles says, flushing. “Thanks, I guess. I’m still learning how to control it.” He clears his throat, desperate to change the subject. “You’re from Beacon Hills, right? Cora said.”

“Yeah.” Derek’s expression darkens. “And I’m never going back.”

“Well, big guy, I can’t say I blame you.” Stiles adjusts his jacket, tugging the collar up. The humming feeling still hasn’t gone away. “You’ve got plenty of reasons to stay away.”

Derek looks at him. “You know what they are?”

“Some of them,” Stiles admits, grimacing uncomfortably. “I’m the Sheriff's kid. I know a little more than I should about a lot of things. But I know enough to know that what happened to your family probably wasn’t an accident.”

“It wasn’t,” Derek says, voice gone cold. “I trusted the wrong person. I was young and inexperienced and lonely, and she took advantage of all of those things to manipulate me and murder my family.” He looks away, into the fire. “She’s dead now. My older sister, my uncle, Cora and I went to live with family in New York. A couple years ago, she tried to come out there and finish what she started. She was unsuccessful.”

Stiles watches him in profile. “I understand. I’d kill anyone who even came close to hurting my dad. He’s all I’ve got.”

“She’s one of the reasons I’m here now,” Derek says, picking up a twig and tossing it in the fire. “I need to know I’m with the right person. Someone I can trust.” They sit together in silence for a long moment, listening to the hissing and spitting fire.

“I think I might be able to trust you,” Derek says finally, and stands, offering his hand. Stiles slides his fingers along Derek’s palm, grasping his open hand, and as he does, the low buzzing crawling under Stiles’s skin the entire night erupts.

“Do you feel that?” Stiles whispers, because he can’t feel anything else. It’s like there’s a swarm of wasps trapped between his radius and ulna, an electric current lighting up his bones, a resonant note vibrating through every muscle and tendon holding him together.

Derek inhales sharply, leaning closer. “I feel you,” he says, and when he kisses Stiles, when their lips finally touch, Stiles gasps, because all of it stops.

Everything is still and silent, except for the slow drag of Derek’s mouth on his, the soft sigh of his breath against Stiles’s cheek. His hand slides up Derek’s arm to weave his fingers through Derek’s hair, palm the nape of his neck. Derek slips an arm around his waist, pulling him close.

“Derek,” he gasps out, pulling back for air, “I want—”

“Yes,” Derek nods too quickly, “yes, anything.” And Stiles shuts him up with his mouth, shoves his hands under Derek’s shirt, fingers skating over muscle and skin.

“Fuck,” Stiles says. “Fuck, you’re so…” He trails off with a groan as Derek kisses down his neck, bites where it meets his shoulder, pushes his jacket off.

“You too,” Derek mumbles against his skin. Stiles runs his fingers along the waistband of Derek’s jeans. “You’re perfect.”

Stiles hisses out a breath as Derek pushes him back, pins him against a tree trunk, fitting their bodies together. He bends to kiss Stiles’s throat, scraping with his teeth. Stiles tugs Derek back up to kiss feels so good — Derek pressed up against him, warm and wanting, his hands roaming over Derek’s body, kissing deep and desperate. Stiles dips his hand down the back of Derek’s’ pants, grabbing handfuls of his ass, and Derek shudders against him.

“Is that okay?” he asks roughly, panting a little. Derek’s slightly breathless, too, his eyes half closed.

“Yes,” Derek says, “it’s okay,” and he grabs Stiles’s wrist, moving his hand to press up against the hard, thick line of his dick, clearly visible through his tight jeans.

“Oh my god,” Stiles manages. He scrambles to open Derek’s fly, shoves his own pajamas down to his thighs. “Yeah, come on—”

He groans when their skin touches, hips rolling against Derek’s, his dick bumping against Derek’s hip. Derek groans into Stiles’s shoulder. “Stiles. You smell so good.”

“You too,” Stiles says, like an idiot, but he can barely focus on anything other than the feeling of Derek’s dick touching his, trying to get a hand around them both, trying to keep his eyes open so he can watch. He spits into his palm and slicks his hand over the head of Derek’s dick, hot and smooth, and it’s that much better — the friction turned to a smooth glide as they find a rhythm together. Derek’s got one hand tangled with Stiles’s, wrapped around them, and one cradling the nape of his neck. He drags Stiles into a deep, filthy kiss and pulls back, resting his forehead against Stiles’s, watching their bodies move together, their hands, their dicks, and Stiles is — overwhelmed, feels so fucking good, is not going to last.

“Stiles,” Derek gasps again, and he’s coming all over both of them, hips jerking as he thrusts hard between them, and Stiles is following right after, crying out against Derek’s neck. There’s come all over his hand and his shirt but he doesn’t care, catching his breath while Derek leans against him, warm and sweaty and perfect.

“Now what?” Stiles murmurs after a while. Derek pulls away slightly, frowning.

“That depends,” Derek says slowly. “On what you want. There isn’t exactly a direct flight between Beacon Hills and Cold Spring. You have your pack, and I…” Derek trails off, sighing. “Mates are more important for werewolves than humans, even humans in packs. I can manage.”

“Do you… Is this not something you want? To manage,” Stiles asks. He doesn’t know Derek well enough to read him — yet, he tells himself, clinging to hope — but he seems reluctant. Resigned.

“I want to be with you,” Derek says quietly, gently squeezing Stiles’s shoulders. “But I don’t know how that works.”

“Me, too. I want that, too.” Stiles says hurriedly, but Derek just looks at him. He has to convince Derek he’s serious about this, but he doesn’t know how. “Wait… Wait. Just,” he grabs his coat off the ground, shaking off pine needles and shoving his arms in the sleeves as he turns. “Stay here.”

“Stiles, what —?” Derek starts to ask, but Stiles is already taking off back the way they came.

“Just, trust me! Stay there. I’ll be right back,” he shouts over his shoulder. It only takes him a few minutes to run out to the rock outcropping where they stood the day before.

He crouches next to a dense, thorny plum thicket. It’s an old one, he thinks, reaching up to trace a finger along one of its branches. It’s dormant, hibernating for the winter, exhausted and satisfied from a long summer and fall of flowering and bearing fruit.

“Hey there,” Stiles says. “You’ve earned your rest — your flowers this year were so beautiful and your plums were so delicious and perfect and juicy. I know you’ve got a long winter ahead and you need to save your strength,” he touches the end of a twig, the tip of the tree’s newest growth. “But I need to ask a favor.”

He walks back to the clearing carefully a few minutes later, and finds Derek sitting by the fire again, waiting for him. He walks past the fire and straight to stand in front of Derek, who’s looking up at him with wide eyes.

“Hi,” he says. “I don’t know if I’m doing this right, and I might be making a lot of assumptions here, but. Derek Hale, I ask you to allow me the privilege of your time and courtship.” Stiles drops to one knee, and offers up his gift: a crown of spiny branches, woven together in a single circle, laden with buds and the smallest most fragrant plum blossoms, a riot of bright yellow stamens at the center of each.

The moment’s stretching on a little too long, and Derek’s just looking at him, in that way he has — unreadable and far too intense. Stiles is starting to sweat a little — he can feel it cropping up under the collar of his coat — which suddenly seems like a stupid choice, his back so close to the fire, far too hot.

“Thank you,” Derek finally says, quiet and solemn, his fingers tangling with Stiles’s where he grips the crown. “I accept.”

Stiles watches, stunned into silence, as Derek rests the crown on his brow. It should look ridiculous on him, but it’s not — it’s perfect. Derek looks like a beautiful and wild thing, flushed from the heat of the flames, like a wolf on Beltane, eyes full of the fire of new life. Something deep in Stiles’s chest twists at the thought, a single word rising up in his throat as he desperately tries to swallow it down: Mine.

“Good,” Stiles says instead. “That’s good.” He grins, backing up a few steps and dusting his hands off on his thighs.

“Yeah,” Derek says, smiling back. “It is.”