#we were missing some of the usual killers and rivals this time so part of me wants to downplay the achievement

[doedipus]

I didn't get around to posting about it last night but I

WON

A TOURNAMENT

specifically dust up!! 12, run by despair-tea/lars-canyon

also pictured: despair-tea in 2nd, warmcoals in 5th, and deriveandd-e-r-i-v-e at 7th.

[fireflykaizoku]

Hey bestie if you don’t mind could you possibly do a body swap soulmate AU with Luffy but his s/o is the sister of Kid cause I’m sure he wouldn’t like that Luffy is his lol sister’s soulmate😂

bestieee hiii! omg that's such a cool idea, and it was so fun to write! kid is probably wondering "is this a nightmare?" i hope you like it! ❤

You woke up early and jumped out of the bed. Rushing to the kitchen, still in your pajamas, the crew greeted you. They smiled wishing you a happy birthday, while Killer and Kid brought a cake.

— Happy Birthday, brat. — Kid ruffled your hair. — As you get older, you get less annoying. If you find your soulmate this year, I hope they’re ready to deal with you.

— And I bet I’ll find my soulmate before you even find yours. — you laughed.

The day was full of celebrations, beer and food, while Kid tried to keep an eye on you to be sure you wouldn’t drink too much. The man was quite protective, even though he tried to pretend he didn’t care. It was his duty to keep you safe, not just because he was your captain, but because he was your brother.

Luffy opened his eyes, and found weird enough the fact he couldn’t smell Sanji’s food or Brook singing. Instead, he heard more voices than the usual. Opening his eyes, he noticed right away it wasn’t the Sunny. The boy scratched his head, wondering what this place could be.

He got up and looked around, maybe the Strawhats dragged him somewhere while he was sleeping. Until he found a familiar figure from far.

— Oi, Jaggy! — he said, waving at the redhead, who raised an eyebrow. You’ve never called him that before. In fact, there was only one person who called him that.

— (Y/N)? — Kid asked. — What’s wrong?

— What? No, it’s me, Luffy! — the dark haired boy giggled.

Then it hit him. You switched bodies with your soulmate, and even worse, your soulmate was that Mugiwara. Out of all people, except Trafalgar, why him? Why destiny had to make him your soulmate? Luffy would start thinking they were friends, what a nightmare.

When the others realized what happened, they couldn’t help laughing at their captain’s misfortune, while Killer patiently went to explain Luffy the situation and how to switch back.

Meanwhile, you woke up with the smell of food, but it smelled differently from what Killer usually made. You could hear giggles, singing and weirdly enough, female voices. That was odd, since the crew didn’t bring any girls to the Victoria Punk, since the ship hasn’t docked in a couple of weeks.

You opened your eyes and realized it wasn’t your room. You saw other beds, and the decoration was completely different. Next to you, there was a strawhat, a hat you remembered well, not just from the wanted posters, but also from the time you’ve met the other Supernovas in Sabaody, and later in Wano.

When you realized you switched bodies with Monkey D. Luffy, captain of the Strawhat Pirates, your mind was a little confused. First, you were glad you already had the chance to see who your soulmate was; but also, you couldn’t help laughing imagining your brother’s reaction when he found out. They were rivals, and they were completely opposites.

Kid would probably be angry and against this. But there was nothing he could do, soulmates are meant to be together, right? You deserved a happy ending.

You saw everyone sitting and having breakfast, you even remembered their faces, but didn’t quite remember the names. When you acted shy, unlike their captain’s usual attitude, that’s the first time the crew noticed something was off. During breakfast, you didn’t eat like he did, neither tried to steal food from the other plates.

— Luffy, what’s wrong? — a girl with orange hair asked, she seemed surprised and worried. — You didn’t eat even half of your food.

— I’m full, thank you. — you smiled, hoping they’d buy it. Obviously you only made it worse.

While some seemed to choke on their food after you statement, and even the green haired man, who apparently was asleep, woke up right away. All you could do was look at them asking if you were sick, if something was wrong, and calling a reindeer that would be able to take care of you. Everyone was talking at the same time, and it was hard to try to answer them.

Until a dark haired woman, with a friendly smile, said something.

— He switched bodies with his soulmate. — she giggled. — Didn’t you?

You nodded, and finally everything got quiet. Well, at least for two minutes, until the crew asked many questions at the same time. They wanted to know your name, if you were from an island near them, what you did for a living, and so many other questions.

— I’m (Y/N). — they all got quiet, listening to what you were saying. — I don’t live in an island, but I’m part of Kid’s Pirates. — you said, a bit worried they would treat you different because of that. — I’m Kid’s sister.

Everyone gasped, not even ready to process that information. They remember seeing you many times from far, but couldn’t even imagine you and Kid were siblings. There wasn’t even a small resemblance.

They made you feel very comfortable, reassuring that they’d help you find the Victoria Punk, and fix this situation soon. The day went pretty normal, with the blonde making snacks for you and the other girls, the skeleton asking to see your panties when you switched back, and the cute little reindeer asking questions about you.

The Strawhats seemed to be fun, treating you as part of the crew.

— We’ll arrive in just a few hours if the weather doesn’t change. — Nami smiled. — Are you excited?

— Yes. — you giggled. — A little nervous too. I’ve seen Luffy before, but now it’s different. And thank you for treating me so well.

After dinner, you sat on the deck with the others. You wondered what would happen after switching back. The only thing you knew for now was that you’d miss them.

One or two hours later, you spotted the ship from far. It was exciting, your heart started beating fast and you couldn’t help walking around in circles. You jumped in on the Victoria Punk as soon as the ships were close enough from each other.

— Finally! I had to spend the whole day with him! — your brother glared at Luffy. — He thinks we’re friends now, and he didn’t leave me alone.

— I had a nice time, though. — you smiled. — They’re so cool, and treated me like family.

Before Kid could tell you not to get any ideas, Luffy ran towards you, with his signature giggle.

— Oi, (Y/N)! Killer told me how to switch back. — the boy smiled. — We need to kiss! Let's kiss!

Your cheeks got red, not expecting Luffy to be so straightforward, especially not in front of your brother. When you least expected, the boy pulled you into a kiss. Holding your face with his hands, it was clumsy and even sloppy. He didn’t know what he was doing, and you were caught off guard and couldn’t even kiss him properly. That and the crew having to hold Kid who kept saying “stay away from my sister” couldn’t create a better mood for the first kiss.

Surprisingly, felt his arms wrapped around you, using his devil fruit powers to hold you tight. You opened your eyes and saw Luffy so close, with a wide smile. How you two fell in love? You would never know. It was sometime between Sabaody, seeing each other in Wano, or during this whole day when you were in each other’s body.

— Brother, I want to stay with them. — you pouted. — I want to be with my soulmate.

— No, I won’t let you stay with him! He’s my rival and that’s unacceptable!

— Don't worry, I’ll take care of her, Jaggy! — he smiled, stretching his arms to grab you and pull you closer. — And now that we’re almost family, we can start an alliance!

[outofsstyles]

KILLER QUEEN (80s!AU)

 A/N: Heyaa!! So here’s what happens when I watch Sing Street right after reading some of Olivia’s boyfriend!Harry prompts :) Also a huge thank you to Soph @canyon-moan​ for betaing this for me!! A gentle reminder that I was not, in fact, alive in the 80s so please take it easy in that aspect lol. If you like it *please reblog*, it helps a lot, also I’d love to hear your feedback!!!!

Word count: 25.3k (I have no self control!! Someone stop me!!)

Pairing: Musician!Harry + Bassist!Reader

Prompts: making it official + enemies but secretly lovers

Warnings: Our typical mentions of sex, drugs and rock ‘n’ roll (and a lot of denim!)

Concept: You and Harry are in rival bands and you shouldn’t really get along but you can’t help it.

                                 ❁         ❁        ❁ 

It didn’t come as a surprise to you that, from the moment you agreed to be part of the band, your agenda would become more frantic. That’s all you read on magazines or see on the television on those late nights MTV programs that love to talk about that rockstar life. The shows and the sleepless nights. The drugs and the sex between stages. It’s always what comes to the minds of anyone that thinks about following the music path.

Of course, you’re far from being The Bangles or Duran Duran, but even when it comes to playing for uninterested drunks on small crummy bars, you still found yourself barely able to catch a breather from it. 

And it also doesn’t help that on top of it all, you also try your best to balancing your studies as you go into your third year of uni. So, between being tucked behind your bass during rehearsals and going around begging for stuck up pub owners to give a spot, you still have to find time for the busy class schedule that also blends with your tutoring job on the side. Sometimes it feels like juggling those two contrasting lives is too much, and when you walk home each day too exhausted to even function, you ponder if you should just drop one of them.

You still manage to fall into a rather chaotic routine of dragging through weekdays to fall into reckless weekends. It’s not easy, but you make it work.

Today, however, seemed to be an odd one. From the moment you woke up with the sound of birds chirping and the faint conversation of your neighbors outside your window, you felt a sense of relaxation that has become a rarity to you. It’s a welcoming change from your usual rowdy roommates bantering at each other or the loud music blasting through the walls that serve as your alarm on regular days. The silence that engrosses your normally-chaotic home is calming as much as it is strange. 

The whole day went by in a lulling and lazy pace, and between your several attempts of keeping yourself occupied (that being going on a walk to the library or going through your mom’s old recipe book) you actually catch yourself realizing the quietness can be louder than your roommates.

It’s a weird concept to you. Missing them when you spend so much time together in the band, but you still can’t help it. So you just blast the radio and let Rio fill in the empty walls as you wait for one of them to come home.

By the time the night falls, wind thumping on the closed windows as the first thin drops of rain start to hit the glass, Lena is back from her shift with a low huff and a roll of her eyes, mumbling how she’s never covering weekend shifts ever again -- which you both know is not true, but neither mention it. And that’s how you find yourself at the end of your unruffled day, tucked at the end of your couch under a cozy blanket. Listening to one of MTV’s nightly programs - that Lena watches almost religiously after a day of work - as background noise. You focus on the open book settled on top of your lap, enjoying her company quietly as you flip through the pages.

It could be the perfect ending for a perfectly relaxing day, the sound of the rain almost lulling you to sleep as the words in front of you begin to shuffle, finding it harder to concentrate with your mind drifting off.

But before you can let your eyes fall close and your head snuggle back into the cushions, you’re startled awake by the burst of your front door opening. The sudden noise makes you and Lena jump, a yelp leaving your lips as you look back to the source of your fright. 

You barely have any time to feel panicked or even wrap your head around the possibilities of what could have caused the outburst as Abbey barges into the room.  She all but jumps on each step, stumbling a bit as she makes her way around the couch to stand tall in front of you. Her red hair is full and damp, droplets of water running down her body, causing her clothes to stick to her skin.

“I got us a gig!” Her breath is short as if she just ran a long way.

“Christ, Abbey, don’t do that!” You relax back into the couch once you realize there’s no real threat invading your home, closing your eyes and letting out a breath. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

She scoffs, “Did you listen to a word I just said?” You notice her eyes are blown out, “I got us a gig, as in a </i> real gig.”

“A real gig?” Lena inquires, standing up to walk towards the front door that was left agape, closing it with a thump.

Abbey’s grin grows, her words come out slow but clear. “Next Saturday in the Blue Bird.”

“That’s in a week.” You state.

Her shoulders drop, “Yeah, and?”

“Blue Bird?” Lena comes in the room again, stopping by the head of the couch and crossing her arms under her chest. “How did you even get that I thought the only band that played there was--”

“You’re right Lena, was as in not anymore because we are playing there, and there’s more.” She interrupts, her voice raising an octave. “The owner, Ronnie, said if we’re good enough he can arrange for us to play every other weekend.”

“You’re insane.” You shake your head slightly. “That’s like a place where people actually go for the music, what makes you think we can pull that off?”

Abbey points a finger at you, “You’re being a pessimist, and that’s not appreciated in here.” She waves her hands around, trying to assert her point. “We can and we will pull that off and take over the permanent spot on the weekends.”

“Is that what this is about?” Lena smirks, eyebrows raising at her friend. “It’s been a hot minute since you raged about that Harry boy.”

 “It’s not just about him, Adeline.” She barks, “It’s about us! We need to find our confidence again.”

 “Again?” You speak out, making her snap her eyes back at you.

“Yes, again.” She says, “We’re doing this and it’s gonna be wicked.”

You sigh, nodding in agreement as you exchange a knowing look with Lena.

In all fairness, the prospect of playing a gig at an actual music house is as exciting as it is scary. It’s not like you think you’re not able to pull it off, but the simple thought of having people actually paying attention to your presence on stage is enough to make you want to hide under your covers and never come out. But seeing Abbey so pumped about it, there’s no way in a million years you’d ever say no.

She was the one that wanted to start a band, after all. Before she dropped out, in what seems like ages ago, she was your roommate that would drag you around every time she had those spontaneous ideas, that is going out for pancakes at three in the morning, go on weekend trips to concerts two cities away, or, well, start a band herself.  

In the beginning, it was just the three of you, Abbey as the lead, you on the bass, and a girl you met on one of the said weekend trips, who had introduced herself as Lena, on the guitar. And not even a month later, you were all living together in a tiny house near the main street. 

At first, the biggest issue, to your surprises, was that you couldn’t find a drummer if your lives depended on it. Even after putting out posters around campus, you only got two calls from men whose only interest was the “all-girls band” part of it. Things got better when you met Jaz, a smiley girl from your Phonetics class. She wasn’t a drummer, but her boyfriend was, they both played for their High School band (which is how they met, a proper movie-worthy story if they’d ask you). And just like that, you got yourselves a drummer and a keyboardist.

For the next few months that followed you played on dirty bars and house parties, getting paid with tipsy pats on your backs, or, if you were lucky, maybe a pack of cheap drinks for you all to share. It’s the frustrating part of trying to get into the music path, you found, most serious places were not interested on a band with hardly any live experience and no original songs whatsoever. So you just had to take whatever opportunity came your way. Once, you even played on the birthday party of Lena’s manager’s daughter, which was probably the most disastrous experience of them all, considering a crowd of eight-year-olds and their posh moms weren’t exactly fond of listening to loud covers of Blondie. You got to play three full songs before one of them asked you to leave. 

The first time you actually got money was when Abbey dragged you and Lena to play on the sidewalk of the National Park, where people would come and go with their busy lives and full wallets. That was the best one, you easily got three hundred within a few hours of your open cases, which was split between the three of you at the end of the day.

Afterward, you wanted to play on the streets again, but Abbey wished more than just being a street performer, she yearned for the glow of the spotlights and a place on the stage. And it’s not like you lot didn’t think of it as well, how it would be like to have an actual gig. So, you just went back to the old routine of jumping from bar to bar.  Playing for people that couldn't care less about your presence on the small stage, focusing only on their cheap beers and drunk conversations. 

For a while it seemed like that was all there was to it, the music scene getting more congested by the minute, you thought there was no way you’d ever make it out there. There were moments you even thought about giving it up, if you were honest, setting your mind into getting your English degree that at least has the guarantee of a stable paycheck by the end of it. But as Abbey always says, there’s nothing you can’t do with a twist of your hair and a bat of your lashes. And somehow, she managed to be true to her word, presenting an opportunity to actually start taking this seriously.

And it would be a lie to say there isn’t an excitement growing at the pit of your stomach the more you think about it.

                                ❁         ❁        ❁ 

You’ve heard about the Blue Bird before.

Of course you have, it’s near to impossible not to. Being in a small town, predominantly surrounded by uni students, and that being the only music pub in the area, you’ve heard about it quite often. 

It’s become quite the hot spot for people interested in listening to good music while getting lost in the bottom of their beer glasses. With the only other competitor being a good forty-minute drive away, people go in crowds on the weekends as a getaway from their textbooks. You’re not sure why you’ve never been in it, though, only going as far as walking past it on your nightly walks during the week, listening to the faint sound of whatever band’s playing at the time. 

But if there’s one thing that’s always brought up when the subject is the Blue Bird is CHASM, more specifically Harry Styles. They have the permanent spot on the weekends and have become one of the main reason people - women, mainly - come in lots to have a spot inside the packed space. 

As much as his name comes up in a dreamy sigh and followed by a string of giggles when you hear it being mentioned by a classmate or overhear it somewhere in public, inside of your bubble he’s pretty much only mentioned in annoyed huffs or with a roll of eyes. If you’re honest, you know close to nothing about him, wouldn’t even be able to point him out on the street if you ever happen to cross paths. But you do know that Abbey is not fond of him in the slightest, so for that, you try to keep your distance from anything that has to do with Harry Styles.

You’re not sure how this hatred of her came to be and to be honest, you’ve never really been bothered enough to ask. Abbey doesn’t like a lot of people, her first impression of them it’s what she keeps in her heart with zero to no chance of changing it, so you just assume this Harry guy might’ve not given her a good one. It’s never really been something you really dwelled on, the circumstances in your life allowing you to ignore his existence unless he’s being spoken of. But it feels like a whole nother story now that you’ve essentially stolen his golden spot on the saturday night. 

The moment you walk into The Blue Bird is when you start to come to the realization that this is really happening. Not even a full step in, your eyes already dart to the big stage standing tall across from the entrance door, bigger than any other one you’ve ever been in -- being used to small platforms that barely have enough space to fit a drumset. it’s hard not to let your lips part in awe at the size of it all, the outside is rather modest compared to it, the only really striking detail being the LED sign with the name of the pub. There’s a large bar standing in the middle of the place, serving almost as a divisor of the two areas of the pub. The first area is the one you walk into as you first enter the place, with tables surrounding the space -- that now have their chairs propped on top of them, and you reckon this is where people sit around as they wait for the musical act of afterward when they can barely keep themselves up on their feet. The second area, however, it’s just empty of any barrier, except from the stools lined in front of the bar, meant mainly for people to crowd in front of the stage.

The walls are what catches your attention, though. The one where the front door stands is covered with magazines and newspaper cutouts of celebrities, scandalous headlines written in big bold letters, and random articles about their personal lives. On top of this big collage, there are band posters, you assume the ones that played in here, most of them stuck once to the wall, except for one that you can see multiple different colored papers with the same name written on it. 

You stop in front of one of them, one that’s just below your eyesight but catches your attention with the big blood-red letters that read CHASM on top of it, with a smaller font on the side saying  “live every weekend of ‘87” right below it. What you focus on, however, are the five faces staring back at you, their serious expressions looking almost haunting with the black and white filter. But it’s the one in the middle that your eyes immediately dart to. Unlike his bandmates, his lips are frozen with a slight smirk, small enough that wandering eyes could easily miss it, but still prominent enough that you can make out the shadow of a dimple on his cheek. His hair is settled in a wild nest, but not in a sloppy way, you decide, they’re a rockstar kind of messy. He’s handsome, there’s no doubt in that, just by looking at the small print of his face you can understand what the fuss is about, not that you’d ever admit that out loud. But it doesn’t keep your mind from wondering the color of his eyes and what it would be like to see them up close, as you look back at the taunting grin you think what could be the tone of his lips or--

“Lost something in there?” Lena’s voice makes you jump, turning swiftly to find her grinning at you. “You should come and start getting everything ready before Abbey finds you admiring our arch-nemesis.”

Your eyes widen, coughing in surprise as you try to regain composure after being caught. “I-- I wasn’t--”

She chuckles, turning to roam back to the stage before you can finish, throwing you one last look over her shoulder. “Sure thing, buttercup.”

You spare one last look to the poster before following her lead to the other side of the room where the rest of your friends are setting up the instruments on top of the stage. Once you locate your case tucked in the far left corner you quickly open it, finding your soft pink tinted bass resting inside of it. The Sesame Street sparkling stickers stuck to it glimmer from this angle (you got them in a favor bag from when you played at the birthday party), thanks to one of the spotlights shining directly at them. You pick the instrument up, adjusting the strap over your shoulder and giving the chords a few experimental strokes before looking up at the empty place.

There’s no denial of the anticipation that takes over every part of your body at the sight of the pub from the stage. A perfect mixture of excitement and anxiousness that lights up as you imagine how it will be like to see it filled up. It makes you gnawn at you bottom lip, jumping a bit on you feet as you move to connect your bass to the amplifier.

For a while, you just finish setting up the stage, tuning in the instruments, the sounds echoing on the empty space in a bit of a disarray, as you get used to the feeling of using proper sound equipment. You had the chance to meet the owner, Ronnie, for a brief minute as he strolled around the stage, observing you all before mumbling something about paying anything you broke and announcing he’d be in his office until opening hours. It wasn’t the warmest greeting you’ll admit, but you don’t really care, enjoying the opportunity nevertheless. 

Abbey arrives just a few minutes before the rehearsal is set to start, contemplating the view of everyone getting into a more of a harmonic arrangement before disappearing backstage for a moment without saying much of a word. When she comes back, she props herself in front of a big curved mirror cutting through one of the walls.

“Do you think you can do my makeup today, babe?” She calls back at you, gazing from over her shoulder with a slight pout on her ips.

“Sure.” You fiddle with the guitar pick between your fingers. “Do you want that rainbow look from last time?”

“Maybe something with less color this time.” She focuses back on her reflection, sighing loudly as fingers run through her locks. “I’m thinking of dying my hair black,” she tilts her head as if she’s envisioning her words. “I don’t know, just to try out something new.”

“That won’t make you look more like Joan Jett, you know.” A voice echoes in the empty space, bringing your attention to the entrance of the place.

And there he stands. The figure you had been staring at not long before, on the same poster stuck right behind where he is leaning, arms crossed and a smug look on his face. 

Harry stands there as if he just walked right out of the big screen, is the kind of beautiful you don’t see quite often outside a magazine cover. Not that it’s something that surprises you, considering you could tell from even a poorly printed image on a poster that the sharp curve of his jaw and the cut of his cheekbones could call anyone’s attention from afar. Even with what you find to be a rather plain outfit for someone like him, a simple white turtleneck tucked in his lightwash jeans, matched with a denim jacket, he still manages to stand out somehow. It’s almost compelling, really. And you can’t help but follow him with your eyes as he pushes himself off the wall, making his way towards the bar with an attitude as if he owns the place.

Abbey scoffs from her spot, arms crossing under her chest. “Unlike you, I don’t have to try to be someone else to get attention, Styles.”

He rests an elbow on top of the counter, chuckling as he points a finger at your friend. “You’re getting better at this, I’m proud.”

“What the fuck are you even doing here?” She barks, keeping a stern look pointed at him.

“Wanted to check out who stole our Saturday night spot, princess.” He spits back at her, words dancing around the room in a teasing manner. “When Ronnie said it was a bunch of newbies had to see it with my own eyes.” Unlike her, he doesn’t seem bitter at the situation in hand, but somewhat amused at the heated girl scoffing at him. From the distance you stand, you can’t make out details, but it’s still enough to notice the grin imprinted on his face, dimples marking his cheeks as he clenches his jaw, eyes wandering around the stage as he leans back fully to rest both elbows on top of the stool. “Plus, I get free booze before the House opens.”

As the words leave his lips his eyes meet yours, and you quickly realize you must’ve been staring for quite a while. You see the smirk growing on his face before you quickly look back at the forgotten bass in your hands. There’s a warmth creeping from your neck to the tip of your ears from getting caught all but gawking at him. You move your hands to the cords, beginning to tune the instrument as an attempt to cover-up. But when you take a peek at him you still find his eyes watching you, only enhancing the blush that’s now undoubtedly taking over your cheeks.

“You lot are way more organized than I expected.” He speaks up again, motioning towards Ross sitting by the side of the stage near the drumset.  “Got a roadie and everything.”

“Piss off!” Ross snarls back at him.

Harry just smiles. “Just taking a piss, mate.”

“I better not see you going around trying to get to one of my girls, Styles.” Abbey calls back from her shoulder as she jumps onto the stage, turning to face him. “Or you’re a dead man.”

“What’s that they can’t speak for themselves?” He arches his brows at her. “Where’s all that sexual freedom you love to brag about?”

“You’d love to use that as an excuse, wouldn’t you?” She toys with the mic stand. “You stay away from them.”

There’s no more banter once you begin the rehearsal. Harry grabbing a glass of a drink you can’t quite make out from the distance and moves to a spot tucked by the back of the place. Curiously, you catch yourself glimpsing in his direction every so often, but you can barely make out his silhouette due to the stage lights limiting your vision. At one point, when it dims down, you can see him scrunching over the table, focusing on a small journal sitting on top of it -- you find it odd his choice of place to do so, but don’t duel on it too much.

What keeps crawling back into your mind is Abbey’s words to Harry earlier, telling him to not try his way with any of you. She was talking about you. That much was clear, considering there’s not any other choice for him, with Jaz being very much compromised and Lena having no interest in engaging with men in any way. That leaves you as the only option that he could possibly pursue. It makes you think why she’d even consider that a possibility in the first place, but you push it to the back of your mind, concentrating on you bass lines until it’s around the opening hour and you’re getting ready backstage.

None of you are used to the concept of having a dressing room, so as undusted as it seems from a first glance, it still only helps to enhance the reality that hits you of this whole experience. The far voices from people starting to fill in the bar outside making your nerves become near overwhelming as you try to apply some eyeshadow with shaky hands. 

When you’re all ready to go, just about half an hour away from walking onstage, you try to dull your anxiety with a cup handed to you by Lena of something you’re not quite sure what it is but it tastes like oranges and tequila. You settle on a spot on the certainly old red couch prompted against the wall. Avoiding a big rip cutting through the middle of it, foam poking out of the hole, you try not to think of what could’ve caused it -- or all the other stains adorning it. 

There’s people coming and going around the space, the door not staying close for longer than a minute. Faster than you can process it, the room is suddenly crammed with people, none of which you recognize yet they greet you as if you’d been friends your whole life. Their loud voices mesh together, making it harder to even hear your own voice if you were to speak out loud. A strong scent of incense takes over the room, so intense you can feel the beginning of a headache. There are people stumbling on their feet trying to get to the stool across from you, where you catch a glimpse of a man with a messy mohawk snorting something out of a dirty bill. 

Two strangers found their sits next to you at some point - not paying the same attention you had to the rip scarring through the cushions. Both get lost in their conversation, the man’s fluffed curls poking your face occasionally when he gets too excited with the hand gestures. You catch a word or two when they try to include you in it, you offer a simple nod, not bothering to try and understand their muddled words.

It all starts to feel a bit overwhelming, the amount of strangers surrounding you along with the nervous feeling that’s already taking over your stomach -- the drink not being of any help at all. You look around trying to find a familiar face, but you can barely spot the green ends of Lena’s hair through the crowd. Gazing down at your wrist clock, you figure there’s enough time for you to find a emptier spot so you can calm yourself down.

“I think I’m gonna get some air.” You say to no one in particular, seeing the man’s head nodding from your peripheral vision as you maneuver your way between leather-clad bodies towards the door.

You’re met with a just as packed hallway. Searching for a more vacant space, you spot a sign indicating an exit door that had been pointed at you earlier as the back alleyway. Without a second thought, you make your way around the crowded space. The nest of feet makes you trip slightly, making you crash against a girl standing next to the door. You mutter a quick apology, but you’re only met with a pitched giggle in response.

Once you reach the door you all but jolt your way out of the building. The brisk night air hitting your face, bringing a sense of relief near to instantly. You close your eyes at the feeling, breathing in as the breeze dances around your face and messes with your air.

“Well, if it’s not one of Abigail’s bunnies.” A voice cuts through the air, breaking you from your moment of relief. Your eyes flutter open, meeting Harry’s irises watching you. He’s leaning back on the wall across from you, foot prompt up and jacket thrown over his shoulders. His fingers fiddle with a closed package of cigarettes, dimples shadowing on his face in amusement.

You blink at him, taking a second to process his words. “I’m not a bunny, whatever that means.”

His lips twitch up. “I’m sure you’re not, darling.”

You observe as he thumbs the package in hand open, quickly grabbing a cigarette and resting it between his lips. “Need a light for that?”

His brows shoot up. “Didn’t take you for a smoker, angel.”

“I’m not, my friends are.” You reach for the back pocket of your jeans, pulling out a tiny pink lighter and throwing it towards him.

He catches it, holding it up between his index and middle finger. “You carry that around for your friends?” He keeps his eyes trained on you as he raises the lighter, flicking it so it paints the end of the cigarette a fiery orange. You can’t help but notice the chipped black nail polish adorning his nails, a couple of rings hugging his fingers, only adding to his rockstar persona. His cheeks hollow around it, taking a slow drag exhaling smooth puffs of smoke out of his puckered lips. He points the end of the cigarette towards you. “That’s a good girl.”

You feel your breath hitch on your throat, looking down as you feel for the second time in the day a heat taking over your cheeks. Standing awkwardly in the middle of the alleyway, your gaze waves around checking a few other lone smokers not too far from you. When you peek at him again, he’s still watching you with the same smug look he had when he first walked in. From this distance you can get a better look at his face, with it’s full colors, and you make a point to figure the forest green of his eyes flickering under the dim light. 

You clear your throat, trying to fill in the silence that’s taken over the space. Keeping your eyes still trained on a random spot where the alley meets the street, you speak up,  “So, how did get a gig here?”

“Trying to get to know me now, love?” There’s a smug tone to his voice, and it makes you shoot your eyes at him.

You shake your head, scoffing softly. “Was trying to be nice, forget it.”

He lets the air fall quiet for a beat, the corner of his lips tugging up as he takes another drag of the cigarette. “My uncle owns the place.”

“Ronnie is your uncle?” You crease your eyebrows.

“Yup.” He props his foot down from the wall, kicking a small rock on the floor. “He’s a right prick, but he can be nice if you get on his soft spot.” He shrugs, eyes meeting yours. “What ‘bout you, bunny?”

 “What about me?”

“How did you get in the spotlight?”

You breathe out a laugh, shaking your head. “I’m not in the spotlight,” 

“You’re stepping on that stage in a few minutes, love, that’s hardly true.”

You chew on your lip, locking your eyes on your feet as you sway back and forth gently. “But I’m, like, on the invisible side of the stage.”

“Invisible side?” 

You shrug, trying to appear unflappable. “Yeah, well, no one ever notices the bassist.”

“I do.” He says without skipping a beat, and when you search for his eyes they’re aloof as if the words just left his lips without a single implication behind them. You wonder if there is one. Or maybe you’re just reading too much into it. Nonetheless, it doesn’t stop a flock of butterflies to sweep on your stomach as he shoots you a warm smile. He motions to the door behind you with his head, “Better get going, darling, if someone spots us talking they might think we’re friends.”

                                 ❁         ❁        ❁ 

“Did you see how crazy they went when we did Call Me?” Abbey leans over the table, not paying any mind to the way it starts to tilt towards her side. You and Jaz quickly balance the weight, straightening surface before the filled cups can start sliding down and causing a mess. You give her a scolding look for not being careful, but she doesn’t even look at you, only picking a fry from the pile in the middle and dipping inside her vanilla milkshake, sitting back and elbowing Lena next to her playfully. “And to think you said it’s not a gig song.”

“I didn’t say that.” Lena shakes the cup in her hand, circling the straw as to mix the melting ice cream inside, completely unfazed by her friend’s tease. “Just said we should do something new if people wanted old songs they would tune on that good times radio station, or whatever it’s called.”

“People like listening to classics!” Abbey protests, raising her voice bit, she’s either forgotten she’s in public or is just simply too stoned to care. Either way, you try to shush her, muffling a giggle with the back of your hand as you see a group two tables down looking back at her. She only huffs, leaning back down on her seat, “What do you suggest we play, then? Duran Duran?”

“I like Duran Duran.” You pester, trying to repress a smile as she shoots you a pointed look.

“I actually think Duran Duran is a great idea.” Lena backs you up, the same taunting smile reflecting on her face as she says it looking at you. 

“You two are completely insane if you think I’m singing new wave, might as well start to fill in for a new vocalist.” She shoves her hand full of fries, dropping to her side of the table with a shrug.

“Jaz you think that girl from your choir is available? The blonde one?” Lena bites into her straw, barely containing her laugh as Abbey narrows her eyes at her.

You watch in amusement from across the table, the contrast between Lena and Abbey looking comical as they continue to banter at each other. In one side there’s Lena who’s leaning back on the wall next to her, her neon pink jumpsuit standing out from anyone else in your group, hair hardly styled, being more of a nest in her head, the sides shaved and the back falling on her shoulders in a mullet. On the other side, Abbey’s swallowed in black, the only color being the red of her hair, that’s pushed up in a high side ponytail.

It was her idea to come to the diner after the gig, declining every offer of an after party (which is new for her) and insisting you had to have this moment to decompress together as a band. What you didn’t take account of, is that a diner on a Saturday night isn’t exactly a deserted place. So after spending an hour sitting on the parking lot, waiting for a table, you finally got yourselves a booth tucked by the back. And now as the place gets clearer and quieter by the minute, after getting your round of burgers, you share a big pile of fries, not ready to leave and sleep on this experience just yet.

“You know who also seem to enjoy the show? That Harry dude.” The mention of his name calls your attention to Lena. “Caught him in the corner a couple times watching us.”

You take a sip of his drink, trying to mask any expression that exposes the fact that you’d noticed too, maybe more than just a couple times.

To your relief, everyone focuses on Abbey as she lets out an annoyed huff. “Why’d you bring him up of all people.” She picks up her nearly empty cup a bit too harshly, her voice rising again. “He called me a Joan Jett wannabe! Fucking prick.”

 “You do dress like her,” Lena raises her brows in defiance.

“It’s called an inspiration, Adeline, doesn’t mean I’m trying to be her.” She barks at her friend. “Doesn’t give that knobhead the right to be a dick about it.”

“Why don’t you like him?” The question slips out of your lips before you can stop it, and you regret it as soon as all eyes on the table set on you, Abbey’s face creasing in an incredulous look as if the answer was obvious.

 “Are you serious? Did you hear how he spoke to us?”

“I don’t know,” You shrug, looking down at your lap, fiddling with the hem of your shorts. “Just seemed like he was trying to get a rise out of you.”

“He’s got a stick up his ass, babe. A full narcissist, it’s ridiculous.” She shakes her head, scrunching her nose in aversion. “He’s also a complete womanizer, it’s disgusting if you ask me.”

“I guess,” You gaze up at her.”

“Babe, he’s a charmer, I’ve seen it before, he knows how to sweet talk someone.” She explains in a sigh. “They’re all like that.”

“They?”

“Men in bands.” She picks up another fry, poking it on her forehead as she makes her point. “Have their heads bigger than the whole stage, think they can do just about anything.”

“Suppose that’s true,” You agree, not wanting to get further in this discussion.

She smiles, biting a piece of the fry before pointing it at you. “It is, which is why we are smart girls and don’t fuck with them.”

                                 ❁         ❁        ❁

You’re aware that going for a walk by yourself at night is not a very secure choice. 

Even living in what you feel like could be the most monotone town in the area (where the biggest report on the local news was when two boys got stuck on a tree thanks to a dare with their friends). But it still doesn’t stop you from being careful, only going around the busier streets, watching the movement of people - mostly students - chatting the night away on the filled pub table, enjoying the short break between studies before going back at it once the weekend’s over. 

You stroll around with not much of a purpose, really, only needing a bit of time to yourself every so often when you feel the turmoil in your home becomes to much (on those weekends when both your roommates decide to stay home). So you just go on your usual path, breathing in the night air and enjoying some alone time.

The ending of your course is marked by none other than the Blue Bird, standing in a corner of the main street.

 A small group of people is gathered in front of it, smoking their cigarettes. You stare at them for a minute as you get closer to the led lights indicating the entrance of the pub, the girls with their bright-colored outfits, hair styled and puffed up as they laugh along to whatever one of the boys has said. One of them has a leather jacket thrown over her shoulder that almost swallows her figure, and you can only assume that it belongs to the man talking to her, leaning back on a payphone, the quiff in his hair so high it makes him look like a knock-off John Travolta. The thought makes you breathe out a laugh to yourself.

Once you reach the entrance you look at it mindlessly, not being able to see much from outside except the string curtain hanged on top of the open door. You turn on your heels, ready to start making your way back, but as you pay attention to the muffled sounds coming from inside the pub you stop on your tracks. A familiar tune catching your attention, making you turn in the direction of the entry. Somebody to Love. 

It peaks your curiosity. If you’re honest, you feel like covering a Queen song is probably one of the most bound for disaster decisions someone can make. But as you feel yourself approaching the entrance, the voice of whoever’s singing it all but lures you inside. It’s not the same as the original, of course, but the lower tone to it fits it just as beautifully and once you fully walk in you can almost feel your heart skip a beat to find Harry standing on stage. His eyes closed in concentration. 

It’s saturday. His saturday night. You forgot about that.

You don’t dare to try to mend amongst the crowd of people packed in front of the stage, making your way to the bar. You thankfully find an empty stool without much of a fight, allowing you a perfect vision of the stage.

Harry is playing the guitar, his voice blending perfectly with the vocals of the girls in the background, eyes closed as he feels every lyric coming out of his throat. His stage look is much different than the one he wore back when you first saw him, it’s something you reckon not many people could rock out as good as he does. A mismatched suit, light green blazer with a pink blouse underneath, along with bright blue trousers -- it’s as if he picked one piece from different colored suits (which you assume he probably did). The locks of his hair are no longer running wild on his head, instead, it’s gelled back, a single rebel strand falling charmingly against his forehead. You wonder if it’s on purpose.

It’s quite a sight to see him like this, you’re not gonna lie. All suited up with no tie, the blouse only partially buttoned so you notice a tease of some tattoos on his chest. You’d noticed his good looks before, it’s impossible not to, but there’s something about the stage glow that makes it impossible to look away from him. It’s mesmerizing.

To your surprise, the rest of his set mainly consists of originals, and unlike you’d expect for any amateur band that dares to sweep away from covers, he manages to hold the crowd’s attention as if he’s singing any other hit song you hear on the radio. Even not knowing the lyrics, people cheer along to the songs, moving to the beat as best as they can in the crowded space. And that’s a direct result of the charisma he holds while standing on stage.

It’s entrancing, really, how he holds himself as if he was born to be doing this. And you think maybe he was. 

There’s a mischievous glow to him, when he rocks out to his own songs, grinding slightly against the mic stand. A gesture that makes you flustered even from your seat a couple of meters away. You couldn’t keep your eyes off of him even if you tried. And you’re sure as hell not trying.

At one point you feel a poke in your arm, turning around to be met with the barman who recognizes you from the week prior. He greets you with a shout over the noise, offering you a drink on his account. Your first instinct is to refuse, considering you weren’t even supposed to stay for long, but after a bit of insisting on his part you accept with a shy smile.

By the time he’s ending the last song, you’re at the edge of your seat, catching yourself wishing you could see more of him. The lights in the audience turn on as he wraps up the set, and just before he bows down with the rest of his band his eyes wander in your direction. It’s so quickly that you think you could’ve just imagined it, considering his eyes don’t meet yours again, only rushing his way backstage.

You blink at the empty spot where he once stood for a moment, almost feeling frozen in place as you try to take in what happened. Turning on your stool to face the bar, you gaze down at your forgotten drink. You hold it to your lips, deciding to finish it so you can ease your way out before anyone else spots you. Your attempt is frustrated, however, when you hear a voice coming from behind you.

“Reckon Abbey Road would throw a fit if she knew you’re wandering around watching my concert.” You turn to face Harry, finding him looking down at you, signature smirk making his dimples poke onto his cheeks. His hands are hidden inside the pockets of his dress pants and he’s taken off his blazer, causing the pink of his blouse to stand out even more.

You chew the inside of your lip. “I can make my own decisions, you know.”

“That’s good to hear, bunny.” His smile grows, hand leaving the pocket to motion at the empty spot next to you. “Mind if I sit here?”

“Be my guest.”

He sits on the empty stool, turning to the bartender that’s handing a drink to a man standing behind you. “Can you give the lady another one of what she was drinking? On my tab.”

“Oh you don’t have to, I was about to--” You begin, but the man behind the counter doesn’t care to listen, only picking up your empty glass and moving away to fill it up. “leave.”

“Already?” Harry arches his eyebrows, resting his arm on top of the counter and leaning towards you. His voice comes out a bit softer, dropping the playful tone, “let me buy you a drink, angel.”

You ignore the way the hairs on your neck rise at the petname. “You really don’t have to--”

“I want to.”

“Okay.” You breathe out, not being able to hold back your smile once his own grows on his face.

As if on cue, the bartender comes back with two glasses, setting them in front of the two of you. You don’t fail to note the fact that he gives Harry his drink without being asked to.

He picks up his glass, holding it up, to which you do the same, clinking your glasses slightly before taking a sip.  “So, what brings you here tonight? Measuring the competition?”

 “I was just walking around, heard a lousy cover of Somebody To Love, and decided to come in.”

He throws his head back a bit in laughter, nose scrunching adorably. You have to look away as to not find yourself staring. “A Queen fan, then?”

 “You could say so.”

“A pretty girl with a good taste in music, gonna steal m’heart if you keep going, bunny.” And just like that, it’s like he takes all the words out of your mind. You only let out a small chuckle, taking a sip of your drink as you look away to cove the blush that paints your cheeks. His eyes are still trained on you, though. “Was it any good?”

“Huh?” You blink back at him.

“The cover.” He grins. “Or was it really that lousy?”

“Oh, it was amazing.” You say truthfully, clearing your throat. “You have a beautiful voice.”

“Thank you.” He bows his head slightly, smiling at you. And unlike before, it’s not smug, but rather warm, you smile back at him. “Enjoyed the show, then?”

“I did.” You nod.

“I’m glad.” He runs his finger around the brim of his glass, tapping against it once with a click of his ring against the glass.  “What would you change about it?”

The question takes you back. “What would I change?” 

 “Yeah.” He clasps his hands over his lap, moving his feet on the floor so his stool swivels from one side to the other.

“Uhm…” You crease your brows, trying to hack your brain for an answer. Your eyes land on his blouse, still halfway unbuttoned. “Your shirt.”

“M’shirt?” He questions, brows shooting towards his hairline, clearly not expecting the answer. He gazes down at the piece on his body, fingers pitching the material as he looks back at you. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Not a big fan of pink.” You shrug.

“Now, we just can’t have that, bunny.” He clicks his tongue. “Pink is the new color of rock n roll!”

You chuckle. “Says who?”

“Says me.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “Oh, I’m sorry then, mister rockstar.”

His face lights up in a giggle, lips parting to say something but before he can let the words out a hand rests on his shoulder calling both your attentions to the man standing next to him. You recognize him from standing next to Harry on stage as the guitar player.

“We’re hopping over to Eamon’s.” He doesn’t acknowledge you until Harry’s eyes hover over in your direction. 

“That’s fine, think I’ll stay behind this time.” Harry looks back at his friend, but you see him glimpsing at you from the corner of his eyes.

You watch as his friend raises his brows, gazing between the two of you in a curious manner. You clear your throat, shifting in your seat as you look at them. “ It’s fine, I should get going anyway.”

“You don’t have to,” he says in a blink, a smirk twitching on his lips almost as if to cover up how quickly he said it. He turns back to his friend, who’s still watching the interaction with raised eyebrows.  “You can go without me, I’ll see you all tomorrow.”

“Harry, you didn’t have to.” You subconsciously reach for his arm, retracting your touch just as fast when he glances at it. Clearing your throat, you play with “I really should get going, I was supposed to be on a walk after all.”

“Let me walk you back then,” he gets up from his stool, giving his friend a brief hug before turning back to you and extending his hand for you to take. Your lips part to protest, feeling as if you’re holding him back even though it was his decision to stay behind, but before the words can even come out of your mouth he beats you to it,  “there’s no way I’m letting you go home by yourself this late, love.”

You sigh, shoulder dropping in defeat as you hold back a smile. Taking his hand, you stand up, “okay.”

The main street hasn’t exactly quieted down since you first walked by it, in fact, it only seems like it’s gotten rowdier. Time only increasing the buzz wandering in the air around the people filling the bars, voices louder, filled glasses clinking more frequently. As you stroll through it side by side there’s a comment or to that floats in the air, but you have to all but shout it, fighting with the turmoil of noise.

As soon as you turn into the first street away from the crowds it’s as if someone had turned off the sound completely, the nest of voices getting far-off in the distance and the loudest sound being of the night breeze kissing the tree branches above you. You can feel Harry glancing up at you from the corner of your eye and it doesn’t take long until his voice echoes in the air in an attempt to make small talk.

It’s surprising to you, how easy it is to be drawn in a conversation with him. Harry’s essentially not the same offstage as he is under the spotlight, most people aren’t. There’s no need for him to bloat his charisma when talking to you, he’s quieter. Shy, almost. And it takes you back a bit, to see such contrast in a short amount of time. 

The magnetic force to him, however, still lingers even when he’s like this. You feel drawn to it, wanting to hear him speak about everything that comes to mind, just to savor the way he articulates his words, voice so calm and low it sends an electric chill down your spine. As he tells you about his music inspirations, going on the story about the time he traveled alone to crash a Fleetwood Mac concert, hands brushing against yours when he walks, you catch yourself wondering what it would feel like to link them together.

Once you reach your street, just a block away from the entrance gate of your home, you notice the front lights are yet to be turned off, indicating your roommates are still up and around -- most likely arguing about MTV’s top ten of the week. The realization makes you come to an abrupt stop, catching Harry off guard as he takes a few steps before realizing you stayed behind. 

“Wait.” You say once he turns around, brows furrowed in a silent question as to why you stopped. “Uhm… You can drop me off here… It’s fine.”

“What do you mean? Is it too far? I don’t mind walking-”

“No!” You interrupt. “It’s not that, my house is right there, see?” You point to the bricked building no too far from where you stand.

“Why do y’want me to drop you off here, then?” The crease on his face deepens.

“I-- it’s just--” you begin, not knowing how to say it. “It’s just the girls are still awake, and..”

“Ah,” he clicks his tongue, an amused grin expanding on his cheeks. “Don’t wanna get scolded for hanging out with the enemy.”

“Don’t say like that.” You chuckle at yourself, looking down in embarrassment. “They just will never let me hear the end of it.”

“I get it, bunny.” He takes easy steps towards you, closing the space as he stands tall in front of you. You hold your breath as you look up at him, meeting his irises glimmering in enjoyment, dimples shadowing on his cheek. His hand reaches up, moving a strand of your hair behind your ear and you swear if he gets any closer he’ll be able to hear your heart thumping in anticipation. “Had a lovely time with you.”

“Me, uhm--” you clear your throat as your voice cracks, blood flooding your cheeks. “Me too.”

The streetlight above gives his face a golden glow that almost takes your breath away, his hair glistening in the light due to the gel pushing it back, and now even more rebel strands curl against his forehead. You half expect him to lean down, you don’t know why he would, but for a moment it seems like he will. To your dismay, however, he steps back, giving you one last smile before moving out of your way on the sidewalk. “I’ll see you around, then.”

                                 ❁         ❁        ❁ 

“I have some exciting news for you.”

Abbey’s voice startles you, not realizing she’d entered the dressing room while you focused on the book on your lap. Since you’ve gotten a spot at every other weekend on the pub, your routine just seemed to get even more busy, with rehearsals almost every day. So, because of that you barely find time to do your assignments. And with a book report due just around the corner, you’d thought maybe you could sneak in some reading time after the gig when everyone’s down at the bar and not prancing and screaming around the dressing room.

 Your assumptions shows itself to be wrong, however, when your perky friend bounces her way to where you sit. She kneels next to the couch, crossing her arms on top of your legs and resting her chin on them, looking up at you expectantly, lips lifted in a side grin. 

“What is it?”

“Got us an after-party, babe.” you notice a few colored lollies in her hand when she removes the plastic protecting a red one, shoving it between your lips before you can even protest. “And you’re coming with us.”

“I’d love to but I have class tom—“ Your voice is muffled around the sweet. 

She rolls her eyes, standing to sit next to you on the arm of the couch. “You should stop wasting your life with an outdated system” 

“You mean getting a degree?” 

“Do you watch the news? We’re about to be the last generation to live fully, the world is about to break into nuclear wars all around.” She says as a matter-of-fact, turning to rest her legs on top of your lap. “Cosmo said we probably won’t even make it to the 2000s” 

“Who’s Cosmo?” 

She sighs, reaching to move a strand of your hair behind your ear. Her voice comes out soft, but calculated, “what matters is that we should enjoy our time while we have it.” 

“You’re giving a whole speech about nuclear war to convince me to go to a party with you.” You arch your brows at her. 

“Yes.” 

You sigh, shoulders falling in defeat as you let yourself be convinced. “Okay. But I’ll—” 

“Great!!” She squeals, moving her legs from your lap and leaning down to grab your face, pressing a quick kiss on top of your hair before jumping from the couch, and out of the room. 

Once you arrive at the location of the after-party, Abbey leads you and Lena to a tall gate by the side of the house, explaining that you’re walking in from the back garden, considering the front door is locked. You find it odd, and if wasn’t for the muted sound of instruments echoing inside the bricked walls of the place, you’d doubt there was even a party happening here at all. The front of it was as regular as the other surrounding suburbian homes, grass neatly trimmed and the front lights turned off, as if nobody was even home.

Which is why you’re visibly taken back when you walk by the gate into the back area, finding an old vintage bus that could be around ten or even twenty years old, sitting in the middle of the grass. The wheels of it have been taken off, and every inch of the exterior is covered by graffiti, so much you couldn’t even make out the original color of it if you tried. Some of them are unreadable scribbles tangling on top of each other. Some are colorful drawings painted over them -- two sunflowers catch your attention, marked just above where the wheel would be, growing tall along the side and above the window.

“I know, right?” Abbey nods at your astounded expression. “Legend says John Lennon signed it somewhere.”

“Really?” You look at her, not able to hold back the way your voice pitches in amazement.

“Dunno, never looked for it.” She shrugs. “C’mon I’ll show you.”

She grabs your hand, dragging you to the side of the vehicle pointing at some random drawings and explaining the rumors behind their meanings. You try to concentrate on her excited babbles, but as you see Lena walking away from the corner of your eye you look up to watch her meet with a girl you’ve never seen. Before you can focus back on your friend, something else catches your attention, sitting on a wooden bench under a large tree, no too far from where you stand.

Harry’s in a small group sat in a circle. You recognize two men from his band sitting on the grass with guitars propped on their laps, one being the same that interrupted you the night at the bar. The rest are women who seem to have come right out of Fleetwood Mac’s tour bus, their long hairs pushed back with hairbands and earthtoned flare pants. But you barely even care about the ones sitting on the grass, humming along to the strings of the guitars. What grabs your attention is the one next to harry on the bench, her arm draped over his shoulder as she dabbles flower petals playfully on his hair. 

You hardly take in his appearance, half-mindedly noticing the tattoos decorating his arms that pokes out of his tank top and the twirls on his hair as the girl winds her fingers on it. it’s hard not to remember Abbey’s words when she said he knows how to sweet talk his way around, and the thought of having fallen down on his trap only makes your heart pang on your chest. 

“-- That’s basically why they won’t let anyone paint over it anymore.” You turn back to Abbey as she points to the sunflowers you’d spotted earlier, nodding along as if you’d heard everything she said. She looks at you, “but I like this way better, don’t you think?” 

“Yeah.” You agree, not exactly knowing what to.  

She wraps her arm around yours, and you grasp the minty scent of her perfume as she pulls you close. “Let’s go inside.” 

There’s an urge inside of you to peek back over your shoulder to catch a last glimpse of Harry, but you push it to the back of your mind, allowing Abbey to guide you around the bus where the entrance door is hanging open. 

A small group of people greet you inside the bus, amongst them is the said ‘Cosmo’.  He seems like the exact kind of person you’d imagine Abbey hanging around on her weekends’ escapades. Dressed in a baby blue velvet suit with nothing underneath his blazer except a few of - what you assume - hand-painted tattoos, matching with a rainbow stripe drawn on the side of his face, starting at the bridge of his nose and going all the way to the curve of his jaw. His hair hits just around his shoulders, the sides shaved so it’s like a puffed version of a mullet, edges dyed in a bright shade of red. He toys with a lit joint between his purple lips, picking it up and offering to you with a raise of his brows.

Normally you’d decline the offer, especially coming from someone you’d just met, but there’s an annoying feeling settling itself at the pit of your stomach. One you want to ignore but can only do so much to dull it, so you accept the joint, reaching for it and placing it in your mouth. 

You’re not a regular smoker by any means, and when you inhale you can feel the smoke burning your throat as it moves down to curl inside your lungs. It makes you want to cough it out but you hold it in, trying to take in everything before huffing it out in a choked breath.

“Do you want a drink?” One of the girls asks you, already pouring you a purple drink inside a labeless plastic bottle.

“What’s in this?” You accept the cup, giving her an skeptic look.

“Pure fuel, babe.” Abbey leans on your shoulder from behind.

You hang out in the bus for a while, and, to your surprise, you don’t feel left out as they keep notice to include you in their conversations. The drink ends up being not that bad, and, even having no idea what’s in it except for the very artificial citric taste mixed with some very strong cheap alcohol, you still refill your cup after you finish it. 

It’s a nice feeling, to get a bit looser in a party and allowing yourself to have some adventurous fun. And as time goes by and your mind gets cloudier, the group starts to disperse. Two of them find a spot in the back with as much privacy as they could get in a party to swallow each others faces. Another one passes out in one of the seats behind you, hugging the empty plastic bottle as if it’d run away from them. It leaves just Abbey and Cosmo with you, discussing with each other about something that you’ve stopped paying attention a long while ago.

You just watch them silently, resting your head back on the seat and feeling the late hours weightening on your eyelids. You feel like you could doze off at any moment, but what stops you from it is a loud screeching sound of an amplifier from inside the house. It startles you, making you jump slightly on your seat as you hear a voice speaking almost like a groan, and you’re not sure if it’s your drunken mind or the inaudible words but you can’t make out a single thing that’s being said. A crease deepens between your eyebrows and you turn to question your friend about it but, before you can do so what seems like the most obnoxious cover of  We Built This City starts playing.

Abbey gasps as the chords of the song somehow get even louder, grasping her hand on the man’s arm. “Oh my god!” She squeals, exchanging a look with Cosmo as they both all but jump from their seats. She glances down at you, “We’re going in, are you coming?”

You raise your brows at her, trying to hide the scrunch on your face. “I’m good.”

She nods, making her way out of the bus, her feet stumbling on each other as she holds onto her friend’s shoulder to keep her balance. And just like that, you’re left alone on the leather seat.

You peek at the couple in the back, eyes bulging slightly as you see the girl has lost her shirt, the boy’s hands caress her chest as they keep their lips locked harshly. Deciding to give them a bit more privacy, you make your way out of the bus as well, the contrast from the compact air inside the vehicle to the crisp wind of the outdoors sending chills down your body.

Looking around, you realize most people hanging around are gone, probably gone inside the house. You can’t help but let your eyes wander to the spot you’d seen Harry earlier, and you don’t hold back the shock in your face when you find him still sitting on the bench, but this time with no one else around him. He fiddles with a lighter on his hand, flickering every so often to watch the weak flame before letting it die again. 

Your feet start to move before you can really grasp that you’re walking towards him, your head still a bit cloudy from the substances in your bloodstream. He looks up once you get close to him, signature smirk growing on his lips as he glances up at you.

“Look what we have here.” He leans back, “a lost bunny.” 

“Hi, Harry.” You say simply.

His smile turns a bit softer. “Where are your bandmates?”

“Celebrating.” You shrug.

“Shouldn’t you be as well?”

“I am.” You hold up the mostly empty red cup.

He chuckles. “I see, having fun by yourself then?”

You focus on a spot beyond his head, suddenly feeling timid under his gaze. “Seems like it.”

“Want to join my private party here?” He shifts to his side, patting the spot next to him. “S’very exclusive, as you can see.”

“Well, I’m honored to be invited, then.” You sit down on the space he made for you.

For a moment, there’s a silence between the two of you, the only sound being the jarring cover of  Everybody Wants to Rule The World. The notes of it are so off that you can’t help but huff a relieved breath when it comes to an end, enjoying the few seconds of silence before they begin another song. 

A small groan leaves your lips when the noise starts again, catching Harry’s attention as you feel his eyes land on the side of your face. “It should be illegal to ruin great songs like this.” You shake your head to yourself, speaking your thoughts out loud in a rush of confidence. “They should get arrested for it.”

He chuckles. “You’re not wrong.”

Your eyes dart at him, meeting his. It’s hard to miss the way his irises glimmer under the moonlight. When he glances down at the lighter still in his hands you take the opportunity to really have a look at him. The proximity makes you aware of a small constellation of freckles kissing his nose, and the stubble starting to poke out the skin along his jawline. You want to blame the haziness in your mind for the thoughts of how it would feel like to have it scratching against your skin. Or how it would feel under your lips as you nibble your way all the way to his rosy lips. You want to push these away, belittle them as nothing but drunken thoughts. But you know very well it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve let yourself be entertained by them.

A pitched scream takes you out of your head. You realize there’s been a beat of silence since he’s spoken, so you clear your throat, a warmth creeping up on your neck as if he’d been able to hear your thoughts. “Do you know them?”

He shakes his head slightly. “Not really, no. They played in the pub once, Ronnie hated them.” He glances at you, corner of his lips itching upwards. “Call themselves Crystal Illusion, so there’s that.”

“Christ.” You can’t help but roll your eyes. “And here I thought it couldn’t get any worse.”

The sound of his giggle makes you look back at him, catching the sight of his dimples carving deep on his cheeks. “You’re really something, aren’t you, bunny?”

“Why do you call me that?” The question rolls of your tongue before you can even think about it. His brows raise at your question, and you decide to enjoy the rush of confidence and pick on it further. “Dunno if I’m supposed to feel offended or charmed.”

 “Don’t mean it as a tease, can tell that much.” He smiles, shrugging slightly. “You just remind me of a bunny.”

The words pique your curiosity. “How so?”

He looks back down to his lap, and if it wasn’t for the poor lighting you would be sure of the blush taking over his cheeks. “Just all cute -- could tell you were a bit reserved, and like, curious. Had your eyes wandering all around when I first saw you.” He moves his head around lightly as if to explain his point and you have to bite back a smile. “And when you were focused you’d scrunch your nose a bit. Like a bunny.”

“I’m glad you didn’t say I have big ears.” You try to humor, searching for his eyes.

He laughs, looking up at you. “I mean, now that you’ve mentioned it…”

Your gasp shifts into a giggle as you push him away playfully. “Well, if I’m a bunny...” You pause, racking your mind to think of an analogy for him, but your mind is still a bit slowed down, your thoughts taking a beat too long to catch up to your words. When you glance down to the arm that’s brushing against yours, you notice the tattoo peaking on his skin. You reach for it without thinking about it, fingers tracing the ink as you take in the drawing, his eyes follow your touch curiously. “Then you’re an eagle.” You cringe to yourself as soon as the words come out of your mouth, attempting to mask it as you breathe out a laugh.

He arches his brows, lips fluttering, trying to hold back a smile. “You think I’ll kill you?”

“Oh shit, you’re right.” You cover your face with your hand, shaking your head at yourself. “Didn’t think that one through.” Your laughs meld together for a moment, slowly dying off and giving space a comfortable silence. The only sounds being the nightly hum of cicadas and the whisper of the breeze against the branches of the trees, that and, well, the faint screams of instruments from inside the house. Looking up at him, a breath hitches when you realize the proximity of his eyes to yours. You try to tease him but when you speak your voice comes out lower than you expected, almost in a whisper,  “so you think I’m cute?”

“Course I do.” He says in a blink. “Don’t think that’s much of a secret, love.”

You chew on your bottom lip, not missing the way his eyes dart down on your face. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

“Yeah?” He smirks, wiggling his eyebrow teasingly. “Think I’m pretty?”

“I won’t inflate your ego if that’s what you want.”

“I tried.” He breathes out a laugh, eyes moving back down on your face but this time he doesn’t rush them back to yours, not hiding the intent of his gaze. For the first time, you’re glad for the background noise, afraid that if it wasn’t for it he’d be able to hear the thumping of your heart.“Can I kiss you?”

“Huh?” You blink at him, not because you didn’t hear him, but because you’re a bit taken back at the forwardness of the question.

 He moves his arm to rest on the back of the bench, turning his hand to play with the tips of your hair. “Can I kiss you, bunny?” He repeats.

You nod before you can find it in you to voice your answer, clearing your throat, “yes.”

The hand that’s not in your hair moves to caress your cheek, he takes a moment to look at you, thumb rubbing your cheek gently before he leans in. Your eyes flutter close instinctively, holding your breath in anticipation as you feel his lips on the corner of your mouth. He keeps them there for a beat before pulling back, tilting your face a little just to finally close the space between your mouths.

The kiss starts slow. Uncertain, even. His lips are soft against yours, warm breath hitting your cupid bow as he sucks in your bottom lip gently. You feel his hand cupping your jaw, sneaking behind your neck as he pulls you closer and you all but melt under his touch. Being this close you can smell the scent of his cologne mixed with the smoke of cigarettes, and something about it is so sensual you can’t help but grip on his shirt as to have something to hold on to.

You can feel yourself getting lost on his touch, shamelessly scooping to the side as you enlace your thighs for the sake of being closer to him. His hand falls on your knee, rubbing it as your tongue line on his bottom lip.

It’s the sound of the door that leads to the house sliding open that falls like a bucket of ice water on your head, reminding you of your surroundings, and that you’re not, in fact, alone with him in the garden, which means any of your friends could easily spot you if they were to walk outside.

  It’s almost like he reads your mind when you pull away from him, loosening your grasp on the material of his shirt. His lips don’t let you get far, trailing their way along your jaw until he can bite on your lobe. “Relax, petal” He whispers, pulling back to look at you as your noses brush together. “They won’t see us, even if they do they’re probably too stoned to even care.”

You let out a weak chuckle, gazing at the door where a group of people stumble their way towards the bus, voices loud as they slur incoherent words. It’s hard to see inside the house as most of the lights inside seem to be turned off, but you can tell how packed it is, bodies pressed so close together it makes you wince slightly just with the thought of being amongst them. Looking back at him, you ponder for a second before nodding. “You’re right.”

A grin paints on his face before he leans in, closing the space between you once again.

                                 ❁         ❁        ❁ 

“Still with us?” A call of your name on the mic snaps you out of your thoughts.

Looking up, you’re met with your bandmates curious eyes staring right at you and you realize you’ve probably been too lost in your own head to pay attention to the conversation in hand. Your lips part for a split second, trying to think of an answer that doesn’t give away your lack of focus but a single look at Abbey’s arched brows and you know you’ve been caught. 

You clear your throat, lips tugging on a guilty smile. “Sorry, I am now.” 

It’s hard not to let your eyes glimpse to the back of the room, where the sole reason for your distraction sits quietly on his regular spot, tucked behind his journal and doing his own thing. But you hold back the stare, knowing your moves were being watched by your friend who’s back to talking about the setlist changes for the night, and who would not be happy in the slightest to notice your wandering eyes falling on the one person she despises the most. You wonder how she’d react if she got her hands on the piece of paper burning through the back pocket of your denim shorts. 

The message was short and simple, but the connotation behind it carried a much stronger meaning to it.

Meet me in the back before the gig, want to see you. -H

You found it tucked inside your case, lying innocently on top of your bass, apparent enough so anyone who’d opened the case could’ve found it before you. Surely, no one else did, otherwise, you wouldn’t hear the end of it from the minute you’d stepped into the place. Which makes you wonder how he managed to slip in the note sneakily enough without anyone noticing it, but the curiosity is well dulled in your mind by the pounding of your heart.

To your dismay, however, you barely got a look at him throughout the rehearsal. You got to The Blue Bird later than you’d intended to, the tutoring session you had on the day ended up running later than you’d expected. So by the time you stepped through the string curtains of the pub  Harry was already tucked on the shadowy corner and everyone else was hanging by the stage waiting for you, barely giving you a second to set your bag in the dressing room.

So it’s hard for you not to stare when he gets up from his seat, walking into the lighter space of the bar with his signature smirk painted on his face. You’d just gone through the last song of your set for the second time -- an amplified version of Girls Just Wanna Have Fun (Lena insisting on repeating it after messing up on the first try). He’s holding a maroon leather jacket on his arm, along with his journal, leaving his arms bare under his Bowie tank top -- which, as he approaches the stage you notice the uneven hem on the sleeves, suggesting he might’ve cut them off himself.  His hair is running wild as usual, the fringe curling against his forehead and you chew on your lip at the thought of running your hands through it as you did not even a week ago.

He reaches to the back pocket of his jeans, pulling out a pack of cigarettes as he reaches the end of the stage. “That was a great one, everybody, maybe if you keep it going we can get you a spot on that wacky show they’re premiering.” He sets the stuff he’s carrying on the stage floor, crossing his arms on top of it. “What’s it called again? ‘S like ‘gag me with a spoon’ or something like that.”

“We wouldn’t want to steal your spot again.” The words leave your lips before you can process them, for a moment forgetting you’re not alone with him so your playful tease can be easily interpreted as mocking. 

He rests the things he’s carrying on his arm on the stage floor, hoisting himself up almost effortlessly before picking them up again, walking the few steps it takes for him to stand in front of you. His lips are tugged on a shit-eating grin. “Got another feisty one in here, huh?” He crosses his arms under his chest, and you can’t help but note the way his muscles flex at the gesture, his tattoos dancing slightly on his skin. “What makes you so smug about stealing my spot? Reckon Ronnie only said he needed more chicks hanging around.”

“If that’s the case then there’s no need for you to be intimidated by a band of chicks, then.” You keep your eyes trained on his, but you can notice Abbey’s getting wider from over his shoulder. 

His lips twitch up, and you can tell he’s holding back a genuine smile as not to crack your act. “Am I intimidated now, bunny?”

“It’s what it looks like.” You shrug, now holding back your own smile.

“Maybe you need to take a better look at things then, angel.”  He starts walking backwards in the direction of the backstage. “Wouldn’t want any more misunderstandings, would we?”

“Don’t think we would.” 

And with that, he turns around, walking the rest of the way out and disappearing as he rounds the corner to where you know it’s the door leading to the back alleyway. You just stand there quietly for a moment, following his steps as you try to recollect what just happened. For the two of you, it was clear that the tension was the product of an unspoken want circling around, but you question for a second if that’s the impression that your friends had. And as you look at their expressions, raised brows and mouths agape, it’s hard to tell.

“Holy shit, babe.” Abbey is the first to speak out. “Didn’t know you had that in you.”

You hold back a relieved exhale, shrugging slightly as you remove the strap of the bass from your shoulder. “He was just getting on my nerves.” You face away from her, placing the instrument on the stand.

The anticipation of meeting Harry grows impatiently on your stomach as you try to find a gap where no one’s attention is on you to sneak out of the dressing room. It seems as if every time you think you can do it, someone pulls you in, either to try to push you another pill of something you’re not sure what it is or to ask you to help with their makeup. But as the room gets filled and people get higher, their focus become more diffuse, and finally, after finishing assisting Jaz with her eyeliner (her hands were too shaky to get it right) you manage to slip out the room into the corridor.

There’s a sense of recognition that takes over your body when you feel the wind messing with your hair as you step out the building to be met with Harry’s figure leaning back on the wall, not too far from the spot you found him the last time you’d been in this same position. His eyes shoot in your direction as soon as you step through the door as if he’d been waiting for this just as eagerly as you were. He quickly throws the butt of the cigarette on the floor, stepping on it before standing tall as you slowly approach him.

“Hi.” You say simply, fingers fidgeting with the hem of your shorts -- not knowing with to do with your hands.

“Hi.” His grin grows. “Came back here to intimidate me?” He teases, biting on his bottom lip.

“Actually,” you scrunch your lips, deciding to play his game as you reach on your back pocket, retrieving the small piece of paper and holding it up. “Got this very desperate note from a secret admirer but I don’t see any hotties here.” You click your tongue, looking around as you let out a loud sigh. “Guess it might be just a misunderstanding.”

He laughs, hands reaching for your waist to draw you closer. “That’s too bad, guess you’re stuck with me”

“Yeah?” You wrap your arms around his shoulders, stepping closer so that your chests meet and his forehead falls against yours.

He nods in response, your noses brushing gently before he leans to meet your mouth with his own.

                                 ❁         ❁        ❁

There’s a thrilling feeling that settles deep within you when it comes to holding a secret.

It’s that spark of excitement that brings a kaleidoscope of butterflies to come alive on your stomach. The kind of feeling that makes every cell of your body feel not just simply alive but as if it’s burning with joy. Which is why you guess falling into a routine of sneaking around with Harry on secret little rendezvous was so easy, to begin with. 

Of course, your friends’ opinions are important to you, but you know that you’re an adult very much capable of making your own decisions. That means sleeping with anyone you’d like despite their ill opinions about the person, without having to sneak around as if you’re teenagers hiding from your parents. You know that, and you try to remind yourself of that every time you catch yourself lying to them about your whereabouts at every coming day. 

In the beginning, you weren’t even sure that there was anything to it except for a couple of innocent kisses, maybe some not-so-innocent touches here and there, but nothing really worth even telling anyone. You’d only really see Harry on the weekends. When he would steal moments with you before your gigs when you “had to take a breather”. Or when mysteriously disappeared from your friends’ sides during after parties after they already had their minds buzzed and noses backed up. Or even when your night walks would tart becoming gradually longer due to your curiosity getting the best of you once you found yourself in front of the familiar Pub on Harry’s nights.

The weekends’ escapades took a different turn when they graduated to weekdays. Things took a quick turn then. It started with him offering you a ride to the houses for your tutoring or to the library (stealing kisses every now and then, of course). And before you knew, you were making up classes or books to rent for your oblivious roommates, only to spend hours on Harry’s car. Coming back with puffy lips and messy hair.

Part of you felt bad for going behind their backs, every now and then feeling an urge to pull Lena aside and gush about him for as long as your heart desired.

But it’s the thrill of it, of having something that’s just yours to have, that no one else knows except the two of you. The adrenaline that comes with the possibility of getting caught at any moment, but being able to get away with it. It’s almost addicting to you, so you prefer to have these moments just to yourself.

As the days went by, and those days turned into weeks, and those weeks turned into months, it just made it harder for you to tell them you’d been hiding a whole relationship for this amount of time. Well, not exactly a relationship, but as close as you ever got to one anyway.

And it’s not like you’d never had anyone before. Being in the music scene, you’ve had your quite a few amounts of flings — even though not as many as it’s expected. But no one has ever left you as enamored as him, especially not as quickly as he has. He’s intriguing, carrying around that mysterious aura around him that leaves everyone wondering the secrets he holds in his heart. 

Although when it’s just the two of you it’s like this cocky persona of him completely dissolves. It’s a complete contrast from the image he carries around the restless mouths of prying people. He’s not that enigmatic heartbreaker who hops around strangers beds as if to live that classic Rock ‘n Roll lifestyle you see on TV. Rather, he’s shown himself to be the most caring man you’ve ever been with.

And that’s how you found yourself in this position, your body awkwardly positioned on your side in the rear seat of his car. A hand tangled on his hair while the other pulls at his Bowie shirt, you know your lips are probably starting to get swollen and his are taking a raspberry tone from the way they’d been sucking at one another. So with that in mind, you part from his mouth, trailing kisses along his cheek, and a final one at his nose before sitting back on the seat.

Just as you predicted his rose-colored lips are plump as he grins back at you, his locks are wild on top of his head. His hair has grown around his jawline now, curls poking out in all directions and you can’t help but reach your hand to pull his fringe back from his forehead. His smile growing fondly and eyes fluttering shut as you run your hand through his strands. 

When you pull away you catch a glimpse of your wrist clock, cringing slightly at yourself as you realize you should start thinking of heading home.

“I have to go soon.” You let your hand fall to your lap with a sigh.

“Already?” He pouts. “Barely had any time together.”

“We’ve been here for two hours, silly.” You giggle at his dramatics, leaning to press your lips on his chin.

He throws an arm over your shoulder, keeping you close. “Exactly, barely any time.”

He turns his head to connect your mouths once more before pulling you against him so your head rests on his shoulder. You look beyond the glass of the windshield to the nearly empty street -- saving from a few people walking back from what you assume is a day of work

He’s parked on the usual spot two blocks away from your house, and from this angle, you can see the front gate that leads to the entrance. The front seat of the coupe still folded forward as there was no reason to set it back to place considering the circumstance in which you were on the backseat. You had called home from the payphone in front of the library, letting Lena know you’d be home late to catch up with some studies -- another lie to your pile.

There’s a comfortable silence that falls between the two of you -- apart from the low voice of the radio Dj interrupting A-ha’s Take On Me in the background. If you move your head just right you can hear his speeding heartbeat, and if wasn’t for the faltering on his breathing you’d assume he was just as relaxed as you are. You move away from him, his arm falling around your waist, looking at his profile as he pokes at his jeans, a crease between his eyebrows.

You rest your cheek against the leather seat, grasping his chin with your fingers and gently moving his head so his gaze meets yours. “What’s on your mind, handsome?”

He breathes out a laugh, shrugging lightly as he brings his hand to scratch at the tip of his nose. “Nothing much.”

“But there’s something.” You insist, being able to tell he’s pondering over something.

“It’s just-- I just thought--” he pauses with a sigh. You play with the rings on his fingers, waiting patiently for him to express his thoughts, you can tell he’s a bit nervous which is an adorable change from his regular charming demeanor. “I wanted to maybe-- like, we could have a date.”

. 

You straighten your posture, lips parting as you take in his words. “A date?”

“Yeah… A proper one, you know?” He shrugs, eyes darting back on yours. “If you want to, that is! Don’t wanna pressure you or anything.”

“I do, H.” You nod, chewing on your lip as you try to recollect your thoughts. It’s not as if you don’t want to go on a date with him, that couldn’t be further from the truth. But turning it into a formality just changes completely the scheme of things and, as much as you felt like this is an inevitable step to take at some point, you still feel protective to an extent of this secret you have between the two of you. So you can help but let your voice come a little apologetic, “it’s just--”

“I know.” His shoulders drop and you can’t help but feel a tug at your heart.

“Hey.” You caress his cheek. “I’ll think about it, okay?”

“Okay.” His lips perk up in a small smile, and you lean forward to give him a peck.

He’s still looking at you with puppy-like eyes and it does nothing to help the heaviness in your heart from turning him down. You lean again this time to spread kisses around his cheek as an attempt to pull a giggle out of him, but you only earn a light chuckle so you seat back tilting your head to look at him with a pluck of your lips. “C’mon where’s my smug rockstar gone?”

“He’s right here.” The shadow of his dimples appears on his cheeks. His voice comes out low and gentle, as if he’s still pondering over what you said earlier, “just toned him down a bit.”

You sigh, trying to rack your brain to another subject that can distract him from it. You catch sight of the slightly smudged end of his eyeliner, and your face lights up as you remember a request you’ve always wanted to bring it up. “Do you want to know something?” Biting back a cheeky grin, you cross your arms under your chin as he looks at you with raised eyebrows. “Should let me do your makeup, so you can be a proper rockstar.”

He lets out a laugh. “Do I need that, now?”

“Mhm, said it yourself, it’s part of the look.”

“Did I say that?” You nod, teeth still biting on your lip. He lets out a breath, contemplating the idea for a second before looking back at you. “Okay then.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Course, could never say no to you even if I tried.” He lets his hand fall on your thigh, rubbing it gently. “On one condition, though.” You arch your brows in question. “Come to my gig tomorrow.”

You face scrunches in confusion. “I always go to your gigs.”

“Yeah but I mean go earlier, like so we can hang out before and stuff.” His finger starts to draw circles on your knee. “So you can do my makeup, too, can go on stage looking all pretty.”

“As if you could ever look anything less than pretty.” You say before sitting back, thinking of his proposal. “You’re asking me to be there early…”

“What? D’you have plans already? Got a boyfriend I don’t know about?” And there it is, the teasing Harry you know.

You shake your head, poking his side playfully. “Oh yeah, maybe I should’ve mentioned him sooner.”

“Shut up.” He rolls his eyes before looking at you, his voice coming down to a pleading tone. “Come, please.”

Before the yes can roll off your tongue you remember that you wouldn’t be alone with him. “What about your band?” 

He furrows his brows. “What about them?”

“Well, do they know?”

“They couldn’t care less about us, baby.” He sighs, head falling back on the seat as he moves his hand so it rests on your inner thigh, rubbing a spot in there. “Have no meaning hiding you.”

You can’t hold back the smile that grows on your lips, leaning to press a kiss to his mouth before letting professing in just above a whisper, “You always know what to say, don’t you?”

                                 ❁         ❁        ❁ 

“‘S poking my eye.”

“Shh, quiet.”

“You’re rubbing it too harsh.” Harry grabs your wrist, eyes fluttering open to stare up at you.

“I’m being gentle, you’re just not used to the feeling of the brush.” You argue, keeping a finger under his chin so his head is tilted upwards as you shuffle on his lap. “Now close your eyes, I’m almost done.”

He lets out a huff, trying to feign annoyance, but the slight twitch of his lips and the subtle appearance of his dimples break his facade. You know as much as he won’t admit to it, he’s quite enjoying having you propped on his lap, fingers stroking gently his eyelids while you hum along to The Cure’s record that’s mixing with the murmurs of the other people in the room.

To your surprise, you’ve come to realize that the dressing room is significantly less chaotic when it comes to Harry’s band. The place is not nearly as packed as it can get during your nights, in fact, apart from the band itself, there’s only a handful of people hanging around. And as much as you notice their bloated pupils and stumbled walks, they mostly keep it to themselves, sharing around a bottle of vodka to wash down their pills.

Like Harry had assured you, his bandmates couldn’t be less bothered by your presence amongst them. And as much as you recognize all from the numerous gig you’ve been in before, and that according to them your name has been frequently mentioned by Harry himself (which did make his cheeks turn into an adorable shade of red), it’s nice to be formally introduced to them. In fact, they were so quick to treat you as one of their own that you could feel a slightly guilty feeling expanding on your chest from the number of times you’d heard your friends bad mouthing them in attempts to joke around. 

You swallowed the feeling back, though, accepting a plastic cup they poured with champagne (which you learned is a tradition before gigs) and making a conversation.

“Are you done yet?” You feel the vibration of his voice on that back of your fingers that touch against his throat.

“Yes,” you say with a final stroke of your brush on his eyes, sitting back to admire your work with your teeth carved on your bottom lip. “You can open your eyes, baby.”

He blinks his eyes open and you can’t help the smile that breaks through your lips as you examine the contrast of the burning red eyeshadow with his jade irises as he looks back at you. “How do I look?” 

You grab his cheeks, leaning down to press a quick peck on his lips. “Like a proper rockstar.”

“Yeah?” He grins once you let your hands caress on the smooth skin of his chest poking through his unbuttoned blue blouse. “Think I can finally get some groupies now?”

Scoffing, you swing your hand to shove him back playfully with a roll of your eyes. You try to move away but he grabs hold of your wrists, pulling you in again. “You’re insufferable.”

“Just how you like it.” His hands fall to your waist, bringing it closer as you let your arms wrap around his shoulders. 

His lips meet your on a slow kiss, allowing you to taste the strawberry flavor of the lipstick you’d applied earlier, the thought of messing it completely lost in your mind as you tilt your head to deepen it even more. His fingers now grip on your hips over your denim skirt that has ridden up considerably since you first propped yourself on his lap. For a moment you just stay like this, tangled on each other’s arms, every so often you scratch on his neck, pulling his hair just a bit so you can swallow the most delicious mewls.

He parts from you as slowly as the kiss started, pecking on your lips a couple of times before letting his head fall back, hands moving to rub at your thighs over your pink tights. His eyes are hooded as he looks up at you with a smirk, voice coming low as if he’s sharing a secret just between the two of you, “can we go to the back?”

“Sure.” You unstranddle him, adjusting your skirt as you stand up and offering your hands to help him to his feet. He takes them, almost bringing you back down on the couch as he pulls a little bit too hard. 

Once he’s up he takes a look at himself on the mirror in the wall opposite to the couch, a pleased smile on his face letting you know he likes the result of your work. He reaches for your hand then, guiding you into the hallway and out the back door you’ve become so familiar with.

Walking into the alleyway, he walks to his usual spot, leaning back on the wall and pulling you with him. His hands easily find their place on your waist once again, fingers tapping against the fabric of your skirt anxiously. Looking down at you, there’s anticipation on his eyes, as if he’s trying to tell you something but is waiting for you to bring it up.

“So,” he begins, eyes darting around as he parts his legs a bit, enough to fit you between them as he pulls you closer.

“So…” You say, drifting off as a way to encourage him to keep going.

“I’ve thought about the date thing.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, playing with the ends of his har. “Wasn’t I the one that was supposed to be doing that?”

 He shrugs slightly, looking down to where his fingers fiddle with a loose strand of your vest. There’s something very endearing about seeing him so nervous, a complete opposite to how he carries himself in public, as this cocky and confident guy. You’re grateful that he allows you to see this side of him, though, bringing your hand to caress his jawline as you wait him to speak his thoughts. “Yeah, but I had like, an idea, or whatever.”

“Do tell.”

“I thought we could do--” he shakes his head a bit. “We could go to a place that’s still more reserved, and stuff.” 

“Like?”

“I dunno, I--” he chews on his lip, a habit he’s starting to get from you. “Thought we could go to my flat and like hang out, we could go to that diner that has a drive tru and get something to eat and go back to my place.” 

“Are you trying to take me home, Styles?” You tease, not being able to hold back a smile.

“It’s not like that, I just--” he huffs, cheeks getting a bit flushed as he tries to explain himself. “Just if you’re comfortable with it, of course, we can still go around on my car if you prefer, I don’t mind.”

“Harry?” You hold his cheek, moving it so his eyes can meet yours. Rubbing your thumb against his smooth skin, you try to soothe him, shooting him a fond smile.  “I think that’s a really nice idea.”

“Yeah?” You don’t miss the way his eyes light up. “Is that a yes, then?”

“Of course.”

“Cool, I can, like, call you before I leave home so you can go to our spot and I can pick you up, yeah?” It’s the fastest he’s speaking since the moment you walked out of the building, voice a pitch higher. “How about Friday?

“Great.” You giggle, tangling your fingers on his hair to pull him down so his forehead rests against yours. Lips brushing, you blink up at him, jade eyes flickering around your face, “I can’t wait.”

He smiles. “Me too.”

                                 ❁         ❁        ❁

An annoyed puff leaves your lips as you notice another typo in one of the words inked in the paper poking out of the typewriter. You grab it maybe a bit too forcefully, this being the fourth time in a matter of minutes you had to do this. Taking it out of the platen, you reach for the whiteout conveniently prompted next to you, carefully correcting the error before putting the paper back on the machine.

With the end of the term peeking around the corner, you’ve been finding yourself in this position more often than not. Either rushing with your essays or grading assignments from your students. No matter what the arrangement is, however, there’s always a guarantee to have a half-empty mug of coffee and a pile of textbooks spattered on your desk. 

This time around is no different, as you lean back on your chair, closing your eyes and rubbing your hands over your face, you try to focus on Cyndi Lauper singing in the background as a way to relieve your stress. You can feel the inkling of a headache deep inside your forehead, indicating maybe it’s time to give yourself a break, So, you try your best to relax the tension out of your muscles, breathing in the soft chamomile scent of the burning candle on your nightstand -- it’s one Lena gave to you to help with the stress a few days ago. What disturbs you from your moment of meditation with Time After Time, making you snap out of your breathing exercise, is the ringing tone of the telephone echoing through the house. The sound comes into your room a bit muffled thanks to your closed door, but it’s still enough to irritate you.

You hear closely to the sounds outside your door, waiting for Lena, who you know is propped on the couch downstairs watching TV, to pick up the call and cease the annoying tune interrupting your moment. And as you predict, in just a few minutes the ringing noise stops as quickly as it started, making you relax back on your chair. Closing your eyes again, you let yourself go back to the moment before the interruption, untensing your shoulders. You can hear the pound of heavy footsteps coming up the wooden staircase, but don’t process them getting closer until your door swings open.

Lena is standing in your doorway with an expression that’s hard to read at first, her brows set on a slight frown her hairline and mouth agape. Before you can tell her off for her sudden entrance she’s already speaking, “can you tell me why the fuck Harry Styles is calling our house looking for you?”

You can feel your heartbeat falter at her words, eyes widening as you glance at your bunny-shaped clock and realizing you had gotten so lost in your studies you forgot about the date. “Shit,” you get up so fast from your chair it falls back on the rug. You turn to Lena, who’s watching the scene with the most amused smirk on her face, “is he still one the line?”

As soon as she nods you’re stumbling down the stairs, almost falling down on the last steps but catching yourself up on the railing. You reach for the wired phone lying upwards on the hallway stand, picking it up and walking into the closest door - which happens to be the coat closet - closing it behind you.

“Hello?” You sound out of breath, heartbeat roaring in your ear.

“Did I fuck it up?” His voice is hesitant, nearly remorseful, it makes your heart drop.

“I-- no, you didn’t.” You reassure, leaning back on the wall of the tiny space, instantly regretting your decision of not choosing the restroom in your panic state.  “I just got caught up with an essay and didn’t see the time passing.”

“Do you want to reschedule?” He drags out the words as if he doesn’t want to say them. “We can do this another day, I don’t mind.”

“No!” You protest quickly, reaching back to roughly adjust a hanger that’s poking on your neck, causing a raincoat to fall on your feet. “Of course not, I really need a break, anyway. I want to see you.”

“Want to see you, too.” You can hear the smile on his voice. “What about your friend?”

You sigh, rubbing your temple slightly. “I’ll talk to her, don’t worry about it.”

“Okay.” He says. “I’ll be at yours in around fifteen, is that good?”

“That’s perfect, yes.”

“I’ll see you in a bit then…” He drifts off, as if he wants to say something else, but stops himself.

“See you.”

The familiar sound of the deadline takes place and you sigh, letting your head fall back on the wall with a thump and staying like that for a moment. When you step out of the closet, the first thing you see is Lena leaning against the railing of the stairs, shaking her head at you in disbelief. “You bitch.”

Your shoulders drop, not wanting to have this conversation right now, as you put the phone back on the base. “Can we not do this--”

“You’ve been fucking him all this time and you didn’t tell me?” She crosses her arms under her breasts. “Abbey is gonna throw a fit when she knows this.”

“You’re not gonna tell her.”

“I’m not.” She agrees with you. “But she already knows you’re sneaking out with someone.”

“She does?” Your voice gets higher, eyes widening slightly.

“She might be high as a kite most of the time, yes, but she’s not stupid.” She chuckles. “And you’re not the best at hiding either, or you thought we wouldn’t notice you’re barely at home anymore?”

You frown your mouth, feeling like a deer caught in the headlights. “Does she suspect that it’s him?”

“Not really no, thought it was one of your students.”

You can’t help the horrified look that takes over your face. “I tutor children!”

“Ooh,” she breathes out a laugh. “Well, to be fair, he’s probably the last person she would suspect.”

“She’s gonna kill me.”

“Probably.” She shrugs. “But she’ll just have to get over it.”

“I guess.”

Lena looks at you, dropping her arms as she walks to you. Holding into your shoulders, her expression softens. “Don’t worry about this right now, okay? Go get ready for your date.”

“You’re right.”  You sigh, nodding. It takes you a second, but as you process her words, you frown, squinting your eyes at her. “How do you know we have a date right now?”

Her hands drop, mouth scrunching as she waves her hands around. “I just guessed.”

“Were you listening on the line?’

“Of course not!” She steps away.

“Adeline!”

She backs away, reaching the bottom of the stairs with the guiltiest look you’ve ever seen splattered on her face. “It was just a bit of it! I was curious!”

You shake your head in disbelief. “I’m gonna cut the cord of that phone in your room.”

“No, you’re not.” 

Raising your eyebrows in challenge, you take a careful step in her direction, causing her to go up another step. There’s a beat of silence where you two just stare at each other, waiting for the other to make the first move. When you finally give in, racing towards the staircase, she stumbles up the rest of the steps, the sound of your giggles mixing together taking over the space.

                                 ❁         ❁        ❁

There’s an instant sense of comfort when you see Harry’s lime green Ford parked on your usual spot, one that gives an extra pep to your walk, pushing all the stress you’ve been dwelling with to the back of your mind. And as you relax into the leather seat, windows down and radio up, you let yourself enjoy the anticipation of spending the rest of your day with him that settles deep in your stomach. 

You’d always wondered what Harry’s apartment would look like, imagining his LP’s splattered across the place, along with loose papers filled with guitar riffs and song lyrics. Maybe a couple of plants here and there, from what he told you he had tried to take care of one or two before, but always ended up forgetting to water them on schedule. And there’s also a notion inside of you that two young men living together in an apartment are bound to live in somewhat of a nest, so you brace yourself for the piles of beer cans and video game wires tangling on the floor.

When he opens the front door for you, letting you walk in before him, it does surprise you to find a tidier place than you’d expected his living room to be, but you realize you’d not been much far off with your assumption. It’s clear this is a house of musicians from the second you step in, the first sight being two guitars leaning on the wall next to the mud green couch, surrounded by - you guessed it - loose papers, which you assume are filled with scribbled ideas. A wall piano also stands out across the room, a single ashtray standing on top of it next to two candles, where you assume comes the faint scent of vanilla comes from.

“Sorry about the mess,” Harry speaks out from behind you, shrugging out of his usual denim jacket and throwing it over the couch arm, looking back at you with his hands on his hips.

“It’s alright.” Your teeth sink on your bottom lip as you take in the sight of him. Without his jacket, he’s left with just a wine-colored half-buttoned blouse, sleeves rolled up to his elbows so some of his tattoos are exposed. Part of the hem is tucked inside his low waist jeans that hug his thighs so perfectly it makes you want to grip your nails on it. Shaking your head, lightly, you let your eyes wander around the room once more, so he doesn’t notice you gawking at him. “Was expecting worse, to be honest.”

“Do you think that little of me?” He feigns offense.

You giggle, taking a lazy step towards him, shrugging. “I just don’t expect two young men to know the basic of cleaning, that’s all.”

“That’s fair,” he chuckles, taking a moment to just look at you. When a silence settles between the two of you, you raise your brows at him, waiting for him to make the first move. He clears his throat, running his hand through his hair. “Do you want anything to drink?”

“Sure!” You nod. “Do you have, like, beer or…”

“Yes, yes I--” he stops, face lighting up in realization. “No wait, I have something better.” He strides towards a door to where you assume the kitchen is, calling over his shoulder, “make yourself comfortable, I’ll be right back!”

You laugh to yourself, shaking your head as you pull your purse off your shoulder, letting it rest beside Harry’s jacket on the couch. Glancing over your shoulder, there are no signs of him coming back, so you take the opportunity to snoop around the area. 

There’s a small center table in front of the couch, probably the messiest part of the room so far, a few movie magazines splattered around with another ashtray lying on top of it, a few butts of cigarettes long forgotten along with their ashes. Next to it, is a VHS cover of </i> Ghostbusters, a rental receipt paper scrambled on top of it. What calls your attention is a couple of cassette tapes, some with titles you recognize from being Harry’s songs scribbled on top of them but others don’t have a label, which leads you to assume they must be blank. 

You walk around the table, gazing to the tv stand, where a poster of Freud is stuck on the wall behind it -- and breathing out a laugh as you notice someone had drawn glasses and colored his beard with a red sharpie. A bookshelf stands next to it, completely filled with records (apart from a single succulent that has a piece of paper with the name “Ziggy” glued to it). Your curiosity gets the best of you, picking up some LPs on random and what does surprise you, is the lack of a common theme between them. Finding a bit of everything, from some very recognizable names you’ve seen Harry rock to, like Billy Joel and The Clash, to some you’d never even heard him speak of like Culture Club and even a brand new Madonna record.

You have just picked up the cover of Ladies of the Canyon when his voice startles you from behind. “Mitchell, huh?”

Turning back with the record still in hands, you look down at it. “I love her.” You glance up, taking notice of the glasses in his hand, filled with a liquid of a yellow so bright it reminds you of a highlighter. “What’s this?”

“This,” he hands you a glass. “Is a drink we made.”

You raise your eyebrows at him. “You made this?”

 “I’m a man of many talents, bunny.”

“It looks like poison.” You bring the glass up to your nostrils, taking in the strong scent of alcohol. “Am I going to be poisoned? Is this a big plan to get rid of your rival’s bassist?”

“Stop being silly.” He rolls his eyes. “It’s mainly pineapple and vodka, takes weeks to be done, proper fancy stuff, you know?”

“Oh yeah super fancy.” You tease, chewing on your bottom lip to hold back a smile.“Pineapple and vodka.”

“Shut up and drink it.” He says, watching you carefully as you slowly bring the brim of the glass to your lips, taking a small sip of it. An instant sweet taste of pineapple invading your tastebuds, but the vodka is so present it makes you scrunch your nose. Harry gives you a small smile, eyes trained on you as he waits for your verdict, “so…”

“It’s strong.” Your face is still a bit rumpled from the alcohol, but you relax it eventually taking another sip of it, this time quite more prepared for it. “But it’s good, tastes like pineapple and vodka, who would say?”

“Shut up.” He chuckles, taking a step back and propping himself down on the couch.

With the record still in hands, you turn to put it back where you found it, admiring the full bookshelf once more. “Got a nice collection here, Styles, I gotta admit.”

He sips on his drink. “Found something you fancy in there?”

“A couple.”

“Put on something you like.” He motions to the record player standing next to the shelf. You look through the vast collection again, picking some at random and putting it back once you realize it’s not what you’re looking for. After going through a few, you finally stumble upon Elton John’ Madman Across The Water, holding it up to show it to Harry. “Oh, so we’re in one of those moods?”

You pull the vinyl from the sleeve, carefully placing it on the player and adjusting the needle over it. As the beginning note of Tiny Dancer float through the room, you look back at him. “What mood?”

 “Like, a happy-sad kind of mood.”

You nod, setting yourself on the couch next to him. “That’s a nice way to put it.”

As the first few songs swim in the air around there’s a light chatter that settles between the two of you. Nothing out of your ordinary conversations, mainly consisting of you gushing over John Taylor as Harry rolls his eyes and sips on his drink to mask the drop of jealousy that grows on his chest -- “He’s not that good looking, you lot should have better standards” he said with a huff, making you giggle at his antics and pinch his cheeks. But it doesn’t take long, barely going halfway through the record, until the two of you begin to feel more lightheaded, eyes glossy and tongues getting looser. You should’ve expected that from the very first sip of the drink in your hand, knowing it wouldn’t take much more than a glass of it to get you right boozed up. And it doesn’t help that which each sip of it the sweetness of the pineapple takes over the strong taste of the alcohol, and in a matter of a few songs, you already feel your mind soaring away.

Harry is not much different, you realize, becoming quite a bit of a giggly drunk as he looks at you through half-lidded eyes and slurred words coming out of his mouth (which only makes him laugh more at himself). From what he told you, it hasn’t been the first time he and Mitch attempted on making the drink themselves. They tried it at a cramped bar right outside a Tears For Fears concert and it had gotten them so knackered so quickly they went back the next day to ask the barman (who also happened to be the owner) what was it in. Turns out it was just watermelon and vodka, but the man also explained that the technique he used that took about two weeks for the drink to be ready. From the man’s explanation, it seemed simple enough so they decided to try it for themselves, except they replaced the watermelon with pineapple.

“Just to add a bit of fun to it.” He shimmies his body.

“Is it like the original, though?” 

“‘S close, but not quite his.” He hiccups. “I’m convinced he left out some of the details, the bastard, didn’t want to go around giving out the secret formula of it.”

You giggle, biting into the brim of your glass. “I’m curious to try it with watermelon, now that you’ve mentioned.”

“You have to, bunny!” His head falls back on the couch, dimples so deep you want to bite into them, his hand strokes lazily on your thigh, every now and then moving up to rub at the hem of your playsuit. “I’ll take you there sometime, we can get baked and crash into a concert at the music house that’s right in front of it.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

When the blue of the sky outside begins to fade into a golden glow, ribbons of pink and orange cutting through it, you’re already completely far gone. The record player is now only letting out a faint buzz from the lack of sound now that the LP is over. Your head is filled with clouds and you don’t register when Harry reaches back for the guitar, only really registering it once he’s stringing out a familiar melody. He stumbles with the lyrics but as soon as you recognize the beginning line of </i> Big Yellow Taxi you’re joining him, your voices tangling in a high pitch as you more of scream the lines than really bother to sing it. Harry gets completely lost in it, and you let him take over every so often just to watch him, mimicking Joni Mitchell's voice and even enacting her laugh, which makes you laugh until your belly hurts and your cheeks get flushed.

It’s one of those moments you want to get locked in, to live in it forever. Watching him stumbling the lyrics of different songs, the words tumbling out of his mouth between giggles, fingers stroking the cord of the guitar maybe a bit too harshly as you join him without a care in the world to who may be bothered by it. You feel so free with him, it’s a feeling that takes over your whole body, a warmth of knowing you don’t have to filter yourself or fit any type of expectation. And as he ends another cover with violent strokes on the guitar you laugh along with him for a moment before letting the room quiet down. Crossing your arms over the back of the couch and resting your cheek against it, you just look at him.

His bloodshot green meets yours, his chest rising as he catches his breath from the frantic songs, teeth sinking on his bottom lip as he smiles at you. “Gonna slow down a bit fo’ you.”

You raise your brows at him, smiling in anticipation as he begins to smooth his fingers through the cords much more gently than he had been previously. His head moves along to the beat as he gazes down at the instrument, a slight crease forming between his eyebrows in concentration. It’s a complete contrast from the playful demeanor that had taken over the room just minutes ago.

“Love of my life, you’ve hurt me.” He begins, and your ears instantly perk up as you identify the same song you’d heard him play months ago at the pub, the one that made you enter it to watch him for the first time. “You’ve broken my heart and now you leave me.”

It’s much different now, however, not just from the fact that he’s singing it on his own without the band backing him up. But it’s the meaning behind it, the rawness of his voice, low and slightly raspy, the words still come out a bit mumbled but you couldn’t care less about it, only focusing on the emotion he puts to them. 

“Love of my life, can’t you see?” His eyes are still set on the guitar and you search for them almost desperately, shifting closer to him and cupping his cheek, guiding him to meet your gaze. “Bring it back, bring it back, don’t take it away from me.”

The swell in your heart is overwhelming to an extent, his glossy eyes looking into your with such sincerity it makes you want to jump on him, but you hold back as he keeps going, feeling nearly hypnotized by his voice.

“Because you don’t know, what it means to me.” He leans into your touch, turning to press a quick kiss on your palm as he keeps stroking the chords in a quiet melody. “Love of my life, don’t leave me.”

You can’t help but shake your head slightly as he sings the lyric almost like a plea. “You’ve stolen my love, and now desert me.” He looks back down at the guitar, letting your hand fall to his shoulder. “Love of my life, can’t you see?”

“Bring it back, bring it back, don’t take it away from me.” Peeking under his lashes, he grins up at you, and you can only imagine how you must look to him. Mouth slightly agape, barely blinking as you’re scared if you do this will all turn out to be nothing but a dream. His voice comes out next a bit lower, stretching out the words, “Because you don’t knoow.”

He strokes the chords a bit mindlessly now, playing with the sound of the melody, and he does it so effortlessly you almost hold your breath as not to miss it. “What it means to me.”

When he stops, you don’t really think before latching yourself on him, throwing one leg on each side of his thighs, and cupping his face before meeting his mouth with yours. He immediately wraps an arm around your back, his other hand taking the guitar off his lap and blindly placing it against the wall next to the couch. Once the instrument is no longer a barrier, he places his hands on your hips, pulling you closer. You can taste the memory of a pineapple still lingering on his tongue as you lick into his mouth. The kiss is hungry, maybe a bit sloppy thanks to the substance still very much present in your bloodstreams, but you don’t mind, only moving a hand to tangle on his hair, scratching at his scalp before pulling at his roots. 

A whimper escapes from his mouth, getting lost inside your throat, his grip on your thighs tightens, nails digging in it and you know will leave crescent shapes on your skin. It only makes you do it again, this time his head tilting backward with a small groan, disconnecting your lips, but you’re soon to connect it again, splattering kisses along his jawline until it meets his neck. When you suck on his pulse point, running your tongue over it, his skin vibrates on your lips as he lets out a whine. His hands are now running all over your thighs before resting on top of your ass, bringing your hips to grind against his.

Even with your hazed mind, it’s still hard to miss the very prominent bulge under his jeans. It makes you pull back, looking down to see it straining against his zipper. There’s a flip of a switch inside of you when you realize how much he’s yearning for it, it’s the desire you’ve been pushing back for months now, crashing into you like a wave and you can barely contain a small mewl at the sight.

“Bunny.” He breathes out. When you look back to him, you notice his eyes have darkened considerably. “We don’t have to--”

“Please.” You let your forehead fall against his, rolling your hips again, stealing another whimper from him. “If you want to, I want to.”

“I do -- fuck, I do.” He nods as you keep grinding on him, his hand disappearing on your back pocket, trying to get as closer to you as possible.

When you meet his lips again, the kiss is somehow eager than before. The longing is evident as you grab onto each other. Your hands travel down his chest, nails digging softly on his exposed skin, and once you feel the fabric of his shirt, you’re quickly to undo the rest of the buttons, not disconnecting from him as you do so. Smoothing your hands back up to his shoulders, you help him shrug off the material, letting it fall to the couch without paying mind to it.

“Wait,” he sneaks between kisses, hands coming up to your waist you push you off gently.

You watch with your brows narrowed as he gets up from the couch, walking to his shelf and standing in front of it, looking for something. Leaning to your side, you let yourself admire the muscles of his back as his fingers run through the edges of the records. It’s impressive how even though his collection takes over the whole furniture, he still seems to know exactly where to look for it, focusing on a small section right at the top. He quickly finds what he’s looking for, pulling it with a ‘Aha!’ before turning back to you. 

He holds up a very familiar black cover, the imprint of Queen’s Greatest Hits instantly calling your attention. Doing the same as you’d done earlier, he takes out the disk, placing it on the player before adjusting the needle over it. You watch it with a smile teasing on your lips, finding oddly endearing how he made you pull away from him with the sole purpose of putting on a soundtrack -- making notice to put on something you’d like, as well. He cranks up the volume as the first words of Bohemian Rhapsody start to swallow your thoughts, turning back to you and offering his hand with a cheeky grin painted on his face.

Taking his hold, you let him pull you up from the couch and, before you can really register it, he’s guiding you through the hallway. You stumble on your footing as he rushes a bit to fast for you to really wrap your head around it, the walls of the corridor passing by almost in a blur as it takes your mind a beat too long to catch up with your eyes. Still, your giggles dance along with his all the way to his door at the end of it, making you feel like a couple of teens sneaking out for the first time.

He doesn’t give you a single minute to take notice of his room -- not that you would at this moment, your arousal pooling at your underwear only enhancing the haziness of your mind. In just a speck of a second, he’s already pushing the door closed, your body being pressed against it not long after. His arms find their place on each side of your head, his lips searching hungrily for yours as your fingers find their home between the strands of his hair once more. 

“Shit, need you so bad, baby.” he presses his hips against yours, mouth hot as he sucks in the skin of your jaw, all the way down your neck, finding a spot that makes you whine under his touch. “That’s it, darling, let me hear you again.”

“Harry,” you mewl as his teeth sink on your skin gently, his tongue swiping quickly over the spot before he trails back to your cheek. You melt under his touch when his hands find their way back on your body, one of them caressing the side of your breast softly, thumb poking out to rub the spot where you nipple pebbles under your layers of clothing. This brings out a desperate whimper from your throat, your head falling back on the door as you close your eyes, trying to savor every slight touch of his. “Please.”

“Look so fucking pretty in this piece, bunny.” The sound of his voice is right below your ear, his warm breath hitting your skin making the hairs on your neck rise. “Look gorgeous in anythin”” he turns his head to bite at your earlobe. “But I really need it gone right now.”

Your eyes snapback open when you feel him pull back from you, his hands finding the front buttons of your playsuit, fiddling them open so easily you barely register it. His lips are back on yours, this time slower, letting his desire be known at every brush of his tongue. Smoothing his hands on your shoulders, he helps you out of the sleeves of the top. As soon as your back is disconnected from the wooden door, you start moving forward before you can really think about it, pushing him back gently until the back of his knees hit the mattress and he’s sitting back on the bed.

There’s hardly a speck of green left on his darkened irises when he looks up at you, watching your every move as you shift the material down your body, letting it pool on your feet before you kick it to the side. Taking a slow step towards him, his hands holding onto your hips almost unconsciously, you reach back to find the hook of your bra, but he stops you before you can even quite grasp it. “Wait,” he pulls you closer, making you fall a bit awkwardly on his lap, your hands moving to grip on his shoulder for support. “Let me.”

You adjust your position on top of him, your knees resting next to his thighs, as he handily unhooks your bra, removing it quickly from your arms and tossing it to the side. A gasp escapes your mouth as he wastes no time before attaching his mouth to your breast, tongue circling on your nipple before sucking in. His hand tries to give the same attention to the other one, grasping onto it as his thumb caresses the pebbled nub.

The crescendo of the song comes muffled in the background and it’s as if it’s echoing inside your head while you mindlessly roll your hips against his. The motion makes the lining of his zipper rub deliciously against your clit under the thin fabric of your underwear, and it reminds you of his hardening length pressing on his jeans. It seems to remind him as well, as his mouth parts from your chest in a groan, his lips licking at the space between your breast, kissing all the way back to your neck, where he hides his face with a strangled moan when you grind down a bit harder.

“Can’t take the tease, baby.” He pants. “Need you right fucking now.”

You pull back from him, gazing down at the tent on his pants and bringing your hands to fiddle with his belt. It takes you a bit longer to manage to pull it out, as his eager lips attack your neck once again. At this point, you can only imagine the marks he’s made on your skin, knowing the reddened spots will soon come to a purple shade, but it’s the least of your worries as you pop the button of his jeans, opening up the zipper. 

“Stand up just for a sec, darling.” He taps on your hip and you do as he asks, stepping back to plant your feet on the floor.

He shifts out of his pants, bringing his briefs along with it and you watch the way his cock all but jumps out of its restrains, slapping back on his stomach. The tip is a reddened shade darker, a trace of precum already oozing out of it, dripping down his length and making you rub your thighs for some sort of relief as you feel your mouth watering. You want to reach for it, grasp it as you feel it throb on your palm. You want to trace the prominent veins adorning it with your tongue and discover all the sounds he makes when he’s all but begging for you to wrap you mouth around it already. But more than anything, and what speaks louder to you at the moment, is how you want to feel it deep in your belly, rubbing against your walls until your legs shake.

“My eyes are up here, love.” You look up at him, a smug grin on his face as he draws you in by your hips.

“Can’t help it.” You watch his fingers play with the waistband of your cherry colored underwear, meeting his eyes as you let yourself mess with him a bit. “Just have such a beautiful cock.”

“Christ.” He groans, yanking your panties down your leg, making your arousal drip down your thighs. His lips immediately trace on your pubic bone, hands travelling to grip on your ass as his teeth sink into your skin slowly. “Didn’t know you were this filthy, bunny.”

You enlace your fingers on his strands, pushing his fringe away from his forehead as you mount him again. “Only for you.”

“All for me? What did I do to deserve you?” He smiles, pecking your lips and pulling your closer so you can feel his cock poking at your stomach. “Why don’t you lie down for me?”

You shake your head, pushing his shoulders back gently until his back hits the mattress. “You lie down.”

“Shit, baby, gonna sit on my cock?” He shifts back just slightly, watching you sit back on his thigh as you grab his length, giving it an experimental pump that makes his breath audibly hitch. “Fuck-- such a good girl, aren’t ya?”

You chew on your bottom lip, flickering your palm over the tip and collecting a bit of the precum before rubbing it once more. He lets out a strangled moan, head tilting back on the mattress, his curls splattered around him like a halo. Which is an ironical contrast to what you’re doing to him. 

His voice comes out in a breathy, chest moving frantically as he peeks down at you when you give him another slow pump. “Please, darling, don’t torture me right now, need you so bad.”

If it were another occasion you wouldn’t listen to him, simply continuing your teasing as if he hadn’t said anything at all. But right now you can feel your wetness pooling where you sit on his thigh as you all but throb for him at the sight of his angry cock in your hand. It’s just as much torture to you as it is to him to keep this going any longer, so you just shift up, gabbing his base and rubbing it along your folds one, two, three times, before finally aligning it with your entrance.

His nails dig on your thighs in anticipation, his eyes watching with barely a blink as you slowly sink down. Your mouth hangs open but nothing except a choked gasp comes out of it. There’s a delicious burn that comes with him slowly spreading you open for him, and when you fully sit down your eyes are teary and can’t help but clench around him, earning a full moan in response.

“So fucking tight.” He pants, chest moving up as he takes a sharp inhale when you clench again. “So wet too, baby, drenching me.”

“Fuck, Harry.” You lean forward, hands lying on each side of his torso as you pull up the tiniest bit just to sink down again.

You want to start slow, gradually fastening your pace but you can’t seem to hold yourself back. As his hands grasp on your hips you start to bounce on him at a hard pace, your moans meshing together as well as the faint vocals blasting outside the closed door. Rolling your hips on his, he hits spot that makes you sit on your heels again as you throw your head back, crying out his name. 

It’s hard to keep focus as you mind is blurry from the pleasure that takes over every cell of your body as well as the alcohol still running freely on your bloodstream. All you can focus on right now is Harry. It’s his hands gripping on your skin, helping you fasten your pace. It’s the sound of his voice pitching on a needy whimper, telling you how good you feel around him. It’s the sight of his face creased in pleasure when you look down at him, the veins staining his neck and his locks sticking to his damp forehead, cheeks rosy and lips plump. He’s the only thing in your mind as you chant his name under your breath like a quiet prayer.

“Is my cock that good, bunny?” He meets your thrusts with his hips, making you sob out a moan. His lips tug on a smirk, “Look at you helping you helping yourself out on my cock -- fuck, look like a proper dream.”

There’s a familiar tightness in your stomach, one that makes your toes curl and your rhythm falters. “I’m almost there, shit.”

“Won’t last much longer too, baby, feel too good.” He groans holding your hips in place when you stumble on your pace again, deciding to thrust upwards, your pelvis meeting in loud smacks. “Gonna cum for me? Gonna let me see you looking all pretty when you cum all over my cock?”

“Harry, please.” You’re not even sure what you’re asking for, your eyes closing as you roll back your head. A trifling cramp is starting to set on the back of your thighs but you barely pay any mind to it as the bliss takes over your whole body. You’re so close to your high you can almost reach it, just needing a small push.

“C’mon, baby.” Harry urges you, hand reaching where you’re connected to rub at your clit harshly.

And that’s all you needed, opening your eyes as a couple tears fall down your face when you feel your orgasm taking over you body, the white ceiling feeling far away like an imagine you watch on the television. You’re not exactly sure when Killer Queen started playing, but as the waves of euphoria hit your body, you can hear the guitar solo ringing in your ears, the crescendo of the song only enhancing the thrill of your high as you ride your orgasm along with it.

You practically collapse  down on his chest, his hot skin sticking to your body. He’s still panting under you, warm breath hitting your neck as he holds onto your ass, his thrusts coming sloppier as he comes right after you. The sensitivity of your center makes you whine along with his strangled moans when he holds his hips to yours,burying himself in you as he paints your walls white.

For a moment you just stay like this, cheek resting on his chest, the sound of his heartbeat slowing down by the minute blending with the music coming from outside the closed door. His fingertips trace patterns on your bare arm that’s hugging his torso and keeping him close. You can feel your mind getting clearer, not just from the alcohol but from the high of your orgasm. And as the sound of the soft wind knocks against the window glass, you’re almost lulled to sleep just like this. 

Harry shifts slightly, you feel his lips pressing on your head before he carefully moves to sit up, letting you fall back on the bed gently. “Mind if I have a smoke, bunny?”

You give him a lazy smile, shaking your head as you look up at him, reaching for his locks that poke wildly on his head. Leaning down, he gives you a quick peck before getting up. Turning to your side, you watch as he looks around the room, finding his briefs thrown by the end of the bed and quickly putting them back on. He grabs the pack of cigarettes along with his lighter and heads towards the window.

Opening up the window, allowing the evening breeze to slip through the crack and dance around the room, he pulls a chair leaning on the wall to sit directly by it. The chair is stacked with colored cushions on top of it - one yellow, one red, and one blue - he throws two of them thoughtlessly on the floor next to it, adjusting the remaining one on his back as he leans down to sit on it. The stool is low enough so he can relax his feet on it comfortably, fingers fiddling with the lighter for a second before rising it to meet the end of the cigarette resting between his lips. Freddie Mercury still sings loudly in the living room, the sound coming a bit muffled thanks to the closed door, but making it as background noise as you come quiet to admire his figure against the last creeks of sunlight hitting the side of his profile.

You chew on your lip at the scene, wishing you could record it somehow and play it every night before falling asleep. There’s something inherently erotic about having him smoke a cigar just on his underwear, humming along to the tune of the song, right after having you scream his name into his pillow. 

The light streak of wind coming from the window breaks you out of your thoughts, making goosebumps rise on your skin as you come to the realization that you’re still sitting naked in his bed. It doesn’t take long for you to find your panties hanging from the edge of the mattress, picking them up to quickly slide them up your legs before you get up to search for your other articles of clothing. You can see the colorful pattern of your playsuit lying next to the closed door, but as you crouch to pick it up something else catches your attention in the pile of clothes thrown around mindlessly on top of a wooden chest

It’s the pink shirt. The same one he wore on the day you first saw him play.

A grin takes over your face as you pick it up, throwing it over your shoulders and sliding your hand on the sleeves. It has the faint scent of his cologne mixed with the lingering smell of cigarettes, something you’ve come to associate with him. You don’t bother to button up the material, letting it hug your body as you take a quick look at yourself in the full-body mirror leaning on the wall in front of you. You turn to him, his eyes still focused on the view outside, a thin coat of smoke leaving his lips and getting lost in the breeze, so you clear your throat as to get his attention.

He looks at you, eyes shamelessly scanning down your body and you’re afraid the cig will fall from his lips as they grow on a smug smirk. 

“Look at you,” he lets his feet fall from the stool, fixing them on the floor as he motions for you to get close. You approach him without a second thought, climbing on his lap as his hands hold onto your hips. He takes another look at you, grasping the cigarette with his fingers and taking out of his lips. Reaching for your face, his thumb caresses the side of your eyelid gently. “Looking like a proper rockstar now, even got the smudged makeup.”

You giggle. “That’s more your fault than mine.”

“I guess it is.” He taps the butt of the cig on an ashtray prompted on the stool of the window, eyes still trained on you. “Should do it more often then, s’fucking hot.”

You smile at the connotation, picking at the hem of the shirt and gazing at him from under your lashes. “Guess I might be starting to like pink, that’s also your fault.”

“Look way too good in pink not to like it, bunny.”

“Stop that.” You hide your face on the crook of his shoulder.

“Telling the truth.” His free hand grips on your waist, pulling you closer as he tilts his head to kiss at your neck. “Looks good in everything.”

“Could tell you the same thing.” You pull back to look at him, teeth sinking on your bottom lip as you smooth your hands down his bare chest.  “But I do prefer this fit on you, really brings out your eyes.”

“Naughty.”

You lean to connect your lips, hugging him close with your arms wrapped around his neck and enjoying the tender moment as you distribute kisses around his face just to hear him giggle. And when you bring your mouth to his again, you barely feel the softness of his lips before he all but jumps on his skin. You pull back, furrowing your brows, ready to question it but he beats you. “Forgot I got something for you.”

“For me?” You blink. “What is it?”

“Go sit on the bed while I fetch, will be just a minute.” He gives you a quick peck before you’re pulling away.

You do as he asks, sitting back on the bed, right next to the wrinkled spot where you lied just  minutes ago. He walks across the room, opening the door where you came from and disappearing in the hallway. The record is still blasting through the apartment walls, sound coming louder now that there’s no barrier between you.

While he’s gone, you take a moment to look around his room, something you didn’t get a chance to do when you first came in tangled on his arms. It’s not much messier than the living room, really, only the small piles of clothes you’ve spotted earlier that give the illusion of an untidy room. There’s a light wooden dresser that sits next to the chest, and from where you sit you can see two candles standing alone on top of it, similar to the ones on the piano. 

You swing your feet on the edge of the bed, letting them brush along a blue fluffy mat that hugs the floor underneath it. And as you run your hands on along his mattress, you notice the soft superficie, making you look down at a knitted blanket spreaded across the bed. It’s made of different colored squared stuck together in an oddly comforting pattern. You want to lie down on it, and let yourself be swallowed by the cozyness of the material against your skin, but before you can do so, Harry appears back in the room, closing the door behind him as he makes his way to you.

“This blanket is so nice.” You run your hands through it, smiling at him.

“Thanks, I knitted it.” The information makes your eyes bulge out, you open your mouth to inquire further but he’s already talking again. “This is-- uhm, I dunno, just something I thought you’d like it.”

The small box in his hand catches your attention as he hands it to you, his eyes looking down at it and even with just the moonlight illuminating the room you can see the blush on his cheeks. He props himself down on the spot next to you, watching your fingers turn the rectangular box around. It’s a cassette tape case, you quickly realize.

When you gaze at the back of it, there’s names of songs scribbled behind it. Not many, but a good collection of them, from Fleetwood Mac to The Bangles, and even Billy Joel. And it doesn’t take you long to find a pattern with the song chosen for the tape. Their all love songs. It makes your heart swell even more, if that’s even possible at this point.

“These are so cheesy,” you bite your lip, barely able to contain your smile.

He rolls his eyes. “They’re romantic, bunny.”

You keep examining the titles written neatly in his handwriting, raising your brows when you land on a specific one. “Every breath you take?” You tease, “That’s an interesting take on romance.”

“Shut up.” He giggles, eyes watching you carefully. “Do you like it?” His voice is adorably hesitant, it makes your heart stumble on a beat.

“I love it.” You say in just above a whisper, feeling the butterflies in your stomach get a little more vivid once your eyes land on the last song scribbled in the back of the tape. Somebody to Love. Brushing your thumb over the words softly, careful not to smudge the paint, you look up at him to find his green irises glistening at you. You shake your head almost in disbelief at the tenderness behind the gift. “Did you record this just for me?”

“Uhm yeah some of them I did but—” He looks down, focusing on his fingers as they pick a loose string from the blanket under his leg. “Some of them I just... Sang”

“You sang?” It takes you by surprise, how you thought there was no way he could make you feel warmer.

“Yeah… All of them, actually.” His dimples dig deep on his cheeks as he quickly peeks his eyes at you. “It’s just… The quality is shit when you record it from the radio and the dj keeps interrupting and stuff.” He shrugs, “Thought if I sang it could be more, personal? I guess.”

“I love it.” You repeat.

“You do?” 

“I do.” You chew on your lip, watching his eyes glimmering on the dim light of the room. “Is there a reason for this sudden present?”

“Kind of I--” He clears his throat, fully glancing at you. There’s an expectation behind his eyes, you can tell from the way he takes a sharp inhale that he’s nervous. “Thought I make you-- ask you, actually, if you’d be mine?”

You can’t help but giggle at how adorable he looks, your eyes getting a bit glossy as you nod without a blink of a thought. “Of course I’m yours, Harry.”

“Yeah?” His smile grows. “As like, m’girlfriend?”

Throwing your arms around him, you press your lips against his cheek, careful not to drop the tape in your hand still. You pull back, tilting your head as giving him a fond smile. “As in your girlfriend, yes.”

[angelofthebau]

Your Majesty [Part One of Three]

Aaron Hotchner x Female OC/Reader

Word Count: 3204

This town is full of gangs, it always has been, but one woman is in charge of them all. When the BAU team are called onto a dangerous poisoning case, the PD captain tries to reject their help. But the team aren’t leaving, and they’re going to be dragged into a bizarre town with a interesting queen who seems to have taken a shine to the BAU Chief.

Angel Note: I already began this story using smaller parts, but the second part somehow got deleted (thanks Tumblr). So I’ve rewrote it. I am still taking my Tumblr break, but this was a request that I really wanted to do.

        Jet briefings were always the worst. They meant that time was of the essence, an unsub desperately unravelling further at each moment, but the case that the BAU were about to be thrown into was far more complex and dark than they could have initially thought. True, it was already dark enough - as Penelope Garcia explained over the video feed from back in her ‘cave’ in Quantico - three children and two teenagers dying of mysterious causes, all in quick succession, with no link between them available to see at the local PD’s surface view.

     ‘Eight year old Susanna Rose, six year old Jaxon King, eleven year old Jessica Baker, sixteen year old Michael Barren and nineteen year old Austin Rivers. All lived in different parts of town, Susanna and Jaxon went to the same school, Jessica went to a different school just outside of town. Austin worked at a gas station and she still lived with her parents, and Michael was in high-school with no job,’

     Going back and forth over the case file, agents Prentiss, Jareau, Rossi, Morgan, Hotchner and Dr Reid threw around possible links and early theories. The possibility of an unknown disease was thrown out by the local PD, due to none of the family members from the victims’ households becoming sick. An interesting toxicology report on Susanna, Jaxon and Jessica found an unusual concoction of substances within their system. The ME was still finishing their report on Austin and Michael, but they were betting the same mixture would show up too. A lethal, rare compound of chemicals that created havoc on the human nervous system and causing the body to attack itself, eventually shutting down completely. A poison.

    “We’re landing,” Hotch interrupted the conversation, hushing it to a silence as the plane descended.

     “Detective Mills, it’s a pleasure to have you here,” Mills greeted the two agents with an outstretched hand as they walked into the precinct. He was met with a firm handshake from the BAU chief.

     From the back of the precinct, Captain Halloway happened to glance up from the case file, catching the end of Mills’ handshake with a stranger. A suit. Tailored. Serious. FEDs.

     “SSA Hotchner and Jareau,” Hotch spoke lowly, accepting the formality. “The rest of my team are with the ME and the latest victims’ family,” 

     “Mills,” Halloway bellowed, striding over to his detective and the two FEDs, a scornful look plastered on his features. 

     Mills flinched as the Captain stopped beside him, facing the agents.

     “Captain Halloway,” He introduced himself. “I’m sorry, Agents. We have this case handled,” Halloway spoke sternly, before turning towards Mills. “What did I tell you about calling the god-damned FBI?”

     Mills’ mouth fluttered open and closed, like a fish, as Halloway stared him down.

     “Sir, with due respect, this case is incredibly time-sensitive and my team has agreed to be at your disposal,” Hotch interrupted, sensing the tension.

     “This is still your case, we are just here as a resource to stop more people from being killed,” Jareau soothed.

     “No-one else is going to be killed, agents. Apologies for your wasted journey, but things are under control here,”

     “Captain, how can you be sure that you have this handled?” Hotch questioned, his arms crossed against his chest, his face smouldering.

     “Agents, you don’t know this town. I can assure you, this is being taken care of,”

     “Why is there information missing from your case file? Surely, if this case is being taken care of, then you have a suspect, or a lead, or something more than what’s in this file,” 

     JJ held up the dull, thin file. Halloway took a sharp intake of breath, staring up at the ceiling to compose himself for a second.

     “Please, Agents. Go home,” He mumbled, trying to sound as authoritative as possible, but he knew he was in a difficult territory. The FEDs would never back off from a case like this and the precinct truly had no leads or suspects as such. Halloway had a secret weapon as such - not enlisted by him, but someone that he knew would put an end to the killings. Someone who was better at catching a killer in this town than the cops were.

     JJ and Hotch stood still, showing no signs of moving at all, and bore a glare into Halloway.

      Halloway shot a scowl towards Mills. Mills shrank into himself further.

      “Do you want to start a fight with the Queen?” Halloway spat at Mills.

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     “So, what’s with the Queen business?” Rossi asked as soon as he entered the conference room that Halloway had reluctantly given the BAU, Prentiss following behind. Morgan and Reid were already in the room, relaying information from the ME report to Hotch and JJ.

      Hotch looked up from his casefile.

      “Something’s not right about the case,”

     “Mills clammed up as soon as Halloway got close to him. Something’s happening, but we’re not sure what yet,” JJ added.

     “Corrupt cop maybe?” Prentiss offered, but Hotch shook his head.

      “He’s allowing us to stay on the case. Why would a corrupt cop do that?”

     “To avoid suspicion?”

      “But who’s the Queen?”

       Halloway opened the conference room door, just catching Reid’s question as he entered. The agents became silent, watching his every move. He exhaled loudly, shutting the door behind him. He drew the blinds in the conference room and flicked on the huge screen at the back of the room, remote in hand.

      “This town is gang territory. It has been for years, most of our cases were rival gangs fighting over turf. Usually open shut investigations, until five years ago,” He began. He pressed a button on the remote, illuminating the screen with three group photographs, with each photograph titled by gang name.

     “There are more gangs, but these three are the main groups that run in this town. Caana, Arc and Silver. Caana…”

       Halloway clicked the button again, showing a collage of photos of at least twelve different people, some mugshots - some candid.

        “They’re the oldest. Dating back to before this town was really a town. Drug smugglers mostly, forever thinking they’re a cartel but they’re just drinkers and fighters now, with the occasional pill selling,”

         He switched the screen again, showing another collage. Only five people, all candid shots.

        “Arc are clever bastards. Own half of the town, cooked their books, ran an on-ground black market operation. We’ve always been two steps behind them, and they’re in and out of the town regularly,”

     “Past tense?” Reid wrinkled his nose. Halloway nodded.

     “They’ve never been tied to any of our old cases themselves, but Arc get the blame for most of Caana’s fighting with…”

         The next screen was a huge collage, over thirty different people. Only one mugshot.

       “Silver. Silver are the worst. These guys are into everything. Half of them came from The Silk Road collapse, huge dark net presence. We suspect some hitmen run with them too,”

     “Why was the government never notified of these gangs?” Morgan asked, chewing on the end of his pen. Halloway shook his head.

     “Five years ago, our cases slowed. Calls about Caana’s bar-fights stopped. Arc’s name stopped being mentioned. Most of the members of Silver seemed to drop from the face of the earth. The black market stopped - everything just seemed to halt. We found out that there was a hierarchy controlling all three of these gangs, keeping them out of trouble with the law and calming down their rivalries. The gangs started keeping to themselves, Arc even improved the community significantly. We knew they wouldn’t just stop their activities, another group had to be controlling them and covering them all up. But the town became more peaceful and we hadn’t had a homicide case hit our desks until now,”

     “So which group was overseeing them all?” Hotch asked.

      “Not a group. One woman,”

      “The Queen?”

       “A few gang members from Caana mentioned ‘Queen’ if we ever spoke to them. It was always ‘Queen will handle it’ or ‘Queen will punish’. Almost biblical, in a sense,”

      Halloway clicked to the final slide. There was only one photo, it was candid but the woman’s features were clear enough.

      “Elizabeth Tatiana Leighton. Known as Tate Leighton. We ran into her three years ago…I ran into her three years ago. She’s the Queen. She runs all three gangs. She stopped the rivalries, she oversees every single thing that the gangs do. I have no idea what she holds over them, she has no one else by her side, but she controls every member. She’s ruthless,” Halloway paused to look at the photograph, a ghost of a smile flickering in his face.     “But, in a way, she’s on our side. The activity from the gangs went cold years ago, no-one knows what they’re doing now or if they’re even operating anything anymore. There’s only been one altercation since she took control. From what I heard, the members involved in the feud were scared onto the straight and narrow by her,”

      “So you can’t track anything to her?” Prentiss asked. She was almost in awe of Tate.

      “No. A note was on my desk a few days ago, just before the first body was found,”

       Whilst Halloway dug into his pocket, searching for the note, Hotch stared at the screen. He memorized Tate’s face, noticing the youth in her features. She must have been only twenty-something. He wondered how she got into this business, and how she controlled so many people.

      “It is under my control. Accept my grave condolences to the families of the victims. I do not tolerate killing of innocents, especially children. I am taking care of this. Do not follow this up. I will give you my word when everything is clear. I will pay for the victims to be remembered. Signed, Majesty,”  Halloway read. The team were stunned silent for a moment.

     “So, we have a young woman in control of three dangerous gangs. She has morals and a rule-book,” Rossi commented.

     “The issue is, we can’t leave this case alone,” Morgan sighed.

      “Why not?” Halloway asked in worry.

     “I have a feeling that this woman is going to take an eye for an eye to whoever is responsible for this,”

     Mills bounded into the room. He stopped for a brief second, lingering beside the door as he noticed Tate’s photo on the board, before quickly snapping out his gaze.

     “There’s a call about another body,” Mills burst out. Halloway nodded to the team as they all stood up from the chairs.

     “I won’t lie, I’m uncomfortable, but I’m glad to have you here,” Halloway muttered to the room. The agents shot a glance at him, before leaving the conference room.

      Tate was the first to find the body. She hadn’t heard from Olen in a few hours and now his body lay on the beach, next to Caana’s old smuggling cove, unused as a passage for the last decade, in bad shape. She kept her distance from the body, but spent a minute in silence. Olen was a good man. She respected him immensely - he was intelligent and cunning, but understood Tate’s viewpoint in life and supported her from the moment she took over the lowers. 

     When Deacon had come to her only a couple of hours ago with news of an FBI presence, Tate had already set a plan in motion. Her most trusted lowers were assigned to tail the agents, ordered to stay in pairs for their own safety. She only wanted to know what they agents knew, purely to aid her own investigation. Before Deacon had left to begin his assignment, he’d handed her a file, filled with pictures and information on the FBI agents working on the case. She’d spent a good half hour memorising their names, their faces, their accomplishments - trying to find any weaknesses to play with in case the agents turned on her.

     In a way, she wished that she could share information with the law. The poison was called Keltrox, which Silver had acquired from a known gang contact. They’d given it to Tate in order for her to analyse it and create a cure. With the business that her lowers got up to, they pissed a lot of people off - Keltrox was a hot new thing on the market, according to Silver, with a high chance that someone seeking revenge on one of her lowers would use it.

     Sadly, knowing where the Keltrox came from couldn’t narrow Tate’s search, as any of the gang members could have gotten their greasy hands on it - not just Silver. Hell, maybe even the drunkest in Caana had a stash somewhere.

     Tate’s blood began to boil the longer she stared at Olen’s lifeless body. The kill felt personal, as if Tate had been poisoned herself. Innocent people dead, and now one of her most loyal lowers. It was a message, and Tate could hear it loud and clear.

    The agents hadn’t been to the beach according to her hourly reports. Olen wouldn’t have been at the beach unless he had good reason to slip away from his assignment. The killer had to be one of the most trustworthy lowers to pull something like this. Her most loyal lowers knew that Tate would be at the beach, in this very spot, if she was unable to be found anywhere else. It was the beach that she washed up on years ago, on a tiny lifeboat she’d managed to get onto when Alzena began to fail and wreck. The moment that she’d found the freedom that she’d been looking for was completely within this spot - now, there was Olen’s corpse.

     His eyes were still open. She badly wanted to close them, to sprinkle sand over them, to keep his vision away from what would happen now. But even Tate knew that the FBI would find something more within Olen’s corpse, and her compulsion would ruin that chance. She didn’t want to lead them down the wrong path.

     “The call said the body was next to Caana’s cove, it should be just over this hill,”

     Halloway’s voice sent Tate running into a dip in the rocks of the cove, poking her head above to see two agents accompanying Halloway towards Olen’s body. She ducked back down as they drew closer to her, cursing her sandy footprints that she’d left behind. After a few seconds, she ducked her head back up, recognizing the agents as Prentiss and Hotchner. They talked for a little while, their conversation indistinguishable to Tate, until Prentiss left the beach with Halloway. Hotchner stayed, seemingly staring at the ground until his face turned towards Tate’s direction.

     He’d clocked the footsteps.

     He raised his head, locking eyes with Tate immediately. His hand automatically grabbed onto his gun holster, but Tate stood up fully, hands above her head. Hotch relaxed his grip.

    “Tate Leighton,” He addressed her, but Tate shook her head.

    “Close his eyes please, Agent Hotchner,”

     Hotch stared at her for a brief moment, then silently leaned towards the body, gently brushing Olen’s eyes closed. Within those seconds that he turned away, Tate had taken off, vanishing as he turned back to look at her.

     He stayed on the beach for a minute or so, dissecting his encounter with the Queen herself. She looked even younger than she did in the photo that Halloway had shown him. She knew his name. They were being watched.

       What he never expected was her empathy. They painted her to be ruthless and uncaring, almost numb. He didn’t believe that her request to him was a plan to get away, but instead a compulsion of emotion, compassion.

      He made his way back towards the car, meeting up with Prentiss and Halloway.

     “Did you find anything else?” Prentiss asked, opening the back car door.

     “Tate Leighton,” Hotch spoke lowly, settling himself into the driver’s seat of the SUV.

      “The Queen was there?” Halloway burst out.

      “She was there before us, there were footprints from the body to where she was hiding,”

      “Is she a suspect?” Prentiss asked, and Hotch shook his head as he started the car engine.

      “I don’t think so. She asked me to close the victim’s eyes, and then she left.”

      “Huh,” Prentiss thought aloud.

      “She knew my name. She’s watching us,”

       Hotch began to drive back to the precinct. At a red light, just before the turn for the precinct, he glanced out of his window. Tate stood there on the sidewalk, watching him.

      “Thank you.” She mouthed to him.

     As quickly as she appeared, Tate left, losing herself in the small straggle of people on the sidewalk, making her way back to the beach. She called her lowers, checking on their status. They’d heard the news about Olen by now, but were sticking to their assignments. Deacon and Clarke followed the agents to the beach, seeing Olen’s body, and they’d noticed her on the sidewalk, but said nothing about her encounter with Agent Hotchner. It wasn’t their place to ask her. Deacon was slightly worried about what he’d seen, though. He didn’t like his Queen getting involved with law enforcement, let alone the FBI. What he’d seen on the sidewalk - the way she’d gone back to the car to say thank you to Agent Hotchner...it made him feel a little sick.

     Meanwhile, back at the precinct, the team felt like they were hitting dead end after dead end. Sadly, Tate’s work meant that most of the gang’s activities were covered up to the maximum, even Garcia was having a hard time finding out any recent information, and Tate was a ghost in the system. No information could be found on her regarding the last ten years, almost like she vanished during her teens, only to resurface on the beach following a shipwreck five years later, somehow becoming the leader of three gangs in a small, dangerous town. Hotch’s mind replayed Tate’s behaviour over and over again, trying to dissect it further than he already had, but he never found anything new.

     “That’s weird,” Garcia’s voice interrupted Hotch’s thoughts and the team’s conversation over the phone speaker.

     “Whatcha got, baby girl?” Morgan answered.

     “When I was digging into the Queen, one of the things I found was that the boat that she was on when she was at sea was called Alzena - you know, before it was hit by a bad sea storm and she ended up sailing on the lifeboat,”

     “And?”

     “Now, here’s the thing, I was tracking packages into the town to see if anything suspicious had been reported and nothing had - however, there was a package that was sent about a month ago and the address it was sent to was an abandoned building, so it was sent to the posting office because it couldn’t be delivered. No-one went to pick it up from the office and that package was reported missing four days ago by staff,”

    “That could have been the poison,” Prentiss said, looking to the team.

    “Guys, the name on the package was Alzena Smith,”

     Prentiss shot a look at Hotch.

     “We need to bring in Tate Leighton,” He declared, rising from the chair to find Halloway.

♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔

Angel List:

@aaronhotchnerr

@psych0crybaby

@mortallythoughtfulgurl

@arganfics

@rachelxwayne

@ellvswriting-deactivated2021010

@pumpkin-goob

@xessx

@fuxking-insxne

@ptrs-prkrs

@passionatelyacademic

@averyhotchner

@rousethemouse

@whoreforhotch

@baumarvel

@iconicc

[thewritingstar]

More Than You Think

Pairing: Butchercup/ Greens (Buttercup x Butch)

Fandom: PPG

This was a commission/gift for the amazing @over-under-through1 who trusted me enough to write her some greens. 

The dynamic is much softer for greens than i usually write because we love soft butch. This is just a journey of Butch realizing that he is in fact dumb and fancies a light green puff :) 

----

Butch: Age 12

Of course Boomer would trip the alarm, he always did. Butch grumbled as he herd the familiar buzz of the bank alarm going off. They weren’t supposed to get caught, well he was the only one here anyways. Boomer was in the back room messing around with the safe and oops, now that loud ass sound is piercing through his head. Brick’s gonna be pissed.

They hadn’t robbed a store in months, kept more on the down low as they got older but even pesky twelve year olds need money and food and hey, Butch liked to have a good time. He would have preferred blowing some shit up instead but Brick’s bitching wasn’t something he wanted to challenge this late at night.

“Make that thing shut up!” Butch growled towards the back where Boomer had shouted “I’m trying damnit!”

But it didn’t matter, it never did. You could have all the fun in the world but it would be ruined no matter how good you were at your job. Eventually all the fun would come to an end.

He could hear it. Like noticing a fly when having dinner. The slight buzz of its wings, that's what it was like. The siren cut off and soon he could hear it crystal clear. He had it memorized by now. Their flying patterns and how each of them landed was its own noise. He bit back a snarl, barely tasting blood as they touched down on the ground. Fuck.

He turned on his foot with a slouch in his hip and a roll of the eyes as they stood before him.

“Buzz kills” He mumbled and locked eyes with the three super heroines.

They stood tall and proud as always. The princesses of the kingdom were here to rescue it once again, it was just a measly break in. Did they have to deal with every single small inconvenience. Guess the cops were no help but he’d rather get in a punch with someone who could handle it then in a pair of handcuffs.

He stared them down. First was the leader. Blossom or he liked to call Pinky because, well he didn’t need to explain himself. Next was Goldilocks whose voice was like nails on a chalkboard to him. Cute but annoying, no wonder Boomer was her counterpart.

And then there was her. She had a deep scowl and hooded eyes as if she had just woken up. Which would make sense as the moon was high in the sky and the only lights were the ones in the broken building. Buttercup was the only one who ever caught his eye.

“Alright just drop whatever you have and make this a clean deal.” Pinky spoke. It was startling how similar she was to his older brother, by like thirty seconds, she had that same cold stare but the baby doll pink eyes really didn’t add much fear.

“Not holding anything dumb ass.” He spat at her and held his palms open. He watched her visually straighten her shoulders from the insult and Goldilocks scoffed and yet the girl who rivaled him just had an icy glare.

Unlike her sisters, she was the only one he could tolerate, if anything. She had a killer kick and plummeting punch but she matched him in wit and snarky comments. Deep down he enjoyed whenever they got to have a full on thrashing but right now, he wasn’t in the mood and clearly, she wasn’t either.

“Got the alarm to-shit!” Boomers eyes widened as he stumbled out of the back and he wished he could have just punched him in the face for being so careless.

He watched as Pinky glanced around. The only broken item was the lock on the door and nothing had been stolen either. It should have been but blue eyes had to fuck it up. His knuckles cracked within his fists, the loud noise echoing through the untouched bank.

“Look.” Blossom started. “You broke in, disbanded the alarm and there's no way you can steal anything now, so I suggest just taking whatever dignity you have left and just walk away. Maybe next time you can do something worth our time.” She finished.

“Worth your time.” He heard Boomer mutter under his breath. A low blow for sure.

She might have been ‘everything nice’ but over time her words had taken to the spice side.

If Brick were here he probably would have gotten into her face and a brawl would have started. But he wasn’t and that pissed him off. He didn’t even care about the money any more. He had a headache and wanted to sleep and if Brick really wanted this shit, he could come down and bust it out himself.

He turned on his heel to Boomer who just raised his brow. He nodded towards the door and they both decided that a full on fight wasn’t what they wanted to do. After all it's been a couple of years since they had one and getting his ass kicked by a girl when they were outnumbered really wasn’t on his to do list. They would easily take dumber than the dumbest down in a flash and his ass would be a full buffet. 1 against 3 wasn’t on the agenda.

Butch scoffed and began to walked towards the door but stopped in front of the girls. Blossom narrowed her eyes and he saw the flash of pink within her palms.

“Relax doll, we are leaving. Boomer, get going.” He scoffed at his little brother, by twenty seconds, for making goo goo eyes at Goldilocks. He didn’t miss the small smile she was trying to hide and just rolled his eyes at them. Pathetic.

Butch passed Blossom and stopped at his own counter part. The neon green eyes seemed to glow slightly under the dim light and they wore matching expressions that held unamusement. She only blinked and raised her eyebrows.

“We don’t have all night Butch.” She spoke and he rolled his shoulders back before pushing past her. “Get your sorry ass out of here before I beat it.”

He flashed her a smirk before gripping the collar of his brother’s shirt and pushing him forward to leave. “Kinky.” He winked at her before they took to the skies and he let out a laugh as he could hear her frazzled complaint from below. 

--

Butch: Age 13

There was something comical about him entering the school gates for the first time in his life. After Mojo Jojo was thrown in the slammer, again and again, the boys' custody shifted towards Ms. Bellum who decided to take on the challenge of three thirteen year old boys who had the mindset of destruction.

“This is all yours.” Ms. Bellum gestured to the nice apartments. Each of the boys got their own room, a kitchen, a living room and loft space. There was even a room that was dedicated for use of their powers. She had said something about the powerpuff brats having something similar so if they ever got the urge to blast lasers, it would be down there.

It wasn’t too bad after all. Butch finally had his own room and didn’t have to worry about Bricks loud ass snoring or Boomer waking up at the crack of dawn for some unholy reason. His temper had died down slightly and the urge to steal really wasn’t there. Mostly because food was provided and the new mom actually cared about him.

She was sweet and sassy and even when his fist sparked an electric green, she simply placed her hand over it and told him to stop. The boys then worshiped her. What kind of non-super does that? One worth respecting of course.

He also found it funny that dear old dad Him was upset but after a talk about child support and schooling, the boys were left to the brain of the city. So much for wanting custody.

“You should make some friends Butch.” Bellum said to him as she fixed his hair and finished zipping up their bags.

Boomer had already attached his hip to the Goldilocks and Brick had found Princess annoying ass tolerable, how? He would never know.

He grumbled before taking his bag. “Sure.” Maybe the lady was right, after all it would be lame to only hang out with his bros.

The limo was kinda cool, he wouldn’t lie. Being dropped off in front of everyone with a car worth more than these kids parents salaries always puts a skip in his step. Plus she wanted to make sure that they actually made it to school. When his feet touched on school property, she was gone.

His brothers ditched him in a flash. Boomer was now deep inside the school probably trying to talk his way into the blondes heart and Brick was most likely rolling his eyes at Princess while not so secretly looking for his redhead counterpart. As for him. He didn’t do too well socially.

He was much more of a homebody and tended to keep to himself. A social outcast like him didn’t need to be disappointed when fake ass people turned their back on him. Maybe people who did bad things were more his type but when you went to school with the Puffs, he imagined no one really did anything bad.

Mama did tell him to make friends. The only person who came to mind made him scowl but he did need a good laugh, and someone who could take the heat. He had about twenty minutes until the annoying bell rang so he followed the path of the school grounds towards the back.

From a distance he saw her sitting alone at a table outside. There were books and papers laid out and he never pegged her for the studious type. Why was he nervous? It wasn’t like it was a secret that they had joined the school but he hadn’t had a run in with any of the girls, unlike his brothers.

His fist held a death grip on his backpack strap as he walked towards her. His mind yelled at him to turn around and go the other direction, maybe befriend the group of boys who always ditched class to smoke behind the school. Those were his people in the long run and mama would probably be proud. The rule breakers, the ones without a care in the world so why in the hell was he going towards a girl who probably hated his guts and wanted his ass in jail.

He stood in front of her table and when she didn’t notice he finally spoke up.

“Sup.” He said casually and she lifted her head.

Her face was slightly scrunched as she looked around and then focused back on him. “Uhh...Hi?” She narrowed her eyes at him. Typical. But not in the “why am i awake at 1 am to deal with your ass”. More like “why are you talking to me?” Kinda way.

He didn’t wait for her to protest him being there so he threw his shit on the table and sat down. “This place is pretty lame.”

She gave him a blank expression before returning to her stuff. “Yeah I guess.”

He eyed the books on the table. Chemistry. “What are you? A nerd now?” He picked it up and flipped through the page. There were tons of sticky notes coming from all directions and more highlighter than what seemed as necessary.

She scoffed and rolled her eyes before flipping to a fresh page in her notebook. “It's called homework and chemistry is pretty cool.”

“Doubt it.”

“Well you do need an IQ over 5 to understand it, so you probably wouldn’t enjoy it.” She smirked as she stuck the end of the pencil to the corner of her mouth.

He didn’t know why he laughed as well. Usually a taunt like that ended with a fist in the face and a smash to a wall, but for once, he just laughed and threaded his fingers through his hair.

“Whatever.” And she laughed too.

There was something almost supernatural about seeing her in such a mundane place. He only knew her in the skies, fist clenched and dirt smeared on her face. Hair going crazy as her green streak followed her and the hard hit of her power. Eyes glowing with an insane amount of rage but here it was different.

There was no yelling or screaming. Maybe a glare here and there but she was...normal? She wasn’t all powerful and mighty to the eye. Instead it was a calm and cool energy. Someone who was busy with school work not monster fights and demons.

“So what do you do for fun in this dumb?” He took a book and flipped through its pages. Too many words, eh.

Her eyes were back on her book as she jotted down something. “Eh not much. Sports and just hang out with people who aren’t lame”

“Like your sisters?” He teased and she snorted.

“Yup” She popped the ‘p’. “Mostly friends my teams or Mitch the boys.”

Mitch and the boys. For some reason he couldn’t understand, hearing that his best friends were boys and put him in an odd place.

“They must be cool.”

“Oh we are.” He heard a voice come from behind and soon the table had two extra members. “Names Mike.” The first dude outstretched his hand towards him with a smile.

“Careful you don’t know where those hands have been.” Buttercup said and Butch shot her a glare before accepting the handshake, the first one he ever did.

He glazed at the other dude. “You must be Mitch.” And he nodded.

“The one and only.” He responded before looking at all the books. “Geez B how much have you been slacking off?”

She grumbled something and shot him a deadly glare. “Geez Mitch how many times do you save the city a week?”

His hands went up in surrender and Mike laughed before tossing her an energy drink. Here I snatched this from my dad.” His eyes went to Butch. “So you obviously know our little lamb chop here, how?”

“Lamb chop?” Butch laughed.

“Ignore him. This is the dude I blew up.” She closed her book.

Mike’s eyes widened. “Yo you’re death kiss boy!”

They all turned towards Mike and Buttercup kicked his shin. He made a noise and Mitch rolled his eyes before taking the initiative to change the subject.

“Your brothers were taken in by Bellum right?” Mitch asked.

Butch leaned over and took the rest of Buttercups drink without a protest from her. “Yep. Pretty sweet deal. She's not too bad.”

“Bellum is a goddess and you better treat her with respect.” Buttercup spat before shoving the rest of her stuff in her bag. “I have to get to class early, see ya.” She glance at Butch. “Try not to do anything stupid and don’t rob them, they are both broke.”

“Hey!” Mike and Mitch yelled in unison.

Butch gave a small laugh before giving her a small wave. “See ya Lamb Chop.”

Her expression turned sour before she scoffed and turned around towards the main building.

“So you two are now buddies?” Mitch asked. “Thought you hated each other.”

Butch’s eyes were still locked on her even when she disappeared into the hallway. There was this stranger feeling within him, one he didn’t know the word too but hatred wasn’t in his system with her anymore, at least that he knew of.

“She’s not bad.” He finished off the soda while the two boys just nodded. --

Butch: Age 14

Buttercup never expected to be sitting in the room that belonged to the person who tried to kill her many times. It was weird but also felt completely natural as they sat on his bed and played video games. She was beating him of course and he said it was because she had video games growing up.

His demeanor had changed over the months as they got closer. Mitch and Mike as well as a few others welcomed him into their little squad. They would go see movies and even though he was born for evil, he rarely did anything bad. Besides the teasing and pranks, he was like a normal kid.

Just with laser beams and dark glowing eyes.

The round ended and she laughed in victory. “Take that snail guts.” She beamed with pride and he only pouted and started another round.

“Whatever Lamb Chop.”

“Told you to stop calling me that.”

He finally got a hit in on her character. They were playing a fighting game and just like real life, he was losing.

“Can I ask you a question?” She said as her character kicked him in the face.

“Shoot.”

“What was Mojo like?”

“You’ve met the monkey.”

“I met in terms of a father.”

The clicking of the buttons filled the room and she suddenly felt bad. “Sorry that's really personal-”

He paused the game. “No it's fine, I just didn’t think you would care.”

“I do.”

“Well for starters, he's super annoying with those damn monologues.”

Buttercup snorted. “For sure.”

“It just sucked to be honest. To know that he only wanted us for control and to defeat you, not because he wanted kids.”

“That must be rough.” She stated. “I never thought about it like that but I would be pissed if it was just for personal gain.”

“Your dad created you for personal gain.”

Buttercup brought the soda to her lips again. “I guess so.”

“But then again.” Butch took his own drink. “It wasn’t about power. It was about having daughters.”

“Yeah.”

“Too bad he got stuck with you.”

She punched his arm lightly. “Shut up!”

Butch only let his back fall to the bed as he swept his hand through his black locks. “Sometimes I wonder if anything good ever came out of this for Mojo.”

“I think you being here was the good thing, whether or not he deeply cares doesn’t matter anymore. There's a lot of people who probably care about you more than you think.”

“Yeah I guess so.” He thought about his brothers and Bellum.

“Well I’m happy Mojo created you and then you know, Him did.”

He gave her a scoff. “Yeah after you fucking killed me.”

“To be fair. I didn’t know what would happen. But on the bright side, your hair is better.” She shrugged before reaching her hand out and pushing her fingers through it.

A weird and unfamiliar electric buzz ran through his system from the contact. Her hand came back to her side as the notion of what she just did registered in her mind. She looked at the clock on the wall before hopping off the bed and grabbing her back pack.

“I got to go but I’ll see you tomorrow.” She said and he nodded. She began to walk out and spotted his hoodie lying on the desk. It was black with the sleeves having a dark green color. She picked up the fabric and turned towards him. “I’m stealing this.”

“Wait!” He called her and she turned around.

“What?”

“Why do we call you Lamb Chop?” He asked.

She stood there debating whether or not to tell him. He did tell her something personal so she looked at him with a blank expression. “I once choked on a lamb chop.” And then she opened the door and left.

He sat on the bed looking at the closed door. He furrowed his brows before looking at the screen that was glowing slightly.

There's a lot of people who probably care about you more than you think.

“Maybe.” He whispered to himself. --

Butch: Age 15

He decided high school was a personal hell hole. Even with his powers and snarky attitude and gross sense of humor, people really liked to push his buttons.

“Dude what crawled up your butt and died?” Mike asked as he sat at the lunch table.

Mitch joined them and looked at Butch who had a scowl on. “Probably because Jason asked out Buttercup.” He smirked.

Mike took a bite of his apple. “Oh shit really? Does he even play sports?”

“Track and debate. I don’t think he has the highest scores.” Mitch replied. “Butch seriously you look dead.”

“Couldn’t sleep last night.” He mumbled before slamming his head down.

They heard the footsteps approaching the table and soon Butch felt the shift in weight on the shitty lunch table bench.

“Sup losers.” Buttercup said as she took her seat. She was wearing the hoodie she had stolen  last year and they had forgotten that it even belonged to the green ruff.

“Who's your new boy toy.” Mike asked and she shot him a glare.

“Don’t call him that.” She looked at Butch whose face was flat against the table. Her hand came down on his neck and he shot up. “The hells wrong with you?”

“Didn’t sleep.” He rubbed the back of his head. “No need to hit a guy you bitch.”

She only rolled her eyes and smiled.

“Aww don’t worry Lamb Chop, he’s just mad that you aren’t gonna pay attention to him.” Mitch smirked.

She leaned over and pinched his cheek. “Aww does someone want my attention.” She said mockingly in a baby voice.

Butch pushed her offer before stabbing her side with his finger. “You wish you had me toots.” He said darkly before pushing her towards the edge of the bench. She caught herself before falling.

Buttercup flicked his forehead before standing up. “I got to go but I’ll see you assholes later.” She grabbed her bag. “Also one of you smells like pine and I don’t hate it.” She said before ruffling Butch’s hair and leaving.

Butch’s mood went fell back to the scowl and he also got up. “I'm gonna go see Boomer, said he needed help with something.” He scooped up his bag before flinging it onto his shoulder. “Later.”

Mitch and Mike waved to him before Mike took the last bite of his apple. “Hey Mitch?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you smell like pine?”

“Nope.” he popped the ‘p’.

“Thought so.” --

Butch: Age 16

He was sitting on the edge of the skate rink. His feet swayed slightly until the heel of his shoes hit the pavement and bounced forward again. He thought about lighting a cigarette and clearing his mind. The pack was in his hands, his thumb toying with the flap. The rolled paper sat on his lips as he debated whether or not to light it.

“Where the fuck is she?” He grumbled to no one. It was dead quiet with no one in sight. “Probably out with the dumb ass”

The end of his cigarette sparked to life with a green flash. He tilted his head up to see Buttercup.

“Bout damn time.” He blew the smoke out. “What took you so long? Jason couldn’t keep his clammy hands away?” He snickered.

She would usually laugh at the tease but instead she was silent as she dropped her board and sat next to him.

The lighthearted mood they normally shared was off and he gave her a weird glance. “Damn Lamb Chop, you’ve been crying or some shit?” He asked as he took another drag.

“Um” Her voice sounded dry. “We-I, broke up with him.” She said slowly.

He bit his lip and nodded. At first he had nothing to say. He wasn’t good with comforting other people's feelings, especially not the green puff. They may have had their fair share of tender moments that were movie bond but this was the first time a break up was ever in place.

“Oh.” He didn’t really know what to say so he just shrugged. “I’m sorry. Was there a reason?”

She pulled her knees to her chest. Her eyes were red at the corners and she looked as if she had been crying but he didn’t say anything.

Her fingers toyed with a pebble on the ground. “He said that he didn’t like us hanging out and how close we were.”

“Thats stupid.”

“Y-yeah. It is.” She said as the breeze came and made her shiver.

He noticed this and shrugged off his jacket before placing it over her without a second thought. He had missed the way her cheeks turned pink and their way her shoulders relaxed.

“He also said that he didn’t like the way I dressed or wanted me to be more like Blossom.” She spat. He gave a low whistle. “Thats fucked up bro. I may be dumb sometimes but the last thing you wanna do is compare a girl to her sister.” He snuffed his cigarette out next to him.

Her laugh was dry as she wiped away her tears. He hated seeing her cry. She didn’t deserve to have a guy do that to her, not when it was ultimately about him. The thought of Jason yelling at her because he was jealous of Butch made his blood boil. He wanted to go and find him and maybe knock a few teeth in. Mama Bellum might let it slide since it's an act of friendship, right? Especially since that shit he had said.

“I can’t believe I went out with such a sleaze bag. When I broke up with him, he just asked if Blossom was available.”

“What did you say?”

She was silent before looking at him. “I slapped him.”

Butch leaned back and let out a loud laugh. “Lamb Chop rocking his shit? I wish I was there to see.” He laughed some more.

She toyed with the ends of the sleeves. “I felt bad but I wasn’t about to let some slug talk about my sister like that.”

“Hey don’t go calling a guy a slug.” He gestured to himself. “That's an insult to some of us.”

She nudged his shoulder and rolled her eyes. “You were made from a snail dumb ass.” She smiled. “And a dogs ass.”

“Fuck off.” He stuck his tongue out at her. “Where's all the sugar and nice shit in you?”

“No where. Not now at least.” She fell silent.

Jason didn’t deserve someone as cool and bad ass. What kind of guy would even think about ruining a person's emotions over something that petty when that said person can break their bones with a snap.

She was looking straight ahead trying to muffle her tears and quivering of the lips. His gaze went to her and his eyes traced the profile of her face. The way the tears slipped out under those dark lashes and the smallest red to her face. He didn’t even know there was a freckle beneath her right eye.

Butch continued to secretly stare at her. His mouth slightly parted as he felt his heartbeat pick up. The look of her in his hoodie made his head spin and he really enjoyed the sight.

“On the bright side, you don’t have to be stuck at prom with his lame ass.” He tried to lighten the mood.

Her eyes met his. An array of light greens and a tang of yellow swirled his iris and he couldn’t understand why he never bothered to look closer before.

“I probably would have left him before that anyways.” She whispered. Another breeze came and their shoulders touched as she leaned slightly to his warmth.

“Really?” He asked and her eyes fell to his lips then came back to his eyes.

“Yeah. I think so.” She said as she leaned closer but he gave her a small nod before looking back out towards the rink. “Should have left him sooner anyways.”

He hadn’t seen her blow up her bangs or what she whispered to herself.

“Well I wouldn’t give an ass hat like that the time of day. Fuck him. You’re Buttercup Motherfucking Utonium and you don’t need any lame guy to be by your side.”

“Yeah.” She huffed. “Fuck him.”

“Plus.” He jumped up and grabbed his board. “I'm the only guy you need to worry about.” He winked and she looked up at him with glossy eyes. “Now forget about him and let’s skate so I can see you fall on your ass.” He pushed his board down and took off smoothly before dipping into the rink.

She finished her tears and hugged the jacket before grabbing her own board and joining him.

--

Butch: Age 17

Butch sat there staring at his drink. The ice cubes melting at such a slow pace he wondered if time was even real. The song changed for the third time and yet he was sitting on the sidelines feeling sorry for himself for a reason that he couldn’t comprehend.

His head was a mess, his palms were sweaty and he was pretty sure that his facial expression was dull and unreadable. He had decided in that moment that prom was stupid. He saw Boomer out on the dance floor twirling Bubbles and was glad that someone was having fun at least. From a distance he could make out the hair of his brother and probably Blossom, they probably fought before deciding to dance. Stupid teenage hormones.

“Hey man.” Mitch joined him at the table, drink in hand and more hairspray than the cast of a Broadway musical.

Butch gave him a half smile. “Hey Mitch. How's it going.” He was trying to be as polite as possible but all he wanted to do now was leave this shit show of a dance.

“Fine.” He popped the tab on his soda. “How's it for you?”

The fake laugh was a give away as Butch took a sip of his drink. “Peachy.” He really wanted to leave.

Mitch stood there watching him with raised brows and his mouth tightened into a straight line. His eyes raked over the dance floor and then to the other tables. He turned back to Butch and smirked.

“What?” Butch snapped a little too hard and Mitch shrugged.

“Why don’t you just ask her to dance?” Mitch looked towards the dance floor.

“Who?” He was met with a sigh and a look that said “you're an idiot.”

“Buttercup you dumb fuck.” He rolled his eyes. “And here I thought Boomer was the dumb one.”

He looked away over the vast crowd of people. All dressed up for a dance they would forget in the next ten years or even tomorrow. “Why would I-”

His eyes landed on her and he felt his breath catch in his throat.

She sat at her own table. A light conversation going with some random girl, probably a team mate. Her fingers traced the rim of her soda, a small ring sparkling under the light. She had gone with her sisters to this damn thing and it was the first time tonight where he actually saw her.

A dark green dress that seemed a little uncomfortable to her as she picked at the skirt pooling around her heels. He had laughed at the thought of her in a dress. She had told him how stupid she was going to look and he had agreed with a lighthearted sigh.

But he was wrong.

So incredibly wrong.

“Oh for fucks sake.” He whispered under his breath and his eyes met Mitch’s. A blank stare with a sly smile as he took another sip.

“You just realized?” Mitch laughed and patted his back as he stood up to go find his own date. “I’ve been waiting for this moment ever since Jason had asked her out last year. Took you this long. Hell I’ve been waiting since we first met.”

Mike walked up to the table, his eyes looking towards Mitch before he grabbed his hand.

“Babe Butch just found out he likes Buttercup.” Mitch laughed, making his face turn red with embarrassment.

Mike looked towards Butch with wide eyes and an even wider smile. “About fucking time dude! Go get her!”

Mitch left the table and he sat there staring at his drink again. The feeling when she had told him that she was going out with Jason made his blood boil and his skin twitch and he never knew why. Or at least he pretended not to.

And then the following year when they had broken up. The tears in her eyes were genuine and even though he was comforting her, he felt fine about the relationship ending. Happy even.

But now he stared at her from across the room. The music had turned to white noise and he was focused on her only. He furrowed his eyebrows before chugging his drink, it wasn’t alcohol but it would do. He got one step in before she shifted in her seat and her eyes fell to his.

It was an electrifying feeling that jolted through his body. Her eyes didn’t leave his even as he straightened his tie and walked towards her. In those few moments he kicked himself on how he didn’t see it before. --

“You got a date?” She asked him while they were lounging at the skatepark, the rest of their friends had left for the evening. The sky had melted from blue to a candy floss pink, a light breeze in the air.

“Eh might just ask some random girl passing down the hall.” He shrugged. “Not really feeling it I guess.”

She pushed her hair back as she tilted her head towards the sky. “No ones got your eye?”

At first it didn’t make sense why she was asking. Her face had a slight red to it but he thought it was from the heat. He had brushed it off, thought nothing of it.

“Not really.” Why did he feel like he was lying?

“Maybe I’ll steal Blossom’s thunder and ask Brick.” She teased and Butch glared at her. “Stop saying my brother is hot. He’s not.” He pouted and she laughed lightly.

“But he is. I leave him to Blossom.” She winked.

He crossed his arms. “I’m way hotter than him.” She heard him mumble.

She let the topic die in the wind as they sat there in a comfortable silence. She noticed the way his flannel clung to his arms and turned her face away with a blush and a twitch of anger.

“Really not going with anyone?” She asked again and he shook his head.

“Think I might wear a dress, Bubbles will probably force me.” Buttercup sighed but in all honesty she was looking forward to these things. Once in a while she liked to get all dolled up and have a good time, sue her.

“I say show up in shorts and tell her to suck it.” He teased and she laughed but it didn’t reach her eyes.

“I’ll probably look horrible.”

“Most likely.” She hit his shoulder.

And they left it at that.

--- In the moment he spent walking up to her table he had finally come to his sense of what had made his mind crazy for the past days, months and years. It was never going from bad boy to someone who played by the rules or the wild ride of high school.

No, it was simple. She had made his heart clamp up and taken over his thoughts. Every action he did somehow was tied to her and if he had a question, she was somehow the answer. The things he did like wearing that pine cologne because she said she liked it or even wearing flannels because he saw her looking at them on her phone. All of those small details he never thought twice about lead him closer to her.

She would steal his hoodies or even run her hands through his hair even when he protested against it. He could tell her everything in his head and she would sit and listen. It all made sense now. And when they were sitting at that skate park, she wanted him to ask her and then he didn’t.

It never clicked that he liked all those things she did. Really liked it. Maybe even loved.

He always thought he was observant, you had to be with a life of crime as your past but he was inconsiderately dense when it came to the one person he didn’t realize mattered the most.

But sometimes the best things come to those who wait. Or figure their shit out. Whichever came first.

“Hey lamb chop.” He said over the music. He was thankful that the other girl she was talking to was gone now. Just them.

She looked up at him then smiled softly. “Hey.”

“You wanna, uh, dance, maybe?” He held his hand out with slight hesitation.

Buttercup looked at the outstretched hand, a small blush dusting her face and he thought she looked pure and delicate in that moment. Her fingers touched the tips of his as she stood up and glanced at the floor with a new found shyness.

“Yeah, I’d like to.”

He pulled her towards a spot away from the heavy crowd and even from their friends. He didn’t need the two lovebirds to add any comments when he was trying to keep his composure together. By the time they got to their location, the upbeat pop song had shifted into a slow song where couples across the floor were grabbing their partners closely.

He gulped and looked up at the tacky disco ball before he felt her arms slip around his shoulder and he looked at her. She offered him a smile that showed she was just as nervous and he let out a breath before relaxing and setting his hands on her hips.

It was a little weird at first. They were the two toughest people in the school and probably the city. He had seen her burp and get her hands dirty. Fall and scrape her knees and suffer punches to the gut and even blood trickling down her face.

He thought it was teenage hormones that were making him feel weird when he saw her like that. Calm, relaxed, free and even full of power and rage. He should have known that it was his heart trying to tell him that he had a fat crush on her.

But now looking at her in the dim lights, he laughed to himself.

“What’s so funny?” She asked.

He snorted. “I should have known.”

She cocked her head slightly with a questioning look. “Known what?”

“That you like me.” He stated and her eyes shot open wide like a deer in headlights.

“W-what-I” Her face had flamed up to the color of her sister’s bow and she began to panic. “I don’t-”

“And that I like you.” He said before she could pull away.

“Oh.”

He sighed. “I really should have seen it sooner. I mean come on BC, you’re a firecracker babe and my dumb ass couldn’t comprehend that all those feelings over the years were because of you? It's pretty lame.”

“It's not like I made it easy.” She whispered.

“Easy? It was crystal clear!” he laughed. “The hoodie stealing, the pine, the way you would run your fingers in my hair.”

“It's soft.” She bit her lip.

“I even started wearing flannels because of that damn ad you were looking at.”

“Is that why?” It was her turn to laugh.

“And then the skate park.”

“Oh when I tried to kiss you.”

“Ya when you tried-WAIT WHAT?” His voice boomed and some couples turned around before getting a glare from him.

That panicked look came back onto her face. “I like, leaned in and everything but you turned your head and I just accepted the fact that you didn’t like me I guess.”

“Wow I really am dumb, you should start calling me Boomer.”

“Ew no.” She shook her head. “I’d take you over anyone any day.”

Those words gave him a small tinge of pride. “You’re such a sap.” He murmured as he felt his cheeks turn pink. He held her closer before moving a strand of hair out of her face. Her eyes were bright and soft and he thought she looked beautiful.

“I think you were wrong.”

“About what?” She asked.

“The dress.” He looked down, then back to her face. “You look stunning.”

The expression on her face was of genuine bliss as she leaned forward and this time he knew what he was supposed to do. His lips touched hers and that jolt of electricity that happened all those years ago in his bedroom came back. He felt her lips turn up into a smile and knew she felt it too.

They pulled apart and just stared in silence at one another. It was like the world had faded into the background and it was just them. Dark and neon green dancing through the night.

She giggled, a wonderful sound that was rarely heard.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing.” Buttercup ran her fingers in the back of his hair as they danced.  “I’m just glad you didn’t blow up his time.”

“Fuck me too.” His nose brushed against hers. “That just means I can kiss you more.” He said before his lips crashed to her again. It was quicker and more hasty as she melted against him. It was as if he was trying to make up for lost time, to show that he had truly cared about her deeply through the years.

There's a lot of people who probably care about you more than you think.

He thought back to when she had said that. It was a phrase that played over and over in his mind and now he knew she was talking about herself. He pulled away and she pecked him quickly again before leaning her head against his chest. She felt like she was on cloud nine and he liked his lips. She could feel the vibration of his laugh through his chest and looked up at him.

“Don’t make fun of me for being sappy or I’m going to kick your ass.” She gave him an icy glare.

“No it's not that, I think it's cute.” he kissed her forehead. “I just think Lamb Chop isn’t a good nickname anymore.”

Her eyebrows quipped up. “Really?” She was surprised because he was so determined to call her that at any given time. “What would be better?”

His lips pressed to her ear as his hand squeezed her hips lightly. “Cinnamon.”

And when he kissed her again, she then realized what flavor her lipstick was.

---

BONUS: THAT YOU DIDN’T SEE YET :) 

--

Butch: Age 18

“You know how you asked me about Mojo all those years ago?” He said out of the blue. Buttercup propped her head on her hand as she rolled onto her side. 

“Yeah I think so.” She responded, not really understanding why he brought up the topic. Over the years the conversation had been put to a stand still and it was something he rather not talk about. 

“I remember asking if anything would come out good for Mojo.” 

She hummed as she wrapped her finger loosely around the string of his hoodie. 

“Well the thing is, I was thinking. Maybe it wasn’t what good Mojo got from the creation, but instead the good that came out of it for me.” 

“That’s a better thing to look at. A lot of stuff is good. You have a super sweet mom and you just graduated high school. Colleges want you to play for their teams and your brothers have grown closer over the years.” She said. 

His lips turned to a smile as he reached out to brushed the hair kissing her face. “And you.” He chuckled as her face flamed up and she buried her face into his chest. 

“Sap.” She stated, her voice slightly muffled. 

“I’m just saying.” Butch ran his fingers through her hair. “I think out of all the things that could have happened, you were the best thing.” 

She tilted her head slightly to meet his eyes before looking to the side. “You weren’t too bad yourself.” 

“Gee thanks.” He teased as he tapped her nose. “But I am serious babe. You make me want to be a better person. Someone who is worthy enough to stand by your side.” 

“I think you’re worthy.” 

“I know you do.” 

“And I don’t care what anyone has to say because you make me feel like no one else can.” She placed a hand on his cheek before he reached and put his own over it. “

Her eyes fell to his before he leaned and kissed her softly. It was a mystery of how he actually let himself get through high school without kissing her. It was his favorite thing to do as it provided a comfort and he really liked the taste of the chap stick she wore on the daily. Not to mention that her lips were incredibly soft anf he relished in the fact that it was something only he got to do. 

“I love you.” She whispered as they pulled apart. His eyes widened slightly as if he didn’t hear those words correctly. He blinked as he stared at her and she only gave him that soft gaze he adored so much. 

They were hardly any words to describe how he felt about her in that moment. “I love you too.” He said back and she looked like she was glowing.

“How much do you love me?” She winked as teased him with a feathery kiss.

“More than you could even know Cinnamon.” He finished before capturing her lips again into another passionate kiss.

--

I hope you all enjoyed! This was a monster to complete and really fun

[skylarmoon71]

Raphael x Reader - Oneshot (TMNT 2014/2016)

"Sup shrimp."

"I'm not a shrimp I'm a grown woman!!" you screamed charging at Raph. He didn't even budge when you ran into him. You on the other hand tumbled to the floor with a grunt. Mikey raised his head when he heard the collision.

"Hey, I think you moved him a little this time (Y/N), good job." he sent you thumbs up, but you just stayed there laying flat on the floor.

You were only fifteen, and since Raph was older, he never failed to remind you of it. Even at your age, you barely look it. You were small, and a bit of a tomboy. It didn't help that you grew up with brothers. Fighting was the way you communicated. That's why you always went at it with Raph. He made it his mission to point out your very boyish qualities. Not that you cared.

"Just wait till puberty hits me, I'll be so gorgeous even the boys at school will have to acknowledge me!" You holler. So maybe your constant fights with Raph weren't solely because you liked roughhousing.

Thing is, you had the biggest crush on him. His attitude, tough personality, and geez those damn muscles. He drove you every type of crazy. That's why you got into it so regular with him. Of course you'd never admit it.

All your teenage mind seemed to process was Feelings+Raph= Punch the shit outta him.

Very mature approach.

"Ya better keep dreaming, you'll be a shrimp no matter how tall ya get." you growled, jumping to your feet as you grabbed his leg.

"Corkscrew!!" you yelled. You tried locking his leg with both of yours to pull him down. It usually worked with your brothers, but you should have known better. Raph just smirked and leaned down, grabbing one of your legs as he lifted you into the air upside down.

"P-Put me down you overgrown tortoise!!" you were struggling and throwing punches at his body, but none of them connected, he was holding you at a distance.

"Maybe if ya nice I'll think bout it." You folded your arms with a glare.

"What, you really think I'm going to beg? Never."

"Is that right?"

"No it's left. Of course it's right! LEO!! Raph is bullying me again!"

Leo sighed, coming around the corner to inspect the damage. "Raph, stop treating her like a rag doll. Put her down."

He huffed, moving to the couch. "Fine." Just like that he opened his palm. You dropped with a soft thud, and Raph snickered under his breath.

"Better?" When you collected yourself, you used the couch to boost you as you jumped unto Raph's back, wrapping your small hands around his neck in an attempted chokehold.

"What do you have to say now big guy! I can take you out in seconds." you pressed into the pressure point on the side of his neck, and he dropped to his knees in surprise.

"Hah, no matter the size, that'll forever be a weak spot." You would know, you used it on your brothers. You were about to deliver another devastating blow. He grabbed your arm before you could do much, pulling you to the ground. When you raised your body to fight back, he just used one hand to push you down by your chest. You blushed at the contact.

"Y-You pervert now you're groping me!!"

He looked unimpressed at your accusation. "Please, ya as flat as a pizza." His statement made your face redder, and you kicked his chest, putting some space between so you could get up.

"STUPID TURTLE!!!"

With that you were running out the lair in a rage. Raph stood slowly, and Leo just shook his head at him.

"You really shouldn't mess with her so much Raph."

"She's the one that came running at me."

"You didn't exactly help the situation."

"Gimme a break." Raph groused. He usually brushed it off when you yelled at him, but this time you looked pretty upset.

Logically, it would have made sense to go after you and apologize, but Raph was never the logical type. So instead he dealt with it the old fashion way.

"I need to punch something." he grumbled, heading for the training area.

Leo just let out another exasperated sigh. He looked over at Mikey, who just lifted his arms shaking his head.

"Don't look at me brah, I'm not getting in the middle of that. " You may have been small, but your temper rivaled Raph's so talking with you while you were pissed wasn't the best thing to do.

~One Week Later~

"Where's (Y/N)." Raph really didn't think you would have stayed away this long. It had only been one week, but it felt like so long since he heard you yelling as you tried to attack him with a new move.

Donnie raised his t-phone from his spot. "She's got exams, I've been sending her information to help in her chemistry class. She said she won't be able to stop by until it's over. Apparently her parents have been getting on her about her grades."

Raph could understand that, what he didn't understand was you messaging Donnie instead of him.

"What's wrong Raphie are you missing your little girlfriend~"

Mikey made a face, mimicking kissy faces and Raph just smacked him.

"Shut up! I ain't missing that shrimp!"

"Fine, no need to get violent." Mikey grumbled, rubbing the back of his head.

"Alright break it up, we got patrol in a few minutes, no fighting." Raph cracked his knuckles. "Great timing." He could use with a little brute force.

~~~

"Damn it this makes no sense!!" You were stressing over your finals, and to make matters worse, you'd just recently gotten your period, so not only was your brain committing suicide, so was your ovaries.

"AHHHH!!!" your oldest brother rushed in at the yell.

"Dude, quit screaming. I thought you were being murdered." you frowned.

"I might as well have been, this shit hurts." He grinned at you.

"My dear little sister, finally becoming a woman. They grow up so fast." He said faking a sob. You just rolled your eyes, throwing a book in his direction.

"Get out of my room before I chug my bloody pad at you." he made a disgusted face.

"I fear for your future boyfriend (Y/N)." you just gave him a look, and in seconds he was rushing out, shutting the door. You dropped your pencil, placing your head on the desk.

"Future boyfriend.."

The first image to pop into your head was Raph, and you blushed, letting out a soft groan of annoyance. What was the use falling for him. He barely even acknowledges you as female. It was so frustrating. Yet, you couldn't stop hoping that he'd somehow just sneak into your room and confess his undying love for you.

It was crazy, impossible. "Dumb hormones." You couldn't believe you'd been in such a rush to go through this, it was hell. What was even worse is your chest had been sore all week. Your mother insisted it was normal, but it didn't feel normal.

"Dumb puberty." you regretted ever wanting to experience it.

~Three Weeks Later~

"Still no word." Donnie shook his head. "She's not in danger, and she texts me, but for some reason she hasn't been down here in awhile."

Leo was never one to act irrational, but now he was getting worried. And Raph was completely stubborn. "Raph, you have to go talk to her. She's obviously still mad about what you said last time. "

"That was weeks ago, and why do I gotta do it! Did ya forget she was the one that came at me."

"You hurt her feelings Raph. You don't tell a girl her chest is flat as a pizza, even if it's true."

"Since when did ya become an expert on women." Leo was about to respond, but a sneaky smile rose on his lips.

"So you do see her as a woman. Hah, I knew you had a thing for her. No wonder you're always messing with her. " Raph couldn't work up a reply so he just growled, turning his back and punching the wall.

"Somehow I feel like they're made for each other. " Leo chuckled. His brother may have been a muscle head, but at least he wasn't blind.

He'd fix the problem eventually. Leo could tell that your absence was starting to get to Raph. It was only a matter of who would make the first move. That might take a while though.

****

It was foolish, you hadn't intended to stay away that long, it's just that so much happened in the span of three weeks. Now you felt way too embarrassed to face Raph due to your most recent development. That didn't stop the guilt though. Because you missed being around the boys. Mikey, Donnie, Leo and especially Raph. You'd just stopped visiting with an explanation. What kind of friend does that? Not a very good one.

"Tomorrow! I go and explain everything." You were tired of hiding out in your room. You didn't want your friendship to suffer because of your stupid hormones.

Clack!

Your head whipped to the window.

"The fudge.."

Under normal circumstances, it was never smart to go towards strange noises. So as you inched out of your bed, you grabbed your baseball bat, moving cautiously to your window.

If some serial killer thought he was getting an easy victim he had another thing coming. You stood at the side, hiding behind the wall as you watched the figure crawl into your room. With a vicious swing, you whacked him right in the face. When you heard a grunt of pain you rushed to your light switch with a grin.

"Take that you stupid serial psycho you really think I was just going to...R-Raph!!"

"What the hell is wrong with ya.." he spoke tightly, he was rubbing his face in irritation. You dropped the bat.

"I-I'm so sorry I thought you were a killer or something. Why didn't you call. You don't just sneak into a girl's room in the middle of the night. "

"I would have called, but ya been avoiding the liar and my messages. Figured I'd come and see why ya acting so weird."

He was right. Suddenly you weren't as sure. Taking a step back, you wrapped your arms around yourself, looking away.

"I-I just..I had exams.."

"Don't gimme that shit, you've been done for a while. Donnie told me."

"Fudge."

You couldn't think of any more excuses that would be half as believable. When Raph saw the way you were guarding yourself and keeping your distance, it sort of hurt him.

He realized then that his words must have done more damage than he thought. He really didn't think you would have taken it to heart. A big part of your friendship was the both of you insulting each other. Maybe this time though, he went a little too far.

"I'm sorry alright." you looked up, and Raph shifted his gaze to the wall.

"I didn't mean it, I was just teasing ya. Truth is I couldn't give a crap if you're small. It's what I like about ya. Ya always give me shit, and yer never afraid to call me out and fight me, even though there's no way ya could win. "

Was he confessing? It sure sounded like it.

"I do see ya as a woman. Ya don't have to worry about puberty or any of that crap. Ya already freaking hot to me." you just stared, cheeks glowing a bright red.

"Y-You think I'm.."

Oh boy, you were going to have a heart attack. No way was this really happening. Raph scratched his head a bit awkwardly.

"Course I do. I guess I just liked having all ya attention. You never flock towards Leo or the others. Ya always chase after me."

Of course you did. You'd been crushing on him for months, maybe since you met him. He was finally looking your way, and he took a step forward.

"I don't care if you're flat as a pizza, ya still cute to me." He placed his hand on your chest to prove his point, except this time there was a plumpness he didn't expect. You flushed, and on instinct you kicked him in the groin. Raph stumbled back, holding the crouch as he fell to the ground.

"W-WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU! HOW DARE YOU TRY AND CUP A FEEL!!"

"Wrong with me! Just a few weeks ago ya were as flat as a pancake!" He gaped, still fairly confused, and you just covered your chest bashfully. Something seemed to hit him.

"This is why ya were acting so strange..." no wonder you hadn't stopped by. He could see it clear on your face.

"Did ya ass get bigger too?"

"Y-You jerk why would you even ask that- aah!!" You didn't expect him to get to his feet and take your arm. He pinned both your arms to the bed, pressing you to the mattress. Your chest was pressed into the bed, and you had to look over to see what he was doing.

"R-Raph let me go this instant!!"

He just smirked at you, lifting your shirt slightly to get a look at you from behind.

"I was right, yer ass did get bigger." you jumped when you felt his hand on your butt. You gasped when he groped you, squeezing your cheek softly. "P-Pervert!! This is assault!!" you squirmed, but it was useless, he had you pinned to the bed.

His body leaning over is what kept you from getting away.

"It's not if ya like it." He whispered sultrily. You swallowed, trying not to let him see just how much you were actually enjoying his touches. He lowered his body, and now you could feel his strong plastron pressed to your back. His hands flattened on the bed above your head, and you whined, still trying to wiggle away. Maybe save a little face.

"Well well, I thought ya were cute before, but now yer delicious." he gave your butt another appreciative squeeze and you could only muster out a small mewl. "R-Raph.." Why was he torturing you so much?

"Yes." you glanced at him, and from the desperate look on your face, he already knew what you wanted. He moved back slightly to help you turn unto your back, and now that you were facing each other, you gazed at him. He could see the raw want in your eyes. His little touches might have just nudged you over the edge.

Without so much as a word you pulled him down, sighing when his lips finally met yours. His body covered your own protectively, not leaning his full weight, just enough that you could feel him. And boy did it feel good.

Your hands were hooked around his neck as you kissed him hungrily. It may have been your hormones, or the fact that you'd been dying to kiss him for who knows how long. Raph didn't mind one bit. This time when his hand landed on your chest, you moaned, begging for more. Raph let out a throaty chuckle when he managed to pull back, giving you a chance to catch your breath. "Ya better keep yer voice down. Wouldn't want ya family catching us."

Family, wow, you completely forgot about those people.

Raph was just staring at you now, and it made you a bit flustered.

"Q-Quit staring." you mutter.

"Why can't I, I'm admiring my woman."

"Y-Your woman! I never agreed to that!" You're dream come true, not that you would say that aloud.

"Guess that means we can't kiss anymore." He looked like he was about to move away, but you grabbed the strap across his chest.

"W-Wait!! I-I guess being your woman wouldn't be the worst thing in the world." He knew secretly you were overjoyed, even if you were trying your hardest to cover it up.

"Whatever ya say shrimp."

"I'm not a shrimp I'm a grown woman!!"

This would be a very interesting relationship.

[erin-bo-berin]

Darkest Storms & Brightest Rainbows (Part 1)

MASTERLIST

Part 2

Part 3

Hard Love (unoffical part 4)

Finally, the first part of my “Cat fic” is here! I kept some lines and plot lines from the show, but I also added some different elements. For example, there’s a lot of scenes/references from Entropy and Date Night later on, but I didn’t include much from Red Light. You’ll soon see why.

I began this at the end of last year and didn’t think it would see the light of day as it wasn’t going anywhere. But after some inspiration, I finally finished it. I decided to break it into three parts in honor of the three Cat episodes. Besides, if I had wrote one long fic it would’ve probably been around 15k words. Anyway, this way I can leave you guys hanging in suspense for a little bit (mwhaha 😏). Lastly, I just wanted to say I chose this title for this 3-parter because the characters go through some dark storms but also experience some bright rainbows along the way throughout this story. Enough of my rambling, I hope you all enjoy. 🥰

Spencer Reid/Reader

Rating: G (part 1 only has some angst)

Word Count: 4,143

It’s truly fascinating how one small drop can create a ripple in the water.

That was what meeting Spencer Reid was like.

It was a typical day at work at the coffee shop you’d been employed at for almost a year. Life had slowly been getting somewhat back to normal for you. It had been a hard previous year when you lost both parents to a car crash. Living alone was difficult, but you were making it work.

It was like a breath of fresh air to find work in a DC neighborhood cafe. You loved being able to form relationships with some frequent customers and hear about their days; it was surprisingly very cathartic to connect with so many people after feeling so much loss. 

There had been a small breather between waves of numerous customers when he had first appeared at your counter for a coffee.

His order was just as unique as he was; coffee with whole milk and a little bit of honey. 

He was cute. He was really cute. 

His shaggy brown hair was probably just a touch too long and in need of a cut, but his loose curls made it work and it looked good on him. He had light eyes that would shift from green to brown, depending on how the sun shone through the window next to the counter and a smile so bright it rivaled the sun’s rays.

Something else you’d noticed, he was tall. Possibly 6 feet, if you were to guess. With a lean frame and a slight shyness about him, you were instantly intrigued. 

You saw him more often, never managing to get his name, but managing to pick up the tiniest details about him.

There was a slight cleft to his chin, a shadow of a feature that was dominant in some others, but only was fully shown on him at certain angles.

The same went for the chameleon like dimples he sported, only showing up now and then. Every time, they made your stomach flutter, just about as much as he did.

He had a smattering of freckles that you could mainly see only up close. Not the usual freckles that would be across the bridge of the nose and cheeks on an average person, but random ones. A few under the outer corner of one eye, a lone one on the far side of his forehead, one on the side of his cheek, just along his cheekbone, another larger one on the opposite side just underneath his earlobe, plus many more tiny ones scattered everywhere.

Everything about him was unique.

His hands were large and gentle, always carefully handing you money for his drink and taking his order from you.

He was sweet and always polite, asking you how your day was going, wishing you a good day when he left. 

He also had these small habits of licking his lips or squinting his eyes just the tiniest bit, without even being aware of the actions.

It was actually a bit pathetic how much you’d learned about this stranger yet couldn’t even muster up the courage to ask for his name.

It was one day, maybe six months after you’d first met the handsome stranger when you decided to take a chance.

He’d come in bright and early before 8 am dressed in gray dress pants, a purple dress shirt rolled up to his elbows and a two toned purple tie. Slung across his body and resting on his hip was his usual tan satchel that you’d seen him with every day. You didn’t even have a clue what his job was.

“Morning,” he greeted with a bright smile.

You greeted him back, automatically reaching for his coffee that’d you’d been in the midst of preparing. 

“Large coffee, whole milk and honey?”

“As always,” he chuckled.

Unlike other larger chains, it wasn’t a normal thing to label a person’s drink with their name, so it wasn’t easy to find out his name; hence why you still hadn’t learned it.

You were fastening the lid, about to hand it to him when you asked.

“Um, just out of curiosity, who would this coffee be labeled for?”

The minute the words were out of your mouth you wanted to take them back. It sounded so awkward and weird. Labeled for? You wanted to hit yourself.

A small smile tugged on his lips.

“Spencer. Nice to meet you—” he paused, waiting for you to fill in with your name.

“Y/N.”

He took his drink, turning to leave before pausing.

“Have a great day, Y/N.”

Less than a month later, you’d gone on your first date with Spencer.

•

Three years later, life looked a lot different. 

You no longer worked at the coffee shop, but now worked from home. It took a little time, but you eventually found out you had a passion for being a social media manager for different brands. You loved social media and posting content for brands was rather fun.

You and Spencer had hit it off during that first date, considering you’d been dating for almost three years now.

As much as you missed your previous work family, you had a big new family that you’d come to be an (unofficial) part of, within these last few years.

You had finally found out after a few dates that Spencer worked for the FBI in a unit called the Behavioral Analysis Unit as a profiler; a position that uses an art of studying behavior and a lot of psychology to catch killers. It was interesting, but dangerous work. It did come with some good things though, like a work family that was like a real family. You, too, had grown close to his team members through the last few years. They were like the family you had desperately needed since your parents’ passing.

It wasn’t always sunshine and rainbows in the BAU between the long hours and dangerous cases, but you were always there for Spencer. You were so proud of him and impressed by how good he was at his job; you were also proud to call him your boyfriend.

Recently, the BAU was dealing with a group of assassins, some that were hired through the deepest parts of the dark web. It had begun with one hit man that specialized in making his hits look like accidents. He had been seeking revenge on his customers and that led to the BAU discovering that there were a whole network of hitmen, each known for their own method of killing.

There was a chemist.

A sniper.

A bomber.

And the deadliest of them all, Ms. .45.

A black widow, Spencer called her.

She’d been the only one to evade capture and Spencer was going to be the one to lure her out. 

You were freaked, to put it mildly. Just from what Spencer had told you about this woman, you knew dangerous didn’t even begin to describe her. 

Unlike her former “co-workers”, she liked to be up close and personal with her targets. She played her games and when she was done, she’d shoot them without a morsel of guilt to drag her conscious down.

“Spencer, I really don’t think you should do this.”

You were sitting on the bed, watching him loosen his tie as he simultaneously told you about this case and changed out of his work clothes.

“Y/N, it’s better if I do it,” he said, turning to face you, his tie now hanging undone around his neck.

“Why you though?”

It wasn’t often that you argued and you couldn’t exactly count this as a fight, but you both definitely stood on opposite sides of this matter.

“I’m the closest to her age on the team. If anything goes wrong, she’ll be most likely to negotiate with a peer.”

“But Spencer,” you frowned, “I don’t like the sound of how dangerous she is. If she believes that you’re a client, she could kill you.”

“We aren’t going to let it get that far,” he assured, sitting down on the side of the bed, next to you.

“I just worry about you, always being in dangerous situations. I know it’s just a part of dating someone who works in your profession, but what if something happens to you?”

You can’t help the tiny crack of emotion in your voice and he pulls you into his arms.

“Nothing will happen to me, okay?” 

You nodded into his chest and he pulled back, frowning at you.

“I don’t like to see you sad. I want to see that pretty smile of yours.”

His fingers tickled your side and you tried to hold back the laugh bubbling in your throat. You were extremely ticklish and he only ever used that against you at a time like this.

“Stop,” you squealed, trying to wriggle away from his touch, but he kept tickling you.

“Nope, not a chance,” he grinned.

You fell back on the bed, laughing and squirming as he continued his tickle torture.

“There we go,” he smiled, satisfied, “There’s that smile.”

You grinned more shyly as he cupped your face with his hand and kissed you gently.

“Just be safe, okay?”

“Always.”

He kissed you again, his lips parting from yours to trail down your jaw to your neck.

“Is this your way of distracting me?” you chuckled.

“Hmm, maybe,” he smirked.

“No complaints from this corner.”

His lips returned to yours, kissing you with such intensity, it left you breathless for a moment. Your lips moved with his, your hands tangled in his hair.

The rest of the evening was spent doing nothing other than a little fooling around.

•

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Garcia asked.

On the screen of her computer you saw Spencer entering the restaurant and speaking to the hostess before being seated.

“I’m sure,” came a moment later.

“We’ll protect him Y/N.”

This statement came from Aaron Hotchner—Hotch for short—, Spencer’s boss. You were grateful that Hotch had even let you be here, yet still the dread twisted in your stomach.

Garcia had hacked into the cameras to allow you three to see what was going on during this take down. Spencer sat facing the camera.

Only moments after he’d been seated at the table did a petite woman walk up.

She was slim with a short, angled cut. Her dark hair seemed to be in perfect place, just like the fake smile she was showing. She was dressed in a form fitting teal, sleeveless dress. The bottom was embellished in some sort of sparkling beads or perhaps rhinestones. She looked harmless enough, but you knew better. Looks could be very deceiving.

“Reid, we have you over her left shoulder. Do you copy?”

You watch as your boyfriend briefly glances straight towards the camera and taps a quick, stealthy answer on the table, with two fingers.

“I already hate her,” you glowered at the screen, watching as her hand lingered on his arm, seduction written all over her face.

“Put the claws away tiger,” Penelope muttered.

“So, how far along is your wife?” the hit woman you now know was named Cat, asked.

You watch Spencer swallow nervously, playing the part of an apprehensive first time customer.

“A few months. Do you, uh mind if we don’t talk about her?”

Cat was quiet for a moment. You can’t see her face, but somehow you just know she’s studying him.

“Let me see your ring.”

He furrowed his brows, but took it off handing it to her.

“You say you’ve been married for four years, right Spencer?” She studies the band, turning it over in her hand.

“Yeah.”

“For a 24 karat ring, it sure looks rather cheap. Apparently she loves you as much as you love her,” she tossed the ring on the table with a clank.

“Also, if it were four years old, it’d look more worn, don’t you think?”

You hear a click over the audio. It sounded suspiciously like a gun cocking and your eyes widened in horror.

Penelope gasped.

“Is that what I think it was?” 

“Yes,” Hotch answered her, “She knows.”

“You’re not married Spencer.” Her gun was pointing at him under the table, unbeknownst to the other diners in the restaurant.

“And guess what? I didn’t walk into your trap. You walked into mine.”

“Oh no,” Penelope breathed.

“I’ve got a gun pointed at your crotch right now, Spencer. What’s to stop me from taking you and the little ones out right now? It’d be such a shame; doesn’t Y/N want kids?”

“Hotch,” you growled, “He didn’t sign up for this.”

“He knows what he’s doing. Let him handle this. If it truly becomes a dire situation, we have backup in there with him.”

You pick at your nails, tuning back into Spencer and Cat’s conversation.

He ignored her remark, continuing to stare her down.

“You honestly think I’m dumb enough to waltz in here thinking you’re just another deadbeat asshole that’s tired of his wife? I know way more than you think I do. The BAU is the only one that got this close to us. But I’m still the only one left,” she smirked.

“Doesn’t mean anything. I’m good at what I do,” Spencer retorted.

“Tell me. Are you this cocky with Y/N?”

Your eyes narrowed, glaring at the screen.

“I’d love to shove my foot right up her-”

“Y/N,” Hotch chided.

“Sorry.”

She’d scooted around the booth closer to him, her hand sliding into his suit jacket and down his button down shirt. You couldn’t clearly see what she was doing, but you got the general idea. He jumped when her hand brushed his crotch before reaching into the waist of his pants, pulling out his gun with a smirk.

“So tell me, did you actually knock her up or was that just part of your cover? I mean unless you’re here to put a hit on her which is totally fine by me. I’m not one for commitment either.”

“You leave her out of this,” he growled, glaring at her.

“I bet you’re wondering how I know about her, right? Probably the same way I know that Blondie over there is part of your team, just waiting to take me down. Am I right?”

Spencer stayed quiet, his gaze hard on her.

“Do me a favor and tell her to take a hike will you?”

“Stand down,” Hotch says from next to you. You know enough about the plan to know that the entire team can hear messages from him here at the BAU.

You watched as JJ set the drink she’d been sipping on, down on the bar. She’d dressed in leather pants, a low cut black top with a quarter length sleeved, maroon fur jacket over it to appear as just another fancy dinner guest. She passed their table before disappearing into the kitchen.

“Thanks for playing, sweetie,” Cat smiled at her disappearing form.

“Now, tell me more about yourself Spencer. Why don’t you?” 

Cat rested her chin in her hand and watched him, her gun laying by her side where she could have easy access to it.

“Don’t you already know all about me?”

“True,” she made a face, “Then tell me all about me.”

“Well, for one, you’re quite loquacious.” 

“I’m gonna pretend that means sexy,” she grinned flirtatiously.

“Gag me with a spoon,” you mumbled.

“Now, like I said,” Cat continued, “Tell me about me.”

“You’re a psychopath that runs a different course than the rest of your fellow hit men. You like to be up close and personal, watch men lie and try to seduce them all before turning on them and killing them. Which in itself speaks to many deep rooted issues.”

“Is that your way of saying I’m just another woman with daddy issues?”

“You said it, not me.”

“So, how exactly did you find me?” She rested her chin on her laced fingers and cocked her head at him.

“Does it matter?”

“Of course.”

“Fine. It all started unraveling when we first took down what we thought was a lone hit man. One who specified in making hits look like accidents.”

You can hear Spencer still talking through the monitor as you paced back and forth behind Hotch and Garcia, your nerves getting the best of you.

You jump when you hear loud feedback from the mic.

“What was that?”

“She muffled the mic. We lost audio,” Penelope grimaced.

On the screen, you can see Cat’s hand on his tie, thumb over the microphone, her mouth moving as she says something to Spencer. He turns in the direction where Rossi was slyly approaching their table. 

With a few words that were unheard to the three of you, Rossi backed off, heading towards the kitchen.

“She caught on to Dave being there too,” Hotch mumbled.

“Hotch, this is not going as you planned, is it?”

Your question remained unanswered and by the way his posture remained rigid you knew you were right. That did little to reassure you.

“Entropy reigns supreme in this whole situation,” you grumbled.

You looked over and saw Hotch and Garcia staring at you quizzically.

“What? Isn’t another definition for that, lack of order or predictability or gradual decline into disorder?”

Hotch arched an eyebrow.

“Okay, maybe I used it wrong. I’ve heard Spencer use it before. This is why he’s the genius and not me.”

Nothing else was said on the matter as you three’s attention was turned back to the screen where Cat was talking to Spencer again.

“I’ll let that slide considering I learned something important about you.”

“What’s that?” Spencer questioned.

“Your backup. I’ve flushed them out. It’s just you and me now.”

“Guess again, bitch,” you mumbled.

You knew, as well as the rest of the team, that Tara and Morgan were still in there.

“I know you’re stalling, but why?”

“Cause I know there has to be a pretty impressive crowd of agents out front, just waiting to take me down.”

“You’d be correct,” Spencer deadpanned.

“Which is why you’re going to walk me out of here. I get away with no issues and no one gets hurt. If not,” she paused.

She ran her fingertips over the gun that she’d moved to the table, just in his line of sight.

“I have a fully loaded gun that can do quite some damage.”

“You won’t do it though,” he challenged.

“Oh wouldn’t I?”

“No because shooting up a restaurant isn’t your style. You’re more calculated than that. You like less mess, more mind games.” 

“So you do understand me, Spencer,” she smirked, “Then you’d understand that I need you to call off all the FBI agents so I can leave quietly.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” Spencer shrugged, not breaking his eye contact from her, “I’m not letting you walk out of here if I have to hold you down myself.”

“Would you hold me down and leave bruises that wouldn’t go away?” she purred.

“Is that what you want?”

“I bet that’s what Y/N wants,” Garcia mumbled.

You opened your mouth to respond, not sure if she meant you doing bodily harm to Cat or your wanting Spencer to do that to you.

“Focus,” Hotch reprimanded.

“No, I want the agents cleared.” Her hand tightened on her piece.

“Everyone stand down,” Hotch ordered, “We let her walk. Reid let her go.”

“Well?” Cat pressed.

You saw him bite his lip, clearly trying to make up his mind what to do.

“Reid. Let her go.”

“Spencer?” 

Cat was getting annoyed, that much you could tell and you knew she was definitely a person you didn’t piss off.

“Fine, you can go.”

She gathered her things, standing up to leave.

“But you won’t,” Spencer said.

She turned, gazing at him.

“Excuse me?”

“I found your father,” Spencer challenged.

“Reid, what are you doing?” Hotch asked, glancing at Garcia who just shrugged in response.

“Spencer, no,” you whispered, anxiety flooding your senses.

He was playing with fire and if he wasn’t careful, he was going to get burned.

“Tell me where he is,” Cat demanded.

“Sit down and I will.”

You glance at the two next to you.

“This wasn’t part of the plan, was it?”

“No,” came the terse answer from Hotch.

You see her sit once again across from Spencer.

“To prepare for tonight, I had to do my research on you,” he started.

“Is that so?”

“Lewis, Morgan, try to clear out the restaurant as subtly as possible. If this goes wrong, she could start shooting. I don’t want any injuries on my conscience tonight,” Hotch commanded. 

You didn’t see their movement on the screen, but within a few minutes there were more than the normal amount of waiters moving along the tables.

“I found your father Cat,” Spencer continued, in effort to distract her.

“You’re lying.”

“Does it look like I’m lying?”

“No, but I know you are because I never mentioned that I found him myself. He’s been dead for years, Spencer.”

You saw her reach for her gun at the exact moment a commotion towards the front of the restaurant broke out. You couldn’t see on screen what was happening, but it was all the distraction she needed.

Hotch was barking orders and you heard Spencer shouting something to Morgan.

It was later you found out that against Lewis and Morgan’s wishes, someone—most likely a waiter—had started freaking out. Whether that caused the following events to happen or not you would never know, but it sure didn’t help them either.

“Oh my god,” Penelope gasped.

Your eyes were glued to the screen and the horrible events that were beginning to unfold.

Cat had Spencer by the arm and her gun was pointed directly at him. She had him in her claws and she wasn’t about to let him go without a fight.

“Get everyone out of here!” Spencer hollered.

You heard the rest of the people fleeing the dining room, Tara aiding them, but you didn’t take your eyes off of Cat and Spencer.

“Well lookie here,” she grinned up at Spencer, “Back where we started. You and me and a gun.”

“We can talk this out,” Morgan said, slowly approaching, his gun still aimed Cat's way.

“I don’t know Agent Morgan,” she smirked, “I don’t like liars. How do I know that Spencer is true to his word? He’s already lied once.”

“Let him go and we’ll talk,” Morgan said.

“It’s too late for that.”

A loud crash came from the front of the restaurant. Distraction number two. You couldn’t tell if it had been planned by Cat or not, either way, it was her perfect moment to strike.

Multiple gunshots sounded. 

Time slowed down.

Penelope cried out.

Hotch cursed.

You fell to your knees.

In a split second Cat had shot Spencer and he went down, bright red blood beginning to stain his dress shirt. 

Shots were fired from Morgan’s gun. Tara went running after Cat, Morgan went running to Spencer’s side.

There was commotion on the screen. Tara came back in from the direction of the kitchen where Cat had run. Luck must have been on her side because she had disappeared into the night.

Everything changed in one quick moment.

Spencer had been shot and Cat had gotten away.

•

You had no memory of how you’d managed to get from the BAU to the hospital, but here you were, fidgeting in a chair, tears streaming down your face. You hadn’t even had a chance to see him before you got to the hospital and you were wracked with worry with how he was.

The last thing you remembered was falling to the floor, your head feeling woozy as you tried to process what was unfolding before your eyes. 

Spencer had been rushed into emergency surgery and you waited anxiously with the rest of the team in the waiting room. You were positive you hadn’t stopped shaking since you heard the gun go off.

The awful sound rang in your ears and every time you closed your eyes, all you could see was Spencer falling to the ground, blood soaking his shirt.

You looked up when you heard the click of heels and saw JJ coming back with an update on Spencer. The look on her face sent a feeling of cold, icy, fear through your body.

“He didn’t make it,” she whispered.

A buzzing sound rang in your ears and you were sure you’d heard wrong. 

“What?” you croaked.

“Spencer’s gone,” she choked out.

The guttural sobs that came from deep within you didn’t even sound human. Your anger and your pain melted into one.

Cat Adams would pay for this.

Tag List: @dreatine​ @reid-187​ @groovyreid​ @reidslibra​ @suvikamahes98blr​ @fuckthealarm​ @whatspunispun​ @iamburdened​ @cindywayne​ @thomasfoockinshelby​ @tinyminy88​ @theitcaramelchick​ @missprettyboy​ @hushlilbabydoll​ @sammy-jo1977​ @theonlyone-meeeee​ @haileymorelikestupid​ @lemonypink​ @multifandommandy​

[missjanjie]

The Siren Screams Tonight | Jankie

this is a commission for @myhusbandharryhamilton thats set in the freakshow au that pops up every now and then

Ship: Jankie (Jan Sport x Jackie Cox) Word Count: 1.25k Rating: T

comission info | ko-fi

With every new day, Jan knew there would be new surprises and challenges. It was simply the name of the game. Some were easier than others, but nothing had reached the point of being unbearable yet. So, as the Boulets announced that day’s challenge, she was as ready as ever. She might have been doing well in the competition, but she didn’t want to get too comfortable. A curveball could be thrown at her any minute.

Then they brought in the guest judge, and Jan’s heart dropped to the pit of her stomach. She must have jinxed herself. This had to be intentional, they had to be testing her or setting up a trap, they… they–

“Jan? Are you okay?”

Jan was pulled from the sudden rush of stomach-churning anger when Jackie grabbed her hand. She blinked rapidly, making sure she looked as calm as she was trying to come off as. “Never better, we’ll talk when we’re dismissed,” she assured and pressed a kiss to Jackie’s temple. This didn’t have to be a whole ordeal, she just had to grin and bear it for a few more moments.

“Alright, now tell me what’s going on,” Jackie prompted the second they were alone.

“I just can’t believe they brought Gigi fucking Goode to judge,” she muttered, pacing back and forth.

This didn’t really clear anything up for Jackie, who watched her with a mix of concern and confusion. “You guys… know each other?”

Jan rolled her eyes. “Gigi’s part siren too, spent most of our teen years trying to show me up.”

“Oh, so she was a romantic rival too, huh?” Jackie nodded in understanding. She couldn’t help but be a bit amused – Jan was so endlessly confident in her seductive abilities, it was interesting to see the other side of that, to say the least.

“I guess you could say that,” she mumbled. “I just don’t trust her.”

Jackie cupped Jan’s face gently. “She’s just here to do a job, baby,” she cooed, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. “Don’t let it get in your head.”

It was easier said than done, but Jan knew Jackie was right, so she nodded and left to prepare for the challenge.

And it was barely a minute after Jan left that Gigi sauntered over to Jackie. “Looks like you and Jan are close,” she observed as she moved closer, her fingers ghosting along the fabric of Jackie’s shirt. “She always had a weakness for the cute, quirky ones…” She let a hand rest on the competitor’s waist. “I suppose you could say it’s a shared trait.”

If there was one thing Jackie had learned during her time on the show, it was that she had very little resolve when it came to resisting a siren’s charm. If she were a seventeenth century pirate, she would have steered to her demise instantly and happily. But she was loyal to Jan, it was first come first serve as far as sirens went. Though she couldn’t deny Gigi’s charm. “I know your game, Miss Goode,” she cooed, taking a half-step back.

“Oh? From what I’ve heard, you’re not the only one keeping Jan’s company. Surely she wouldn’t mind being the one to share,” Gigi hummed, tucking a piece of Jackie’s hair behind her ear.

Jackie didn’t know if Gigi actually knew about the extent of Jan’s relationships, or if she was just going off what had been aired, but on paper, it was a compelling argument. But she had seen how Jan looked when she saw Gigi, she couldn’t just ignore that.

“You’re overthinking, aren’t you?” Gigi’s voice was soft and smooth, but still pulled Jackie right from her thoughts – the thoughts she forgot that Gigi could read. Her arms looped around Jackie’s waist when she noticed how little resistance she was putting up. She inhaled, all it would take was one little song…

And as if on cue, Jan returned to set as it was happening. She saw how Gigi was putting her usual moves on Jackie, how Jackie was losing her ability to try and resist her. It made her heart pound and her eyes darken with anger. Not having full control over her shape-shifting ability, the obsidian black orbs her eyes turned to was out of her control, especially when emotions got the better of her.

A siren being jealous may seem ironic, but it makes sense when considering their nature – their overwhelming need to be loved. Seeing this, her siren ancestors would have regained control of Jackie and manipulated her into murdering Gigi, but she was more human, and that came with a human conscience. And despite the very premise of the show, she didn’t have any plans on being the killer.

Instead, Jan just stormed over to the two of them. “Don’t you have anything better to do instead of playing mind games?” she snapped.

“Oh, don’t be so touchy, Jan. From what I hear, you’ve got plenty of sources to siphon affection from. I was only going to play with her for a little bit,” Gigi let go of Jackie, batting her lashes innocently at Jan.

Jan glared at her, squeezing Jackie’s hand tightly. “This one’s off limits,” she hissed, pulling her girlfriend away from Gigi. “You can go inject your venom elsewhere.”

“It’s so cute how you think you’re better than me,” Gigi retorted. “You’ll never be above reproach, especially not while you’re here,” and before Jan could reply, she turned on her heel and left with her head held high.

Jan’s blood was still boiling as she watched Gigi leave. She took a few deep breaths, wanting to regain some semblance of calm before she spoke to Jackie. More specifically, she had to squeeze her eyes shut until she knew that when she opened them, they would be their normal shade of chocolate brown.

“I didn’t know you felt so strongly about me,” Jackie admitted, letting go of Jan’s hand and wrapping her arms around her instead. “I mean, I knew we had something good, but I didn’t think you would literally fight for me,” she chuckled.

Jackie’s voice and gentle touch was enough to ease Jan back into normalcy. “Of course I’d fight for you,” she said, finally facing Jackie. “I love you.”

Jackie grinned from ear to ear. Despite what Gigi might have been implying, she just knew Jan was being sincere. “I love you too,” she pecked her lips. “Say it again.”

Jan laughed softly. “I love you,” she cooed, cupping Jackie’s face and peppering kisses all over, whispering sweet nothings between each kiss. It wasn’t about winning, about beating Gigi or proving her intentions. In that moment, it was about nothing but Jackie and the unbridled affection she had towards her. “I’m sorry you had to see me like that,” she added quietly.

“Don’t be,” she hummed. “It was actually pretty sexy seeing you all worked up with that. I mean, is it weird if I found that thing you did with your eyes to be kind of a turn on?”

“A little bit,” Jan giggled. It had been something she had been ashamed of growing up, a manifestation of the lack of control she had over her powers. And for Jackie to like it, especially in that way, was almost unnerving. “But it’s you, so I don’t mind. Just don’t ask me to do it on cue.”

“Duly noted,” Jackie hummed. “Now I know I just need to get you riled up.”

[tsipasce]

Same Difference Ch. 13

A/N: sorry for the late upload for anyone following, I’ve been pretty lax on uploading on here bc of the low interaction with these posts (I think like 3 people read this, maybe lol). But I’m going to try and upload them here just in case. 

Chapters: 01  |  02 |  03 |  04 | 05  | 06 | 07 | 08 |  09 |  10 |  11 | 12

AO3 | FFN

 “We need to talk. Now.”

“Yes. That’s why we’re on the phone.”

“We don’t have time for games today. You need to come to the base immediately.”

She’d recognize that “not now, Nanami” tone anywhere. Whatever it was, it was serious. Switching gears mentally to brace for the impending shitstorm, she exhaled,” Give me 30 minutes.”

“20.”

“What? That’s not even realisti—” she stopped, hearing the phone click. Rolling her eyes, she watched her friend exit the post office and walk over to the car.

“So, I say we go to that new brunch place first and then—wait what’s wrong?” Hitomi pivoted recognizing her friend was much less enthused than when she’d left. Nanami turned to her, an apologetic look on her face. “The hospital has you on-call again, huh?”

“Duty calls, sadly.” She felt bad about lying, but knew she’d feel worse if Hitomi got caught up in her mess. “Though I don’t know how long it’ll take so we might be able to salvage the day.”

“No, it’s ok, I understand. Take your time, we can always hang tomorrow or later in the week. When do you need to be there?”

“… in 20 minutes.”

“That’s unrealistic.”

“That’s what I tried to tell hi—I mean them, but it’s an emergency. Mind dropping me off at my house?”

“You got it. I’ll drive, you watch for cops.” Before Nanami could protest, Hitomi screeched out of the parking lot and back down the road they came.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 Waving bye to her friend, Nanami hurriedly grabbed her keys and work bag just in case the talk carried over to lab work. Running down to her car, she sped over to the base, basically rolling out of the car when she arrived as there were only 5 minutes to spare. Hearing a noise, she reflexively turned to look but continued running forward. Suddenly she felt herself run into a solid figure as she bounced back, falling onto her soon-to-be-late keester. Regaining her bearings, she looked up and saw an older gentleman in traditional attire, his hair slicked back and his face serious.

“Oh my gosh I am so sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going,” she apologized, giving him an earnest look.

He paused for a beat before giving her a kind smile, offering his hand to help her up, “That’s alright miss, no need to apologize. Where are you off to in such a hurry anyway?”

Crap, how do I get out of this one… she strategized inwardly on how to answer the question discreetly without sounding rude. “Oh nowhere, I just have to… make a house call! I’m a doctor, and my patient’s a massive germaphobe; very needy, you see.” She laughed awkwardly, hoping he bought it.

At her last comment, she could’ve sworn she saw a look of recognition flash across his face, but figured it was her imagination. “Oh, I see. Well he’s a lucky man to have you. As such an attentive caretaker, I mean. I won’t hold you up any longer, have a nice day Dr… what did you say your name was?”

“I didn’t.” She smiled, “You have a nice day too!” She said as she continued her jog to the base. She looked back to see him waving, returning it as she rounded the corner. Well that was close.

Once at the front gate, the door opened before she knocked, an irritated Overhaul waiting on the other side. “What took you so long. I said 20.”

“And I was going to say that was unrealistic before you rudely hung up on me. Besides, I would’ve actually gotten here on time if not for your friendly neighbors. I don’t know how the HOA of this neighborhood decided to let you of all people in. Everyone else seems so nice.” She pouted.

“What are you rambling about?”

“Your neighbor? I ran into an old man outside—I didn’t tell him where I was going or why I was here, obviously—but he seemed nice, if not a tad nosey.”

At this she saw him pause, “… What did he say to you?” The question much meeker than the last.

“Uhm, I bumped into him by accident, so he just asked where I was going, told me to have a nice day... oh! Also, how lucky you are to have me. You know, obvious stuff.” His brows raised before she quickly clarified the last statement, “As a doctor! I told him I was your doctor. He was pretty nonchalant about the whole thing.”

Though he donned his usual mask, she could tell his features had softened at whatever he was thinking. She’d even bet there was a small smile forming, but at what she wasn’t sure, “Hm, I see. Well, there’s no use in loitering around, let’s go.”

“Well you’re the one that stopped but ok” she said under her breath. He turned, giving her a warning look as she shrugged, raising her hands in faux surrender.

They continued down the usual pathway in the underground base before reaching his office and passing it, going down a hallway she wasn’t familiar with. It gradually became much darker the further they went, and the air temperature felt as though it had dropped at least 10 degrees, almost causing her to shiver. After what felt like an indefinite amount of time they arrived at a door, but before Overhaul could reach the handle, it opened, a panicked Kurono standing in the doorway.

“He had a pill.”

Looking past him, Nanami could see the assailant from the night before. Though he was savagely beaten, it was apparent he’d killed himself with whatever pill was hidden in his mouth as foam was formed around it, his body still going through its final convulsions. Working in a large hospital, she’d seen her fair share of people dying, but to say it got any easier would be a half-truth. The vision was familiar, but it was still unpleasant, no matter who it was. In contrast, Overhaul seemed irritated for a second before realizing something and returning to his stoic expression.

“No matter, we got all we needed from him anyway. Follow me,” he directed at her as he left the room and Kurono to dispose of the body. Nanami somberly followed, mentally giving the man a moment of silence. Whatever happened, she knew the importance of remaining objective in the presence of death. There might come a time when she’d make some bad decisions herself—to put it ever so lightly— and she hoped whoever was there in her last moments wouldn’t relish in her death either. They arrived at the door of his office, the clicking of the handle rousing her from her thoughts. He sat down across from her on one couch as she sat on the other, now feeling a bit out of place in her casual attire.

“It seems you have a price on your head.”

“Hm?” Nanami squeaked, her face that of disbelief.

“The lackeys that tried to take you were sent by the head of the Okumura clan, a rival organization. He seems sure you have a unique ability and learning of our partnership only seemed to confirm this.”

“Bu…But I was so careful. I don’t talk to anyone about us, I take weird routes every time I come here, I always use the burner ph—“ she began frantically before he cut in.

“You were not at fault for this. One of the new recruits was abducted. He didn’t know much, but he gave enough information to pique their interest.”

“And what happened to him?”

He was surprised at the question, but answered anyway, “He was set free after the questioning.”

“Well where is he now? Maybe he can tell us something useful about them and what else they want.”

“He’s no longer with us.”

“… Like he quit?”

“…”

“Overhaul.”

“… As I said, he’s no longer with us.” They stared at each other, Nanami now knowing the “snitches get stitches” saying to be only half true. Something tells me stiches wouldn’t help him now… She sighed, his blank expression unwavering as he continued, “Also, there is no ‘us’ when it comes to you and I and the Okumura. You will stay here until this problem is solved.”

“I’m gonna do what now?”

“You heard me. Your apartment is no longer safe. Considering they probably expected to see their men return last night with you captured, they will undoubtedly send more to finish the job.”

She opened her mouth to speak before closing it again. She knew it wasn’t safe to stay at her place, but staying at the base was just a lot, especially if her assumption about not being able to leave was correct. “Ok, but I have work and a life. Am I just supposed to hide here and put all that on hold?”

“Would you rather put it on hold or have it all end?”

“…That’s not fair.”

“Most things aren’t.”

She shifted in her seat biting her lip, realizing she was losing the argument. Every counter she came up with she mentally shot down before speaking it. I could stay at Hitomi’s house? No, they’d just follow me there and attack her too, or worse… I could stay at home and defend my place? Except they wouldn’t stop coming. My place would be trashed and then the neighbors would find out...I could...

“I could go in myself and get them. It’s my head they’re after, I’ll just have to convince them it’s not worth the trouble.”

He gave her a pitiable look, knowing the suggestion was equal parts blind bravery and desperation, “Your training with Rappa has made you a capable fighter, but are you really prepared to kill another person, permanently? Dozens of them? Simply maiming them wouldn’t be enough, they’d keep coming until…” He paused as he saw her look down in defeat, her fists clenched in her lap, her jaw tightening. She was angry—mad as hell—but she knew he was right. She was a fighter, not a killer, and no amount of training could change that overnight. She knew the logical solution to the problem, but her nature wouldn’t allow her to solve it. Seated across from her, his head tilted as he gazed at her pensively. Overhaul couldn’t figure out why but seeing her so upset was… unpleasant. He wanted nothing more than to make it stop, though the motivation behind the action remained a mystery. “Dr. Watanabe,” He continued slightly softer than before, her fists unclenching for a moment at the change in tone, “Your strengths lie elsewhere. Strategically, it makes the most sense for you to be here. It will only be for two weeks.”

“Two weeks?” Nanami could tell he was trying, but the frustration with the situation lingered. Attempting to calm herself and accept reality, she finally managed to respond,” Can I at least get my stuff first?”

“Yes, but let’s be quick about it.”

“’Let’s?”

“You didn’t really think you were going alone, did you?”

“No!... Well, yes. Fine, let’s go.”

[readerinsertfanfiction]

Three Ways

Fandom: Naruto

Character: Kakashi Hatake

Prompt: I ought to give Kakashi some love since Naruto is refusing to do so. A series based on some wisdom shared by a wise uncle.

4/6

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

You met Kakashi again over the back of Guy. Literally, as you were seated onto the back of the Green Beast of the Leaf when you ran into the copycat ninja.

“Hello Kakashi,” Guy smoothly greeted in which you followed, making sure to strike the same pose to put emphasis into the act. It looked as horrendous as you expected it to be, the blank look of the receiver giving you all the information you needed. 

“Guy. Name,” the man greeted back, cool as ever. Though the lilt in his voice was enough to give away his surprise at your appearance.

Might Guy brushed off the reaction, immediately turning down to business as he gave Kakashi yet another smirk. “Kakashi,” the man repeated, launching a dramatic pause before he made a wild gesture, “I wish to challenge you, again!” he announced loudly, a finger prodding into Kakashi’s direction.

Clinging onto Guy’s shoulders you rapidly tapped your hand, hoping that the man would soon realise that your legs were not secure. Feeling yourself slip away you couldn’t help but feel a little worried for yourself.

“If it is carrying [Name] you seem to be already losing,” Kakashi coolly offered as he gently slipped you off his overzealous rival. With a good view of the contours of his face up close and his usually apathetic eyes you suddenly felt yourself grow conscious as Kakashi looked down at you in his arms. 

“Bridal style, how bold,” you managed to get out, reviving yourself as you slipped into your wheelchair that Guy had set down earlier.

Kakashi kept quiet, smiling that infamous eye-smile of his again. Before you could fill the silence Guy interrupted once more.

“I hate how cool you always are, Kakashi,” the man exclaimed, hands balling up as he realised his mistake. Never defeated it actually invigorated him even more. “Enough of your adorable moment! I want my challenge and I challenge you to a battle of friendship!” Guy exclaimed, another flashy pose following to which you were glad to be off his back.

Feeling your face grow hot once more you started to sputter against the man. “What ado--” you tried, but Guy never let you finish, following on:

“Since we both recently met and befriended [Name] we shall have a battle to see who is the better friend. It will be a battle to the death!”

There really was no stopping the man once he got all fired up. With Kakashi unable to forego any challenge with the man the battle was a fact, a thought that made you grin to yourself. Neither of the men had seemed to notice your obvious struggle and it suited you just fine. That if Guy could stop spouting nonsense.

It was only natural that you knew about both jounin and their personality. The huge amount of intelligence you had under your servitude was not to be mistaken, after all. However, when you had read about Might Guy’s over-zealously you had mistaken just how extra the man could be.

“First!” the man exclaimed as he pulled out a scroll. “In order to better understand [Name] we need to experience [Name]’s world!”

Unscrolling the rolls Guy summoned two wheelchairs, your eyes widening at the implications of the script you had discussed. It was definitely not what the two of you had discussed before. Winking at you the male gave you a fat thumbs up before seating himself down in one of the chairs, gesturing towards Kakashi to do the same.

“How exactly will this determine who is the better friend, Guy?” Kakashi questioned asking that what you both were wondering. Even if the two of you had your suspicions to what the answer would be it wouldn’t hurt to hear it from Guy himself. Though, it seemed that no matter the answer Kakashi was going to roll with it as he seated himself as well. 

“Choosing a friend is not an easy matter, Kakashi,” Guy started, already wheeling himself up and down to try out the wheelchair. “We can’t just ask [Name] to choose between us, that would be unfair!” Tested against the logistics of the man himself it was a sound reason and neither of you decided to argue against it. That if it wasn’t for the extra line he had to add. 

“Besides, we can’t expect [Name] to be able to choose between two handsome men!” he exclaimed loudly, another big fat meaningful wink heading your way.

Whatever counter you had went ignored. Too excited as the man was Guy had already proceeded.

And so the challenge started. Kicking off with a wheelchair race Guy had managed to force everyone to spend the day together, splitting the challenge up in several rounds.

“You are pretty adept at wheeling yourself around,” you complimented Kakashi, the two of you leisurely following the overexcitable Guy. “Though, what else is there to be expected from the one and only copycat ninja?” 

Not soon after the race had started the man had announced that he would use his arms instead if he had no legs to use. With neither of you having the heart to call his instant loss in the race you left Guy to be. Besides, it gave the two of you some leisurely time. Something that you had found little off despite the break you had called in for the mission. 

“I had the perfect subject to observe,” Kakashi responded, earning a scoff from you. “It turns out that it also makes for an excellent practice for chakra control,” the jounin continued, forever thinking of ways to teach his students new skills.

Eyeing him curiously you stopped in your tracks, lips pursing in thought. “I don’t think I have ever seen your sharingan,” you mused, wondering when the man had ever lifted his mask to use his infamous technique on you. There had been no reason to do so after all. Your job wasn’t meant for the frontline, thus leaving out much of the excitement in which a sharingan could be prompted to be used.

You would have missed the pause in his movements if it weren’t for the wheelchair. Shoulders tensing Kakashi threw you a lazy look, another hidden smile directed into your way.

“I didn’t need my sharingan.”

Stumped you weren’t sure how to respond, instead you stared after him. You knew that naturally Kakashi would have shadowed you for a bit. Just to make sure that you weren’t suspicious and you had known when he did so. However, you had never expected him to observe you to the extent of figuring out your technique without the sharingan. It begged the question what for? 

Occupied with that piece of information the second round started. Bowls of ramen with an assortment of side dishes set out in front of the three of you.

“[Name], I will pay for your meal if you pay for mine,” Guy smirked as a first attempt in an offer.

Returning the smile with a scoff you rolled your eyes. “Might as well pay for myself,” you countered, amused at the format of the new challenge. Whoevers meal you ended up paying for would be the winner of the challenge. It turned out that the entire format was quite simplistic after all. 

“Then I will pay for both to show off our youthful friendship!” Guy exclaimed, never dissuaded.

To this you had even less of a response. “How nice of you to offer,” was all that you said, earning yet another loss for the man.

Guy’s attempt to make you pay for at least one of his meals had failed, leaving the stage to Kakashi.

“Are you going to sweet talk me into paying?” you challenged. You knew of the track record he had, charming his comrades into paying, but you were prepared. You were also prepared for him to have known that you were prepared, leaving this to be the real battle to start. It really was a matter of who would give in first, or corner the other. 

“Yes and no, you know I can sweet talk anyone,,” the man calmly responded. A fact that you laughed heartily at. A challenge it was. 

Pausing the man turned towards you in his seat, his eye suddenly serious as he faced you. “I just wanted to say that I really respect you as a comrade,” he started, “not just because of the mission, but also as a ninja. ” Sparing no moment the male started his attack on your wallet. 

It was a line you had expected Kakashi to start with. Keeping quiet you gave him a look, waiting for him to continue. 

“Will you pay for the meal, [Name]?”

It was as if he had been proposing. A proposal at which you rolled your eyes at with yet another scoff.

“As comrades shouldn’t the senior pay?” you teased, amused at the attempt made. Determined to make both parties lose you weren’t about to let a free lunch go either. Besides, Kakashi knew he needed more to tug at your heartstrings. 

To this Kakashi had an answer as he continued his mysterious way of eating with a mask on.

“There is no seniority in respect and I certainly respect you the most, [Name].”

Another killer line. Leaning over to the man you put your hand on his shoulder, patting it as you nodded solemnly.

“Quite right, Kakashi,” you started. “Then the next meal shall be on you.” Raising your hand you then ordered yet another luxurious bowl from the good chef, leaving both men unanswered in their challenge and both your bowls paid. 

Silence fell between the two men as they contemplated their next move, eyes meeting each other before turning back at you. The challenge was far from over and the two men had known each other for much too long to just leave it at that.

“Sounds like a date,” Kakashi casually exclaimed, rusing your attention once more.

Wide eyes blinked back at him in confusion before your last words dawned upon you, a chuckle escaping you. Now that you hadn’t expected. Though, as always you were quick to recover. 

“In which the gentleman pays, right?” you winked, knowing full well that you were playing right into Kakashi’s hands.

Shrugging Kakashi finished his bowl, enjoying the blush you were trying to hide as Guy tried to fill in the gap in which he had fallen. Scrambling up the man shot up from his place, his voice beaming all over the shop. 

“Let me take you on a date as well and teach you all about youth!”

Scrunching your face up you eyed the man. “I will pay you not to,” was your immediate response though your eyes were amused. You had to give it to them both, they were entertaining. 

To this Guy smacked Kakashi soundly on his back. “I won, old comrade!” came proudly, his face sparkling despite the earlier rejection. “[Name]’s bias for you has facilitated my advantage!” 

To this you tried to argue again, feeling another blush rising as you realised what had transpired. “Two dates is a bit much, isn't it?” you tried to defend yourself, but found that it was of no use. The pairs of eyes that were on you, not only of the two men but from the rest of the shop as well bore witness to the scene. 

Those two were going to be the end of you. 

[inkederror]

So what exactly happened to Error? I mean I get he died and stuff, but what happened????

WARNING- This story does contain self harm, self loathing, and ends with suicide. This is the the past before Inked!Error was created.

Dust in my arms

Part 1

Error sat up with a start from his makeshift hammock, his chest rising and falling with each rapid painful breath. He growled in frustration as he held his head, the memories of the previous dream beginning to fade away. The memories of Papyrus's smile still haunting him along with the dust that stained his clothes after that day. Error let out a small laugh as he thought about it, him, a real Classic Sans? Even if it was a genocide ending, it was foolish to even entertain the thought that his world would ever come back, he destroyed it long ago. His brother, his friends, he was already too far gone, they’d never accept him even if he could bring it back. He let out another laugh before wiping the yarn tears from his eyes and pushing up from the glowing yarn hammock. Time to get to work, stretching up he listened to the bones in his spine pop one by one before grabbing his bright blue scarf and jacket to throw on. He had AU's to destroy, and a squid to avoid. He just needed one win and this feeling would go away, this suffocating dread that clung to his bones weighing him down. Shaking off the feeling he snapped his fingers and opened a portal, ending up in an UnderSwap.

Ink was quiet, staring down at his vials with his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth, forcing himself to concentrate. He had to measure out the correct doses of blue and red to make the perfect purple. Having the right shade was always imperative, he didn’t want to experience regret when he was going for curiosity. However focused as he was, Ink almost missed the faint ripple in the fabric of the multiverse, though decades of being on his toes due to a certain friend of his wasn’t so easily forgotten, and he knew that feeling was Error.

Ink huffed as he set down his vials, capping them, and placing them back on his sash. He’d forget to finish later undoubtedly, so he scribbled a note on his scarf before throwing broomy, who was lovingly placed on the table into his holster. Shaking off any jitters that still clung to him from weeks of not seeing Error, Ink couldn’t help but wonder what Glitchy had been doing so long alone in the anti-void. He’d ask later. With a bounce in his step Ink hopped out the door of the home he had so finely crafted and out into the doodle sphere. Ink followed the tugging sensation that echoed through his bones before grinning, yet that was his Error, no doubt about it. He stopped in front of a piece of paper held up by string, Underswap copy 3089. Dipping into the au, his grin only widened when he saw the carnage. Yep. Error was here. Ink began to follow the breadcrumbs like a bloodhound. It wasn’t long until he ended in the judgement hall.

By the time Ink got there Error was in the middle of his fight with papyrus. It seemed whenever Error came to a Swap timeline he always gunned for Papyrus first. His blue yarn already tangled through Blue’s rib cage, holding his soul tightly so the small Sans could barely even breath without pain filling every inch of his soul.

“W-we don’t have to fight,” Blue began but Error pulled his soul leaving his body before shattering.

“Sans!” Papyrus screamed, bright orange tears rolling from his eyes sockets as his brother dusted before his eyes. “You… You…! You dirty brother killer,” He growled while summoning a gaster blaster. “Let go of Chara so she can reset.”

“Chara?” Error said with a laugh while summoning his own blaster, “Never going to happen.” A battle erupted between the two until papyrus finally got caught in Error’s web of yarn, “Any last words before I end your sad existence you abomination? No? Alright.” He fired.

Ink had been watching in silence, wondering whether this AU’s Papyrus could hold his own. From the look of things, the answer was no. Ink watched for a moment more, Papyrus becoming tangled in Error’s yarn, he was losing his grip. Right when the glint of hopelessness filled Pap’s sockets Ink stepped in with a harsh yank of his brush against the strings, blocking what would have been a death blow. He had to admit, he always loved that expression on Error’s face, confusion, shock, dismay, and then anger. With a wink Ink hollered over. “Hey Error, didja miss me?” He didn’t even give him time to answer as he yanked the strongs as hard as he could and threw his Glitchy across the room.

The throw made Error hit a pillar making it crumble behind him, but he brushed it off, getting up and summoning a baster. He didn’t say a word as he focused on the fight, he couldn’t lose, not again, not like this… If he focused then maybe he could win. He clenched his teeth as he kept firing on Ink, hoping he’d slip up, hoping he’d finally get the upper hand, he had to keep an eye on that squid. God did he want to yell at him, to tell him to leave but his energy was already dropping, he couldn’t waste an ounce on anything but focusing on winning.

“Woah!” Ink said throwing up a shield with his bones made of ink to block the blast. “Somebody’s cranky,” He chirped, the moment there was a lull in the bombardment of attacks Ink made a break for it, darting out in a zigzag motion across the floor to get closer.

Error watched him move taking a few quick steps back before throwing up his bones in protection and teleporting even further back. “Would be a lot happier if I didn’t see your stupid face!” He growled in annoyance throwing up more glitching bones for protection. He could feel failure weighing him down, but he couldn’t give up, not yet, the fight could still be his!

Ink couldn’t help but snicker at his rival’s tone, “Awe but I look so handsome! Who wouldn’t be happy to see me?” Ink tittered. Many people actually, but Ink wasn’t about to say that. Seeing Error throw up his bone attacks Ink couldn’t help but roll his eyes, they both knew they weren’t a problem for Ink. Flicking his brush in his hand he broke through them with ease before rushing his glitch. He pounced on Error, knocking him down and pinning him, a hand crawling up under the destroyer’s jacket.

“G̶̬̣̬͆̄È̸͇T̶̬̐̉̀͜ ̵̭͊Ỏ̵̩̈̏F̷̧̪̺̕F̸̩̑̇͂ ̷͚̅́͘O̵̞͓͌ͅF̵̛̻̐̋ ̸͙̭͚̏͝M̴̝̆̓Ḛ̷̳́̍!̴̨͚͙͂̐͒” Error nearly screamed as it took everything in his body not to reboot. Ink didn’t respond as he felt Error’s body stiffen under him, still as stone until the earthquake of glitches covered him. Ink ignored it though, grin widening even more when he finally grabbed something soft and warm and filled with determination. With one quick tug he snapped it free, the human soul glowing in his hands. Ink giggled as the world shivered and rippled beneath the two as the true reset took over. Now their fight could really start. However Error was already low on energy. Finally kicked Ink off himself and got back to his feet before he took a few steps back, “S̶͗͝t̶̀̑ä̶́̽y̴̒̅ ̸̈́̕ả̴̏w̴̽͆a̵̛͂y̴̌̾ ̷́̚f̴̈́̚r̸̈͌o̵̎̋m̶̰͗ ̴͌̚m̴͒̐ë̸͑ !” Error huffed in exhaustion. His warning seemed to fall upon deaf ears as Ink’s smile widened. Usually Ink would back off the moment Error didn’t immediately go for his throat. He wasn’t the type to just go all out unless he had to but… He hadn’t seen his destroyer in so long, he missed his glitch and it seemed like the times Error was going out to destroy a helpless AU were growing further and further apart. Maybe he was just busy watching undernovela or something but Ink couldn’t help but fixate on it. He wanted to make the most out of this fight, he wanted to poke and prod at the other. He wanted to listen to his angry glitchy words as he insulted Ink with all his might. He wanted Error, he needed him.

“Error~” Ink smiled, something like delight welled up in his chest the angier Error got. Ink wanted to both sip on some yellow paint and puke. Cocking his head to the side he watched Error get into a defensive position, so he lunged at him, broomy raised for the attack.

Error’s sockets widened as he snapped his fingers to teleport but nothing happened, he’d used too much magic, he couldn’t. His eyes locked on Ink’s for a moment before he moved to dodge but he didn’t have enough time. Ink hadn’t expected his attack to land at all, or even come close. He was sure that the destroyer had enough time to dodge, evade, or hell even block the blow. It all happened almost in slow motion, Ink lunging, and realizing the other wasn’t moving.

Error wasn’t dodging, why wasn’t he dodging.

Ink tried to pull back but there was no time, no time to take back his swing, no time to even lessen the blow. Inside he begged for Error to move, he couldn’t hurt his Glitchy like this. He caught the sight of Error beginning to move but it was too late. The brush collided with a sickening crunch, knocking all the air from Error’s nonexistent lung and sending him flying back like a ragdoll into the golden walls of the judgement hall. Ink was stunned as he watched in horror, as Error crumbled to the ground, any magic left in him fading from his eyes, he didn’t even have an ounce of his own determination. He slid down to a sitting position, in which Ink found the strength to step forwards, but his small movement was nothing compared to what happened next. The crack that had formed from Error’s collision reached up the wall, and made the ceiling crumble, falling onto him. Ink was nowhere fast enough, reaching the now pile of debris that crushed Error once it was too late. Everything went blurry for the destroyer as he sat under the pile, completely trapped, he let out a huff of pain, everything hurt.

Ink gazed upon the pile in abject horror, “Error…?” He breathed, hoping that his rival would get up. He was strong, he could just use a blaster, or his yarn, yeah, he’d get up for sure. Ink watched, he could only watch, his body wouldn’t allow him to move as he waited. Nothing changed, Error remained trapped, hidden beneath the rubble, oh god, he didn’t dust did he? “ERROR!” Ink screamed, rushing the rest of the way over and using his brush to throw the rubble from Error like a golf ball. There he was, Ink felt sick to his stomach but he held it back. There was a large crack reaching from just the top of his mouth, over his right eye, and all the way back to the base of his skull. In the middle of the crack there was a large caved in piece as well. His horror only grew the longer he stared, so he pried his eyes away and searched for a way to free his destroyer.

This is the beginning of Inked!Error’s story, this story is about abuse, obsession, and a lot of pain.

[hiddendreamer67]

Sorcerers of Sanderly Place (pt. 2)

Summary: Patton is the youngest in a long line of cafe-owning vampires. When one of their rival owners comes over to scope out the place, a handsome young wizard no less, Patton doesn’t think twice before inviting Logan into his home. 

Check out more of my writing at @hiddendreamerwriting!

(Check my reblog for links to the previous parts and the taglist)

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If Patton had a heartbeat, he was certain it would be one so fast that his heart would surely leap right from his chest. The young vampire felt incredibly nervous, guiding Logan down to his bedroom. He knew his family was watching him, likely thinking he had finally decided to partake in some mortal prey. They had been bugging him for centuries to settle down and properly suck a human’s blood. Thankfully, all the coffee scents in the shop above had masked Logan’s magical aura, or else Patton would have never even made it down the stairs.

Wizards were a vampire’s greatest enemy. They liked to hunt down vampires and would love to send a stake through Patton’s heart or send him to prison for eternity. As it turns out, eternity is quite a long time when you actually live that long.

Was Logan armed? Patton realized he should have checked before leading the wizard down into his home. Then again, Patton had a habit of acting with his heart rather than his brain. Besides, Patton couldn’t blame Logan for coming prepared- after all, not many vampires had souls like himself. Most were bloodthirsty killers just like the wizarding world feared.

“Well, here we are.” Patton announced, opening the door. It was the first time he had shown anyone his room in several hundred years, and Patton was now nervous for a multitude of reasons.

“…oh.” Logan said, staring around in surprise.

Patton gave an awkward chuckle. “I take it’s not what you expected?”

“Well, I did not have time to adequately prepare a hypothesis, but upon second evaluation, it suits you.” Logan gave a slow turn in the middle of the room. The walls were a bright blue, and the room could almost be taken for that of a human child if not for the Birch-wood coffin pressed against the back wall. Logan approached it, softly running his fingers along the white velvet lining.

“Thanks.” Patton gave a proud sort of smile, closing the door to keep Logan’s scent from wafting up. He absolutely reeked of alchemy.

“Is it not claustrophobic to rest in a coffin?” Logan asked, and as he turned back to Patton the vampire could see more questions brimming behind his eyes. Patton knew he wouldn’t be able to help but answer every single one, in the hopes of seeing Logan smile again. Wow, Patton had really fallen fast this time, huh? Usually it took Patton at least a year to build up a crush this strong. But then again, the men of the past didn’t have Logan’s eyes.

“Not really, no.” Patton shrugged, sitting cross-legged on one of his high-rise stools. They were quite nice for perching on when Patton felt like reverting to bat form. “I’m a deep sleeper. Dead as a door-nail.”

“Is that a fact or another pun?” Logan squinted.

“A bit of both.” Patton laughed. “So, I take it wizards don’t have any fancy bedding of their own?”

“No particular magic traditions, no.” Logan confirmed. “Although in our youth my brother and I shared a bunk bed.”

“Oh, I’ve always wanted to do that.” Patton sighed wistfully. “Ever since humans invented them I always thought it was such a fun idea.”

“Were you around for their invention?” Logan seemed surprised, and Patton could see him trying to recall when bunk beds were invented.

“Yup!” Patton gave a playful grin. This was always one of his favorite parts, when boys tried to figure out his age. “I think that was back in the 60’s or so.”

“The 1960’s?”

“The 1460’s.” Patton corrected, watching Logan’s eyes turn into wide saucers. Patton outright laughed, amused by the adorable bewildered expression on the wizard’s face.

“You’re…” Logan paused, clearly doing rapid calculations in his mind. “…five hundred and sixty years old?”

“Older, actually.” Patton teased, never once having given away his actual age. Logan observed him again, and for a moment Patton worried that his age might drive the cute mortal away.

“…you’re quite attractive for your age.” Logan said finally, causing Patton to laugh again. The young vamp hoped his cheeks didn’t appear as pink as they felt from Logan’s compliment.

“Vampires mature more slowly than humans.” Patton was quick to explain. “I’m not full grown yet, that’s why my fangs haven’t grown in.” Patton opened his mouth, his tongue running along the human-esque teeth.

“I was wondering about that.” Logan admitted, sitting on a stool next to Patton as he inspected his teeth to confirm.

“They’re due to grow in soon.” Patton explained, closing his mouth again. He watched Logan subconsciously rub at his neck, and Patton couldn’t help but feel a bit hurt. “I still won’t bite, though.”

Logan quickly returned his hand to his side, unable to hide the tremor in his voice. “Ah, how does b-blood, ahem, blood transfer work for you creatures?”

Patton winced, not fond of being called a creature. “Well, most vampires just take directly from the source. My parents included, sometimes, but we don’t suck anyone dry. That can be lethal, or turn someone as well. I am against that  and drink blood substitutes, like animal blood. Recently I’ve also taken to blood bags donated from different facilities who want to help our kind. There’s a bit of pressure from my family, however, because while my methods are fine for a baby bat, everybody wants me to find ‘real’ prey once my fangs come in. I’ve been very firm about that though, and the topic has been dropped for the past several years.”

“Is your resistance to direct human blood perhaps a consequence of your humanity being retained after you were turned?” Logan suggested.

“Oh, I wasn’t turned.” Patton corrected. “I was born a vampire. We’re rare, but I’m not the only one.”

“Intriguing.” Logan leaned forward. “Do all vampires communicate with each other?”

“No, not everybody, although we’re mostly aware of each other.” Patton shrugged. “I’ve traveled around a lot with my family, and met vampires of… all kinds. Other supernatural beings as well. Not many wizards though, and I’ve certainly never had one come so close.”

“What makes me special then?” Logan asked, and suddenly Patton was hyper aware of how close they were. When had he leaned in to meet Logan? The two of them were practically nose to nose, but Patton saw no fear behind Logan’s glasses, only unbridled curiosity.

“Well…” Patton found his words drifting off, unable to vocalize the way Logan made him feel. The way that little twitch of his eyebrow indicating Logan was waiting for an answer only sent a thrill up Patton’s spine. He wanted to run his fingers through Logan’s hair, which would be so inappropriate for having just met and yet already Patton felt his hand lifting of its own accord. What would Logan’s lips feel like against his own? Patton found his mind wandering as he imagined pulling Logan closer-

“PATTON!”

Patton jumped, separating quickly from the wizard and turning on his stool to face the pounding on his bedroom door. His face was beet red, both embarrassed about what he had almost done and terrified that he had forgot to lock the door. “Y-yeah?”

“Hurry up darling, we need you for the lunch rush.” That was his mother. She was not a patient woman.

“Coming!” Patton dashed over to his desk, pulling out a quill and cursing quietly when the ink would not flow as quickly as Patton’s superhuman limbs could twitch.

“Perhaps that is my queue to leave.” Logan stood up, only for Patton to suddenly be putting a hand on his chest.

“Wait.” Patton insisted, flapping the card so it would dry faster. He felt bad, having clearly startled Logan with his speed. “Sorry. Um, here.”

Logan took the card, glancing down at the numbers scrawled. “…you have a telephone number?”

Patton laughed, once again amused by Logan’s queries. “Just because I lived through the middle ages doesn’t mean I’m stuck in them, you know.”

“I apologize for my ignorance.” Logan corrected, fanning the card once more before placing it in his pocket.

“Don’t; you’re cute.” Patton booped Logan’s nose, a jolt of happiness running through him when he got that adorable bewildered expression again and wasn’t driven away. “I was thinking maybe you’ll give me a call at a later hour, and we can go somewhere besides my bat-chelor pad.”

Logan took a moment to digest Patton’s pun. “That was atrocious.”

“I’m glad you liked it.” Patton teased, slipping his hand once again into Logan’s own. “Here, you can go out the back exit. I doubt my parents will take too kindly to you.”

“There’s a back exit?” Logan said, seeming unfazed by the implication that Patton’s parents were still bloodthirsty killers.

“We’re vampires living on the same street as wizards, of course there’s a back exit.” Patton realized a moment too late that meant perhaps he shouldn’t be showing Logan this passageway, but as he moved the bookcase Patton found he didn’t care. He trusted Logan. More importantly, he liked Logan. A lot. Patton hadn’t felt butterflies this strong in centuries.

“Just around this corner.” Patton pointed, not wanting to risk getting caught in the sunlight on the street.

“Thank you.” Logan took a step forwards, but Patton continued to hold him still by the wrist.

“Sorry, I just…” Patton paused, not sure what he wanted to say but knowing he didn’t want Logan to go. “I’m being silly, but I feel like I miss you already.” And now you’re being desperate. Patton cringed, scolding himself. You’re just going to fall for another mortal and get your heart broken all over again.

Logan was quiet. Then, he took a step forward, leaning forwards to plant a kiss on Patton’s cheek. The vampire gasped, immediately releasing Logan’s wrist to cradle his cheek as if to confirm that happened.

“I understand how you feel.” Logan said softly, before disappearing around the corner.

[aion-rsa]

The Batman Trailer Breakdown and Analysis

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The Batman trailer is finally here, accompanied by Nirvana’s “Something in the Way.” The two-minutes-and-a-half of footage presents a nightmarish new take on Gotham and the Dark Knight, an impressive feat considering only 25% of the movie has been shot so far, according to what director Matt Reeves said during the DC FanDome digital event.

Matt Reeves’ Batman reboot explores the early days of the Caped Crusader’s career, about two years into it, and focuses on a younger Bruce Wayne who is haunted by his past as well as a new villain who’s leaving victims all of the city for him to find.

We see in the trailer as Batman is hunted by a serial killer who is leaving him letters at every crime scene, teasing that the movie will feel more like a detective story than the usual action take. The trailer also gives us our first look at several villains, including Penguin, Catwoman, and a gang that seems to call back to a group first introduced in an animated series.

While the trailer makes quite a few things clear about this new Batman movie universe, there are a few lingering questions left in the promo’s wake. So we’re going breaking down the trailer to see what’s really going on in The Batman. And if there’s anything you spot in the trailer that we missed, let us know in the comments!

Before we get started, take a look at the trailer again:

Okay, let’s get started:

The trailer kicks off the character reveals right away, giving us our first look at The Batman‘s version of the Riddler — at least I’m pretty sure this is him. The riddle-obsessed villain isn’t really known for wearing a full facemask with glasses over it, but as you’ll see throughout the trailer, this movie seems to play like an extended fever dream full of grotesque baddies set against an almost overbearingly dark Gotham City.

This is the perfect version for this new take on the Riddler, who seems more like a serial killer here than the grinning megalomaniac we know from the comics, video games, and Batman Forever. In fact, Paul Dano’s Riddler looks about as far the opposite of Jim Carrey as you can get.

The trailer definitely sets up the Riddler as the main villain of the piece, a killer obsessed with getting to the Batman by leaving behind corpses and messages for the Dark Knight at his crime scenes. Above, we see one such victim, his face wrapped in tape with the words “No more lies” written over it.

Uncovering a lie seems to be a major aspect of the movie, as its a message the Riddler repeats to the Batman several times in the trailer. It suggests the Riddler knows something about the Caped Crusader that no one else does. Does the villain know that Bruce Wayne is the masked vigilante? Or does this lie run much deeper than that?

The fact that the Joker movie also dealt with the idea of the Wayne family’s hidden past — in that case, that Thomas Wayne may have had an illegitimate son — and that this movie could have at least one potential connection to last year’s Taxi Driver-inspired character piece makes me think the Riddler knows a secret about Bruce’s past. The Riddler, who seems to be speaking to Batman throughout the video, tells the Dark Knight at the end of the trailer that “he’s a part of this,” meaning whatever the villain is doing was designed to punish Bruce for something.

Reeves has said that his take on Batman is more of a detective story than an action movie, and this trailer definitely delivers on his promise. We see Jeffrey Wright’s Jim Gordon investigating the crime scene the Riddler leaves behind at the start of the trailer, while a forensics team takes photographs and gathers evidence.

One piece evidence is a green envelope left behind for Batman. Inside is a card with a riddle that I can’t quite make out, but it’s undoubtedly meant to lead the World’s Greatest Detective to the next clue in the Riddler’s twisted game. We also see that the Riddler has also picked up a few things from the Zodiac Killer’s book of riddles, as he leaves behind a code for the Bat to crack.

A blink-and-you’ll-miss-it shot of a framed newspaper at the crime scene gives fans of The Dark Knight and The Long Halloween a nice easter egg to mull over. We already knew John Turturro was set to play crime boss Carmine Falcone in the movie but now we know that his comrade in crime/rival Salvatore Maroni also exists in this universe and has been busted for transporting drugs at some point before the start of the movie. Was Maroni one of Batman’s early targets? Maybe we’ll find out.

Here’s an excellent look at what the top half of the new Batsuit looks like. It’s pretty much a suit of armor, although the cowl and cape seem to be made out of leather. And as we already knew, this Batsuit has a collar, which is a pretty neat addition to the usual suits designed for the movies.

This scene also confirms that by year two of Batman’s career, he’s already on good terms with Gordon and the GCPD, although something tells me that relationship ain’t gonna last very long…

I have no idea who this is, but I’m going to guess it’s The Batman‘s version of Commissioner Loeb, the corrupt head of police that preceded Gordon. Since the movie is getting a GCPD-centric spinoff on HBO about the corruption inside the police force, I’m going to assume this version of Loeb will be a bit closer to the power-hungry chief introduced in Frank Miller and David Mazzucchelli’s Batman: Year One.

We also get a look at the new Batcave, which is about as minimalist as the Dark Knight’s secret lair can get. In fact, it looks more like a garage than a secret underground science lab/high-tech surveillance station. It even looks like this version of Bruce spends more time working on his Batmobile than on his computer piecing mysteries together. Can you even call that a Batcomputer? It looks like a workbench with a dual-monitor PC setup. Does this dude even get wi-fi inside his underground mechanic shop?

Bruce is at someone’s funeral for someone I don’t recognize when a car comes crashing through the church. Inside seems to be a man with a bomb and a letter for Batman strapped to his chest. Does the Riddler know Batman is attendance already or does he think this latest scheme will lure him there?

Either way, we also get our best look at Pattinson as Bruce. It’s interesting to see a version of Bruce who doesn’t sport slicked back billionaire hair. Instead, Pattinson wears more of an emo slick — very fitting for the mood of this trailer.

We get our first look at Zoe Kravitz as Selina Kyle doing what she does best: stealing. Reeves said during DC FanDome that this version of Selina hasn’t quite morphed into Catwoman at the start of the film and is instead still being shaped into the master thief we know and love.

The trailer shows us a brief snippet of Selina taking on Batman, suggesting that the characters will be at odds with each other in the movie. But could this be the start of a love-hate relationship like what we’ve seen in past takes on this duo? This should be interesting.

We also get to see Colin Farrell’s absolutely incredible transformation into the scarred Oswald Cobblepot, who, according to Reeves, is still working his way up the crime ladder in this movie. He’s not yet the powerful crime lord known as the Penguin, but it sure seems like he causes plenty of havoc for the Bat nonetheless.

Here’s why I mentioned that Joker connection earlier. The gang of face-painted goons that challenge Batman in the trailer sure look inspired by the Clown Prince of Crime. My initial reaction was that The Batman was doing the Jokerz, the Joker-worshiping gang introduced in the Batman Beyond animated series, but what if these guys were actually inspired by Arthur Fleck’s actions in the ’70s-set movie?

We know that by the end of Joker, Arthur has a cult following rallying around him, despite the fact that he’s admitted to murdering quite a few people by that point. His followers, who don their own clown makeup and masks, see Arthur as a freedom fighter, someone fighting for justice in a corrupt city where the rich have it all and the poor have nothing. It wouldn’t be surprising to see that Arthur has become a symbol all these years later, inspiring the next generation to go out into the streets and cause their own chaos.

I know WB has said that both The Batman and Joker exist in their own universes, but I wouldn’t be surprised if the studio was suddenly anxious to tie these two movies together after the massive success of the latter. If Pattinson ever does take on the Joker, you can bet your Batarangs that WB will try its very hardest to make it the Joaquin Phoenix version of the villain.

Anyway, we eventually watch as Batman beats the ever-living shit out of one of these clowns. It’s a bit…much.

While Batman and the GCPD seem to be on good terms at the start of the trailer, things have certainly taken a turn later. We first see Bats getting into a scuffle inside an interrogation room surrounded by cops and then later escaping a building while police officers shoot at him. That second shot actually seems to recreate the famous panels from Year One where the Dark Knight escapes an abandoned building surrounded by the GCPD with the help of a swarm of bats, a scene that also inspired an action sequence in Christopher Nolan’s Batman Begins.

Why are Batman and the GCPD suddenly at odds? It’s possible this is part of the Riddler’s plan to destroy the Bat. Has the villain framed the Dark Knight for something? Or has Batman gone too far in his search for justice?

The new Batmobile is front and center towards the tail end of the trailer. It’s a very cool and surprisingly realistic take on the Batmobile unlike what we’ve seen in past movies. This muscle car definitely looks like something Bruce would have worked on himself inside the Batcave.

Finally, we get a look Batman sans mask. There’s no elegant bachelor under the cowl in The Batman but a beaten down, soot-covered man who looks more troubled than any other Bruce before him. Pattinson’s Bruce almost looks more inspired by The Crow than Ben Affleck, Christian Bale, or Michael Keaton before him. It definitely looks like he’s taking the character in a new direction.

We’ll find out for sure when The Batman hits theaters on Oct. 1, 2021.

The post The Batman Trailer Breakdown and Analysis appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[twentiethcenturymoviesandtv]

Murder, She Wrote: The Character

You can have a great story, breathtaking visuals, and an all-star cast, but none of that matters if your characters aren’t engaging, especially on television.

Characters are absolutely vital to the recipe for good television.  After all, these are the people you get to know, the people you spend time with throughout countless episodes.   The characters are usually the reason we watch a show, through good episodes and bad.  In the end, it is the main cast that draws an audience back, and can make or break the viewing experience.

The question is, what’s the recipe for making a good character?

It’s not as hard as some might think.  See, the trick to developing a good television character is in reality very simple.

See, the secret to making a good protagonist for TV is to mix two elements: relatability and entertainment.  A healthy combination of the two can make for a pretty engaging character, and that certainly holds true for Murder, She Wrote’s main character: Jessica Beatrice Fletcher.

Hailing from Cabot Cove, Maine, Jessica Fletcher is, in many ways, a woman that any of us might know.  She is an older woman with a kind nature, a sharp mind, a determined spirit, and a talent for being utterly charming as well as incredibly discerning.

Taking inspiration from Agatha Christie’s character, Miss Marple, Jessica Fletcher quickly grew into a character all her own.  Beginning the series as a widowed English teacher, her manuscript for a mystery story written in her spare time is found by her nephew, (Grady, a recurring character) and sent to a publisher.  Instantly a success, Jessica finds herself the next Big Thing in mystery novels, and becomes an international sensation.  Catapulted to fame, she begins to spend time exploring the country and the world.  While she never moves away fully from Cabot Cove, she does spend a good amount of time in New York City, even teaching a college course on Criminology there.

Of course, the most interesting thing about Jessica isn’t her teaching, or her writing.

Mrs. Fletcher, you see, has a curious disposition, an eye for detail, and a brilliant memory, the combination of which is absolutely devastating to anyone who should commit a murder near her, which turns out to happen quite a lot.  Over two hundred and fifty murders happen in the twelve years we see of Jessica’s life, and not one criminal gets away thanks to the sharp wits and keen intellect of this unlikely amateur detective.

Here’s where we come to the interesting part.

What I said earlier about the combination between relatability and entertainment comes into play very heavily here.

The fact that Jessica Fletcher is shadowed by murder literally everywhere she goes is rather unrealistic, especially since she’s not an actual detective.  She just ‘happens’ into them, pushes her way into the police work, and solves the mysteries.  Is this believable?  No, of course not.  But it is entertaining.

We couldn’t take this character seriously if that was all there was to her.  If Jessica were nothing but a plot device, used to travel from spot to spot as a way to solve another mystery, there would have been no depth to her, no reason for audiences to keep coming back to watch her.  But that’s not what the writers did.

Jessica Fletcher does not drive a car, but she does ride a bike and jog.  She likes baking and playing chess with Cabot Cove’s resident doctor, Seth Hazlitt.  She works in the garden, wears jeans or skirt-suits, gets overworked, goes fishing, and goes out on dates.  She is kind to strangers, even if they aren’t pleasant, but she’s not a doormat.  She has a razor sharp wit and an excellent vocabulary, but remains warm and friendly.

In other words, Jessica Fletcher is an ordinary person.

Despite being one of the textbook examples of the ‘Little Old Lady Investigates’ trope, Mrs. Fletcher is defined by her own terms and personality, rather than her deduction skills.  She is memorable for her relatability, rather than her realism.  

Jessica Fletcher is a caring person with morals and nerves of steel.  If she senses you are in any trouble, she will help you.  She cannot abide injustice, and steps up to save the day in her own way.  She is not eccentric, nor is she overly ‘ordinary’, she is a vibrant, intelligent woman full of character who is very good at what she does: writing and solving murders.

The writers for Murder, She Wrote knew something very important: with only one character, and a somewhat different setting, cast, and murder every week, the audience had to have something familiar to come back to every time, and Jessica Fletcher very much fits that.  The audience can find her a genuine character, an understandable person that they can relate to, and watch her in the unusual circumstance of a murder scene week after week for twelve years.  In a way, before we’ve reached the end of our study, we can already see why Murder, She Wrote was so great and popular: because of Jessica Fletcher.

When you ask people who watch Murder, She Wrote about their favorite things about the show, the answer is nearly always ‘Jessica Fletcher’.  While the stories are good and the mysteries intriguing, the reason people loved this show the way they did was because of this remarkable, balanced character.  She is a Breakout Character not just for the show, or for the writers, but indeed for Angela Lansbury as well.  Something about Mrs. Fletcher stuck with people, and it’s not hard to see why.  She appealed to a lot of people, with her intelligence, humor, determination and kindness.  She was someone we’d like to meet, (despite the fact that people invariably are murdered and accused of murder around her) and was an incredibly vivid and vibrant presence, especially among the flashier, wilder characters of her time.

Among the best characters on television at the time of Murder, She Wrote, most are beloved due to their complexity, their interesting backstories, their memorable dynamic moments: Jean-Luc Picard’s defiant declaration: “There are four lights!”, Sam Malone teetering on the edge of falling back into alcoholism, Alex P. Keaton’s guilt and grief ridden cry: “Why am I alive?!” and Thomas Magnum’s uncharacteristically chilling “Ivan, did you see the sunrise this morning?”.  In a field full of such powerful moments that held audiences at the edges of their seats, making them cheer or cry, using characters that developed slowly into deeper people, how does the mystery writer from Cabot Cove fit in?

In a way, it’d seem like she doesn’t.

Jessica doesn’t have any moment like that.  She has no nailbiter episode, no heartbreaking or shocking scene that sticks with us forever.  Jessica doesn’t have any great trauma.  What she does have is a familiar, comforting consistency.

Jessica Fletcher doesn’t change.  From season one to season twelve, she is very much the same person, and what you see is what you get.  There is no ‘uncovering’ of her character, there is no digging into her psyche, there are no episodes where she does something that makes you sit back and say ‘woah’.

As I’ve mentioned in the ‘story’ article, one of the major elements of Murder, She Wrote is how incredibly formulaic it was, even down to the character.  J.B. Fletcher didn’t ‘develop’ in the way that Lt. Data (Star Trek: The Next Generation) did, and she didn’t have to.  Everything we know about Jessica is what we are told in every episode, and the audience watches as this familiar character settles into the familiar formula.

That’s not a bad thing.

Not all ‘good’ television utilizes those ‘woah’ moments.  Some good television shows are Murder, She Wrote, and some excellent protagonists are Jessica Fletcher.  Some characters are good people with morals and intelligence and charm and determination, and they don’t need to be more than that.  That is the case for Murder, She Wrote.

Murder, She Wrote is, at its core, a mystery series about a woman who accidentally stumbles into murders and solves them because it is the right thing to do.  She is not seeking to find one killer, she is not ‘driven’ by any goal greater than just clearing the name of an innocent, bringing a murderer to justice.  There is no arcing story, and there are no skeletons in her closet.  

While her purpose in the story is simply to unravel a mystery, what Mrs. Fletcher ended up being is a very real and warm person that the audience knows, not because she has moments where she struggles with her own morality or searches the answers to deep questions, but because the audience has spent so much time with this wonderful woman we all wish we could know.  In other words, the television writers chose to write a personality, rather than a ‘character’, per se.

Jessica Fletcher is remembered as perhaps Angela Lansbury’s greatest role because the audience remembered her personality.  She was familiar, unchanging, and the audience could always come back to her and she’d remain the same, right down to the face at the end of the episode.  Some might say that this is an example of bad character writing, but I’d disagree.

The examples that I mentioned above should not really be compared to Jessica Fletcher for one reason: the characters exist in totally different ways.  Each example is a great use of character development, and each is natural in the show they exist in.  While notable moments, these scenes fall in line with the types of characters and shows they are in, matching the tone of the overall product.  The same can be said of Murder, She Wrote.

The tone and formulaic nature of Murder, She Wrote does not lend itself well to Jessica having moments like these, and there’s nothing wrong with that.  It does not change the quality of the program that Jessica, a grounded, down-to-earth character in unusual circumstances every week, does not have scenes to rival Captain Picard’s playing of the flute at the end of ‘Inner Light’ because that is not the kind of show that Jessica is in.

Mrs. Fletcher finds herself in a new situation every week with a mostly new cast.  While the other shows had a core group to develop and work off of each other with, the writers for Murder, She Wrote mostly had Jessica, who served as the one consistency over all twelve seasons.  And it worked.  People loved her.  They still love her.  Not because she was a complex character, but because she was a nice, relatable character who possessed a great deal of stability.  She was the reason that a show about murder is so calming, and she’s also the reason it’s so beloved.  People can’t bear to think of any version of the character besides the one we have because she is memorable, relatable, and entertaining.

Why was Murder, She Wrote so great?  Because Jessica Fletcher was always on the case, and no matter what, she’d bring the bad guy to justice simply because that’s what she does.  

Thank you guys so much for reading!  Join us next time as we discuss Jessica Fletcher’s place in the culture outside the TV screen in our ‘product of the times’ segment, and if you have anything you’d like to say, don’t forget to leave an ask!  I hope to see you all in the next article.

[prairiedust]

Red or Green? The literary and folk themes of Oroborous

Red or green is the official state question of New Mexico as ratified by the legislature in 1996. Order anything at any restaurant, even a burger in some places, and you’ll likely be asked “Red or green?” Do you want red chile sauce on your entree, or do you prefer green chile? The “state question” can sometimes reveal geographical origins-- red sauce is supposedly favored in the northern half of the state, while green is more popular in the south (I lived in the south, and you could easily get either one anywhere so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ .) The best green chiles are grown in the south, so maybe that has something to do with it-- like wine grapes, chiles from different parts of the state have different flavor profiles. Green chiles from the Hatch area are world famous.

But it’s important to remember that the sauces are made from the exact same fruit. The difference is all in the timing. Green chiles are harvested early, unripe, then roasted and chopped up and canned or put in the freezer, whereas red sauce is made from chiles that have been allowed to ripen fully and are then (typically) dried.

It’s all about timing. Let your chiles stay on the plant too long, and you miss your chance at the magical elixir that is green chile sauce.

Timing.

The sister stories of Snow White and Sleeping Beauty are, to a great extent, about timing. They are about waiting, about vigils, and about being at the right place at the right time-- or the exact wrong time.

(If you have not already read this rundown of Snow White in season 14, I suggest at least reading a few of the translations of the original folktales here or here. And cw the Sleeping Beauty story called Sun Moon and Talia is dark. I’ll be discussing the difference between the original material and the Disneyfied stories somewhat. Usual disclaimer that this is lit crit and not spec, why you ask, because I am a hundred years old is why.)

I want to say first that Steve Yockey in Ouroboros did a truly wonderful job allegorizing the story of Snow White, which has been teased for a while now. In the Grimms’ Snow White, as in other tales of that type, Snow White has been 1. run into the wilderness by her stepmother, B. taken in by a group of dwarfs, Three: then poisoned by that stepmother and fourthly laid to rest in a glass coffin. While the story has been poked at over the course of several episodes, Yockey sums it all up again in this one.

Dean-- along with the rest of TFW 2.0-- has been traipsing around New Mexico looking for a peculiar monster. Trope one. From the screen shot it looks like they’ve possibly been through Clovis, Roswell, Albuquerque, and finally made it up to Raton. As far as wildernesses and in-between places go, New Mexico is the most liminal state in the union-- many people in the country think it’s part of Mexico and if you think that’s a joke when I was a senior looking at colleges I had two well respected schools send me their foreign student applications. Roswell. AAAAaaaaahhhh Roswell. Roswell is the city that straddles reality and science fiction. They fry ice cream in New Mexico, they eat both ripe and unripe chiles there, and they have old mountain forests and arid white sand deserts within fifty miles of one another.

Another nod to the Snow White story is the Ma’lek Box that Dean mentions again-- B-- it can be seen as an allusion to Snow White’s glass coffin (in other versions, it is merely ornate or sometimes bedecked in rare gems but it is definitely something that she alone can not get out of… being dead and all...)

Finally, when the Gorgon knocks him out and Michael escapes, Sam tends Dean’s wounds while he is unconscious, which fulfills the traditional Snow White requirement for someone other than the king/prince to affect a physical change in the heroine’s state-- cutting off an enchanted dress or jostling the coffin so that the bite of poisoned apple can be coughed out-- in order to bring her back to life. Walt Disney and his studio added the “first love’s kiss” into the Snow White matrix in 1938, not even a century ago, but it quickly took over the narrative-- Disney also brings the story into a more accessible reality for modern viewers, he introduces the prince into the actual storyline earlier than in the folk tale, and then has him awaken her with The Kiss. Which do we, as an audience, prefer? The rabbit-hole of darker, more psychological Snow White tale types, or Disney’s recent and overwhelmingly iconic romantic reimagining?

Red or green?

Yockey gave us green, the version that has not ripened into what most people know as Snow White through the Disney cinematic behemoth.

The other duality in this episode is that we have Sleeping Beauty being referenced simultaneously with Snow White’s allegory.

Sleeping Beauty is Cas’ story and elements from that tale type can be seen in how the Gorgon stalks and overcomes his prey. The Gorgon uses sex to snare a human for consumption-- he says he’s an opportunist but that women have begun to be more cautious now that they are “waking up” from a long period of oppression. Sleeping Beauty’s deep sleep comes as the result of a symbolic sexual awakening-- in the more recent stories that awakening comes from the machinations of an enemy, so it is more a violation than a sudden innocent awareness. Where am I going with this? I don’t even know, this seems like it belongs in a different essay. What I’m trying to say is that the Gorgon uses sex to put people into a state of paralysis, and the evil fairy (known in the Disney movie as Maleficent) used a sexual metaphor to lure Briar Rose to her doom before she was ready for that kind of encounter. We are asked to contemplate the symbolic aspect of the Gorgon’s predation because he also uses a symbolic act-- eating eyeballs-- to see into the future and thus subvert the natural order of time.

In Sleeping Beauty, the evil crone/Maleficent also subverts the timeline by jumping place in line. She was not invited to the party in honor of the infant princess, but after nearly all of the other wise women have given Briar Rose their blessings, she breaks in to curse the baby. There is always one fairy left who, while not powerful enough to nullify the curse, can modify it to a deep sleep instead of death. In Ouroboros, TFW2 exploits the fact that Cas and Jack exist outside of the workings of Fate to defeat the Gorgon, but not without great cost.

Which brings us to The Wrong Kiss. I didn’t even want to meta the Sleeping Beauty stuff because of the kiss, seriously. So. What happens to Briar Rose is tragic, but in the three most famous versions of the story she comes out of her enchantment because a prince falls in love with her. Jack, here, as a result of Cas’ deal with the Empty, is no longer in the Sleeping Beauty story, he is not a Prince but a Giant-Killer once more, and the antidote he administers to counteract the Gorgon’s venom will not work. Once he activates his giant-killing powers, he can heal Castiel. (In the reciprocal, Cas is an agent of the SB story and the antidote works on the dude the Gorgon was about to eat because Cas administers it. It’s a very meta way of treating the folklore theme by both subverting it and keeping certain characters strictly within the parameters.)

Jack finally lives up to his name as a Giant-Killer when he takes out Michael. In Appalachian and English Jack Tales, Jack is always clever, sometimes to the point of unscrupulousness, but in the story Jack and the Beanstalk he is a naive picaro who betters his circumstances through reliance on his simple nature as much as his wits. Often “Jack” does not change as a result of his adventures, as most fairytale heroes do, but like many other mythological tricksters he operates outside the bounds of normal morality. Jack Kline has managed to hold onto his innocence despite initiation into the Winchester clan. Now that Jack has, presumably, burned off some large portion of his soul, it will be interesting to see how his picaresque nature might actually change. Because the story of Jack the Giant-Killer? Not the same story as Jack and the Beanstalk. The Giant-Killer is the story of a deadly clever young man who defeats several giants as well as Lucifer using mainly his wits and is afterward given a place on King Arthur’s Round Table. The story in its entirety borrows from Cornish, Welsh, and Briton mythology, echoing other simple folktales as well as hearkening to high heroes of the Mabinogi. Jack has become larger than life. (AN I started this before Peace of Mind, I’ll get to that one by the end of the season maybe :P )

In a less meta sense of course, this episode is one huge mythological allusion-- Cas refers to Dean’s imprisonment of Michael as a “herculean” feat, the MOTW is a Gorgon (and traditionally gorgons were a trio of cursed sisters in Greek legends,) and Dean enthusiastically references the 1981 Clash of the Titans film twice. In a /more/ meta vein, Andrew Dabb quotes the more recent Titans movie in a tweet on this ep’s airdate. I find that exciting because the story of Perseus in CotT features a descent into the underworld, and again while I flirt with speculation here I would REALLY like to see these nerds freaking raid the Empty.

As for Snow White and Sleeping Beauty now? Red or green?

It feels as though the Snow White story has possibly been tied up and tucked away now, solving the riddle of the “red or green” sister stories. Michael, Dean’s evil rival, is dead. Pretty sure. Whether his grace is contaminated and will have an adverse effect on Jack remains to be seen. See drsilverfish’s lovely analysis of the oroborous symbolism in the last two episodes for more discussion about what it means for Jack to have consumed Michael’s grace. But. Unless there is a Ghost of AU!Michael coming up, he’s gone.

We are left, however, with Cas’ deal with the Empty-- he gets to operate under normal parameters as long as he does not exceed the minimum threshold of happiness (and I want it to be an accidental or unexpected moment, unlike a lot of meta writers, but then that isn’t spec it’s just what I hope for.) And what does that mean for destiel subtext? I don’t know. Honestly, this is a little too intense for me, I am not “canon positive” or “endgame positive” and this episode freaked me out. Analytically, though, it places the subtext at a really interesting place. It means the princess who gets rescued from an enchanted doom is still on the loose, still avoiding Fate, and the prince is still out there having Adventures in the Woods. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[eddycurrents]

For the week of 14 October 2019

Quick Bits:

Absolute Carnage #4 is pretty damn big as we head towards the conclusion. Donny Cates, Ryan Stegman, JP Mayer, Jay Leisten, Frank Martin, and Clayton Cowles set up near insurmountable odds for Eddie and Spider-Man to face, as Carnage inches closer to victory. It’s very daunting, especially as we potentially see hope fade as other dominoes fall into place. Though a shock revelation might lead to something good for the conclusion. The tension mounting and the continued blend of the rest of the tie-ins to the main story are very entertaining.

| Published by Marvel

Absolute Carnage: Avengers #1 gives us a lead-in to how the previously symbiote-afflicted heroes got to Venom in Absolute Carnage #3 in addition to a bit about beacons in New York and San Francisco calling all symbiotes to feed something. It’s more elaboration on some details between panels for the event, but it’s rather entertaining and covers an element that was otherwise glossed over in the main series. Great art from Alberto Alburquerque, Guiu Vilanova, and Rachelle Rosenberg.

| Published by Marvel

Aquaman #53 reveals more about Thomas Mauer and his history in the founding of Amnesty, complete with some really weird powers regarding manifesting beasties. Then, a reunion of Arthur and Mera is basically aborted as Black Manta attack. Kelly Sue DeConnick, Robson Rocha, Eduardo Pansica, Daniel Henriques, Julio Ferreira, Sunny Gho, and Clayton Cowles continue to deliver one of the best stories from DC.

| Published by DC Comics

Archie #708 sees everything start to come together as all of the disparate story threads begin to converge somehow with Fox Forest. Nick Spencer, Mariko Tamaki, Sandy Jarrell, Matt Herms, and Jack Morelli really build tension here, with a rather spooky feel for what’s going on.

| Published by Archie Comics

Batman #81 continues this next stage of Batman’s assault on the “City of Bane” as all of his “kids” work together to try to take down his father and he attempts to bring the fight to Bane himself. Tom King guides us through a narration essentially putting together some of the missing pieces in Gotham Girl’s story and further protections that he left in the city after Batman’s “breaking”.

| Published by DC Comics

Bettie Page Unbound #5 serves as a coda to the first arc, from David Avallone, Moy R, Ellie Wright, Sheelagh D, and Taylor Esposito. It gives a bit of perspective on Bettie’s trip through alternate realities, while dealing a bit more with the spies who’ve been chasing her.

| Published by Dynamite

The Black Ghost #2 is firing on all cylinders. The story that Alex Segura, Monica Gallagher, George Kambadais, Ellie Wright, and Taylor Esposito are telling here is incredibly compelling, going deep into Lara’s downward spiral following the death of the Black Ghost and all of the mounting problems in her life. There’s a very interesting theme of the intersection of solving a mystery and obsession, complete with the black hole of alcoholism, that just grabs you.

| Published by New Wave Comics

Black Panther and the Agents of Wakanda #2 concludes this opening arc from Jim Zub, Lan Medina, Craig Yeung, Marcio Menyz, and Joe Sabino. We get an interesting mix of Okoye and Janet facing their greatest fears, while elaborating further on the current state of the Sentry. I like this quick, two-part introductory arc structure, further giving this title the feel of a specialized group for certain threats.

| Published by Marvel

Captain Marvel #11 concludes the “Falling Star” arc, revealing more fallout from the first arc and the sheer damage that it’s done to Ripley after she fell into the Nuclear Man’s reality. Kelly Thompson, Carmen Carnero, Tamra Bonvillain, and Clayton Cowles develop a rather demented look on “heroism” here that is quite disturbing.

| Published by Marvel

Chastity #2 unveils more of the human trafficking operation that Chastity has found herself in. It’s not very pretty, but there are some nice funny moments to break up the dark subject matter. Leah Williams, David Maine, Bryan Valenza, and Carlos M. Mangual are telling an interesting story here.

| Published by Dynamite

Contagion #3 continues to escalate the terror of the fungus plaguing New York, and now possibly beyond. There are appearances here of some very interesting near forgotten characters that are nice to see. Great art from Mack Chater, Stephen Segovia, Veronica Gandini, and Andrew Crossley.

| Published by Marvel

Cult Classic: Creature Feature #1 is an interesting start to this second series. You don’t need to have read Return to Whisper before this, but I still highly recommend that series. Here Eliot Rahal, John Bivens, Jerrie, Monahan, and Taylor Esposito kick off a rather hectic beginning with alien creatures. The art from Bivens, Jerrie, and Monahan is wonderful.

| Published by Vault

Dark Red #7 continues to develop the current state of the vampires after taking out the Nazis who were trying to take over, while Chip works to get the little were back to her werepeople. Definitely an interesting society that Tim Seeley, Corin Howell, Mark Englert, and Carlos M. Mangual are creating here.

| Published by AfterShock

Excellence #6 concludes the first arc in rather spectacular fashion. Brandon Thomas, Khary Randolph, Emilio Lopez, and Deron Bennett have been doing some excellent character and world-building in this story and it really pays off here as we get a confrontation between Spencer and his dad, followed by one hell of a revelation that practically changes everything. Great stuff here.

| Published by Image / Skybound

Gideon Falls #17 begins “The Pentoculus” as things start to coalesce again into a sort of “normalcy” in both of our “main” Gideon Falls realities, even as something horrible takes hold of Sheriff Miller’s father. Jeff Lemire, Andrea Sorrentino, Dave Stewart, and Steve Wands establish even more horror here and the feeling that something more is very, very wrong.

| Published by Image

Guardians of the Galaxy #10 catches up with the new baby Magus as we find out that the new incarnation might be as dangerous and deadly as the earlier ones. Also, what Donny Cates is doing with Rocket just cuts to the core.

| Published by Marvel

Hit Girl: Season 2 #9 is the first part of “India” from Peter Milligan, Alison Sampson, Tríona Farrell, and Clem Robins. It sends Mindy off to the street of Mumbai where she’s trying to deal with a bizarre child trafficking/labour ring, and finding out that her actions may have caused more complications than good. There’s a very different feel to this new arc so far.

| Published by Image

Inferior 5 #2 sure is...something. I’m still not entirely sure of the experiments or the characters or the setting, but Jeff Lemire, Keith Giffen, Michelle Delecki, Hi-Fi, and Rob Leigh are doing something that might be interesting here when we see a broader picture. It’s very “huh?” issue to issue so far. The back-up featuring Peacemaker, though, continues to be very compelling. Especially as it reveals that he may well be completely insane.

| Published by DC Comics

The Island of Doctor Moreau #2 concludes this adaptation of the HG Wells story from Ted Adams, Gabriel Rodríguez, Nelson Dániel, and Robbie Robbins. Other than a few minor changes, it’s fairly faithful to the original. The story here is mostly told in double page spreads from Rodríguez and Dániel and they’re absolutely beautiful.

| Published by IDW

Justice League #34 reminds us that revenge isn’t necessarily the correct path to take all the time, or possibly any time, as the endgame plays out across the different timelines and the combined forces gather for one final push against Perpetua. Scott Snyder, James Tynion IV, Bruno Redondo, Howard Porter, Hi-Fi, and Tom Napolitano lay out a wonderful tale of the final battle and a stupid, selfish act that has possibly doomed everything.

| Published by DC Comics

Killer Groove #5 concludes what has been an excellent crime tale from Ollie Masters, Eoin Marron, Jordie Bellaire, and Hassan Otsmane-Elhaou. There’s an incredible nihilism here that feeds into a very fitting end.

| Published by AfterShock

KI-6: Killers #4 gains a bit of a title change with the “KI-6″ bit in this penultimate issue of the series. Not really sure why, but it doesn’t ultimately make a difference for the story being told by B. Clay Moore, Fernando Dagnino, José Villarrubia, and Jeff Powell. We get a nice bit of the Jonin’s history before the two rival groups of former Ninjas show up.

| Published by Valiant

The Marked #1 begins a new series from the Sonata team of David Hine, Brian Haberlin, Geirrod Van Dyke, and Francis Takenaga. It blends magic and tattoos as we learn of the history of a group of magicians who have defended the world from evil through the eyes of their newest recruit Saskia. Beautiful art as usual from the Haberlin/Van Dyke team.

| Published by Image / Shadowline

The Mask: I Pledge Allegiance to the Mask #1 is kind of a strange return for the property, in a story from Christopher Cantwell, Patric Reynolds, Lee Loughridge, and Nate Piekos. It’s dark and deranged, which fits very well overall. While it does follow on from the previous stories, all that you really need to know to enjoy this story itself is revealed here. The political element adds an even greater feeling of being put off-balance.

| Published by Dark Horse

Midnight Vista #2 very nicely develops what Oliver remembers of his abduction and the fallout that has been happening in the ensuing years since he’s been missing. Eliot Rahal, Clara Meath, Mark Englert, and Taylor Esposito are doing some interesting things here, especially as other forces are trying to guide Oliver’s story.

| Published by AfterShock

Psi-Lords #5 elaborates a bit further on the societal structure of the Gyre and the various gangs on it, while we see one of the Starwatchers try to turn Steve. It’s interesting as we get a little bit that gives us more of an insight into the ties to the broader Valiant Universe here and some very nice character building. Renato Guedes art remains phenomenal.

| Published by Valiant

Rick and Morty vs. Dungeons & Dragons - Chapter II: Painscape #2 guides us through some of Rick’s history with D&D, creating some horrible characters that anyone who’s played the game will be familiar with, and an entertaining dungeon crawl. I’m still loving how perfectly Jim Zub, Troy Little, Leonardo Ito, and Crank! are integrating D&D into Rick and Morty.

| Published by Oni Press & IDW

Rumble #17 follows a similar format as last issue’s selection of three stories, only this time there are only two stories, with one split between two different creators. That two-part story is a wonderful crossover between Rumble and Head Lopper, with Andrew MacLean and James Harren handling the line art. It’s pretty great overall, with a natural melding of the two properties, and very nice to see Harren’s return. 

| Published by Image

Savage Sword of Conan #10 begins a new arc from Roy Thomas, Alan Davis, Cam Smith, Chris Sotomayor, and Travis Lanham. It’s wonderful to see a new Roy Thomas story and the art from Davis, Smith, and Sotomayor is great. The story itself is interesting, drawing from some traditional Conan elements of a tavern fight and being hired as a bodyguard.

| Published by Marvel

Savage Tales: Red Sonja Halloween Special is essential if you’re reading the ongoing Red Sonja series. It works well on its own as well, but for readers of the series it builds on Sonja’s trip to the tower of sorcerers in her youth and gives some great insight into her past. Wonderful work here overall from Mark Russell, Jacob Edgar, Dearbhla Kelly, and Hassan Otsmane-Elhaou.

| Published by Dynamite

Something is Killing the Children #2 is even better than the first issue, fleshing out our monster hunter a bit and causing all sorts of complications for her. There are some great characterizations here, nicely capturing some of the reactions from people experiencing the tragedy of a lost or murdered family member. James Tynion IV, Werther Dell’Edera, Miquel Muerto, and AndWorld Design are doing something great here.

| Published by BOOM! Studios

Star Wars Adventures: Return to Vader’s Castle #3 gives us a central story of Ventress hunting a quarry, illustrated by Nick Brokenshire. I’m still very much enjoying how Cavan Scott is using the central tale and its context to elaborate on what he, Francesco Francavilla, and AndWorld Design are doing with the framing story.

| Published IDW

Steeple #2 features all of the charm and humour of Giant Days, but then adds some rather over-the-top supernatural elements that just manages to elevate that charm and humour further. John Allison, Sarah Stern, and Jim Campbell are delivering a rather wholesome look at monster hunting and finding common ground with your local hooligans and Satanists.

| Published by Dark Horse

Strayed #3 advances towards oblivion, as Lou finds the flower-maker and the Premier enacts another piece of his plan for total control. Carlos Giffoni, Juan Doe, and Matt Krotzer continue to tell the heartbreaking tale of this brave little kitty being used and abused by his humans. It’s really sad as to how monstrous humanity is.

| Published by Dark Horse

Superman Smashes the Klan #1 is really damn good. Inspired by the radio serial of the same name, Gene Luen Yang, Gurihiru, and Janice Chiang present a wonderfully nuanced tale of the struggle that a young Chinese family have moving to Metropolis and the overt and casual racism that greets them. The characterizations of the family are impeccable, giving us what feels like very real people, and it makes the story even more heartbreaking when you see what’s happening to them. Especially through the gorgeous art from the Gurihiru pair.

| Published by DC Comics

Tales from the Dark Multiverse - Batman: Knightfall #1 is the first of these one-shots examining some of the most popular events of the DC Universe as they played out in dark reflection. Your enjoyment of this will definitely be predicated on how much you enjoy the grim and gritty Batmen who went wrong during Metal. As a story, though, Scott Snyder, Kyle Higgins, Javier Fernandez, Alex Guimarães, and Clayton Cowles give us an interesting one, with some nice twists, and a suitably bleak Gotham. The art from Fernandez and Guimarães is really good.

| Published by DC Comics

Teen Titans #35 gives us new perspective on the traitor to the team, with Adam Glass, Bernard Chang, Marcelo Maiolo, and Rob Leigh building up sympathy for their decisions, even if they are somewhat demented. It also continues to point that what Damian has been doing is rather villainous. The shades of grey are fairly interesting.

| Published by DC Comics

Trees: Three Fates #2 delves a bit more into the mystery of the dead man and also a great depiction in the past of the romance blossoming between Klara and Sasha. Warren Ellis, Jason Howard, Dee Cunniffe, and Fonografiks are building a very compelling story here, complete with some interesting big ideas to make you wonder about Sasha.

| Published by Image

Vampirella #4 is still rather odd, told in a rather disjointed way that’s pretty much Priest’s style to its natural extreme. Weird stuff with the nuns and all sorts of temptation. The art from Ergün Gündüz remains a huge draw for this story.

| Published by Dynamite

X-Men #1 begins the first wave of the “Dawn of X” titles in this next stage of the brave new world the X-Men have found themselves in, from Jonathan Hickman, Leinil Francis Yu, Garry Alanguilan, Sunny Gho, and Clayton Cowles. It’s much more “normal” compared to the HOXPOX event, operating more standard hero/villain conflict and setting up the continued threat of Orchis, but there are still moments to bask in the new with Magneto and the potentially unsettling as we see Corsair react to all of his family together and the strangeness of Krakoa. This feels like a way to make more traditional X-elements work within this new framework, giving us a great start.

| Published by Marvel

Other Highlights: Absolute Carnage: Scream #3, Absolute Carnage vs. Deadpool #3, Aero #4, Analog #9, Ask for Mercy - Season 2 #3, Captain America #15, Crazy #1, The Crow/Hack/Slash #4, Dead Beats, Death-Defying Devil #3, Firefly #10, History of the Marvel Universe #4, Journey to Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker - Alliance #2, Lucifer #13, Marvel Action: Black Panther #4, Once & Future #3, The Realm #15, Sparrows Roar, Superman’s Pal Jimmy Olsen #4, Titans: Burning Rage #3, Wonder Woman: Come Back to Me #4

Recommended Collections: Bad Luck Chuck - Volume 1, Black Hammer: Streets of Spiral, Calamity Kate - Volume 1, Coda - Volume 3, Critical Role: Vox Machina - Origins - Volume 1, Gideon Falls - Volume 3: Stations of the Cross, Goddess Mode, Gogor, Justice League Dark - Volume 2: Lords of Order, The Life & Death of Toyo Harada, Ms. Marvel - Volume 1, Planet of the Nerds - Volume 1, Robots & Princesses - Volume 1, Runaways - Volume 4: But You Can’t Hide, Spider-Man: City at War, Star Wars: Tie Fighter

d. emerson eddy still thinks that Pumpkin Spice was the most underutilized of the Spice Girls.