#which is why it IS kinda nice to think about it mattering to louis

[pynkhues]

Today's Lestat's birthday so I wanted to ask you, do you have any headcanons how lestat would spend it in Rue Royale era, shack era and distant future?

Okay okay okay:

Rue Royale Era

Thing is, Lestat doesn't even really consider his birthday A Thing until Louis asks when it is, offhand, back in 1910. This human little thing that Lestat feels so far behind him, but Louis' 33, Louis' still mortal, for Louis, birthdays are like hometowns which is to say they're the bed you grow from, not the place you do everything in your power to get away from, and Lestat has to wrack his head to even remember.

But he remembers and he tells him and Louis takes it like the card he needs to win a hand, wry smiled and pleased, with a smug little okay like he's already hung it on the wall of his head, and Lestat doesn't pry into his mind over it because he doesn't know he should. Doesn't know yet that Louis likes plans and dates and moments to work towards, doesn't know that sentiment is tied up in milestones is tied up in a picture Louis would paint for himself given the chance, and so November 7 rolls around like any other day and he's surprised when Louis suddenly insists on picking him up. On taking him out.

And it's a carefully planned affair. A night out on The Tango Belt, a strip of dance halls and jazz bars in the French Quarter, still in its infancy then, that had Lestat's ears ringing in the best possible way, a delight on his face that he'd felt Louis revel in, and they drank and laughed and danced not yet with each other, but with drape-dressed women, watching each other over narrow shoulders and feathered hair fastinators, something palpable in the air between them.

And it had been Louis who had drunkenly slid a bill to the band that night, beckoning them to lead a jazzy-tempoed rendition of Happy Birthday that had Lestat wet eyed and flushed, unable to look at anything that wasn't Louis, who didn't sing along, but rather looked right back at Lestat, like Lestat's tears were a prize hard won, and Lestat had wanted so desperately to kiss him, to tell him this was a first for him, to celebrate this ridiculous little day, to tell him he'd expected nothing, wanted nothing, but instead had only smiled, coy and grateful, before draining Louis' dance partner out back. Drinking down the memory of Louis' shoulders so easily held, his breath on the crown of his head, his ever beating heart so close to this woman's - - to his own. Been able to sleep that night with the memory of Louis in his arms.

The gift though had come the next day - an Amberola I phongraph, a luxury music machine that was delivered to Lestat's door and installed by a ruddy-faced technician, and Louis had never claimed it. Given no note with it, no acknowledgement, but he'd said it in the days after, tenderness naked on his face, you must mean somethin', to whoever bought you this, and Lestat had played along even as he'd felt the memory in Louis' human mind, the effort, the cost, the intent with which he'd found it, along with the few jazz records he'd delivered it with.

And the thing was later, after it all, in those years of recovery and grief, he could forgive Louis for killing him, but he'd never forgive him for dumping the Amberola somewhere Lestat would never find it.

Shack era

After Claudia and Louis kill him, after they leave, after Claudia - -

He doesn't think about his birthday.

No, he doesn't think of his, and although he thinks of Louis', the only one he marks out in the loose-leafed calendar of his head, is Claudia's.

Hers was always the first of the year after all - her orange-tipped September before Louis' dark October and Lestat's frost-bit November, the spring to the seasons of their nocturnal little family, and these days, he doesn't eat, doesn't drink, doesn't do anything but beg for her ghost at the piano beside him. Feels the whisper of her little hand beneath his, a duet they always rehearsed but never wanted to play, and even now, her spirit is reticent, but it's there. He knows, he feels her. His birthday girl, behind the instrument she'd complained about learning but learnt all the same (she loves it, Louis had told him once. Only pretends she doesn't because she's her, because you're you. A nice thought, yes, but not one Lestat can bring himself to believe).

Still, he feels her watch him sometimes. Her amber eyes as bright as they ever were, but her voice lost to the veil between them. The ghost of her and the ghost of him, pointing fingers always but still - - a finger pointed is a hand outstretched, is it not?

(Anyway, they were never very good at talking.)

Distant future

Once he gets famous, everyone knows his birthday, and Daniel seems to enjoy it. Pulling on the mind gift only to read him the most impassioned (Lestat's words, Daniel's preferred choice is deranged) posts he can find on all the social media sites, and for Lestat, he likes it.

Relishes the attention, the creativity, the worship it generates among his legions of followers, even as Louis rolls his eyes beside him in bed. Takes the time to remind him over and over that none of these people know him, that they do the same since the book, the documentary, for his own birthday too, and it doesn't go to his head, that it's not real, but Lestat disagrees.

Thinks that human capacity for creation and connection with figures of art and celebrity is a thrill, iconography in action, and Lestat spends too long on his phone loving pictures and posting strings of what Daniel calls unintelligable emojis, relishing in the flurry of attention it gets from his fans until Louis pries his phone from his hands, tossing it over the bed and kisses him in the way they couldn't on the dance floor all those years ago.

And maybe that feels like a birthday gift every year - that he no longer has to drink from the veins of others to wonder what Louis tastes like, to feel the sinew of his shoulders beneath his hands, for Louis' heartbeat to echo through his own chest.

That Louis is his, and he's Louis', and every birthday marks another year together, older but never quite wiser, another year of holding the blistering star of their love between their hands, and Lestat needs no gestures these days. Has endured centuries without them, before and after Louis ever gave him one, but still.

Maybe he cries a lot when they move in together and that old Amerola I phonograph is there, tucked tenderly, earnestly, battered, but well-kept, into the corner of Lestat's new music room.

[louisisalarrie]

How can there be a bbg ending? Like Louis just says ‘oh btw he’s not mine’

if u are a PR member from Louis’ team, please listen carefully, because there are a couple of ways to end it, and I will be expecting my pay check asap thank youuuuuu.

Simon Jones, or whoever you may be, welcome to the show!

(these are the sad endings where we feel bad for Louis and boost his image to the gp as a good guy):

1. fight ending in paternity test (a number of different arguments could be used for this) and then bam turns out B has been using him for money like her ex said she would do to Louis and slept with multiple people around that time. Now, you may be thinking “oh but L has publicly treated this kid like his own and he’s a nice guy surely he’d still want to be in this kid’s life” and Louis would make a statement like “if F wants me to be there still as a person in his life I will be but that’s up to him. Please respect their privacy” but we never end up seeing any more photos of them etc., so it’s essentially over. Oldest trick in the book. He’ll come out looking squeaky clean. I kinda think that’s why they didn’t do a paternity test sooner. It’s the last trick up their sleeve to end it when they were ready.

2. Louis is like “I’ve known for a while he’s not mine, but I didn’t want to announce to the world because I still care about him and it would cause a fiasco for him and B from the fans, but B and I think it’s time and I am going to take a step back from his life to not put him in the spotlight any further. Pls respect their privacy” so he looks like he’s lied for a little bit, but “known for a while” would be post AOTV, and he was just worried about his kid dealing with the media and fans and the onslaught that would bring. What a good and caring guy who’s looking out for a kid that’s not even his! Wow.

Those are just 2 that come to the top of my head. There would need to be further planning and more detail, but you get the gist. Those 2 remove his paternity completely. NOW these theories also heavily depend on the way larry wanna come out. Is it gonna be a shock tell all? Because in that case, the above doesn’t matter. Or is it going to be coming out separately and then getting together? Is it going to be coming out together and saying it’s a new thing and they “reconnected”? Well, that I don’t know. But the two above still confirm that Louis is, or was, into women and didn’t, or still doesn’t, define himself as gay. So that’s also a spanner in the works which again, I don’t entirely know the identity he aligns with, but I lean towards gay over ever being bi etc. because of his interactions with women.

So if we want to look at ways where he looks like the good guy (also not sad in a club but I guess maybe a bit??) and entirely remove him from ever being near a vagina, this is my main one:

1. Louis was a surrogate for B at the time as she is a close friend and was in a space to have a baby and he was happy to do it because he loves kids and wanted one of his own but he’s gay so he can’t, so it worked out well. The media took things out of perspective and blew it up into something different than what it was, but they ran with it because he wasn’t ready to come out. And wow… what a generous and loving guy! He loves that kid and he’s still a dad, he’s lied to us but it’s just because he was scared to come out, that’s truly both a heartbreaking and heartwarming story. (The timeline of bbg is messy as it is, so this would need some refining to work without looking suspicious).

So, how do we make him not a dad and ALSO never been into women? Well… a tell all is gonna be the best way to do this, exposing the stunts. But legally, a huge process (unless they say fuck it and cop whatever the repercussions may be). But if we’re doing a slow coming out, I think he’s gonna kind of have to be F’s dad unless it’s a paternity test or a tell all. He’s in too deep with AOTV and the Instagram posts and his family and shit. I don’t think we can have 100% gay and 100% not a dad without it being truly bizarre for the gp to swallow.

Idk im very tired but you can also go to my bbg tag and just have a sift through where I talk about this a bit more in depth.

[rubydubydoo122]

In every universe Jason Peter Todd dies young. It’s a fate sealed across the multiverse. Maybe he could hope that there’s one universe where he doesn’t. aka, Jason, Dick, and Bruce go multiverse hopping, and are not having a fun time. (Ps, when I started writing this fic I hced Jason as Latino, but I don't really believe in that hc anymore, so just a heads up if you don't like that hc)

TRIGGER WARNING -> Child Death (it's Jason)

Jason woke up in a daze. There was shouting, and arguing, but he couldn’t really make out the words. Something about ‘ Why is this the first time I’m learning about Jason’s soul sucking swords??!!’ and ‘It’s in his files–’ and ‘Not the magic sword part, the part where he uses them and ALMOST DIES AGAIN!!’ and ‘Do I look like a magic expert to you, Dick?’ and ‘No, but you could’ve asked ANY of the handful of magicians–’

Jason stopped listening. Why are Dick and Bruce arguing? Must be about the Titans or something.

He felt a hand card through his hair. 

Oh. That’s nice.

He fell back asleep.

The next time he woke up, there was the bone deep numbness that was so numb, it hurt. In his shoulders, his knees, his hips. His fingers felt stiff. His whole body was screaming.

Jason really hates that crowbar.

Slowly, he flexed each and every joint. Curling his fingers, curving his shoulders, bending his knees and shifting his hips until the screaming pain turned into a synchronized throb.

Sometimes, Jason really loathed being brought back to life.

He laid on his back, staring at the ceiling. He doesn’t like laying on his back. It reminds him too much of waking up in a suit and tie. Inside of a box. Dark and cold, breathing in stale air–

He curled back onto his side.

That was better. 

Jason realized Bruce and Dick were staring at him with that look . With how much they look at him like that, they should trademark it. Right along with Alfred’s I’m very disappointed in you look ™ and the Batglare ™. Though, Jason didn’t really know how to describe it. Kinda like a you’re still alive? Look. 

It was too much work to read into whatever Bruce and Dick were thinking under their carefully crafted masks, and frankly, Jason was tired, so he closed his eyes.

But every single bone in his body was pulsing in pain to the beat of his heart. 

A hand grabbed his, and traced tiny circles into the space between his thumb and pointer finger.

“Out of the night that covers me, Black as the pit from pole to pole, I thank whatever gods may be, For my unconquerable soul.

“In the fell clutch of circumstance, I have not winced nor cried aloud. Under the bludgeonings of chance, My head is bloody, but unbowed.

“Beyond this place of wrath and tears, Looms but the Horror of the shade, And yet the menace of the years, Finds and shall find me unafraid.

‘It matters not how strait the gate, How charged with punishments the scroll, I am the master of my fate, I am the captain of my soul.”

There was a weight on his chest that was shifting around, until he was face to face with…

Damian.

But something about him was making some very dim light bulbs in the back of his head turn on. Wait. Talia was there, right? He remembers seeing Talia. Were they at the League?

 “ Little Prince–” he started in the League dialect.

“Are you really Jay-Akhi when he grows big?” And that completely threw Jason. Because Damian said it in English– and not in the crisp accent or tone Damian used to have when he was younger. Lowkey, it had a bit of Alley in it, which was really throwing Jason for a loop.

So… maybe they weren’t in the league. “Uh… I guess?” He sat up, “Not exactly… I’m not your Jason, but I’m kinda like him.”

Damian grinned– aww, now that was just adorable– he was missing his two front teeth, “That’s mir-macu- wacu-louis. Now I have three Akhis!” then he gasped, “No, four!”

Jason chuckled, “Miraculous.” Damian couldn’t be more than, what? Five? Six? “Alrighty kiddo, is there a reason you woke me up? Cus I’m pretty sure I need my beauty sleep in all universes.”

“Um…” Damian put a finger to his chin and looked up, and then leaned in close, speaking in a stage whisper, “My reason was Cookies.” 

“Do you mean you want to make ‘em or eat ‘em?” Jason raised an eyebrow conspiratorially, “Or do you need help stealing ‘em? ‘Cus, I dunno about you, but I may know a thing or two about that.”

Damian spread his arms out wide, and wrapped them around Jason’s neck, “I wanna make ‘em, steal ‘em, then eat ‘em. Like the Cookie Monster!” 

There were footsteps racing down the hall, “Habiiiiiibat!” Damian immediately perked up, and looked to the door, “Damian?” Jay peaked his head through the door, and then seemed to realize Jason was awake and straightened up, “Oh. uh, Hi! I’m sorry if he woke you up.” Damian immediately ran to Jay and jumped into his arms.

Jason laughed at the sight. Dick is probably going to melt once he sees the pair. “Trust me, I’m used to it. He comes to my apartment at 2 a.m. demanding food.” Everyone does and it’s annoying. Like, Dick can cook too. So can Steph and Duke, and even Damian depending on the food. Why would they go to someone they don’t really like? Or trust? Jason shook his head, “How long have I been out?”

“A little over two days. Your Bruce and Dick wouldn’t leave your side, until Alfred had to shoo them away to get some food and sleep.” Jay chewed the inside of his cheek. “They, uh, they were looking at him kinda funny. Is… nevermind.” For all Jason’s faults, he was usually really good at reading people. He wasn’t as good as Cass, but he was pretty good. He had to be, otherwise he wouldn’t have survived as long as he did on the streets. If only he was able to read Sheila “Alfred left some clothes out for you. He’s in the kitchen right now, so once you’re done… yeah.” Jay turned to leave.

That was a lot more awkward than the last Jason they met who was this age. Actually, he was pretty sure this Jason was older. Though, he always felt more confident as Robin. He could always pretend to be more outgoing while dressed like a traffic light.

Jason was a bit wobbly on his feet, but he found the clothes Alfred laid out for him. They were probably Bruce's if he wasn’t mistaken.

Then he realized what sweatshirt specifically had been laid out for him. 

It was a vintage Gotham Knight’s sweatshirt that Jason remembered wearing all the time in the cave. It had always been way too big on him, and Bruce tried to buy him one that would fit better, but there was something about Bruce’s sweatshirt specifically– maybe because it was vintage, or maybe because it was Bruce’s– that was comforting. 

He tried to find it once when he went back to the cave, usually he kept it in his locker, but he had found it empty. With no trace that Jason was once Robin, besides that stupid memorial. He assumed Bruce threw everything out. 

While Jason took a shower, he debated wearing the sweatshirt, but ultimately decided against it. Jason’s was long gone. And he was fine with that. He had his own time with his. This one belonged to Jay. 

And then, it hit him like a freight train.

Alfred.  

Alfred was here. Alfred was alive . 

And, he made it to the kitchen, but… he couldn’t make it past the door. Not when the scene looked like it was pulled directly from his childhood. Jay on a stepstool so he could comfortably reach the counter, Alfred next to him giving him nods every time Jay looked to him for confirmation. The Beatles playing in the background. 

And just seeing Alfred reminded him of how much he missed him.

Damian was sitting on one of the bar stools with a bunch of colored pencils and paper spread out in front of him. 

Alfred finally seemed to notice him, “Ah, Master Jason. Glad to see you awake and about.” Even his voice was the same. 

That was the thing about Alfred, no matter how much time had passed, he still stayed the same. The way he stood, the way he spoke. Every hair on his head, every line in his face. Jason had genuinely thought Alfred was immortal. Guess he was wrong . 

Alfred moved to the fridge and pulled out a glass container of pasta salad. “Dinner is at six, though since you missed the last few meals, I would be amenable to fixing up something you would like.”

Jason placed the Gotham Knights sweatshirt on the backrest of the chair next to Damian, and sat in the next seat, glancing at the clock. It was currently 3:00, “I think I’ll be good for now, Alfred. Thank you.” Though, Jason wasn’t just saying thank you for the food. He was saying, thank you for all the years you’ve taken care of me, thank you for giving me a real childhood, thank you for being someone who believed in me.

Alfred gave him a knowing smile, as he scooped out some pasta into a bowl. Because maybe Alfred was a mind reader. Jason was pretty sure that held true across universes. 

Jason started eating as he made a mental note of things. They’d already been in this universe for a lot longer than the other ones. They were even at the Wings Universe for noticeably longer. And then he stopped mid bite.

Alternate reality Jason had Seraphim Wings. 

Maybe… No. Jason couldn’t’ve been an angel, especially not a seraphim. Not before he died, and definitely not after. It was just a different reality. It wasn’t even him . 

Little Damian poked Jason’s cheek, “Big Jay-Akhi?”

Oh, this child was too cute. “Hm?” 

“Can I see your magical swords?”

Jason scratched the back of his neck, “Uh, sorry kiddo. I can’t exactly summon them without the presence of pure evil. But I can tell you how your Umi was the one who brought me to this place called the Acres of All where I learned how to use it.”

He saw Jay’s mouth drop, “Wait, seriously? When?”

Egh.. that was a foggy time period, “I think I was… 17? Yeah, because I was 18 by the time I was back in Gotham, and that was after… yeah, I should’ve been 17.”

Jay beamed, and leapt off the stool he was on, darting towards the kitchen entrance, because Bruce(the younger one) was leaning against the doorframe, “Ya hear that, Old Man? I’m gonna get magical swords of my own! Oh my god, I’m gonna have to make up a new vigilante name! Wait–” Jay looked back at Jason, “What do you go by? What does your suit look like? Do you still stay in Gotham? Or do you work from wherever you go to college? Where do you go to college? Cus I’ve been thinking of Princeton since I could still come back to Gotham every weekend to see Damian and I would be close enough to help if there was an Arkham breakout, but I was also thinking NYU because then I could see Dick more often, and maybe help out the Titans. Am I aiming too high? I mean, afterall I didn’t really go to middle school, but my grades have been really good, and obviously you know that, you’re me, and I’ve been thinking if I had a really good essay, I could probably get into any good school. Not to mention Bruce said he’d pay for tuition, but I wanna know that I got into the school because I was good, not because Bruce has a lot of money, ya know?”

“Um…” Static filled Jason’s ears. He had to sit on his hands because they had gone cold. His whole body had gone cold, why was the manor so cold? 

He was also sweating. Why was he sweating if he was so cold? His heart was pounding. Did he just come back from patrol? 

He huffed out a breath and closed his eyes. He knew himself. He knew that school and college, and a future was something every version of himself would’ve wanted. 

Yeah, no, Jason’s not gonna think about that. He’s gonna go back to making a mental checklist. He no longer had his kris. That was embedded in a hyena’s forehead. 

Did his Bruce still have the duffel with their suits in it? Or were they just running around in civvies from here on out? 

Jason no longer had his helmet or gloves. He had left those behind when he was holding a crying Tim. Which honestly sucked because if they got stuck in a reality that dropped below freezing, his fingers were going to be useless and in pain for the next 24 hours after that.

Alfred placed a grounding hand on Jason’s elbow, “I believe we should hold off on interrogating the older Master Jason until he fully wakes up.”

Jason snapped back into the real world and realized everyone was looking at him funny. 

No clue why though. He was perfectly fine. 

But his Bruce and Dick were now in the room, and so was Talia, so he looked to her, “You wouldn’t happen to have any spare knives on you? I kinda lost mine a couple dimensions ago.” 

Talia gave him a fond smile, and then a pointed look towards Alternate reality Bruce, “I was told not to give you anymore blades that weren’t approved by your father beforehand.”

Jay sat in the seat in between Jason and Damian, “She gave me a squiggly knife for my birthday. And then Bruce had a cow.”

Jason nodded, “Batcow.” And then blinked, “Oh, wait, you were talking about the expression. Not Damian’s pet. I thought you meant Bruce took away the kris and got you a cow instead.”

Suddenly Bruce was faced with a pair of double puppy eyes from both Damian and Jay, and Jason realized the chaos he had caused.

Jay sat on his hands and kicked his legs, tripling the cuteness factor, “Maybe not a cow, but at least a dog?”

Damian got off his chair and gave Bruce the drawing he was working on, “Please, Baba ? We can also get a pony in case the dog gets lonely. Like Dickie-Akhi and Jay-Akhi. We can then get a kitten when the doggy leaves because dogs don’t like cats.”

He saw both Bruce's fold, and Bruce had better hope their Damian never asks to get a pony, because Jason will bring up this moment.

“Wait, why am I the pony?” Jay had his head tilted to the side.

“Because you’re Ponyboy! From the story!”

The Outsiders?

Jay hummed, “I always saw myself in Johnny.”

Jason shoveled the rest of the pasta into his mouth, even though all it tasted like was ash. He could only half pay attention to what the rest of the conversation was.

“…Wasn’t that the one who killed someone?”

“It was an accident, and it was also in self defense.”

“Jay-Akhi, you can’t be Johnny. He dies.”

“Saving kids from a fire wouldn’t be the worst way to go out.”

Jason’s ears were ringing. 

His heart dropped. Just like Garzonas over the edge of a balcony. A man he didn’t push, but he didn’t save. 

A shiver ran up his spine, yet his ears felt like they were on fire. His whole body felt like it was on fire. He was trapped under a smoldering rebar, and the only thing he could smell was smoke and burning flesh. 

Abruptly he stood up, “I’m… gonna… go back to bed.” He was about to bolt out of the room when he turned back to Alfred, and offered him a tight smile. “Thank you.” 

And he stumbled out of the kitchen.

Jason was bundled up in three blankets, but his chest wouldn’t expand, his heart was now pulsing in his throat, and he still felt cold. Too cold. He was on fire, he was covered with burns. He was riddled with frostbite. Every bone in his body was crushed. He was bleeding. Bleeding out of his neck. His hands were coated with sticky red. Red, red, red. The air was too thick– He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe.

There was laughing, laughing, laughing, something was eating him alive, but he wasn’t alive. He was just a doll. A doll with a voice box that sang, ‘only the good die young, only the good die young! Onlythegooddieyoung! ONLYTHEGOODDIEYOUNG!’ over and over and over again dissonant against the laughter that wouldn’t stop.

Nope.

Nope.

Jason does not have to deal with this. They were currently on a mission. A really long mission, sure, but they were on a mission. He didn’t have time to panic. In fact, the only reason he was currently panicking about a book was because he was just tired. Even though he slept for two days. Though, in his defense, his soul almost decided to Houdini out of…existence. 

His soul.

His wings. 

They had completely wrecked Angel Jason’s wings. They had broken his soul. Even if the angel had survived, who knew if he would ever be the same again. 

Either way his soul was shattered into too many pieces. His soul. He was broken . 

He felt the corner of his bed dip, the sweet smell of jasmine filling the air, as fingers ran through his hair. 

Talia.  

Safety.

‘Ana huna

“You have always said Robin was magic. Though, Richard always said that magic came from you. I guess he was right.” Talia puffed out a soft breath that could only be heard as fond. 

It tickled the back of his brain. The part that would always be frozen in time. Watching the last second on the timer. The part that knew something came after that and before that Halloween, but he could not remember what was there. The part that knew there was something in between the coffin and the Lazarus pit, but the pieces were too fractured to put together. 

“Jason, tayirati alsaghira,” My little bird, “You still make the same face when you are trying not to think of something that haunts you. I will not pretend to know you as I know my Jason…” She trailed off, as she thought carefully of her next words, “just know I do not plan on letting anything happen to my sons. None of them, no matter the Universe.” She continued to brush his hair behind his ear, “You are safe as long as I am here.” 

Jason curled in on himself, “‘Ana huna.” I am here.  

It was a phrase buried deep within his mind. 

“Yes, ‘ana huna.” He could almost hear Talia’s fond smile, “ ‘Ana huna.”

And if Jason let himself zone out, he could almost picture himself back at the league. 

A husk of a boy. Sitting in a grass field while the promise of ‘ana huna was softly whispered in his ear. A time when he was too hollow to hurt. Too hurt to feel. Oddly, it was probably the best period of his post-mortem life. Mainly because he didn’t remember it at all.

And with Talia there, whispering ‘ana huna, Jason could just forget.

He could forget.

Jason ended up coming down to help Alfred make dinner. They were making Biryani– Jason’s idea– and it was weird. 

It was weird because Jason knew this wasn’t his Alfred. He had to keep reminding himself of that. He had to keep reminding himself that his Alfred was no longer able to cook besides him in this kitchen because of Bane. 

Yet, cooking alongside Alfred always felt comfortable. It always felt right . He never felt like he had to live up to any expectations whenever he was around Alfred. 

He knew he could just be. 

Except, Alfred was giving him that look that meant he knew something was up, and was waiting patiently for Jason to tell him. Honestly, it was a near constant look on Alfred’s face– whether that be towards Bruce, or Dick, or anyone. 

When Jason was younger, he used to wonder if Alfred was a time traveler. Since he died, he just thinks Alfred could read minds.

Or Alfred just knows them all really well. 

The rice was already cooking and Jason started frying the onions in a pan alongside the spices. He and Alfred worked well in silence, it’s just that, Jason wanted to say something. He just didn’t know what.

“Alfred?”

Alfred handed Jason the chopped tomatoes, “Yes, my boy?”

 “If–” Jason cut himself off and frowned as he slid the tomatoes into the pan, “Nothin’.” and then he realized that it would be a bit too obvious if Jason wanted Alfred to drop the look. “I was just wondering if you could eat at the table with us tonight?”

Alfred gave him that smile that meant he wouldn’t normally do what Jason’s asking him to, but will because he knows Jason needs it. “Just tonight.”

Dinner was… interesting. 

Jason could tell that both Bruces wanted to talk about interdimensional travel, but Alfred had a strict no cave work in the manor policy. (the policy had been tossed out the window by the time he came back from the dead, but oh well.) 

Jason was sitting next to Talia who was feeding Damian as he babbled about different animals and people named the Kratt brothers? Though, it was really sweet to watch. Mainly because he knew this wasn’t something that would happen between their Talia and Damian. 

Dick was looking down at his plate, like it had personally offended him, and Alfred was sitting at the head of the table with both Jasons to either side of him.

Jay was looking at Jason with a question on his face, “How come your Bruce lets you get away with the white streak?”

Out of all the Jasons who were Robins, he’s surprised he hasn’t been asked that question earlier, “As if Bruce has any control over me.” Jason glanced to Dick and back to Jay, hopefully projecting, He still doesn’t know about the vitiligo, as much as he could, “I also wear a helmet.”

Jay also glanced at Dick and grinned, “Is it because of your magical swords? Or do you just dye it? Ya know, you should dye it a different color. Like… I was gonna say green, but it’ll look horrible once it fades, but maybe… purple.”

Jason hummed, “Maybe.” He looked to Dick, “Ya think I could get Steph in on it too?”

Dick glared at Jason. It was a glare filled with such temperance, Jason had to hold back a flinch. 

Jay turned to face Dick, while leaning slightly back. “Who’s Steph?”

Like a lightswitch, Dick’s glare softened, “She’s our current Batgirl.”

So he was angry with Jason. Why was he angry with him? He thought they were getting better.

The Batgirl comment seemed to deflate Jay’s mood, “So Babs doesn’t…”

“No, she doesn’t.” A flurry of emotions seemed to pass over Jay’s face before settling on worry, “But honestly, she’s much more bada–” Dick glanced at Damian, “-wesome. Awesome, she’s much more awesome now. She’s basically our eyes and ears. She mans the coms, and sends us to wherever we’re needed. She’s kinda our guardian… angel now.” Dick looked back at his plate, pushing around some rice.

Jay rolled his eyes, sensing the tone shift at the end, “Please tell me you two aren’t also fighting. Because I came off of a phone call a couple days ago with my big brother telling him how much of a big idiot he was, and I really don’t feel like repeating myself.”

Dick gave him a little chuckle, and ruffled Jay’s hair, “Nah, kiddo, we’ve been just friends for the better part of the decade.”

“That’s what you say about Wally and Roy, yet I still see both of their clothes in your room.”

“Everyone’s clothes are everywhere in Titans Tower. You know that.” Jay looked like he wanted to continue to poke fun at Dick and his relationships, but Dick cut him off, “Steph! Is actually really cool. She was her own hero for a time, and then she was Robin, and then went on to be Batgirl. She’s basically Damian’s big sister, but Bruce won’t adopt her.”

Jay nodded, “So like…Babs but blonde?” and then paused, “I don’t treat Steph how you treat Babs, right?”

Jason grimaced, “Nah, I could never pull a Tim. She deserves better.”

“Who’s Tim?”

Bruce (the old man,) finally pitched into the conversation, “Do you have a small kid with a camera who follows you around as Robin?”

Jay nodded.

Jason blinked, “Hold up, is Tim a little stalker in every universe except for ours?”

Bruce’s face twisted like he was adding something to his mental tally, “No. Ours did too. You were the one who told me about him. Though, I didn’t believe you, until Tim showed up on our doorstep.”

“Huh. I guess I forgot.” Jason scratched his head and frowned. How could he have forgotten? Jason hasn’t forgotten any of the alley kids he meets on patrol, or the people he’s saved from muggings, or anything. He might not know some of their names, but he could never forget their faces. How in tarnation did he forget Tim running around from roof to roof with a camera?

What else does he not remember?

The rest of dinner passed, Jay offered to get Damian ready for bed, while Alfred washed the dishes. The rest of them headed down to the cave. 

Jason had to do a double take, because this cave was nothing like their cave, and it definitely didn’t look like the cave he knew when he was younger.

First off, there was a swing near the computer. There was also the normal batcomputer chair, but Jason just wasn’t expecting there to be a swing. Vaguely, in the back of his mind he remembered sitting on a swing with a sleeping kid leaning on him as the sun set. Second, there were no weapons out on racks, and most of the sharp corners were either blunted or covered with foam. Third, there was one of those toy cars that a kid could ride in, that was painted to look like the batmobile. Along with a pretty large Thomas the Train track set, and a bin of legos.

So, really the main difference between this batcave and their batcave, was that this one was baby proofed.

“Jason, would you mind if I took a sample of your blood? Just a blood test, nothing else.” Young Bruce led them towards the medbay, while Talia, Dick and Older Bruce made their way to the computer

Jason frowned, “Why… didn’t you do that when I was unconscious?” He figured Mr. Paranoid would’ve done that already.

“You passed out due to magical interference. I did not want to… complicate your status.” Bruce opened a drawer and pulled out a sterile needle, tube, and tourniquet. “And I know you don’t like having needles placed in you without your knowledge. Unless that’s just something my Jason doesn’t appreciate.”

Jason sat on the cot and rolled up his sleeve, “Nah, you’re right. I’m just… I’m fine if it’s you.” 

Bruce raised an eyebrow, while grabbing a bandaid (Wonder Woman themed) and an alcohol wipe, “What about Alfred? Or Leslie?”

“They go without saying.” They were the ones who figured it’d be better to make a routine while bringing needles around Jason. It’s not a distraction, just reassurance nothing’s been tampered with. Jason doesn’t really need people to do that for him anymore, not since he’s had more traumas that have made unsterile needles seem juvenile, but the thought is still nice. 

“What about Talia and Dick.” Bruce tied the tourniquet around Jason’s upper arm.

“Dick hasn’t tried in… a really long time. He tried to distract me, and I kicked him in the face. Though, I dunno about Talia. I trust her with my life, but I don’t remember how that trust was built.”

“Hnm.” That was his mentally tally for something off grunt. 

Bruce started putting together the needle and tube in front of Jason. He felt around for his vein, then disinfected Jason’s arm, “One… Two… Three.”

There was a slight pinch, but other than that, Jason was fine. 

Jason’s fears were weird like that. He’s not afraid of the Joker, but his heart stops whenever he sees a blonde with a bob on the streets. He’s not claustrophobic from the coffin, but the feeling of dirt under his fingernails sends a shudder throughout his whole body. He’s not afraid of needles, he’s afraid of what’s attached to it.

Bruce took the needle out, stuck the bandaid on, and disposed of the gloves he was using. Then he offered Jason a smile, “I like that you decided to grow the white out. Reminds me of a tiny little boy who hit me with a tire iron and called me a big boob.”

Jason opened his mouth and then closed it, Not his Bruce He hopped off the cot. Jason gave him a little smile back, as they both headed back to the batcomputer. 

They were planning on building a beacon of sorts. Older Bruce already had a couple of designs sketched out, and had made a list of materials that would be needed to make said device. Most of them they could find, but some of them Jason knew they wouldn’t be able to get their hands on unless the universe was a couple years in the future. Or they went on a deep space adventure, which they couldn’t because that would take too much time. Time they didn’t know they had.

Jason was currently sitting in the study, across from Bruce. It was just them in the manor. Talia had left for work at Wayne Enterprises, Alfred was currently dropping off Jason and Damian at school. Dick and Younger Bruce were out gathering materials.

Dick, who was still upset with Jason. What did he do? Dick hasn’t been this mad at Jason since Jason was in his villain arc. As far as Jason knew, they were fine back in the Wings universe. And he was concked for the past two days, and Dick’s been avoiding him since then, so it had to be something that happened over there.

Unless he said something wrong while he was asleep– but he doesn’t sleep talk. Maybe it was something he did?

Since no one else was in the manor with them, they decided to update the chart of Universes they’ve been to. On a real piece of paper. 

This time they were just titled Jason 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, and 8. He couldn’t find it in him to give each of them snarky nicknames. 

Most of it stayed the same, if they were Robin or not, their Age, the place where they died, how they died. Though they decided to add the differences between each of the universes, and how long they were in each universe.

“Got any theories on why we’ve been in this universe much longer than the other ones?” Sure, they had also been in the Wings Universe longer than the other universes, six hours, though  that’s still a lot less than three days.

“Dick seems to think that because the beam directly hit you, where we go is somewhat attached to you.” 

Jason nodded. It made sense… but at the same time it didn’t. If the beam was magic, it would make more sense, but it seemed to be just tech gone wrong, “And you?”

Bruce looked at him, but too many years of miscommunication must have passed between them, because the only thing he could read on Bruce’s face was a mixture of grief and relief, “Jason hasn’t…”

“Well, Sherlock, couldn't've figured that one out.” Jason tapped the pen on the table, “but usually we’re sent back a little before the incident starts. The first one we were in the warehouse a couple minutes before Robin arrived. The second Jason was actively freezing to death, the third Jason was an hour before he got hit by the car, tops. The fourth one was also a little under an hour before the manor got swarmed, the fifth one was seconds before I came back to life. The sixth one was– we were in the room while… The lamb was an active member of-of the food chain, while we just sat there . And baby Jay was probably spooning cocaine into his mout h as we– as she –” Jason shut his mouth. He felt like he was going to throw up. “She didn’t even care.” Jason underlined the age of baby Jay on their list. “She left her four year old son alone . In the apartment. With drugs in reach . She didn’t care , Bruce.” He chewed the inside of his cheek, but it still didn’t stop his mouth from twitching downwards, so he let out a little laugh. “I’ve– I’ve spent the last eight years trying to make excuses for her. That she was being blackmailed by the Joker, she was young and wasn’t ready to be a- a mother, that the world was just out to get her, but she– my mom – Catherine, the one who raised me– she would’ve never let that happen. Any of it. She wouldn’t’ve– up until the very end she didn’t even let me near– ” Jason pressed his lips together, his eyes burning with shame at the stupid, naive, fifteen year old version of himself who was desperately clawing at any ounce of acceptance he could find.  “ Mami wouldn’t have sold me out.” it came out barely above a whisper.

Bruce reached his hand across the desk, “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.” 

Jason shook his head, “I want to tell you. God, Bruce I’ve wanted to tell you for so long. But at the same time, I didn’t?” He set down the pen and looked into Bruce’s eyes. They used to be a brighter blue. The color of the sky on a good day in Gotham. Now they've turned gray. Jason doesn’t know when it happened. He just knows it was sometime while he was gone. He looked back down at the pen, “Sometimes, it’s just really hard to talk to you. There are so many times that I want to talk to you . To Bruce . Except ever since I’ve come back, it feels like I have to fight Batman just to do that.” Jason shook his head, he knew he had Bruce right now. If he had Batman, he’d be interrogating Jason instead of letting him speak. “Every single day since I could think straight, I’ve regretted how– how desperate I was to meet her. How I didn’t even do any background checks on her or how I didn’t even tell Alfred about it, I just found out and… left. ”

“Jason–”

“Let me finish.” He took in a breath, “It was reckless, it wasn’t thought through, I was so… willing to trust her even though that was the worst mistake of my life. It was the worst mistake of my life.”

“Jason, she led you into a false sense of security, it wasn’t your fault–”

“It wasn’t my fault? Bruce, I knew better than that! The first thing you learn as a Alley kid is don’t talk to people you don’t know or you’ll end up dead in a ditch . I literally found three contacts in Papi’s phone with names I didn’t even know, and left halfway across the world to ask a secret agent– Who I didn’t even know– if she was my mother, and I should’ve stopped then, but I then asked Lady Shiva ? What the fuck was I thinking?”

Bruce stood up and rounded the table until he was kneeling in front of him. “Jason, it was not your fault. I’m sorry for ever believing otherwise.”

He shook his head, “I never blamed you for my death. I’ve told you this. You don’t have to apologize for that.”

“I’m apologizing for turning you into a cautionary tale. For assuming things about your death.”

Jason looked anywhere but the the man in front of him, “Bruce–”

“Jason, you were 15 years old. You just wanted to get to know a mother you never knew you had. That’s understandable. It is comparatively more tame to what your siblings were doing around that age.” He locked eyes with Jason, “It wasn’t your fault. You were just a child. A child who had to grow up too quickly because none of the adults in your life could give you what you needed. And that includes me.” Bruce held both of Jason’s hands in his. An action that used to completely bury Jason’s hands, but now, both of their hands were relatively the same size. “I know you don’t like it when I… lament  over your death, though it’s not just about not making it there in time. It’s because I left you alone with her, it’s because I let you track down Lady Shiva. It’s because I should’ve told you to take a break from Robin in a different way, because I knew you were hurting, but I didn’t know how to help you.”

Jason knew his mouth was hanging agape. And then he shut it, “I feel like that’s a recurring theme between us.”

Bruce offered him a small smile. One he hasn’t seen in a while, “We’ll figure it out eventually.”

And Jason knows that Bruce will try. He will try to reach Jason, try to figure out how to get back to him. But there's always that one day. That one day when he feels like they’re almost back to where they were before he died. There’ll always be something . Something that sends it all crashing down. And that something is usually Batman. 

He knows that Bruce can never put the cowl down. It’s the same reason why the rest of them can’t either. It’s a special mix of adrenaline and guilt that keeps drawing them back to protecting people. In ways, it’s an addiction of sorts. And Bruce will always choose the addiction of being a hero over any of them. 

Still, Jason nods whenever Bruce says he'll try harder. Because Jason is the moon. A cold and dry desolate landscape, and when water-the building block of life- when the oceans try to reach him, he can only try to reach back. He’ll always be grasping for something he’ll never be big enough to pull towards him.

“The real thing we should figure out… eventually, is why in the world did my dad have Lady Shiva in his contacts.”

It didn’t take long for Alfred to come home after that, and Dick and Younger Bruce came home around noon. Both Bruce's got to work on the beacon, while Jason and Dick help Alfred with chores around the house. It definitely made the top three most awkward moments of his life, death and life. Since he was actively trying to ignore the fact that their Alfred was dead and Dick was upset with him.

Jason spared a glance at Dick and found him staring again.

Furious.

Though Alfred definitely knew something Jason didn’t, because he was giving Dick his I know what you’re thinking, but not everyone can read your mind look that he usually reserved for Bruce. Dick glanced from Jason to Alfred, his face contorting into that weird mixture of grief and relief.

Oh.

Jason wasn’t the only one who lost Alfred. So did Dick, and he knew Alfred for much longer than Jason had. Alfred was more of Dick’s constant, than Jason’s. And Dick only seemed angry at Jason after he and Alfred had made dinner together.

He finished vacuuming the living room carpet, “I think I’m gonna head to the library.” and to the library he went.

The first book Jason was about to pick up was the Iliad. Then he remembered where the story of Icarus was from. And Icarus had wings and so do angels– 

And they both fell.

They both died.

He shook his head and went to the Jane Austen section, and grabbed Sense and Sensibility. He went to the papasan chair he used to curl up in when he was younger. The one in their manor was gone. He’s now too grown to sit with his legs underneath him, without tipping over the chair, but still, being there in the library, with only a book for company, let him drift to the land of 19th century literature, without worrying about what was going on around them.

He was halfway through the book when Alfred came in, looking more tense than Jason’s ever seen him “the Joker is out of Arkham.”

Naturally . Jason went to put away the book he was reading, “Do we know where–”

“Gotham City Elementary.”

Jason stilled before practically running out of the library and to the cave, Alfred keeping pace with him. Gotham City High School was only a couple blocks away from the Elementary school. And he knew he kept a spare suit in his backpack when he was in high school, just in case a rogue attacked. There was no way he would stay behind if he knew, especially since Damian went to the elementary school. 

Jason leaped down the stairs to get to where Younger Bruce was suiting up, and Dick and older Bruce were putting on spare dominoes.  Jason reached to grab one too, but Dick swatted his hand away.

Jason reached again, “I’m sorry if you didn’t catch on, but I lost my helmet four realities ago.”

“No.” Dick slapped his hand away again, and fixed Jason with a hard glare, “You’re staying here.”

He blinked, “Excuse me?”

“You’re staying here. That’s final.” Dick strode towards the batmobile.

So Dick was still mad at him. Why was he still upset with him? It couldn’t’ve been the Alfred thing, because he gave them their time. It had to be something before that, “If you’re upset with me for… taking down those wing smugglers, just know the All Blades don’t work on anything that isn’t true evil–”

“I know that. That’s not– we don’t have time for this.”

“Exactly. We don’t have time for this. I’m coming.” Jason opened the drawer to grab a domino, and marched after him.

Dick scoffed, “No, you’re not.”

“Is it because I killed that Hyena version of the Joker ?”

He turned to face him, “No–”

“Then why? Do you not trust me or–”

“I could see you fading, Jason! You almost died! Again! Ok? And you keep dying! Ever since I got back from space and saw on the news that you were dead, I fucking thought that if I was there then–” Dick cut himself off, took a deep breath “Every single universe we go to, you keep dying, and we’re right there, but we can never do anything about it! And it’s not fine, but the only reason I’m not losing my mind over their deaths is that I keep telling myself that you are alive. That they’re not you, because you are my little brother. You keep dying. I can’t lose you. I can’t lose you.”

Jason shook his head, “Dick… You know I can’t promise you that. Not with our line of work. You couldn’t even keep that promise.”

Dick leveled him with a glare.

This was a losing battle, wasn’t it? Jason went to sit on the swing. “I’ll stay.” they were probably going to leave this universe soon anyway. 

He heard their footsteps leave the cave, and the sound of the batmobile driving off. 

He knew Alfred sat down next to him, but he didn’t look. They watched the news play from the batcomputer. They watched as Robin led groups of classes out of the school. And then they couldn’t see the little boy dressed in traffic colors. 

Alfred grasped his hand

They couldn’t see Batman, or Bruce and Dick enter the building, but he knew more groups of kids were making their way out of the building. 

Jason leaned his head against Alfred’s shoulder, as they saw Batman rush out of the roof of the school with a bundle of yellow cradled to his chest. They watched as he grappled away. 

Alfred went to prep the Medbay, while Jason knew where this was headed. 

So he started collecting their things. Which, throughout their journey had dwindled down to very few things. Jason’s leather jacket. Dick’s phone. Bruce’s wallet. He also gathered some things he thought they would need. The list they made of each universe they’d been to. A copy of the blueprints of the beacon. He had to wander around to find the hidden weapon racks, but he stocked up on shurikens, and grabbed a pair of escrima sticks for Dick. stuffing them in various pockets of his leather jacket.

The engine of the Batmobile sounded through the cave, and before they heard the breaks of the car, they heard the doors swinging open. 

And screaming. Blood curdling screams, but it wasn’t coming from Jay. Jason made his way to the batmobile, to find older Bruce sitting with his head against the wheel while Dick held a squirming Damian while sitting in the passenger seat.

“ AKHI! AKHI!! I WANT MY AKHI!”  

  Dick was attempting to rock Damian, lightly hushing him, but it wasn’t working.

“ Damian .” Bruce said it in a tone that was stern, yet soft. “Damian, your brother is really hurt right now. I know you want to see him, but your father and Alfred are working hard on trying to make him feel better.”

“B-but I want Jay-Akhi !” Damian squirmed again, but with significantly less effort.

They heard the doors to the cave fling open, as heels clacked against the stairs, and then across the floor. There was also the squeak of sneakers, 

“Doctor Tompkins, the medbay,” Talia made her way to the batmobile, scooped Damian out of Dick’s arms and made her way over to the swing, setting Damian down, holding his face with both her hand, wiping away his tears, speaking in Arabic “Habibi, I am going to help with Jay-Akhi. Big Jay and Dickie will stay with you here, ok?”

“Is Jay-Akhi gonna be ok?”

“We will see.” Talia placed a kiss on Damian’s forehead, and motioned for older Bruce to follow her.

Jason moved to the batcomputer to play music to distract the boy. There was already a playlist for the boy, filled with mostly lullabies and slower Disney songs. He hit shuffle, and the first song was ‘Ma Belle, Evangeline’ from Princess and the Frog.

Dick sat down next to Damian, as Damian rested his head on Dick’s chest. He held the kid close, and rested his head on top of Damian’s. 

The kid had a far off look in his eyes. Like he wasn’t really there with them. It was a look he saw in so many of the kids on the streets of crime alley. He wondered if he had that look when Bruce found him. If he thought being Robin would fix it in the same way it seemed to fix Dick. Being Robin never really fixed any of them though. It just gave them something else to focus on.

Jason grabbed a sticky note that was next to the batcomputer, and wrote Damian’s disassociating. Make sure he has someone to talk to. If not a league therapist, Elaine Thomas is a good option in Gotham. She’s also the mother of a kid you foster in the future. ~JTW

Jason went to sit on the opposite side of Damian, lightly rocking the swing with his foot. Thinking for a moment before asking in French, “ What happened?” Jason was 80 percent sure Damian wasn’t paying attention, but he didn’t want to accidentally trigger him. 

Their Damian knew French, and this Damian was probably multilingual, but Jason was certain it was just the main languages spoken in the house. English, Arabic, Spanish, and Romanian.

“ The rest of the class was already out. The… monster made him watch as he beat robin with a crowbar. It was a trap.”

Jason frowned, “How did he know?”

“I don’t know. But he also knew about the lamb.”

Jason stilled. Was the Joker traveling from universe to universe with them? No, because he killed that version. 

The heart monitor let out a high pitched whine. Jay was flatlining. Dick looked back to Damian who didn’t have any reaction to the noise. “The crazy man split open his skull and he made him watch.”

Jason leaned his head on Dick’s shoulder. “Talia’s going to kill him.”

“I know.”  

The lights to the batcave seemed to get brighter and brighter. Until they were gone.

[suffarustuffaru]

What is your opinion on arc 8? For me its such a mess (probably bc tappei improvised arc 7 and 8, they werent in the original plan), i hope it will end soon

i do agree with you there on otto development but im definitelyyy biased *sweats in becoming an otto blog someone save me from the hyperfixation* but in my defense otto arc 8 development was the result of a slow burn since arc 3-4 and otto's various side stories but even without the side stories it feels like the logical conclusion that his arc was leading up to, which feels pretty solid to me for the most part (side eyes otto apologizing to the girl who sent assassins after him.... side eyes tappei's fixation on shipping otto's brothers and then not even elaborating on how that'd even work as dynamics) but. anyway i digress

arc 7-8 ive followed since their conception via reading it chapter by chapter. unfortunately i did also get kinda busy with irl stuff while the middle of arc 7 was happening so i had to do catchup and also my memory is Pretty Bad. if youre wondering how i remember certain lore so well its only bc i have to reread/rewatch/use that info for writing things a lot which is the only reason why i remember it HAH. so. all in all. my memory of arc 7-8 is pretty shaky. i did read the beginnings of arc 7 and 8 via the polished translations though on WCT a while back while the rest was mostly like as each chapter came out.

rn ive started rereading arc 6 and i have several side stories i need to finish (ana camp side stories, the wilhelm-theresia trilogy, and ex 5 are top of my list right now). and then eventually ill get to reading arc 7-8 in their entirety so that i can 1. have more knowledge of it and 2. so i can have more fully formed opinions on it. so definitely i could try answering this question again once im done with that. no idea when that is bc im kinda a slow reader but ill do my best HAH. but i do have some thoughts now!!

(arc 7-8 stuff under cut + a single arc 9 mention)

arc 7-8 i do have a few mixed feelings about, namely louis's arc so far, but im really trusting the process here bc tappeis writing is just like that sometimes. you really need to be patient and definitely while i have things to criticize about louis's arc particularly i do hope that the catharsis of her character kicks in hard later so !! im interested in that.

but generally like. arc 7-8 are pretty solid. as expected of tappei. there were a lot of really really fascinating stuff brought up, a lot of interesting characters that we got to know (and im a really big fan of how much love tappei puts into a lot of the side characters, it really makes the world of rezero fleshed out). subarus arc continues to be interesting even if i personally really dont like that he adopts louis as spica While he looks like hes the exact same age as her, it really broke my immersion a bit.

but anyway yeah like. arc 7-8 was pretty good. like objectively, in my opinion, theres a lot to love, even though personally it did take me a bit to warm up to it in the beginning. i definitely think though that they do feel a bit messy as arcs. with arcs 1-6 they flow really nicely into each other - you can tell they were really planned out and tightly knit. arc 7-8 does something really new - throwing us right into vollachia - which is interesting, but i do think it does feel a bit less planned out, which makes sense bc according to tappei vollachia was a change in his original plans. this isnt bad on its own and we got two giant arcs out of it that were pretty fun. but there are points i feel that you can kinda Tell that it wasnt planned out. the slight reliance on the teleportation throughout arc 7 was like the first thing i noticed haah.

and my big worry after arc 8 is that like. tappei doesnt strike that perfect balance of still keeping vollachia and its cast relevant but like not letting them overshadow other matters that tappei needs to get to before finishing rezero. like i want vollachia to continue to matter after we've spent two really big and complex and busy arcs with vollachia, but i do want the focus to shift a little away from them gradually / bring up vollachia again later.

arc 9 so far in its 2 chapters at the time of me answering this ask has been really really good so far with wrapping up arc 7-8 while building up future conflicts. i do think however that since we spent time with vollachia this now comes with the expectation of branching out into kararagi and gusteko possibly - just bc we already know we're gonna spend a Lot of time in lugunica, as we have for a lot of rezero already, and we've spent a lot of time with vollachia, so narratively there probably needs to be some equality in that we should at least get a glimpse of other nations in the main route. so !! im interested in that possibility too and i think it would fit rezero well.

so yeah thats like. my personal opinion on arc 7-8 and i think reading through the whole entire thing wont change much of my opinions on the above besides me probably falling in love some more with the cast and understanding the story during this time period more deeply (and probably having more thoughts on louis and rem). i do hope that you reconsider your stance on arc 7-8 though anon!!! but if not thats totally fair too.

[ewritesthangs]

Sugar Daddy! Pablo Scheiber x Reader

First installment of my Sugar daddy! Pablo Schreiber x Reader. I hope you enjoy, these things just come into my head and I want to share my creativity with readers all around. 

WARNINGS: NSFW, SMUTT, MATURE THEMES, MATURE LANGUAGE. 

You had met Pablo about three weeks prior to your date tonight with him. You were working as an on set medic for a new movie he was starring in. Pablo became infatuated with your beauty and you in general. 

As night fell upon the patrons of Vancouver, you and your best friend, who live together, were conversing about your upcoming date tonight. He sent you flowers today, along with 2 boxes. One box had a red satin mini dress and the other had authentic Louis Vuitton heels. You, of course, wore the outfit, looking rather delicious in the dress and heels. "Damn, Y/N I'd even fuck you in that attire." Y/BFF/N said with a giant smirk plastered across her devilish face. 

"Thank you, that is kinda the plan, Stan." You smirk, winking at her before gathering your stuff for the night.

"You got your implant, right?" 

"Like a month ago, where the fuck you been?" You chuckle and grab your light jacket, black in color. "I'll see you hopefully later. Or tomorrow. Who knows. I hope he doesn't kill me and just fucks me into oblivion." 

"Where did you come from?" 

"New found confidence in this thing." You spin around. The drive over to his hotel room was uneventful, except the wonderful performance you had put on for your stuffed hamster on your dashboard. 

You softly knock on the door. Was that too soft? You think to yourself before the door opens. 

Pablo takes a deep breath and smiles. "Y/N, you look ravishing." He was dressed in a "fancy" shirt which looked silky and some gray dress pants. 

"Well you don't look too bad yourself there, sweet cheeks." A nickname you have had for him since day one due to his charisma. You smirk and wink at him. 

His deep chuckle brings an alarming amount of joy to your being. One you had never experienced before meeting the incredibly tall man. 

"Please come in. Make yourself at home, dear." He steps aside to let you in. You saunter on in and he helps you take your jacket off and hangs it up. 

"Why thank you. Oh wow, nice room." You look around in awe, never really seeing this much luxury up close and personal. 

"Thank you. It's not too bad as a home away from home." You nod as you follow Pablo to his rather large kitchen compared to your small apartment kitchen. "Would you like some wine, my dear." He flashes you his beautiful smile. 

"Yes please." You smile back and grab the wine glass from him. "Fancy."

"Only the best for you, lovely." This statement made you blush. You take a sip of wine to deter from the blush. 

"I'm not that special." You say, causing Pablo to feign offense. 

"Y/N, you are the most special woman I have ever met."

"We met like three weeks ago."

"Time doesn't matter." 

"Philosophical. Impressive." 

"I try." He chuckles again. 

"So, Mister Schrieber, what is for dinner?"

"Homemade spaghetti and meatballs with a homemade bolognese." 

"Wait, you can cook too? What can't you do?" 

"Apparently 5th grade math." You both end up laughing at that comment. 

"Ready for dinner? I have something I am dying to talk to you about after dinner." 

"Oh? Yes I was ready when you said homemade." He serves you a hefty amount of food. 

"Eat up. I do not want you to be hungry." He winks and sits across from you. You guys engage in casual conversation as you devour the delicious food he had prepared. 

"Now, I am full. What is it that you would like to talk about?" You sip some wine. 

"I'd like for us to have a relationship of sorts. Now I don't exactly do the whole dating thing. Since my failed marriage I have tried to focus on my health and wellbeing as well as work and my kids. But I would love to be your sugar daddy." 

"Sugar daddy? Like you buy me things and I give you sex in return?" 

"Yes. I am quite wealthy, I want to spoil you, and I am infatuated by you," 

"Sugar. Daddy. Are there rules?" 

"I am the only one you are having sex with. I go by daddy." 

"Not many people like me enough to want to have sex with me." You shrug.  

"Well I do." He crosses his legs. 

"Okay. Yes." 

"Yes? Are you being serious?"

"A thousand percent." His excitement could not be contained at your confirmation. This was really what he wanted. 

"Would you like to start tonight?" You choke on the wine you were sipping. 

"Is that why you wanted me in this sexy dress?" 

"Maybe." He smirks. 

"Why not. I have been wanting to experience things with you. Why did I just say that out loud?" Maybe it was the wine getting to you. But you felt empowered with his words. 

"Good. Now I am usually a dominant male. I can have a submissive side when wanted. But tonight I am in charge." His voice got slightly deeper. This made your nether regions grow a little wet. You had a thing for deep voices. "Come." Pablo stands up and holds his hand out. You happily oblige. He takes you to his bed, pulling you close to him. His right hand goes to the back of your head and pulls your head to look up at him. "I don't usually do kissing either but your lips look so kissable." He gently kisses you at first to test the waters. Then he kisses more needingly. His lips were intoxicating. He pulls back and unzips your dress. "I want you naked, on the edge of the bed. Now, princess." You nod and give him a little show. He watches, biting his bottom lip. "Good girl." You lay at the edge of the bed. Pablo walks over to you and gets down to his knees. "I have wanted to taste you all night." His hands rub your calves then thighs before separating them. Exposing your freshly waxed sex. "Mmmm, someone was hoping for something to happen tonight."

"A girl can dream. But seems like the feeling was mutual." He hums before ever so slowly getting closer to your sex. Tantalizingly slow, to your dismay. You squirm under his gaze. 

"Patience, princess." He says softly before blowing some cool air onto your exposed clit. This made you shiver and moan. "You smell so sweet." He says before delving in. His tongue flicks your clit a few times before he sucks your clit into his mouth. Flicking his tongue as he suckles slightly. This makes you instantly arch your back and shut your eyes. The sweet sweet feeling of his amazing tongue on your swollen, neglected clit was all so much stimulation. A few breathy moans escape your lips and you rock your hips to his tongue wanting more friction. One of his hands rubs your thigh before he inserts two fingers into you. He pulls back to watch you. You look down to see his face glistening with your juices. In and out. In and out. Slow at first to you adjusted to his girthy fingers. He then picks up the pace. You bite your lip before throwing your head back. A soft little "Fuuuck." comes from your lips. 

"That's it baby, feel my fingers." He curls his fingers up, hitting that sweet, sweet g-spot. Your breath hitches and you rock your hips once more. 

"Ah yes." You moan out. He smirks, and halts his movements. Slowly withdrawing his fingers from you, causing you to whimper. 

"I want to be inside you when you come for me for the first time, princess." He stands up and undresses himself. Exposing his lengthy, girthy cock ready for you. "See what you do to me already, princess?" You sit up and nod. 

"Oh daddy, I need you right now. Please."

"Oh, begging already? Mmm such a sweet sweet sound." He licks his hand before pumping himself a few times. You lick your lips. He comes over to you. "Up on the bed more, princess." You scoot up onto the bed more, to which he follows. "You sure you're ready for all of this?" He smirks, you nod vigorously. "That's the spirit, princess." He dips his head down to kiss each tit before he slowly inserts himself. You gasp at his size but moan, it feeling good to have someone inside you after a few months of no action. He cradles your head with his arms as he starts his sweet, yet rough thrusts. You moan out loudly, louder than you ever have. But you didn't care, this man was making you feel good and people needed to know. 

"Ah oh fuck, yes." 

"That's it princess, feel me. Every little inch." He made sure you felt every inch of him. With every thrust. He knew how to take care of a woman. He rocks his hips into yours. "Say my name." 

"Daddy." You whisper. 

"Louder." His voice went dark almost. Very raspy.

"DADDY!" You moan out loudly. 

"That's it princess." He quickens the pace up slightly, feeling you clench and squirm ever so slightly. 

"I-i-i I'm close Daddy." You say, feeling the release rise up in your body, ready to release at any moment. 

He licks his hand before putting it between you two. He spits into his hand and rubs your clit, causing a whole other sensation to happen within you. You arch your back and rock your hips. "Cum for me princess, let me feel you all around me." That sent you over the edge. You pulsate around him, the feeling of euphoria raining over you as you cum all around him. A long, strangled moan comes from you, almost a scream. You needed that incredible release. You pant as he keeps thrusting into you, getting himself to the edge. "Princess, play with your tits." You were still in that just fucked stage of the aftermath, an afterwave of pleasure coming upon you. You begin to play with your tits, flicking and squeezing the nipple. He grunts and stills, a hot juice shooting into you. You moan. 

"That's it daddy." 

"You are incredible." He kisses your forehead before slowly pulling out. You both lay there panting. You were still dazed. 

"You weren't too bad, yourself." You manage to pant out. "Man I am out of shape." You say, once you have calmed down. Pablo just chuckles. 

"No you're not." He stands up and walks to what you think is the bathroom. You sit up, seeing him emerge with a towel. "Let me clean you up." He kneels again and pulls you to the edge. This caused a small squeak to come from you. He wipes you up, clean as can be. 

"Good thing I am on birth control." You smirk and giggle. 

"I saw the implant." 

"Well aren't you just observant." You caused him to chuckle again. 

"Would you like to spend the night? You look very tired from that good fucking." He asks, concerned you wont make it to your apartment. 

"I- yeah sure why not." You shrug, yawn and stretch. Pablo pulls the covers back for you to get in. You slowly crawl, tiredness having washed over you. He tucks you in, planting a soft, chaste kiss to your forehead. 

"Thank you princess." 

"For?" 

"Saying yes. And listening to my silent plea for you not to drive in your state of exhaustion." 

"Wine does tend to put me out after some activities." You yawn and snuggle into the man who now was laying next to you. He stiffened then relaxes, him finding an odd sense of comfort in your presence. 

"Get some rest, princess." He shuts off the bedside lamp, bringing you into the state of slumber. 

A/N:: Not my best work, things will hopefully get better. I hope y'all enjoy!

[alltheselights]

Lately I’ve thought about that maybe louis just kind of kept on his extremely curated public image from 1d, the mischevious party lad personality to protect his personal life..? Don’t get me wrong, a lot of what he says is visible and therefore true, e.g. the drinking, smoking, partying etc. But his performative working class personality is kinda pissing me off claiming hes never had therapy or prosecco, like PLEASE. It might be true, but it annoys me that he sounds so proud saying it, but he has been a millionare for over a decade? And I just had a thought that maybe he just puts on his Louis TomlinsonTM hat and goes on about his public life, like maybe he doesn’t want to talk or get asked about his family, therapy, rich lifestyle and so on, but it’s just so weird to me that he is so vocal about some laddy stuff

I think he’s really over-the-top about it at times and it does come across as unlikable and disingenuous - those quotes from the JoJo Wright interview in particular were really bad and though I haven’t reblogged them yet, the tags on them are all like “bro, stop with this shit.” And if that’s fans getting annoyed by his attitude, you can only imagine how the public will respond.

In my view, it’s not so much about guarding his personal life as it is just him thinking that it makes him more relatable and will help him to fit into the indie and alternative scene. I think the people he is surrounded with also don’t help because they seem to agree that he needs to be this laddy lad bro pal in order to sell himself and his music when that’s just not the case. Some of it is Louis, and some of it is the lack of creative thinking and diversity of his team. There’s a reason why nobody on his team has said a damn thing about the fact that his photoshoots and promo images all look the same, smoking and drinking are highlighted in almost every interview and tons of photos, and an album entitled Faith In The Future and even most of the music videos for the album present Louis as miserable or stoic despite the optimistic title. A talented marketing and communications professional would recognize that presenting Louis in such a one-dimensional way is not drawing people in and does not at all do justice to the truly incredible music that he’s made with this album. Yet Louis’ team says nothing because they’re almost all white men with the same perspective.

I have no doubt that there are kernels of truth in Louis’ laddy image - he likes to drink beer, he’d rather hang out at a pub than go to a fancy restaurant, he doesn’t enjoy a lot of the Hollywood lifestyle. Those things can all be true and he can still present himself as we know he is, which is as a very emotionally intelligent and genuinely sweet person. We see that in him day-to-day with how he interacts with people, and then you get him in certain interview contexts and suddenly he sounds like a bit of an asshole with a superiority complex because he doesn’t drink wine or like nice things.

The irony of Louis’ image is that he wants to convince you that he’s just 100% a lad and that what you see is what you get when that’s actually not true at all. He’s so much more complex than he presents himself a lot of the time, and you just have to ask certain questions or watch him interact with people to see the truth of who he is, which is as far from an asshole as someone could be.

The indie scene isn’t going to accept him no matter how many times he says he hates posh restaurants and doesn’t drink prosecco and is such a Donny boy, so he might as well try just being himself and making the music he wants to make without the over-the-top attempts to show a one-dimensional image.

[hekateinhell]

As someone who is interested and knowledgeable in psychology, can you comment on how you think vampire psyche is different from human psyche? I’m always curious like... could you pavlov condition a vampire? Would therapy work on them, since their brain is kinda frozen in time? Just anything you find interesting regarding this topic, please share!!

Disclaimer time: I don't practice as a psychologist or psychiatrist (lol that's more years of a Ph.D. or med school than I'm willing/able to do anytime soon). Whatever I say is just based on what I know from my psychotherapy courses and what I've learned over the years in relation to treatment models, behavior patterns, and mental health conditions (basically, whatever would bring someone to a clinical counselor's office). Also, these are fictional vampires, and Anne didn't really get into their psychology much, so take this with a grain of salt - it's just for fun!

I do think the vampire psyche would be extremely different from a human’s! Fanon aside, there’s no real way to quantify hundreds and thousands of years of experience (suffering, loving, so on) into one human lifetime. Attributing the labels we use for ourselves in terms of diagnoses, sexuality, monogamy, etc., doesn’t make sense to me from that standpoint. I feel like when a vampire starts noticeably exceeding the range of the average human lifespan (let’s say 150 years, for argument’s sake) - their view of themselves and others would evolve beyond what we can condense into our nice, neat little boxes.

That said, we know in real-life that trauma has a measurable impact on our brains, even more so in childhood, which can affect what would be deemed "typical" brain development. I'll use Armand and Lestat as examples because I think this can be applied to both their human experiences. (And Armand is my favorite fictional brain in formaldehyde). They both had abusive/traumatic upbringings (in different ways), which would have affected the natural course of their psychological development throughout their childhood and teen years.

Then, to top it off, they both got turned at an age before their minds fully finished developing (this happens around 25 years). We know their minds are never going to finish growing. It’s evident in some of the characteristic behaviors they exhibit throughout (i.e., their needy, obsessive tendencies read as a very young, trauma-related response), especially when contrasted against a vampire like Louis (who was exactly 25 when he was brought into the Blood).

Would therapy work on them? (Paging Dr. Fareed, vampire psychiatrist). I don't know about therapy, but I like the visual of Marius reading books on child development and cult deprogramming and going WHOOPS FUCKED THAT UP (not right away because this is Marius, after all, but the thoughts would nag eventually). As far as conditioning goes, they all definitely have reinforced patterns established in their relationships, just like we do.

But to answer the broader question (in a more serious way), yes, vampires do have the capacity to change, and we can see this with Lestat, Louis, and Armand especially in their respective arcs throughout the series!

Armand, by his own account, was prone to cycling in and out of what he described as, “an acceptable madness to a state of which I alone knew the dangers,” during his centuries with the cult; Allesandra tells him that he dreams, “the sad dreams, the dreams that precede madness,” (no shit, I wonder why?).

So for Armand to go from the broken cemetery waif Lestat met in the 1700s to being a settled family guy in NYC by the end of the series is an exceptional demonstration of the mental adaptabilities of a vampire. From Prince Lestat:

“Not so savage really,” said Gregory. ‘There is not a single one of us, no matter how old, that does not have a moral heart, an educated heart, a heart that learned to love while human, and a heart that should have learned ever more deeply to love as preternatural.’ Armand looked sad suddenly. ‘Why has it taken me so long?’”

Last, but I'm sure not least, to try to answer Armand’s question - why does it seem to take so long for these vampires to get from Point A to Point B? Aside from the apparent lack of support systems for most of their lives, and really, anything at all that would be helpful, Marius gave us a clue in B&G when he described how vampires process their memories:

“No matter how long we exist, we have our memories. Points in time which time itself cannot erase. Suffering may distort my backward glances, but even to suffering, some memories will yield nothing of their beauty or their splendor. Rather they remain as hard as gems.”

They don’t have the luxury of having their worst memories fuzzy out and become less painful over time, the worst days of their lives will always be as sharp and fresh as when they first happened.

Ow.

Bummer note to end on, but hey... they all lived happily ever after?

[sunshinebarbie95]

There is no character in the gossip girl fandom that is hated more than Serena van der woodsen even though there are characters who are 1000% more toxic and have done much worse(Blair and chuck looking at you two toxic twerps) so I decided to take some of the most common arguments on why Blair stans think Serena is worse than Blair and bring responses as to how stupid they are. Fair warning you may want to make some popcorn and soda because we could be here a while.

1. Everything is about Serena.

I’m gonna stop you right there because that argument is just stupid. She’s the main character of course most things on the show are about her.

2. Serena was so selfish

Blair threw a tantrum anytime someone complimented Serena or if Serena was in the spotlight and expected Serena to make herself less sparkly so Blair wouldn’t be insecure so Serena’s not the selfish one but Blair certainly is. She also pushed Serena into a fountain just because she thought prince Louis was interested in Serena.

3. Serena was so entitled

Blair literally thought the world revolved around her and only her and expected people to give her what she wanted no matter what because the only thing that mattered was that she got what she wanted

4. Serena is so judgy and acts like she’s better than everyone

Blair literally bullies people who aren’t in her tax bracket and always slut shames other women and has to bring other women down to feel good about herself but Serena is nice to people no matter what tax bracket their in.

5. Serena was so horrible for having sex with Nate while he was with Blair.

Yeah it was horrible what she did and I’m not excusing it but you know who else was involved ? That’s right Nate and he deserves more blame than Serena because Serena didn’t cheat on her partner like Nate did but only Serena gets blamed I mean it takes two to tango so kinda dumb and misogynistic to blame only Serena

6. Serena only apologized after the Nate incident because she got caught

Nate also had months to tell Blair about what happened but didn’t until Serena came back but only Serena gets blamed. Hmmmm

7. Blair owned up to being a bitch so it’s ok that she was a cruel wicked bully

I’m gonna stop you right there because the fact that you are trying to justify bullying shows that you are a walking red flag and Blair never even owned up to anything horrible she did, she just said I’m a bitch and bullied people. She never apologized or tried to be a better person and would only ever apologize if she got caught. Even when Serena had enough of Blair judging and trying to humiliate her Serena (or anyone else for that matter)fought back and gave Blair a taste of her own medicine(which she should) and Blair tried to act like the victim. She can dish it out but can’t take it.

8. Serena is narcissistic and always played the victim.

Serena is far from narcissistic, flawed but genuinely a good person and most of the time she actually was a victim because Blair can’t stand it when Serena is in the spotlight or when anything good happens to Serena. Anytime Serena or anyone calls Blair out for her toxic behavior Blair acts like she’s the victim and everyone else is wrong.

9. Serena ruined Blair’s chance of going to Yale.

That is not even remotely close to what happened. Serena initially turned down the invitation to Yale and was even trying to be civil towards Blair but Blair called Serena dumb even though Serena didn’t do anything to Blair in the first place so Serena had enough of Blair being a bitch and retaliated(as she should) so Blair started that fight and deserved Serena giving her a taste of her own medicine. Serena even gave Blair her spot so Blair could go but Blair ruined that herself by hazing a teacher so that’s Blair’s own dumb fault she didn’t go to Yale not Serena’s

10. Blair had character development and matured while Serena didn’t have any character development

Blair was still a classist bully at the end of the show and even worse she continued to bully even as a grown woman.

11. Serena went after everything that Blair wanted and only got those things because she’s rich

Not what happened and even if it did Serena is allowed to be interested in the same activities Blair doesn’t own them. Serena is also interested in some of the same activities as Blair and the people in charge thought Serena was a good candidate which is why they chose her it’s not Serena’s fault people thought she was a better fit than Blair.

12. Serena tried to sabotage Blair and dans relationship in season 5

Blair literally did the same thing to chuck in season 4 with Eva so kinda dumb to only blame Serena.

13. Serena only cared about guys,dated so many guys and acted to dumb around guys

First off so what if she dated a lot of guys ? Nate dated a lot of girls but I don’t see anyone judging him oh right it’s the misogynistic double standards. Serena didn’t care about just guys she cared about her friends and family. And y’all have a lot of nerve saying Serena acted dumb around guys when Blair was going to marry a man she didn’t love just so she could be a princess while Serena was out in the real world working. And when Blair found out about Serena and Nate having sex she gave Nate a tap on the wrist and tried to destroy Serena which shows how horrible and misogynistic she is and she did the same with Jenny after she found out about Jenny and chuck.she banished Jenny but forgave chuck. Blair just reeks of internalized misogyny

14. Serena was such a bitch to Blair

Nope that’s what you may call it but people with brain cells call it Serena not putting up with Blair being a bitch to her. In many scenes Blair is the one who starts fights with Serena because Blair a petty, selfish entitled brat and Serena takes the high road trying to end the fight it’s only after Blair continues to be a bitch to her that Serena has had enough so she fights back and retaliates (as she should)

Sorry about that long post so in conclusion Serena really isn’t a horrible person and doesn’t deserve the hate she gets. Basically Blair was a mean, selfish, spoiled brat to Serena throughout 95% of the show. And Serena didn’t let Blair get away with it.

[anne-i-write]

moriarty the patriot headcannons pt. 1

| requested by anon: Can you write about all male characters in moriarty has a same look of their  children and hpw many children they want? |

william x reader; louis x reader; albert x reader; sebastian x reader; fred x reader

word count: 2397

pt. 2: 221b boys

a/n: I DONT KNOW WHY I DIDNT WRITE THIS EARLIER IM SO SORRY THIS REQUEST HAS LITERALLY BEEN IN MY INBOX FOR SO LONG I AM SO SORRY I HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS

william: 487 words

with his whole plan to clean the world of the filthy nobles, william never really stopped to think about having children

well, until he met you

you both were in town one day and he saw you fondly watching a child speak with her mother

“i think two children would be nice”

“i didn’t even ask”

“i know, but the look you gave that mother was telling enough”

n e ways he is a simp and he did eventually give you what you wanted

fast forward a few years, you have two children: a boy and a girl

and they look exactly like their father

like,, it lowkey pains you how much they physically take after their father

you wanted to be like “oh they have your personality, but they look just like me!”

no

granted, your son took after you in an emotional sense but your daughter was a daddy’s girl through and through

like she looks like him, she acts like him, speaks like him, she even EATS like him

ok but the men w your children

fred is a freaking sweetheart ok

like he’ll watch over the kids when no one has the time and they love him too so they’ll help out in the garden which you are SO thankful for

tbh they only like uncle albert bc he brings them lil trinkets from when he gets back from london LMAO

louis doesn’t show it, but he absolutely adores your children and makes extra snacks for them at tea time

you caught onto this at one point bc for some REASON your kids would not stop bouncing off of the walls before bed and they told you uncle louis gave them chocolate

and sebastian loves messing w your kids bc,,, sebastian

but he accidentally made your son cry ONCE and he was at the mercy of every adult in the moriarty estate including the boy’s younger sister

needless to say, he watched his actions and words around your children after that

now, william

i’m just gonna say this straight out: most of the men never really thought about having kids (save john and albert)

but when you finally had kids, william had a different outlook on life

like fr,, this man works overtime now trying to get rid of the filth that is called nobles

he doesn’t want his kids to be raised in a world where just because you have more money than another means you get to look down on them

you still instill in them those good morals ofc

he also tries to be very present in their lives since he and his brother were raised as orphans

when he was younger, he didn’t mind it all much

but now that he had this small family and a brighter future, he did everything in his power to make sure they’re happy and grow up in a cleaner and kinder world

louis: 320 words

it took you a week to get him to at LEAST humor you

“if you could, how many kids do you want?”

“none”

like, this guy is so dedicated to his brother and his cause it is a WONDER you somehow wormed your way into his heart

but you did and honestly, the brothers are actually very happy that you’re with them

william especially

louis rarely emotes but when you came into their lives, you got louis pissed at one point and everyone was like,,,, wtf?? he has emotions???

anyways, his answer is one kid LMAO

and when you get that one kid, he looks just like louis

yall already KNOW that he’s ready to die for that child as soon as louis holds him in his arms

the only kid sebastian wouldnt even try to mess with

he can deal with william’s albert’s or fred’s kids but louis lowkey intimidates him so he’s as nice as he can be

that being said, louis teaches his kid how to properly handle stuff around the house

you want to cry bc ur son is just so??? the little kid just loves helping out no matter how small the task and he’s just so cute it hurts

even sebastian’s kinda like,, “aight he’s the only kid i will tolerate”

louis grew up with only his brothers so he also wants to give his son a shot at a normal family

is actually aware at how he thinks he’s indispensable for william’s cause and he doesn’t want his son to end up like him

he also teaches his son some badass fighting moves

oh and louis smiles a lot more too

cried bc his son saw the scar he got on his cheek, rubbed some dirt on his lil face and said “i have daddy’s cool scar now”

all in all his son is the best thing to happen to all of you

albert: 505 words

same as louis in the fact that it takes him a week to answer

“you know you haven’t even answered my question”

“i’m sorry, what did you say?”

“how many kids do you want?”

genuinely takes time to ponder that question

he hadn’t thought of that since his family adopted william and louis

but with you?

“i think two darling girls who take after their mother is enough for me”

pls he’d be so sweet 🥺🥺🥺

you two end up having a girl and a boy, who look just like their father

and tbh, you’re not even mad

you love them so much so when albert comes back north, the three of you are ecstatic

the happiness was short lived for albert tho

he found his son spending time with william and there’s nothing bad right????

“where’s your sister?”

“she’s with mr. moran”

his heart DROPPED

out of all the people in the manor

HIM

he sees the two running around the garden

it all happened as soon as albert’s daughter went up to sebastian and said “you’re very pretty! you’re my knight now!”

he decided to “adopt” the little girl and now he’s lowkey whipped

you found albert staring at sebastian playing with his daughter and updated him about everything going on

“but him??”

“he’s just a big softie for her let it go”

isn’t really surprised when he finds out they can fight a little

actually glad that they can hold their own, God forbid anything happens to them

otherwise mi6 has to deal w family matters lmao

“albert, she only tripped”

“you shouldve seen the fear in her eyes as she fell”

“IT WAS A STRAY COBBLESTONE”

would raise hell if anyone even THOUGHT ill of his kids

william and louis are the doting uncles

william more so than louis bc your kids have never seen louis smile

now they’re on a mission to make uncle louis smile

louis was on child duty one day and they managed to slip away

omyGOD he was stressed but also,, extremely worried

so when he found them he had the most genuine smile on his face

your daughter was like (・∀・)

she loves uncle louis

ofc your son adores his dad like,,, who else wouldn't feel awesome at the age of 10 if you found out your dad was a high ranking general

feels superior to sebastian bc of his dad

lmao this 4’5 kid thinks he can rule sebastian for some odd reason

the house is always dirty bc him and sebastian always prank each other

your daughter is trying to catch a butterfly but she can’t so fred helps

instantly loves fred

“is that what heartbreak is”

“i guess that’s what happens when you try to get close to my kids colonel”

albert is kind of afraid of turning into his dad but he has you and everyone else to remind him that: no you are not your father, you are so much better than him

loves your family with his entire being

sebastian: 844 words

“i see you looking at those kids and the answer is none”

lmao you’ll get so pouty around him bc you want kids dammit

that and he spoils you to no end so that's why you’re pouty lol

“fine we’ll only do one kid and bc one kid is all i can tolerate”

bruh

this man gives you three in four years LMFAO

two boys a year apart and a girl in the fourth year

you wanted to smack sebastian

when the two boys grew up, it was obvious they were already taking after their father in the physical sense

it was terrifying

they genuinely look like mini sebastians and you know everyone in the manor is afraid that you two birthed satan

and the satan was your eldest one

he’s just a feral sebastian moran in a tiny body

your second son, god bless him, looked just like his father but with fred’s temperament

and see, you were fine with your sons looking like their father

it was FINE right

you prayed to God that your third child would have at least some physical resemblance to you

your daughter was birthed, she grew up

and you cried

“HOW DO THEY ALL LOOK LIKE YOU”

“i’ve got some strong genetics, baby”

you sulk for a lil bit

but you accept it anyway because you love your goddamn kids

thankfully, your second and youngest child are both soft spoken and it's only your husband and his tiny clone bringing hell to earth

smacking sebastian bc all of your children suddenly started swearing up a storm at each other

“WHYD YOU HIT ME”

“YOURE THE ONLY ONE WHO SWEARS AROUND THE KIDS”

finally sitting down and trying to convince them to stop swearing

“father does it!”

“your father’s stupid”

speaking of your daughter

she’s his little princess and no he will not take criticism

spoils her more than he spoils you

did she glance at a toy at a passing store?

he buys more toys than he should from said store

you have to physically hide some of his money bc there is only so much you can buy

and her older brothers are so caring you want to sob

if a person accidentally shoved her over bc she was tiny and they couldn’t see her

oh boy

get ready to restrain them like chihuahuas

“little sister will be protected at all costs”

since his second son is so different from him, sebastian actively makes time to talk about what the little boy is doing and what he’s getting from it

doesn’t want to be pushy and suffocating like his dad was so when his younger kid does want to be left alone to his devices, sebastian does so

but honestly loves that your second son is so literate

lddhsajdsfk what yall dont know is that they’re all in cahoots

kinda funny to see them all together bc they all take after their father so much it's like having three tiny sebastians go around town

anyways,,,, yall know the promised neverland right

you got ray, norman, and emma

granted one of them wasn’t as smart as ray but he definitely knew what stealth was

regular sibling rivalry was still a thing but if they could smell the pudding from the kitchen, they know they have to work together

sebastian caught his eldest smuggling biscuits into a small bag

he had half a mind to scold him

but then he ended up giving tips TO ALL HIS CHILDREN on how not to get caught next time—

bc of this they beg him to tell them some stories from afghanistan bc “there’s no way a man as old as dad knows this many stealth tactics”

louis is so fed up lmao

albert is in london most of the time so he just thanks the lord that he doesn’t have to deal w the propaganda that sebastian feeds his children about how “mr. albert is a bad man”

william is fine w it as long as they don’t trash the library

your younger ones love the library so they would cry at the thought of one of the books losing any of the pages

your second and your daughter are definitely the moriartys’ favorites

they don’t show it, but you just KNOW

your eldest could care less about that though

as long as you and his father still love him

and of course you both do

and fred is definitely your youngers favorite

they like to hang out in the garden

ok they still fight all the time though

just because your second child is soft spoken doesn't mean he’s afraid to throw hands

their sister likes to join in for the hell of it

but if someone wrongs any of the children

just because the younger ones are the moriartys’ favorite, doesn’t mean that they’re not gonna hunt someone down if they even think about trying to hurt the eldest too

yeah,,, good luck to them and their families

they got the entire moriarty estate coming after them

fred: 241 words

cmon yall are like,, young

but you did ask him bc you were curious if he thought about it

he wants one

and when yall do have the kid, you guys actually do have one kid and its a girl

since you both are young, you can immediately see a resemblance between her and her father

everyone who meets her would die for her

ABSOLUTE CUTIE

especially when she walks around the garden w her hand in her dad’s and he’s showing her all the plants and telling her how to take care of them

needless to say she grows up loving plants

any type of plant

the boys love giving her flowers or anything from bc she has the biggest smile every single time

no matter if it’s just a single rose or a rock

this was found out one time when sebastian gave her a rock bc everyone else had given her like,, two roses each

was afraid she was gonna cry

“thank you so much mr. moran! i will treasure this until i get old!”

she was like 4 at the time

and had the widest smile you’ve ever seen on her

guys u don’t understand she smiles a lot but this was like,, genuine happiness

but everyone was just,, i will destroy the world and myself if anything happens to her

fr it’s just sunshines and rainbows every single time she’s around

everyone just loves her ok

moriarty the patriot general taglist: @zoehanji

[thestarrynightslover]

I'll Make It Okay for You - Part 1

Pairing: Harvey Specter x Reader

Word count: 3,666

Warnings: Discussion, yelling, some angst, mentions of drugs, and drug abuse. 

Summary: What happens when (y/n) (y/l/n), Harvey’s secret crush and a junior partner at his firm, openly defies him in front of everyone?

You can find Part 2 here.

Disclaimer: I don’t own the show Suits, or its characters, also not associated with it in any way or know anyone involved with it.

A/N: So, this is my first Harvey Specter fic and I’m obviously quite unsure about it, lol. This might’ve ended up like one big mess, cause I tried to combine a bunch of Harveys I wanted to see. The perfect recipe for disaster, right? Anyways, I hope it doesn’t suck too bad and, please, feel free to give me feedback, cause I’m also here to learn!!

(y/n) = (your name) (y/l/n) = (your last name) (y/n/n) = (your nickname)

| masterlist |

You’d barely stepped out of the elevator when you were met by your secretary that morning. That couldn’t mean anything good.

“Morning, (y/n/n). You’ve got an emergency meeting with Jessica today. Gonna give you the schedule on the way there.” Lucy stated, leading you on the opposite way to Jessica’s office.

“Oh, I got the memo; company’s under attack again. She wants me on the frontlines this time. Louis is probably running around saying ‘We’re at war, people, war!!!’, or something like that. But why aren’t we headed towards the boss’ office?”

“Apparently, uh, she wants y’all to convey at Harvey’s office.” She said hesitantly, as if afraid of your reaction.

“Are you kidding me? It’s the first hour of the morning and she wants me to go see that smug face of his?” You pouted childishly.

“Smug and hot, you mean.” Lucy corrected you, getting an outraged look from you in response, as she usually would by saying anything positive about Specter.

“Shush,” You said, motioning for her to stop talking, “ one shall not praise Harvey Annoying Specter around me.” You stated full of obstination, but the younger woman just laughed you off and said:

“Well, here we are. I guess I’ll just have to send you an e-mail with your schedule, since, once again, we spent our schedule minutes of the day talking about “the enemy”.” She mocked with gestures and everything this time. That Lucy really was a piece of work, she timed the whole thing perfectly, in a way that you couldn’t even repudiate her insinuations because you were already standing in front of Specter’s office door.

Not long after you had entered and Jessica had officially started the strategy-meeting, though, all eyes in the room turned to you, as your phone started ringing in your back pocket. "Shit! I'm- I'm so sorry, guys, I guess I-"

"Can you please take your job seriously for once in your life, (y/l/n)?" You heard Harvey Pain-In-The-Ass Specter rudely remark, as you tried to swallow your embarrassment.

“Well, like I was trying to say, I’m sorry. Gonna turn it off right now, won’t happen again.” You said, directing your apologetic look to Jessica.

“You should just go ahead and answer it, could be something important.” She calmly told you.

“Especially now that you’ve already interrupted our work.” Specter chipped in again, which just gave you more fuel to answer the goddamn phone.

“Hello, yeah this is her.” You confirmed to the man on the phone, while taking a few steps towards the corner of the room. “What??? Are you sure? Oh my God! O- okay, just tell me which one and I’ll be there as soon as possible! Right, thank you.” Everyone’s eyes were on you, trying to understand what made you look so distressed. Except his, of course.

“Wait a second. Are you leaving right now?” He asked with a mix of annoyance and irritation in his voice.

“Yes, I am. I’m sorry, Jessica, but this is a family emergency. I have to go.”

“Well, I just hope you know that this doesn’t look good for you, (y/n).” She said, voice inexpressive.

“I do and, honestly? I couldn’t care less about that right now.” You firmly told her, while hoping your career wasn’t over by the next morning.

“I hope everything goes well for you and your family, (y/n). If you need anything, and I mean anything, just let me know.” Louis told you with that childish smile of his. Jesus, even in a moment like this, he tried to flirt with you.

“Thank you, Louis. That’s very kind.” You faked a tiny smile.

“Unbelievable.” 

“What?” You asked, turning back to face Harvey.

“Your firm is under attack and you’re leaving because of some stupid family crap?” Was he even serious?

“Precisely. And I don’t really care what your thoughts are on it. Our priorities are clearly very different.” Who the hell did he think he was to say anything about your family’s issues?

“Well, that shouldn’t matter because, the minute you walk in here, through those elevators out there, you’re supposed to leave all things personal behind.”

“Oh, right. I’m so sorry that I’m not some heartless lawyer like you, who’s just in it for the petty fights in the name of money-making.” Shit. You needed to get the hell out of there before you said something else to make Specter wanna kick you out himself. So you did. Stormed out like there was no tomorrow, leaving nothing but the very shocked Donna, Jessica, Louis, Mike, and Rachel behind. Oh, yeah, and a very pissed-off Harvey Specter.

Okay, maybe you were a little too harsh, but given the place you needed to go, to do what you needed to do, you didn't care about Harvey, your job, or anything else.

---

It was much later on that same day, around dinner time, that you heard a soft knock on your door. But how could someone be at your door, if the doorman downstairs hadn't announced any visitors? Were you dreaming? Well, the day had been so tiring that that wasn't exactly impossible… Nonetheless, you made your way to the door, whilst holding your very needy three-year-old nephew in your arms. Not that you could blame Henry after the day he’d had.

Since you weren’t expecting anyone, it was reasonable to believe that, whoever it was, was going to be a surprise. But not in a million years would have you ever guessed that Harvey Specter was the one knocking at your door. Especially considering what had happened at the firm earlier. How did he even know your address?

“Hi, (y/l/n). I didn’t know you had a kid.” He stated with a bit of surprise of his own, pointing to the little boy you were carrying.

“No, uh, I don’t have any.” You managed to say, trying to control your shocked expression. “This is my nephew.” You clarified again, a little more at ease this time.

“My name’s Henry. What’s yours?” You heard your nephew ask with his cute child-voice.

“Harvey. It’s, uh, it’s very nice to meet you, Henry.” Harvey told the boy, holding out his hand for him to shake, as a sweet smile came to his lips.

“Is he your friend, auntie (y/n/n)?” Henry asked you hesitantly, before making a move. The Don’t Talk to Strangers Rule must’ve kicked in his mind. 

Before answering him, you hesitated a little bit yourself, though. Was Harvey your friend? Obviously not, but if he came to your apartment in the middle of the night like this, it was probably because of something important. Work-related, of course. Which meant you’d have to let him in, so you settled for what would be the easiest classification for a three-year-old.

“Yeah, bud, he is my friend from work.” Hearing that, something in Specter’s eyes changed, you didn’t really know what, though.

“Well, then, can he come play with us?” He gave you such a cute look, that you almost said yes right on cue. But you obviously couldn’t. 

“You’d have to ask him, but I’m sure he has a lot of other, more important, things to do now.” You tried to explain to the little boy, giving Harvey a look. But you didn’t get too far, as the lawyer quickly said:

“Of course I wanna go play with you! That is if your auntie’s okay with that…” Now he was mocking you, that was the only explanation.

“Can we play with him, then, auntie (y/n/n)? Please, please, please?” God, what horrible thing could’ve you possibly done to deserve this particular punishment?

“Um, I guess... If he really has nothing better to do-” Harvey didn’t even let you finish your sentence.

“I really don’t.” He said, shooting you and Henry a bright smile that you’d never seen before.

“Okay, then, come in. Please disregard the mess, I got this stuff to make dinner, but someone just won’t detach, right, mister?” You asked your nephew with fake annoyance in your voice, as you tickled his sides a little bit. He just laughed at you. Though what really caught your attention was the fact that Harvey, too, was chuckling lightly at the scene, as he started picking up your groceries’ bags from the floor. “What are you doing?”

“Helping you, what else?” You gave him a weird look because, well, it was a weird situation. Maybe he noticed your discomfort because he added: “You look tired, so I’ll help you by making dinner and putting the rest of these away.”

“You’re kidding, right?” There was no way in hell that the All-Mighty Harvey Specter was gonna get domestic for you, of all people. Since he didn’t bother to answer, you went on: “First of all, what was it that you really came here to do, hum? And, second, I don’t need your help with anything.” Normally you tried to be kind to everyone, but, then again, Specter wasn’t exactly your normal kind of guy.

“Well, first of all,” he started in a tone of mockery, “that was rude! Look at the example you’re setting for little Henry!” Oh God, as much as you hated to admit it, he was kinda right, because you had completely forgotten about the little boy still cradled in your arms. “Second, we can talk about the reason why I came here later,” after your nephew’s asleep, was implicit in his speech, “third, it looks like you do need some help. And, for your luck, I happen to be a very good cook when I want to.”

“But-” You could barely begin your sentence, as Harvey sharply cut you off:

“You see, buddy,” he started, motioning to Henry this time, “the quicker we get your auntie on board with the game plan, the quicker we’ll get to eat and go play together!” Son of a bitch! Using a child to get to you…

“Can we please, auntie? Please?” How could you not crack after that pleading?

“Fine, but I swear I’ll make you pay if we wake up with food poisoning tomorrow, Specter.” You told him playfully, trying to lighten the mood after all of your bluntness.

“Oh, trust me, (y/l/n), you won’t. This will be the best meal you and the young man here will ever have in your entire lives.” He said cockily, but without the usual arrogance level, if that even makes sense.

A few hours and a really great dinner later, you and Henry couldn’t help but snicker shamelessly at Harvey’s ridiculous faces, as the three of you played a game on your living room’s floor. Trying to catch your breath from your giggles, you glanced up at the clock and realized that it was way too late for your nephew to be out of bed like that. So you broke up the game, announcing:

“It’s bedtime for you, Mr. Henry.” You watched the faces of the pair turn into ones of pure disappointment, as they prepared to pout.

“Just a little longer, auntie (y/n/n)! please!” The little boy started.

“Yeah, auntie, just a little longer! Please?” This time it was the grown man, one of the toughest Wall Street lawyers.

“As moved as I am by your synchrony, guys, the answer is a big no. C’mon, bud, let’s go brush your teeth. And then straight to bed. So say bye to Harvey, and thank him for being so nice to us tonight.” He looked between you and Specter as if still hoping for a hail Mary of some sort.

“Bye, Harvey.” He sounded so sad, but then he smiled brightly again, as he repeated what you’d told him to say word by word: “And thank you for being so nice to us tonight.” Hearing that, both you and Harvey chuckled lightly at the young boy, who quickly added: “Will you come see us tomorrow too?”

“Uh, we’ll, uh, we’ll see about that, okay, little man?” He tried to let Henry down slowly but, watching the boy’s expression become a sad one instantly, he added: “It’s just because both your auntie and I have a lot of work ahead of us tomorrow, but I’ll do my best, okay?” That was definitely a side of Harvey you’d never seen before, he had even bent down to be on your nephew’s level.

“Okay.” Henry said quietly, seeming to be a little happier, too.

“Okay, then let’s just go upstairs already.” You took the boy’s hand to guide him towards the spare bedroom’s bathroom, all the while shooting Specter a look that told him to wait for you a little longer.

“I’ll wait for you down here.” He said, proving he understood what your eyes tried to transmit.

So you headed upstairs with your nephew and, after a good fifteen minutes of brushing Henry’s teeth, helping him into his PJs, and tucking him in, you finally managed to come back to the living room, where you found Harvey looking through some of your photos displayed on the sideboard. For a minute or two, you just watched him. It wasn’t that you liked what you saw or anything. It wasn’t. It was more like postponing the weird conversation you two were bound to have, because, after all that had happened in those few hours, the atmosphere was, at very least, a strange one. But, almost as if he’d felt your gaze on his back, the lawyer in him was switched on, and he interrupted your thoughts by saying:

“Ah, you’re back. Good, because we need to talk.” You just motioned for him to follow you into your home office. But both you and Harvey looked so informal to be in that kind of environment, that you just indicated the small couch on the wall opposite to your desk for you to take your seats in.

“So, uh, before you even say anything, I wanna thank you for being so kind tonight,” a small smile came to your lips, as you remembered, not only the evening but how your nephew had used almost those exact same words, already imitating you, a little earlier. Specter smiled too, you noticed. “and I also wanna apologize. If you came here to talk to me… I must’ve made you waste a lot of time, huh?” You tried with a half-smile this time, as embarrassment started taking over you.

“What? No, of course not! I'm pretty sure that I told you I didn't have anything better to do, didn't I?" He calmly asked with a smile.

"Yeah, but I'm not buying it. You're Harvey Specter, isn't that what you're always saying? And Harvey Specter always has something better to do, isn't that right?" You shot back in a mockery tone, regaining your confidence.

"Well, maybe. But, not today. So don't apologize, and don't thank me. I'm the one who should be thanking you, I had a really good time tonight." Okay, now you were shocked. He had a good time?

"Uh, okay, um, so... What was so urgent that you had to come here in the middle of the night?" You nervously ranted, while tugging your hair behind your ears. He just stared at you, so much so that you almost repeated your question.

"Um, yeah, about this morning… That's why I came here…" You were already guessing that that would come up eventually, but it was the topic of your conversation? "I know that you and I always had our differences, and maybe even some rivalry-"

"Some rivalry? Dude, I'm just a junior partner, and ever since I started on that firm you've been persecuting me-"

"I wouldn't say persecuting…"

"Oh, you wouldn't?"

"Not since you made junior partner anyways. Now it's just a healthy rivalry between work friends…" He tried to use what you’d told your nephew earlier. 

"Oh, so you do admit you were persecuting me when I was an associate, huh?"

"Shit." He muttered quietly, as you watched him with a victory smile on your lips. "You know what? Hell yeah, I did persecute you when you were an associate." Hearing that blunt admission of guilt, you just couldn't find anything to say. “You wanna know why? I did that because, from the first time I saw you doing your job, I saw this very thing that I see now: you kicking ass, you think I wanted to admit this to you? I’ll answer it myself: no, I didn’t. The only reason why it happened is that you led me to it.” He blurted out, completely knocking you off your socks.

“So, um, you treated, you treat me like shit because, um, because I’m good?” You asked, still unsure of what to think about his confession.

“Well, that was part of it, sure. So, you see, I could understand it when you weren’t particularly thrilled at the perspective of working with me. But, this morning, you said that I’m a heartless guy who only cares about money… Is that really what you think of me?” This time he sounded genuinely sad? When Harvey said that he’d come to your apartment to talk about that morning, you thought he was gonna reprimand the shit out of you for disrespecting him ⎯ your sort of boss, a senior partner ⎯, but, apparently, he was asking about it on a more personal level. A level you’d never really thought played a part in your relationship with him.

“Oh, Harvey…”

“Be honest, please. I don’t want your pity. You don’t even know me all that well, so don’t try to minimize anything. I can take it.”

“That’s not what I was gonna do. And, trust me, you’re probably the last person in the world I’d pity.” You told him with a sly smile. “You’re right. I don’t know you all that well. Or, at least, I didn’t this morning. But I do know that you’re not heartless. Also, I was really out of line then, I’ve seen you fighting tooth and nail for a lot more than just money in that firm. You’re loyal to your firm and friends like no one else and, tonight, I watched you sitting on the floor and playing with a little boy. And, trust me, that meant more to him than you’d ever know, especially after today… Anyways, what I’m really trying to say is that I was so damn wrong and that I’m sorry. I’d gotten some pretty nerve-racking news beforehand, not that that’s an excuse but...” You told him, meaning every word and trying hard to show how much you regretted your previous actions.

“Wait, what news?”

“Ah, it’s nothing for you to worry about, really.” You tried to brush him off.

“Oh, c’mon! You said all those nice things about me, but when it comes to your life and your problems you still don’t trust me, isn’t that right?” His tone was sharply inexpressive, but his eyes showed he was actually hurt.

“What are you talking about? Oh my God, Harvey! I’ve relied on you for a number of cases that I really cared about! I let you in on my apartment! I let you spend an entire night around my nephew! Of course, I trust you!”

“Then what the hell is the problem? You think I’m not gonna give a damn about your family issues? Is that it? Because I am literally begging you to tell me about them!”

“I don’t wanna tell you because I don’t want you, or anyone else on the firm, to think that I’m some pathetic little girl who uses her family issues as an excuse to get out of a tough fight.” You confessed in a lower tone, slightly embarrassed, just hoping he would understand and stop poking. “Things are very different when you’re a woman, you know…”

“I would never think that about you. Family is important. Especially if it’s made of people like Henry…” He said, reassuring you, even though there was a hint of sadness in his voice. “Besides, you said you trust me, so you need to trust me when I say that I wouldn’t betray you by telling people about your problems. I’m not here as your boss, (y/n). I just wanna help you.” He sounded so sincere and, if you were being honest with yourself, you kinda really needed to vent.

“Okay, um, where to start? I have two sisters: Henry’s mother, Kat, and a fifteen-year-old, Lisa. I’m the older one of all three of us. Lisa’s sick, like very sick, so my parents, who are both retired, are with her at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, to try and get her better. In the meantime, Kat was supposed to go to college, as well as care for her son, between my parents and me, she wouldn’t even need to provide for them or anything. But, a while ago, she overdosed for the first time. That’s when we found out about her addiction. We’ve already tried a million different things but nothing works. So, my parents and I threatened to make her lose her parental rights over Henry, hoping that it’d be a wake-up call for her, but it backfired. She just took the boy and disappeared, then today I get that call, from the police department, saying that she was in custody for drug distribution and endangering the well-fare of a minor. They asked me to go pick my nephew and, maybe, get Kat a lawyer.” And, just like that, you’d told Harvey Specter, of all people, everything. Tears rolling down your cheeks and him pulling you into a hug.

If anyone had told you that that was how your night was gonna go, you would have definitely laughed them out of the room. But now, just sitting there, being held and caressed by Harvey, as you let your armor down, it was finally beginning to look like things were gonna be okay. 

[meetmymouth]

AUBADE ; HARRY STYLES

WORD COUNT: 12k

warnings: smut, smoking, alcohol consumption.

thank you @harryandhockey​ and @burberryharold​ for beta-ing this baby, you guys are the sweetest angels! 

When the doorbell goes off for the third time that night, she groans and tosses the lipstick on her bed, then makes her way towards the door. Through the stained glass, she sees a tall figure and rolls her eyes.

“Look, this is the third time- oh. It’s you.”

The blonde raises her eyebrows, “Who were you expecting? Also wow, I feel so welcome, thank you.”

“Sorry,” the door closes behind Charlotte, and they walk inside.

Once in the tiny kitchen, kettle already on, she takes time to coat her eyelashes with mascara.

“Who did you think I was, that was quite the welcome.”

“Couple of girls kept knocking on the door. Something about a survey. I’ve no idea. Hey, can you help me put this on?” She takes a necklace out of her jean pocket and hands it over.

It’s Thursday, which means happy hour at their local pub and after that, they’d take N31 towards Camden to listen to a friend of Charlotte’s, an upcoming indie artist. She usually didn’t like going out on weekdays since she worked 8 to 4 and she would need to wake up at 6AM sharp to get ready and leave her flat for her Friday shift. But ever since Charlotte started working for the touring musician Harry Styles, they saw each other twice- once when they toured England and the second one being right before Charlotte left for tour. Being close friends since school, it was safe to say that she felt her absence and missed her friend dearly but were also so proud of her for everything she’d achieved.

So when Charlotte came home during their break, she wanted to spend as much time as possible with her friend and if it meant spending her Friday shift hungover while cleaning up animal urine and puke from all kinds of animals, then so be it.

“There,” Charlotte pats her on the neck after she clasps the necklace and she turns around, hand reaching to turn the kettle off.

“Ta. When are we leaving? And do you think I should go for my Adidas or the boots?” She points at the heeled boots, half white half black by the kitchen entrance and Charlotte follows her gaze as she sips the hot beverage.

She looks at the boots, then her, then the boots again, “The boots for fuckin’ sure. They’re sick- where’d you get them?”

“Depop,” She lets out a chuckle, “Think they’re Topshop, ‘m not sure. Should we leave? Y’know I walk dead slow and now that I’m wearin’ the boots…”

“You really do...go get your shit, I’ll wash this.”

They’re gathered around a round table, the green paint of the wooden table beginning to chip, and everyone’s got drinks of their own, G&T being the most popular choice. There are only five of them, Charlotte, her, Phoebe and her girlfriend Jamie, and they’re chatting about anything and everything until Charlotte turns to her, straw between her red lips.

“So-”

“Oh dear, what have you done,” she cuts her off and earns a glare from her, and from the corner of her eye, she sees Phoebe and Jamie cross their arms as if they’re getting ready for their usual bickering.

“Fuck you,” Charlotte sighs, “I didn’t do anything. I just invited some more people to Julien’s show and wanted to...kinda ask if that’s alright with you”

“Oh,” she looks around the table, finding the other girls looking at their phones and she turns to Charlotte, “It’s fine. Who are they?”

Phoebe snorts at that and her eyebrows raise in question. She gives Phoebe a look, but Charlotte’s quicker as she throws a damp tissue at the blonde and Jamie laughs when it lands back on Charlotte’s lap. “You know Sarah from the band?”

“Oh, yeah!”

She remembers meeting Sarah at Charlotte’s new flat after she moved to London, the brunette bringing a cute snake plant and a weird- but cute tea set as a housewarming gift and they got on well. They talked about plants, Sarah giving her tips on how to keep certain plants alive, and she asked her lots of questions about her experience being a woman, especially a drummer in the music industry. Sarah was very soft spoken; she spoke as if she was talking to a baby, but she always made sure to maintain eye contact when she was having a conversation with you, listening and nodding when appropriate so that you felt special and...understood. She was lovely, which was why she found it weird how Charlotte was acting awkward about her joining them tonight.

“And her boyfriend, Mitch, of course,” Charlotte adds and she nods, motioning for her to keep going. “And Harry.”

“Harry Styles?”

“Oh boy,” Jamie whistles.

“Obviously,” Charlotte sucks on her straw, slurping her drink, “Yeah, him,” she repeats, this time softer.

“I...why?” She chooses to ask, surprised as she’d like to think Harry Styles as this unreachable, ever-so-busy person who wouldn’t be interested in a night out like this. She turns to Phoebe, and then Jamie, and they respond with a shrug as Phoebe goes back to cuddling into Jamie’s side.

“What do you mean why?” Charlotte places her drink on the table, “It would be rude not to since I asked Sarah and Mitch.”

“Well, I just mean, isn’t he busy?”

Jamie whistles again and sings her name, “You got a crush, babes?”

“Nonsense, never even met the guy- which,” she looks around the table, “-is one of the reasons why I was confused. Anyway, it doesn't matter,” she shrugs and turns to Charlotte, “I’m not bothered, Lotts, it’s totally fine.”

“Y’sure?”

She gives her a nod, “I just find him intimidating and don’t think he’d be into indie, that’s all.”

It was true. Despite having not met Mr. Harry Styles, deep down she knew he’d be intimidating because he was so good looking and well, just like most people, she loved One Direction. She was a big fan, she even got told off by her stepmother once when she was younger because apparently the tape she used to hang her One Direction posters was ruining the walls. She often referred to them as twinks, and she didn’t even know what it meant until she was older. She remembers how she got made fun of at sixth form because one of the girls found her old Tumblr and told everyone about it. Harry’s never been her favourite though. Not because she didn’t find him attractive, not at all. It was because he was too attractive and was everyone’s favourite so whenever asked, she’d shrug and tell people how she found Louis funny, and then Zayn because ’he’s the hottest’.

Long story short, despite her friendship with Charlotte, she’d never met Harry, never had the opportunity to attend one of his shows because she was either too busy or they were playing in a different country and she simply couldn’t afford it. So tonight would be the first time they’d get to be in the same place and to say that she was nervous would be an understatement. And her, she always thought she was awkward. Way too awkward for social gatherings but she liked going out regardless, drinking cheap alcohol and dancing to shitty songs in an equally shitty pub. She loved being a student. Loved the freedom the title had given her. What’s your occupation, she’d get asked from time to time. Student, she’d say without hesitating. She was a student. She didn’t have to be anything else for three years. Sure, she was also working part time at an animal shelter but for the most part, she loved being a student. That’s how she met Phoebe, and then Jamie. In a way, she was their matchmaker.

She remembers meeting Phoebe last year when they had a class together. She was the first person to smile at her in the overcrowded lecture theatre and she remembers thinking how nice Phoebe’s green fringe looked. Meeting Jamie though, was funny. Phoebe usually got weird when they joked about it since she met Jamie before Phoebe did on Tinder, even went on a date with her, and then right before she was about to ghost her, she thought of how similar Phoebe and Jamie were. It was then that she made Phoebe go on a date with Jamie, and after a month of pining, they got together. Even though they were similar, she always thought that they actually completed each other, Jamie being the logical one and Phoebe encouraging Jamie to let loose from time to time and live in the moment.

Charlotte reaches and boops her nose, “He’s a musician, he loves all kinds of music. He won’t eat you, babe. He’s nice, I promise.”

Phoebe knocks on the wood, getting everyone’s attention, “Can we get a picture with him? An autograph?”

She feels a throbbing pain in her feet, toes in particular once they’re in and they wait for Phoebe and Jamie to buy their drinks, knowing she’d wake up with blisters in the morning. Charlotte takes out her phone and presumably texts the others, letting them know they were already here. She felt nervous. Nervous because she always thought she was rubbish when it came to meeting new people; they either thought she was too intimidating or rude but in reality, it was only because she always felt anxious meeting new people and would rather stay quiet than talking nonsense.

She takes time to analyse her outfit, a pair of black mom jeans and her boots, oh the boots who were currently grilling her feet. Then she tries to adjust her lace bodysuit, all of a sudden feeling super self conscious about the ”revealing” outfit. She adjusts the top, hoping her tits weren’t out before, and sighs when she touches the oversized blazer, rolling up the sleeves a bit more since it was beginning to get warm, too warm for her liking inside. Considering how she often felt self conscious about her arms, she felt more comfortable with the blazer over the sexy bodysuit.

“So,” she starts, eyes studying the crowded bar before her gaze stops at Charlotte, “Are they here?”

Charlotte looks up from her phone and nods, leaning her head on her shoulder. She feels her arm going around her waist and smiles, nudging her head with hers and she looks up, giving her a smile of her own. “What’s up, blondie?” she asks, hand coming up to ruffle Charlotte’s fringe.

She sighs, “Just tired, to be honest. I’m glad I wore trainers.”

“At least one of us is happy about their shoe choice.”

They watch as Phoebe and Jamie walk towards them, the brunette handing her a tall glass as Phoebe hands Charlotte her own drink. “When’s she on?”

Everyone turns to Charlotte, “Half an hour, maybe?”

“When are your friends coming? It’s getting quite...stuffy in here,” Jamie looks around and Phoebe nods, hands going around Jamie’s waist to pull the brunette into her.

“I texted Sarah and she said Harry was parking the car- oh, I see Mitch.”

They all look around, and she spots the tall guy with long hair, walking towards them with Sarah and Harry behind. She gulps and tries to look away, praying that no one takes notice of her sweaty forehead and shaky hands.

As the trio walk towards them, she takes a moment to examine Harry, and his outfit. Even in the dimly lit bar, she’s almost sure the high waisted trousers he has on are navy, and he’s got a tan...or a beige shirt tucked in them, chest on full display and she notices a cross necklace, looking as if it was made for his pretty neck. She clears her throat as quietly as she can and looks down but not before she takes a peek at his shoes, and she almost snorts at the choice of red boots he’s got on, noticing how everyone had trainers on while the two of them had what looked like very uncomfortable boots on.

To be honest, she thinks, he looks pretty good. She looks around them, noticing how most guys had jeans and ugly trainers on whereas Harry looked like he made quite the effort with his outfit but she also knows that even if he turned up in jeans and ugly trainers, he would still look amazing. Damn Harry Styles. Was she blushing?

The three of them are in their space now, close enough so she can make out Sarah’s overpowering perfume, and she clears her throat once again when Charlotte embraces Sarah first, then Mitch. Before she can watch her hug Harry, Sarah’s in front of her.

“Hi,” she smiles, going in for a hug, “It’s so nice to see you again. It’s been a while,” she says and her voice comes out muffled since they’re still hugging and she hopes her hair smells decent because Sarah’s face is pressed against her neck and hair.

“It’s nice to see you too! How have you been?”

“‘Been alright, I suppose!” She beams at her and turns to the man with long hair, “This is Mitch.”

As Sarah introduces everyone with Mitch, she feels Harry’s eyes on her, though she can’t turn her head and meet his gaze because that’d be rude seeing how Mitch is about to reach and give her a one armed hug. Alright then, she thinks, they’re a hugger. Then, it’s Harry’s turn. She looks at him, seeing how his eyes are focused on Phoebe and Jamie as he gives them both a warm smile before Charlotte starts talking again, introducing everyone to Phoebe and Jamie, then everyone turns to her, and she feels her face heat up seeing how everyone’s attention is on her now. She knows it’s her turn.

Harry takes a step forward and her earlier thoughts are confirmed when she can finally make out the colour of his trousers. “Hey, ‘m Harry,” he gives her a smile without waiting for Charlotte to speak, “Nice meeting you,” he comes closer and wraps an arm around her, engulfing her in a hug but it’s definitely different from Mitch or Sarah’s hug. It’s tight, much warmer and he’s got both arms around her, palms flat against her back as he rubs her back.

And of course she responds with the same warmness and hugs him back, “Hiya,” she introduces herself, and once they pull apart, he repeats her name and it sounds like poetry, something so personal and...erotic. But maybe, she thinks, maybe it’s just his deep voice making her feel that way.

Despite the moment they shared, if she could call it that, felt like hours, it was merely a minute. And it wasn’t like in the films where they hug, everything around them slowing down as the people watch in awe. No, not at all. When she looks around, she sees that everyone’s been already mingling, Phoebe and Jamie smiling at each other while they sipped their drinks, and Mitch is nowhere to be seen, possibly at the bar getting drinks.

Harry turns to Charlotte with a grin, “So is she any good, should we replace you with her?” He says, nudging her with his hip.

That sort of makes her smile, seeing Harry so carefree and friendly with the people who are essentially working for him. Even though she doesn’t know Harry Styles like they do, like Charlotte does, she knows he considers these people to be his friends and colleagues rather than his employees. It’s also fun seeing him this friendly with her best friend, and she feels proud, as she always does, knowing Charlotte has made herself great friends and that she clearly enjoys working with these people.

Charlotte nudges him back, “She’s great, I wouldn’t mind being replaced by her. Oh, there she is,” she points at the stage, and everyone turns to look at the pink-haired girl on the tiny stage with a sleek looking acoustic guitar on her side. As the others start talking about Julien, she finally takes the opportunity to look at Harry. Once their eyes meet, he gives her a smile, dimples on full display, and she swears she could see him blush when he looks down after she beamed at him. Even if he did blush though, he recovers quickly when he’s offered a drink and he mutters a thank you to Mitch, then lifts the slice of lime off the rim of his glass and sucks it into his mouth and she deems it as a good time to look away.

And she does, when she feels Sarah close, and she turns to her, Sarah welcoming her with a smile, “How’s uni? It’s your last year, right?”

“Oh, yeah,” she clears her throat, “It’s alright. Exhausting, but alright.”

“You’re working too, right?”

“Yeah, I work at an animal shelter.”

“It must be exhausting.”

“It is,” she gives her a nod, “I work three days a week and I also have classes so I only have Sundays off. I’ll probably leave and focus on uni after Christmas break though, I have my dissertation next semester.”

“Oh, cool! I miss being a student,” she purses her lips and turns to Harry, who had been listening to their conversation, his pretty fingers, most of them adorned with equally pretty rings, wrapped around the tall glass, “You probably can’t relate, H, can ya?”

He rolls her eyes but laughs regardless, “Piss off.”

Despite the chatter around them, it’s not ridiculously loud so they can carry a conversation without having to shout. They fall into an easy conversation, everyone joining in, and all of a sudden a pink neon light falls over them and they all turn to the stage. Julien starts singing, and all the chatter around them dies down, some people already starting to sing the words back at her.

She looks away from the stage for a minute and catches Harry’s gaze from across the room. They’re close enough for her to make out a few droplets of sweat on Harry’s forehead, and their eyes meet as he gives her a smile, eyes sparkling with mischief, then brings the glass up to his mouth. She watches as his top lip rests on the rim before he lifts it to his mouth and when she looks up, she sees him still looking at, gaze unwavering and mouth curled upwards in a sly smirk. She was caught. She was caught and he looked like he was loving and devouring every second of it.

Julien takes a break, promising to come back with a brand new song from her upcoming EP, and there’s a group of people making their way towards the exit, presumably to have a smoke and get some fresh air.

“Where’s she gone?” Charlotte huffs, eyes searching the room for the pink haired girl.

“She’s over there,” Phoebe points at Julien and they all turn to where she’s pointing at, spotting Julien near the bar with a drink in hand.

“Is she flirting?”

“She’s got groupies already?” she says after she takes her eyes off of Harry and everyone laughs.

Charlotte comes closer and nudges her shoulder against her, “You’d know, wouldn’t you?” “Be quiet,” she nudges back, and their group falls back into their conversation except Harry, who keeps staring at her and she gulps, hands reaching to feel her blazer pockets.

“Right,” she mutters, “It’s time to poison myself. I’m going out for a fag,” once she feels the bulge in her pocket, she turns to Charlotte, “Send me a text when she’s back on, yeah?”

“I’ll come with.”

She looks up at Harry, surprised, but nods, waiting for him to follow her outside. Even though she tries her best not to make eye contact with anyone as they leave, she’s aware of them watching them, everyone in their group equally surprised, but they keep walking, Harry following quietly behind. Once they pass the smelly bodies, they’re finally outside, the wind licking her face once she steps out and she tries to hug herself closer, seeing how the thin blazer’s not doing a good job at keeping her warm.

Harry wishes he’d brought a coat.

They’re quiet as he follows her to a quiet corner, only a few people turning their heads their way, presumably recognising him, and they stop near a brick wall and she takes her tobacco out of her left pocket. She looks up, catching him staring at her ring-clad fingers wrapped around the dark green packet, and she clears her throat, making him look up at her. They share a smile, both feeling at ease with the comfortable silence between them. She spots a wooden bench near and sits down, hands already working the packet open. When she starts tearing the tobacco apart, Harry can’t help but note how quickly she’s working it between her fingers, and he’s almost certain she’s been doing this for years.

“Want one?” She asks and he saunters forward, coming to stand in front of her with hands in his pockets.

He shrugs and she takes that as a yes, fingers pausing their work on the tobacco to take out something that resembles a cigarette and it’s only when she pushes it from the bottom that Harry realises they’re filters. Placing one between her lips, her fingers dip into her pocket once again to retrieve some papers and Harry finds himself unable to look away from her lips and how pretty they look with something between them.

He looks down at her lap, where the packet of tobacco is, seeing her fingers work swiftly as she fills the thin paper, and despite knowing better not to glamorise something as horrible and disgusting as smoking, he takes his time to admire the way she pushes down the tobacco with her index finger, presumably trying to fit and secure everything inside the paper. Taking the filter from between her lips, she places it inside the paper, at the very end, and her fingers start rolling.

Oh fuck, he thinks, knowing what’s about to come. Unable to look away, he watches as she brings it up to her mouth and licks a long stripe along the paper, and despite the lack of lighting around them, his eyes make out her pink tongue moving along the paper and it doesn’t come as a surprise when he feels a sudden twitch in his trousers at the unholy image before his eyes.

“There,” she hands him the rolled up cigarette, “Hope you don’t mind that I licked?”

He wants to laugh because of course he doesn’t mind. In fact, he quite enjoyed it, according to the knot in his stomach and his twitching cock in his underwear. He enjoyed it so much that he now couldn’t stop imagining her mouth doing other things, preferably dirty things with, or to him.

“Nah, it’s all good, thanks.”

“No probs. Didn’t take you as the smoking type,” she lets it slip out.

“I...don’t smoke, really. Only sometimes. When I’m drinking. Which…” He looks at the cigarette between her fingers, “...isn’t that often.”

She notices the nervousness that tinges his words, and it makes her feel better knowing he’s also as awkward as her. “Fair,” she sends him a smile and repeats all the steps on her own rollie, putting it between her lips just like Harry, and she takes her lighter out of the same pocket. She lights her own first and reaches to light his, and he sort of bends over until his cigarette reaches the lighter. They both take a hefty drag of their cigarettes and she blows the smoke out first, Harry watching her pursed lips as he lets out his own next, both of their cigarette smoke swirling in the air and joining in together.

He takes it out of his mouth and lets his arm dangle on his side, cigarette between his fingers, and watches as she takes another drag before fumbling with the packet on her lap, putting everything back in her pocket haphazardly.

“Do you go to uni in London, or?”

“Westminster, yeah,” she takes another drag and notices how Harry hasn’t taken another one of his since.

“Nice,” he says and a grin stretches over his face, “Charlotte talks about you a lot.”

“She does?”

“Yeah, all the time. If I didn’t know about her boyfriend I’d say she was in love with you,” he laughs and gestured to the lighter in her hand and she lets him take the lighter from her hand, watching as the flame lick at the cigarette between Harry’s lip and he takes a long drag. “I mean, we...the band feel like we already know you. It’s sweet, how much she cares about you.”

“Well, I’m pretty hard not to love, you know.”

He blows out the smoke, a chuckle escaping his mouth, “That right?”

“Yeah, I’m fucking great.”

“Well, I-”

He gets interrupted by her phone going off and a pout forms on his face. She huffs, looking around, then throws the cigarette on the ground despite the sign and he does the same, not feeling bad in the slightest. “We going in?” He asks, like a lost puppy waiting for his owner’s command.

“I guess. Is it bad that I don’t want to? Like...does that make me a bad friend?”

“Nah. I...I kinda wanted to stay here too. I was enjoying our conversation.”

She sends him a grin, eyes mischievous, and stops walking, “You telling me you weren’t bored to death by my dry ass conversation?”

“Dry? You opened up and talked about your narcissistic behaviours, that’s not boring, darling,” he smirks and she rolls her eyes, hand reaching to slap his chest and it feels easy, like they’ve known each other for years. “Alright, alright, ’m just messing with you.”

She starts walking again, a few steps ahead of him, and he follows, passing three girls with phones up to their faces.

It’s easy, he thinks, it’s easy with her.

People in the bar begin to leave one by one, and it’s only their small group and a few others left, some of them still sipping their drinks and the others talking and laughing. Some even come up to Julien, who’s sipping her water from a reusable water bottle as Charlotte keeps snapping pictures of her, and they all congratulate her, telling her how excited they are about the EP. She’s all smiles, fringe sticking to her forehead due to sweat, and her long arms are equally sweaty, dressed in a tight black dress with striped knee high socks adorning her long legs, and a pair of platform Mary Janes.

“So,” Harry says, folding his arms across his chest, “Do you have any plans for October?”

Mitch snorts across him and Julien tilts her head, puzzled, “Erm...I’ve no idea, to be honest. It’s months away and God knows I’m shite at thinking ahead. That’s why I’m friends with this lot,” she gestures to their tiny group, causing Charlotte to snort and Julien continues, turning her attention to her who’s playing with the hem of her blazer,  “This one though...”

“Oh, fuck off.”

“Oi, what’s crawled up your bum, eh?” Julien turns to Harry again, catching how his gaze flickered over her body, then her face instead of looking at Julien and she finds herself smirking at the tension between the two.

“We’re thinking of putting a show together for Halloween. I have a bunch of new and upcoming artists in my mind that I’d love to see perform that night. Would you be interested?” Harry’s attention is back on Julien and he watches as the girl gasps, eyes widening in excitement.

“Shut the fuck up!” She yells, almost dropping her water bottle and they all laugh, Charlotte reaching to flip her on the forehead and she slaps her freshly-manicured hand away, “You’re not taking the piss, are you?”

Harry laughs, “Am definitely not. I love your vibe. That’s actually one of the reasons why I asked Charlotte if I could come tonight,” he says as he runs his fingers through his hair, the strands gliding easily between his long fingers.

“Yeah,” Charlotte smiles at Julien, “He’s on a hunt. He thinks he’s one of those talent agents. Just say yes, Jules, it’ll be fun.”

“Holy fuck. Yes. Fuck, yes. Of fucking course, yes!”

They all laugh when she lunges herself at Harry, arms wrapping around his neck, “Thank you, thank you, thank you, fuck I could literally kiss you right now but I won’t, I’ve been watching you both undress each other with your eyes all night,” arms still around Harry’s neck, Julien turns her head towards her, whom Harry’s been looking at all night, and gives her a wink before breaking their hug. “So, do I have to do anything? What do I have to do? Fuck, I’m so bad at this-”

“Hey,” Harry interrupts, “It’s fine. Relax. Are you signed with anyone? Have a manager?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m with Gleam, my manager, Alana, she’s sick that’s why she wasn't here tonight.”

“Okay, that’s fine. Just give me your phone number and your manager’s contact details and we’ll sort everything out. Hey- relax, it’s gonna be fun!” He reaches and gives her shoulder a squeeze.

“I called an Uber,” Sarah says after her phone goes off, “And it looks like…” she taps on the screen a few times, “Hassan is here.”

“We could’ve gotten maccies,” she says, pouting, as her head rests on Charlotte’s shoulder.

Sarah sighs, cuddling closer into Mitch’s side, “We’re leaving for Brighton tomorrow morning.”

“Yeah, Sarah’s making us wake up at, like, five,” Mitch grumbles.

They all start walking towards the exit, Julien and Harry in the back talking about the show as Charlotte links her arm with her as they follow behind the others. As they walk, she remembers how Harry arrived with Sarah and Mitch, meaning they shared a ride, and she turns to look at Harry who seems to be in deep conversation as he waves his hands around.

She feels hot all of a sudden, remembering how neither of them wanted to go inside earlier, how good he looked and how his voice sounded, deep, so deep, when his attention was only on her and not the girl on the stage or his drink or the people around them. As selfish as it sounds, she wanted all his attention on her, she wanted him to only look at her, see her, think of her, and she feels foolish because they only met tonight, and their conversation earlier didn’t last that long.

Once they’re outside, everyone sighs, almost in relief as the fresh air fills their lungs, and everyone bids their goodbyes to Sarah and Mitch, then Phoebe starts complaining about how uncomfortable and tired she was.

“That’s it from us, folks, my wife needs a shower,” Jamie pinches Phoebe’s cheek as Phoebe blushes, swatting her hand away.

She turns to Harry for a second and he’s just standing there, arms folded with an expression she’s unable to read, and Julien laughs, muttering something about catching a black cab since she now has money to waste.

Everyone leaves and it’s only them, and Charlotte comes closer to her as she nudges her hip with hers, “Hey. Is it cool if Harry gives you a ride? Tom’s picking me up.”

She panics and gives her a puzzled look. A car ride with Harry. Alone. Just the two of them.

She swallows, “How come you never mention it?”

“He just texted me, we’re driving up to Manc. Will you be okay?” She reaches and strokes her cheek, then turns to Harry, as if the question was directed at both of them.

“Well, yeah...I mean- I’ll call a Bolt or something-”

“It’s fine, I can give you a ride,” Harry says, hands now in his pockets. He looks like he’s cold too, considering how he’s only wearing a thin shirt and his chest is on full display, letting the breeze softly lick at the flesh.

“I wouldn’t want to be a bother, I can take a Bolt. Really, it’s fine.”

“I insist...whereabouts is your place?”

“Ehm,” she sniffs and her eyes look for Charlotte for a moment, and when she spots her, she’s watching them despite the phone pressed against her ear. “Marylebone.”

“Great! That alright with you?”

She looks at Charlotte again, the short haired girl failing to meet her gaze, and she turns to Harry again, lips pursed, “I guess- I mean...sure. Okay.”

Harry beams at that, the dimple on his left cheek widening with the smile, and she wants to reach out and touch it, place her finger there. She doesn’t though. Instead, she gives him a smile and looks down at her boots, feeling all giddy inside with the realisation that she’d be alone with Harry for a while and it would also be away from any prying eyes, in the warmth of his car.

Charlotte comes back and reaches for her, giving her a big hug as she buries her head in her neck, and she involuntarily breathes in the smell of cigarettes and Charlotte’s personal favourite, Chanel no. 5.

“Text me when you’re home, yeah? And text me if you need anything...he’s nice, I promise,” she whispers the last part, as if she’s letting her in on a secret, then reaches for Harry to give him a hug.

“Drive safe,” she says, walking backwards, “I mean it.”

“I will. Precious cargo, am I right?”

Harry opens the door for her and waits for her to get in, her lips form the words ‘thank you’, and once they’re both inside, seatbelts on, Harry sighs and tries to fix his creased shirt. She watches his hands, the rings catching the light coming from a lamppost outside, creating beams, and she notices the single, nearly-chipped gold nail polish on his left pinky.

“So…” they both say at the same time and he laughs, shaking his head, and a few strands fall to his eyes.

She chuckles too, eyes falling to her hands on her lap as she fiddles with them. “I think we’ve been set up,” she mumbles and looks up at him, finding him watching her carefully with one hand on the steering wheel and the other on his thigh.

“Yeah? You think so?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m usually not this dumb.”

“Maybe you wanted play dumb, hm?” He gives her a smile, causing her to scoff, and he surprises them both when his left hand reaches to stroke her cheek, making goosebumps appear on her skin and she swears she could hear her breath hitch at the warm touch, feeling hot all over.

They stare at each other, his hand still on her cheek, and she swallows, “Sure, whatever you say.”

“Is this okay?” He asks, gesturing at the touch, voice as soft and smooth as honey.

She nods, because it is. It is more than okay and if it were up to her, they’d already be kissing, tasting each other’s dirty, sweaty skin and touching each other all over, feeling each other’s bodies...she wanted all of that.

She swallows again, his gaze shifting from her face to her neck, then lower and lower until it reaches her boobs. They look divine, he thinks, despite the lack of lighting in his car, they look absolutely gorgeous, sort of spilling out from the lace material and he gulps, hand beginning to make its way down to her neck. He rests it there as long fingers caress the side of her neck, discovering a few moles there, and he looks up at her, only to find her eyes fixed on his lap. He looks down to, the slight tent not coming as a surprise, and he gives her a grin, the other hand coming to rest atop his bulge.

“Hm?” He hums as he waits for her answer despite knowing what she would say.

She clears her throat and looks around, seeing the almost empty parking lot all dark except the stop sign near the exit, and turns her attention back to Harry.

“Yes. It’s okay.”

“Mmm,” his fingers curl around her throat, thumb stroking the flesh there, “Thank you, love. Can I kiss you?”

“You can...Please,” she practically moans when his thumb presses a sweet spot on her neck and he gives her a smile, hand reaching to unbuckle both of their seatbelts with a click.

It doesn’t happen that fast. First, he gives her a look, almost as if he’s trying to remember where her lips are and the nose, then her eyes...he keeps looking, and looking, and he brings his hand up to her mouth, resting his thumb on her bottom lip as her eyes shift downwards with the movement. While he watches her, she takes her time to watch him, his face, and she feels something bubbling inside her, much like the bubbles that rise to the top when you open a coke bottle.

Pressure, she thinks, pressure and the need to devour him. Thus, without thinking too much, she reaches and grabs him by the nape of his neck, his hand falling atop the car seat as their lips meet, both of them hungry for each other’s touch as their teeth clash and Harry lets out a hiss when she bites his bottom lip, suckining it into her mouth.

His hands go up to her cheeks, pushing her far enough to look into her face and eyes in particular and he smiles, the inside of his palms feeling the soft peach fuzz on her face. When she lunges forward to continue their kiss, he stops her, thumb stroking her cheekbones as she lets out a huff, and he chuckles, “Slow, baby, slow. We’ve got time. I want to feel you, taste you as much as I can, yeah?”

She nods, letting him stroke the side of her face some more and feel her skin against his soft hands before he starts leaning in, this time slow, so slow that it feels like hours to her. Before she closes her eyes, she catches a glimpse of his pink tongue dart out to lick his lips, and he finally captures her top lip, sucking it into his mouth softly and she melts under his touch, her mouth pursed as she starts responding with her own kisses. Their lips, she feels, fit together like a puzzle piece.

Harry’s tongue swipes across her bottom lip and she opens wider, letting him lick into her mouth further. It’s hot, wet, and she feels herself getting wetter and wetter as the smooch noises grow louder with each kiss. His hands are now cupping both of her cheeks, and as he presses wet pecks on her parted mouth, one of his thumbs travel down to her mouth and he stops their kiss, and she opens her eyes, giving him a puzzled look.

He shushes her, lips pursed as he does so, and her eyes watches the movement, wanting to feel them all over her body now that she knows how he feels and tastes like. He presses his thumb against her bottom lip, then into her mouth and pulls her closer to him. He shuts his eyes and tilts his head when she closes her mouth around his thumb, sucking it like a lolly, and his cock twitches in his trousers again as he watches the way she sucks on his flesh, humming around it as if she’s having the most delicious meal of her life.

“Fuck, baby,” he rasps, “Y’like playing with me, don’t you?”

She doesn’t respond. Instead, she takes his thumb out of her mouth with a pop and she holds him by the wrist, placing his hand on one of her boobs and Harry lets her warm hands and the feeling of lace overpower him as he gives her boob a squeeze, then travels his hand down to where he supposes her nipple is and brushes a thumb over it, a beaming grin stretching across his face when he feels her pebbled nipple under his thumb.

When he looks at her face, she’s biting her lips, eyes shut, and he bites his own lips as he traps her covered nipple between his thumb and index finger, tweaking it gently which causes her to breathe out a moan, toes curling involuntarily inside her boots. He tugs at it, then his hand travels up and he looks at her, as if to ask her permission for what he’s about to do. And she nods, of course she does, and she feels her upper torso getting sore from the position they’ve been in but she lets it go, reaching for his hand near her boob and places it on top of his, encouraging him to keep going.

With her hand on top of his, he slides the bodysuit down from the top, and he feels his cock twitch in interest so he has to bring his other hand down to press against his bulge over his trousers in hopes of relieving some of the tension. He plays with her nipple, tweaking and squeezing it between his fingers before finally leaning to capture the pebbled nipple into his mouth. “God damn, your tits...so fuckin’ hot, baby,” he bites her nipple and she shudders, back arching in pleasure. “Wanna do everything with you...wanna fuck you- wanna fuck these tits,” he whispers against her nipple, now wet with his spit, and his hot breath sends chills down her spine.

It’s warm, his mouth, so warm and wet around her hard nipples and she lets out another moan, arms wrapping around his neck and she tries to press against him closer. “Fuck,” a moan leaver her mouth, “Please, Harry, fuck me. Do something, just- ‘m so wet.”

“Yeah? Want me to fuck you? Jesus,” he presses a kiss to her nipple before he frees her other boob from the fabric, “You’re so fuckin’ hot. Got me so fuckin’ hard, just look at these gorgeous tits, baby. Bet your cunt’s even more gorgeous, hm?” He whispers, hands already on the other boob, squeezing the nipple and he watches as it hardens, looking so pretty and puckered for him and he gets his mouth on that one too, licking across the nipple before he bites it into his mouth.

“Can I take this off, sweetheart?” He touches her shoulder, squeezing her there over the blazer, and when he sees the hesitation in her eyes, he travels his hand up to her neck and strokes it there, “Y’don’t have to, darling. However you’re comfortable.”

“No,” she says ever so softly, “It’s okay.”

He smiles at her as she takes the jacket off and throws it somewhere at her feet. Harry grabs her by the neck and brings her in for another kiss but this time, it’s slow. And sweet. Slow, sweet, and warm, so warm that she feels it in her chest, in her stomach, and it reaches everywhere, the kiss warming anything and everything inside her. He swipes a tongue across her bottom lip before pulling away, and places both hands on her boobs, squeezing them, mouth popping open as he watches them in awe.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he brings one of his hands to the front of his trousers and the heels of his palms press against the bulge, but instead of giving him some relief, the touch makes him hiss, wishing for something softer, warmer.

“Can I fuck you? I need to fuck you, please, sweetheart,” he whispers and she nods, tongue darting out to lick her dry lips and he nods as well, looking around inside the car, swiftly examining the tinted black windows before he turns to her, “I hate that I’m about to fuck that pretty pussy in the backseat of my car instead of a comfortable bed but I need it so bad, sweetheart, I need you,” he licks his lips, “That okay?”

“Yes...more than.”

He helps her move to the backseat, boobs still hanging from the top, and he joins her in the backseat quickly. They’re closer now, nothing serving as a barrier between them, and with the way they’re facing each other, she can make out a tiny pimple on the side of his nose as well as a little mole on his forehead. Her gaze falls to his bulge again, and he’s already fumbling to get them off. With a swallow, she shuts her eyes so she doesn’t see Harry watching her intently, dilated pupils fixated on her sweaty skin, her lips in particular.

He leans in and presses an open mouth kiss to her damp skin, the touch making her open her eyes.

Take it off” she whispers, voice as sweet as honey, “Come on, I want you to fuck me,” she breathes against his hair, his head now in the crook of her neck, and she feels him nod, his hands coming to rest atop hers.

He fumbles with the button with shaky hands, her hands coming to rest on Harry’s waist and he sighs in relief when he hears the zipper. He lowers his trousers along with his underwear clumsily, the pile of material pooling around his ankles. He’s hard and leaking already, the tip an angry shade of red, and she takes a few seconds to admire the thickness of his cock and how pretty it looks, his dark, coarse pubic hair making her mouth water as she imagines deepthroating him, nuzzling the hair at the base of his cock.

Harry looks up and she’s got one hand on her boob while the other rubs herself through her jeans, presumably feeling aroused with the way the fabric is feeling against her pussy. A low, choked ‘fuck’ leaves his mouth following a growl as his long fingers begin unbuttoning the beige shirt and she watches, bottom lip trapped between her teeth with fingers rubbing herself.

Once it’s unbuttoned, he’s quick to get his hands on her jeans, eyes briefly searching for something in hers before he starts unbuttoning them. She stops him and bends over to take her boots off and he watches her back, hand reaching involuntarily to travel his fingers down her spine, stroking her waist before he bends forward to place a kiss on there as she keeps fumbling with her boots. Once they’re off, he’s quick to help her get the jeans off too, and he throws them in the front seat, smiling when she hears her giggle.

��Alright, Miss Giggles?” he says softly, palm resting on top of her thigh as one of his hands reaches and strokes the side of her face, fingers playing in her wild strands of hair.

She bites her lip again, giving him a nod, and he brings her face into his, lips pressing a tender kiss to her chin before he opens his mouth slightly and grazes his teeth across the flesh, and he presses a final, loud kiss there before he pulls away with a pop, leaving her chin all shiny and wet with his saliva. He lowers his eyes and spots her thong, fabric too tiny and flimsy to cover all the areas of her pussy, and he lets out a groan at the sight, hand immediately reaching to touch what’s under her little thong.

“So pretty, darling...so, so pretty,” he murmurs and she watches with parted legs as he positions his middle finger against her pussy over the black lace, thin, so he feels just how warm and wet she is between her folds. This makes him pause to look down at his cock, just to make sure he’s not about to spill all over the carseat since he feels the pleasure at the tip of his cock, ready to explode right then and there. “How can anyone ever resist you, hm? This pretty girl…” with one hand still between her legs, he reaches with his other hand and ghosts his thumb over her nipple, his other hand working her thong as he pulls it to the side, “...this pretty pussy,” he murmurs, making her eyes lull shut at the compliments.

She parts her legs wider to give him more room to work with, and he grins as he looks up at her hungry eyes, knowing what she’s asking for. And god, is he about to give her what she wants. The way she looks, not just half naked but from the moment he’d caught a glimpse of the grumpy girl across the room, it’s been driving him insane. Not that she was rude or looked bored, but she looked cute, kinda nervous, as if she too was as uncomfortable as Harry by the prying eyes and tipsy chatter around them.

From the moment they were introduced, Harry knew she didn’t particularly like to be looked at. Maybe he was being judgmental, or reading too much into things, but he got the impression that she was sort of nervous to be around people, especially new people. He tried his hardest not to be some weirdo, an utter creep who kept looking at the beautiful girl across him but truth be told, it wasn’t the first time Harry had seen the girl’s face.

He knew of her, stories about her, from Charlotte, and saw numerous photos and throwback videos of them on Charlotte’s Instagram, but he would never actually admit to the fact that he’d clicked on her tag on one of Charlotte’s posts, and scrolled through her feed for hours, giggling from time to time at her silly captions and numerous pictures of a Golden Retriever and a black cat cuddling.

Yes, he might have found her interesting, took a few screenshots of her posts where she proudly displayed her favourite reads, immediately ordering everything on there, and a few funny memes, but now with his middle finger circling her clit, he would never, ever admit any of that to anyone, ever.

“Harry,” she breathes, and it sounds sort of harsh, rough even, the reason presumably being a mix of the cigarettes she’d been smoking and the way his finger teasingly, slowly moves over her pussy. “Harry…” she says again, melodiously, fingers curling around his wrist and he looks up with a grin, eyes almost evil, dark and pupils dilated from hunger bubbling up inside him.

He retracts his finger and brings it up to his mouth slowly, her eyes watching him like a hawk, and his pink tongue darts out, licking a long stripe up his middle finger and he truly devours the savoury taste, eyes finding hers as he sucks the finger into his mouth. “Taste so good, sweetheart,” he murmurs, “Want me to play with that beautiful cunt, hm? Give it my full attention?”

“Yes, please, I need it so bad, I’ve been waiting for so long.”

“Yeah?” He asks, ever so softly, “How long?” He presses, his middle finger once again placed between her wet folds, and she wraps her fingers around his wrist.

There’s a bloom of pleasure in her voice when she lets out a shaky breath, a stuttered ’yeah’ because she doesn’t want to give in to Harry’s teasing game, and he leans forward, capturing her chin with his mouth as he bites the flesh while the pads of his finger massages slow and deep over her swollen clit.

He feels the spongy bit under his touch, “Tell me you’ve been thinking of this too,” he breathes against her wet chin, then brings his middle finger down to her hole. It’s wet, so fucking wet when he drags his finger back up and circles her clit faster than before which makes her legs kick out in pleasure, one hand grabbing harshly at her boob as the other go up to Harry’s soft hair and she pulls, fingernails scratching his scalp while doing so. He groans against her skin and drags his finger down to her slick little hole again, circling around the wet, soft muscle and he pushes his finger in, her cunt making a wet, lovely sound as he does so as his eyes fall to his throbbing cock.

It’s so hard, an unpleasant feeling blooming inside, so he takes his finger out of her hole, making her let out a tiny whimper as she clenches around nothing with the sudden loss of his touch. Harry brings his finger up to his mouth, and his pink tongue darts out to lick, mouth closing around to devour the slightly salty slickness.

“Can I fuck you now?” He asks as his hand goes to stroke the side of her neck, goosebumps appearing immediately at the touch. She shudders, unable to respond and Harry’s voice is softer this time, “Can I, baby? Will you let me fuck your pretty pussy now? I need it so bad, sweetheart, so fucking bad. See how hard I am for you? So fucking hard for you, baby.”

“God,” another shaky breath, “Please, I’m so wet and horny- I need it, Harry, please.”

“Need my cock, yeah? Need me to fill that little hole? Stretch your tiny little hole, darling?”

“Fuck- please, I- please stop teasing me, I need it...please, fuck me.”

Harry feels something, a prickly sensation inside him, his groin tightening, and he knows it’s her dirty mouth and sweet face to blame. He looks down at his cock, hard as rock between his legs, and grabs her by the waist, pulling her on top of him with ease. “There, sweet girl.”

He lets out a hiss when her warm pussy makes contact with his cock and she bites her lip, leaning forward until their sweaty foreheads meet. “Your pussy’s so fuckin’ warm. Shit, we need condoms,” a strong arm wraps around her waist and she gasps when he leans forward so suddenly. His face is buried into her boobs as he tries to retrieve his wallet from one of the compartments in between and she watches him struggle, unable to control a tiny laugh escaping her mouth.

“Well,” Harry mumbles, warm lips making her skin feel all tingly, “This is lovely...mmm,” a few kisses are pressed between her boobs, then another open mouth one on her left nipple, and they’re finally back to their previous position, condom package between Harry’s lips as he rips the top, never once taking his eyes off of her while doing so.

“Ready for me?” He gives himself a few lazy pulls, thumbing at the tip while she watches, one hand kneading her boob. “Hm? Ready to take my cock?” He moves his hand slowly, up and down, causing her to swallow.

“Yeah...fuck yeah. Please, fuck me.”

He looks up at her as the rubber works its way down his cock, and she joins her arms around his neck, fingers playing with the hairs at the nape of his neck, and he brings his cock to her cunt, earning a moan from her, her warm breath licking at his face ever so softly. He grunts, voice strained with pleasure when he feels how warm and wet she is at the touch of his cock and slides it against her warmth before he brings it down to her tight little hole and pauses there.

“Y’ready, sweet girl?” He nudges their foreheads together and it’s sweet, so sweet despite the position they’re in, and she nods, feeling their damp foreheads stick together, and Harry gives her a bright smile, dimple appearing on his left cheek.

And he pushes it in. With his thumb pressed against the tip, he pushes his cock inside her, the tightness squeezing his already sensitive cock as if she doesn’t want to let him go, as if she wants to keep him inside of her forever and ever.

“God, such a tight cunt, baby. Squeezing me already, hm?” He murmurs into her mouth, “Easy, darling...slow. Slow, yeah? Want to feel you properly,” his hands go up to her hips, holding her there to still the movement of her hips, and her arms loop around his sweaty neck, fingernails scratching the back of his neck and he hisses, face moving forward to press a bruising kiss on her parted mouth.

Once she calms down, hips stilled, his strong arms begin moving her up and down and they both moan, quick breaths leaving their mouths and mixing together just like how their bodies are almost joined together, two becoming one, and Harry starts moving his own hips so he can fuck into her as she helps her by moving her own hips up and down, slowly, just like he’d asked her to, feeling his cock stretching her tight hole with his every move. There’s a honking outside and both their movements still for a second, and a muffled chuckle leaves her mouth, arms tightening around Harry’s neck.

Their eyes meet, Harry’s mouth turning upwards, “What’s so funny, Miss Giggles, hm?” He murmurs as his hips speed up again, their skins slapping against each other as his cock strokes the insides of her walls ever so softly, sliding in and out of her.

“Jesus, you’re so fucking big, I- I knew you’d be big but...fuck, you’re so good, so fucking good, Harry,” she moans, earning a grunt from him as she meets his thrusts, her hands sliding down to Harry’s shoulders and squeezing his smooth skin briefly before she brings her palms down to her chest.

She strokes the hair on his chest, admiring the way his cross necklace sits proudly there, amongst his now damp chest hair, and she brings her palm to one of his nipples, thumb stroking the slightly darker nub and he lets out a groan as goosebumps appear on his chest and nipples.

“God,” she breathes and Harry can smell the fruity-sour alcohol on her breath, and his mouth pops open when she tweaks his sensitive nipples. “I love your nipples,” she moans again when his cock brushes that sweet spot inside her and he does too, arms tightening around her waist, and she tweaks his nipples again, this time harder as her hips speed up, ass slapping against his meaty thighs and she keeps jumps up on down on his cock.

As she does so, her boobs too move, bouncing up and down with her every movement and Harry reaches with one hand, capturing one of her nipples between his fingers as he tweaks left and right before letting it go, watching her skin prickle at the touch.

“Shit, y’feel amazing, just wanna keep you forever,” he groans, low and delirious, fingernails digging into her waist as he thrusts into her, “So fuckin’ tight around me...so tight and snug. I want you- want this everyday. Wanna be able to touch you, kiss that little face everyday, fuck this beautiful pussy...so good, darling, you’re so fuckin’ good, letting me fuck that sweet cunt in the backseat, hm? Are you good,” he breathes her name into her mouth, then bites her bottom lip, earning a gasp from her when his thrusts become particularly rough. “Are you a good girl?”

“Yes, yes, yes, I’m good, I’m so good, please- I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna fucking cum please keep fucking me, keep fucking me hard, Harry- keep going,” she speeds up her movements, Harry’s cock sliding in and out of her as wet, dirty sounds fill the car and he curses under his breath, hips lifting off the seat to meet her strokes.

“Are you close?” He manages to ask, a low grunt in his voice.

She doesn’t respond. Instead, she brings one hand down to her pussy and begins rubbing her clit, moaning when she touches the little nub and then, with her other hand, she reaches for Harry’s face, thumb stroking the side of the smooth skin before she places it on his bottom lip and presses hard, making him part his mouth. She pushes it in, eyes lulling shut at the feeling of his warm tongue as he sucks on her thumb, hips continuing their movements as he fucks her cunt with quick, rough thrusts.

When she opens her eyes, Harry’s watching her, sweat glistening on his forehead and she brings her finger down to where Harry’s cock meets her warmth and rubs the top of his cock, moaning when she feels the vein there. She brings it up to her clit again, all wet and warm, and she rubs harder with rough strokes as Harry juts his hips forward a few more times. “I’m gonna cum, fuck- I’m gonna fuckin’ cum, baby,” his grip tightens on her waist and she places her hands on his shoulder, squeezing there.

“Come on me, I want it on my tits,” she mutters, fingernails digging into the smooth skin of his shoulders and he lets out a grunt, pulling out quickly as she gets down, Harry’s legs parting immediately so she can get between them.

And she does, gets on her knees between Harry’s parted legs as he takes the condom off, hissing at the feeling as he tosses it somewhere on the floor, and he begins stroking his now-wet cock as she thumbs at her nipples, kneading her boobs before pushing them together. His wrist works harder and quicker at the sight and he finally comes undone, his warm cum spilling onto her boobs, decorating her soft flesh with white stripes and she looks down, watching with sparkling eyes.

“God, fuck,” he breathes, letting his head tilt back, “You’re something else, y’know that?”

She hums, sending him a grin as he gives himself three more lazy strokes before he lets go of his cock and watches the spattered cum against her skin separate with the movement when she lets them go.

“Got some on your top, sorry, love.”

She looks down, then swipes a thumb across her skin and brings it up to her mouth. Pushing it in, she sucks around her digit as she tastes the salty-sour taste and Harry watches, all wrecked and fucked out.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

“You’re so naughty...come up here,” his ring-clad fingers reach for her wrist and he helps her sit next to him.

He reaches the little pocket behind one of the seats, taking out some tissues as she watches him take out a few and clean her up as much as he can. Then their eyes meet, both sleepy and wrecked, and he lifts his hand up to her cheek, stroking it, and she leans into the touch, making him smile. “You’re lovely,” he mumbles, hand still on her cheek.

“You’re lovelier.”

He chuckles as she fixes her top, “You really are. Really lovely.”

“Stop it, I’m not good with compliments.”

“Well,” he shrugs, reaching for his trousers on the front seat, “I said what I said. You hungry? Thirsty?”

“I’m kinda thirsty. Aren’t you?”

As they lean against the bonnet of Harry’s car, now parked outside a McDonald’s, there’s a comfortable silence between them as they sip their waters, bodies close to each other, close enough for Harry to smell his faint cologne on her skin.

“You cold still?”  He turns to her as she takes a bite of her chocolate muffin, and he follows as a few crumbs land on her chest.

“I’m good. Feel very warm...ed up,” she chuckles, thumbing at the corners of her mouth.

Harry groans, nudging her with his shoulders and she nudges back, harder, and he gasps, “Oi, be nice. I’m feeding you.”

“Soz. Guess I owe you like...what is it, a fiver?”

“You’re a very mean girl.”

“I’m the nicest. I’m good,” she gives him a grin, earning another eye roll from him as she takes another sip of her water before placing it on the floor, “Seriously though, thanks for the muffin.”

“Don’t mention it. I’m kinda bummed you turned down the nuggets but…maybe next time?”

“Next time?” She asks, crossing her arms, trying to warm herself up despite her promise from earlier.

“Well,” he clears his throat, hand going up to his necklace, “I’d love to see you sometime. Again. Preferably for longer than an hour and...you know, just us two? Hanging out?”

She smiles and leans forward, taking him by surprise when she presses their lips together. It’s a sweet, slow kiss, and his hands grab the back of her neck, pressing their faces closer as they kiss. Her hands find his waist and she gets on her feet, coming to stand between his legs without breaking their kiss, and she loops her arms around his neck, smiling when he moans at the feeling of her fingers playing with the hairs at the nape of his neck.

He tastes the muffin, the chocolate, and himself, and as foolish as it sounds, he wishes there was a way to be closer to her somehow, closer than they already are at this moment. She pulls away, their foreheads pressing together as they smile at each other.

Harry scrunches his nose and smiles, bringing it forward so their noses touch, “What was that for?” He whispers, hands tight around her waist as he hugs her closer.

“Just felt like it...just felt like kissing you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I like kissing you. I liked kissing you a lot tonight.”

He smiles, nose booping against hers once again, “I liked kissing you a lot too. I’d like to kiss you a lot tomorrow. And maybe the day after that.”

“That’s fine by me. You can kiss me tomorrow...and the day after that,” she whispers, pressing their bodies together.

Harry closes his eyes, taking a deep breath as she watches with curious gaze, eyes crinkling with a smile.

“What are you doing,” she whispers, and he shushes her, smiling when he opens his eyes to find her staring with her eyebrows raised, “What are you doing?” She asks again and he squeezes her waist, forehead pressing against her once again and he leans in closer to press a tiny kiss on the corner of her mouth.

“I’m listening,” he whispers, lips almost touching hers as he speaks.

“Listening? What are you listening to?”

He strokes her cheek, “A song.”

She raises her eyebrow again, “What song? I can’t hear it. Are you- you’re not actually serious, are you?”

“Ssh, it’s a song. Listen,”

“Har-ry,” she groans, pressing her forehead on the crook of his neck, “What is it?”

Harry smiles, arms hugging her closer as she presses a tiny kiss to the side of his neck, “Aubade.”

SEND ME YOUR THOUGHTS ABOUT AUBADE AND PLEASE REBLOG THE FICS YOU’VE READ AND ENJOYED TO SUPPORT AND MOTIVATE WRITERS <3

[pi-creates]

What's your favorite thing about each of the Ericson kids? What's your favorite screenshot for each of them?

I had to ponder on this one for a while - so I apologise for the wait, anon.

Also... In spite of me taking a lot of screenshots, I don't think I really have favourites. There are some I like more than others, but I feel like my "favourite" will shuffle constantly depending on when you ask. So, anyway, here are my favourite things about the kids and a selection of the screenshots I like at the moment.

Aasim:

I like the way Aasim thinks - his reflectiveness on past actions to guide future actions... he feels like a thinker, and someone who I can picture being a great survivor and a great collaborator of plans. And asking me to pick a favourite Aasim screenshot is hard, but I like the framing and slight motion in this one. It makes me feel like we are following him on the hunt today and he's just making sure we're keeping up.

Brody:

I like the way Brody has this "daydreamer" quality about her - it's a breath of fresh air amongst a lot of "doom and gloom". It doesn't matter that the daydreams are unrealistic, it's a nice break. And while I like this screenshot....I hate that the hand animation slips away from actually holding the rabbit legs.

Louis:

I adore Louis' good nature - I feel like he unconditionally cares about others, and even though that bites him sometimes, he keeps trying. And a little extra thing - I like how he does seem like he is introspective of his own actions when they hurt others... he feels like he's constantly trying to grow. Do I need to explain why I like this screenshot? His expressions are always lovely, and the pop of colour from outside compliments things well.

Marlon:

I like Marlon's conviction to protect the school... even if things didn't always go according to plan. He took on a big responsibility for years to keep as many people at the school alive as possible, and it's a shame that things went down the way they did. I like this particular screenshot because Marlon's introduction to the school is very ingrained in my memory - and this one gesture in particular feels really genuine.

Mitch:

I like Mitch's protectiveness of his friends - he has a very hot-headed way in which he goes about this, but you can see that he is fiercely protective of the others. Clem does end up on the wrong side of that protectiveness for a while, but it's a very selfless action of him to put himself between what he considers a threat and the kids who he cares about. And this screenshot just looks nice with the pink/purple sky behind Mitch... while he's too busy carving a weapon to appreciate it.

Omar:

... I really don't know what to say for this one. I like Omar's phrase about "you can eat, or you can eat right. All it'll cost you is a little patience", because yeah - I agree, take a little longer and do it right rather than rush out the bare minimum. Also like this one screenshot because I feel like it's Omar in the middle of a hair-product commercial and he's about to do a hair-flick.

Ruby:

I really like the "realness" of Ruby and the sincerity I feel behind her emotions. She's a sweetheart but without being only sunshine and rainbows - I don't doubt that if she was really angry she'd be a terror, but she keeps those moments for when she needs them. Picking a favourite Ruby screenshot was hard... but I like most of the times she smiles, and this one jumps out at me at the moment.

Tennessee:

I like how Tenn is still such a sweet boy, in spite of all the negative things that have happened around him. The fact that he has such optimism and forgiveness in him is unfathomably generous considering the circumstances. Another favourite screenshot where I just like seeing some of these characters smiling and being happy.

Violet:

My favourite thing about Violet is going to sound a little strange - but I really like some of the animations she has. That moment in the dorms in episode 1, when she casually grabs the bars of the bunk bed and leans against the bed to chat with Clem? I really love that scene and its animations - it feels very real, ya know? This is a room that she's familiar with, and she's just chilling. Favourite screenshot where I particularly like how the background compliments Violet and her wall-perch.

Willy:

My favourite thing about Willy is that he's a childish character who is still viewed as capable. He's not devoid of those child behaviours like being quick tempered and finding humour in things others might not find funny - but then he makes traps and bombs like the older kids. He is kinda the embodiment of being a kid and learning from the people around him - and I really like that. And the favourite screenshot is Willy being on watch, which is a bit of what I was talking about with him being capable... plus I like the lighting.

[goosebasedcryptid]

My very own Les Mis names headcanons (that no one cares about but hey, why should that matter?)

• Gabriel Célestin Enjolras (the man is literally an angel, I think these names are mandatory, also he's a rich only child, I assume he'd have a middle name)

• Étienne Grantaire (I have 0 explanation it just makes sense to me)

• Pierre-Marie Combeferre, but only goes by Pierre Combeferre (short and sweet, it rhymes, also I love the werid 19th/20th century trend of adding Marie to male names)

• Louis-Francis Charlélie de Courfeyrac (Louis because of his noble family, Francis in honor of our lord and savior Fra Fee, and Charlélie because I like thay name and it sound fancy)

• Arthur Feuilly (no explanation, I just like that name)

• François Bahorel (again, no explanation it just makes sense for him to have a typical *French man name*)

• Pierre-Louis Joly (again, sounds nice, also Pierre was such a common name that it would make sense for several of the Amis to have it)

• Adrien Lesgle (or Laigle, Lesgles, however you spell it... Adrien sounds kinda napoleonic to me, I have no idea why, but it works)

BONUS NAMES:

- Musichetta is a nickname, I imagine her as an Italian woman, specifically an opera singer, her actual name being Emilia Monticelli (no one calls her Emilia except for Joly and Lesgle)

- Marius and Cosette would name their daughter Honorine Pontmercy (they chose the name Honorine because she was born of June 6th, the day on which Les Amis fought for the honor of the people)

[wincore]

wasted nights | liu yangyang

pairing: yangyang x reader

words: 5.5k

summary: firstly, you don’t think you should have survived this long. secondly, this might be the zombie apocalypse but your survival doesn’t feel as threatened by zombies as it does by liu yangyang. thirdly, you’ve chosen the worst time to develop a crush.

genre: zombie apocalypse!au, fluff, humour(?)

warnings: mention of injuries & blood, violence (against zombies), dumbassery, do not attempt during an actual zombie apocalypse

song rec(s): wasted nights - one ok rock 

a/n: october birthdays get halloween specials~ although this one is just full of unnecessary appearances by cats. also campfires because october campfires hit different. (i’m definitely saying this because i was born in october) also not me writing this as a joke and reaching 5.5k words </3

It’s two hours till sundown. 

What would you be doing on a day within the ordinary? Likely getting back from after school activities, chatting with a friend or feeding the stray kittens by the school building, or maybe pretending Liu Yangyang doesn’t exist—the possibilities were endless. Now there’s only one.

“Yangyang,” you call, more worried than not.

On a day out of the ordinary, you wish you hadn’t prayed for your exam to get cancelled the day all of this broke out. You wouldn’t be scavenging like some sort of rodent and you wouldn’t be standing at the gates of an abandoned shrine, though now is undoubtedly a better time to pray. It’s not the best of situations (especially not with a certain little rascal attached to your side). 

And understatements are definitely your thing now.

“Yangyang,” you call a little louder this time, eyes shifting around the shrine area. 

Should you step in? He asked you to wait, the stone steps now looking a little glum without him skipping over them. The only signs of life you’ve seen around has been a family of raccoons looking rather smug and a single spotted dove preening itself atop a branch. The lack of visibility into the forest surrounding the shrine bothers you, like something could jump out any minute and you suck your teeth, growing annoyed. Where is that boy?

You tap your foot against the ground soundlessly. What if a zombie were to pop out? They might be slow but the sight of them is still gross enough to paralyze you. Yangyang has his baseball bat with him, which leaves you defenseless in terms of weapons. Still, it’s not like the bat would have done you any good. You are, in the truest sense of the word, average at any sort of combat and freezing at the limbs comes to you more naturally. Zombies are not fun; whatever nonsense Yangyang has been trying to explain to you for weeks is optional, as is every other suggestion that comes from his mouth. It’s quiet and quiet, creepy shrines have never been your favourite place in the city.

You hear a low growl behind you, stiffening at the sound. Best case scenario, it’s a big rat. You’d rather not think of the worst case. Eventually, you gather some courage and turn slowly only to jump back with a short scream. 

Yangyang takes the old festival mask off to reveal a giant grin on his face, urging you to knock it right off. The anger that follows is natural and he should be used to it by now. Yangyang continues smiling, as if he didn’t just pull your soul right out of your body, and when he opens his mouth to say something, you’re quick to land a swift punch to his gut. He lets out a pained cry, dropping to the ground in a squat.

“Don’t do that,” you seethe. “Why can’t you greet me normally?”

“I’m okay!” He signals a thumbs up while the other hand clutches his stomach. 

“I didn’t ask.”

He moves his hand to place it over his chest. “Ow. Oh, and to answer your question, it’s because you don’t want to do my special handshake with me.”

“Hm. Get up. You said there were supplies here. What did you find?”

He pouts, finally getting up. “I can’t believe you’re just using me for supplies.”

You cross your arms. “Just get up already.”

Yangyang springs up despite the (admittedly) strong blow to his stomach and presents to you the plastic bag he’d been holding. In any other circumstances, it would spark some disapproval on your behalf but it turns out, those things do outlive most everything. For a moment, the ridiculous image of pulling a plastic bag over a zombie’s head crosses your mind. 

Yangyang finally responds, taking out whatever items he recovered. Not everything is useful however; he’s simply taken to collecting knick-knacks. 

“I found toothbrushes! Maybe your breath will stop stinking—”

You raise your clenched fist as a threat.

“—I was kidding. Obviously. You have lovely breath.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose in an attempt to contain your exasperation. 

“Also, I found clean water so I filled up some bottles and yeah, I couldn’t find much else but oh! There was this huge cat and I mean huge like a big chonk kinda guy, you know? And I’m sure he was, like, trying to tell me something, like, he kept hissing when I went near him but…”

You wonder if Yangyang ever gets tired from speaking so fast, his words fading out of your comprehension. You shake your head, clearing your throat.

“Can we leave now?”

Yangyang raises an eyebrow, almost smirking as the gears in his head turn.

“You’re not… superstitious, are you?” he asks. “I heard there’s a lot of reported sightings of ghosts here.”

“No,” you blurt, quick to deny. Yangyang might have seen you crying after getting lost in the dark, almost fainting after encountering a zombie for the first time or even in deep sorrow after you lost your friend—but there’s still part of your dignity to protect before you can admit your fear of ghosts. There’s just something about this abandoned shrine; there are no visitors apart from the caretaker and if loneliness is responsible for anything, it’s making lonely things seem a whole lot scarier. You’d rather leave before the sun sets.

Yangyang laughs. “Who do you think would win in a fight? Zombies or ghosts?”

You roll your eyes. “That’s so stupid. Obviously ghosts.”

“No. Okay, maybe. I just think…”

There he goes again. 

You wonder if he was always this way—when you passed him by in the hallways, when he shot you a polite smile at club meetings or when you saw him being loud with his friends blocking part of the sidewalk. You’re sure he couldn’t have been entirely sane.

“Oh my god.”

Yangyang’s voice jerks you back to the present. You follow his line of sight to a cardboard box beneath a particularly dense shrub; it's a large one—quite possibly a carton of some commercial product which doesn’t matter anymore. However, it’s not the details of the box itself so much as it is the contents that grab your attention. 

You can almost see the sparkle in Yangyang’s eyes as he views the cats huddled together inside the box. They don’t seem to mind each other within their personal space—you count four of them, tightly packed and eyes closed in a late afternoon nap. How the box hasn’t ripped apart yet is quite a mystery, and what’s more troubling is how at ease they seem to be with the entire human race in disarray.

You grab Yangyang by the collar before he can make his way to them.

“Don’t harass them,” you say, massaging your temples. “Jesus, it’s like they’re glued to each other. Do they have to be in the same box?”

“It might just be the last cardboard box left on earth.” Yangyang shrugs.

The cats mind their own business, grooming their fur or closing their eyes in an odd sort of bliss. You wonder what it would be like to be so unbothered by all the chaos. It reminds you of someone.

“Come on,” you urge, thinking back to older times. “Don’t think I forgot how much you used to bother old Louis back then.”

Louis was the university cat, fed with so much love that he eventually started avoiding people like the plague. You wonder how he’s holding up for a brief moment.

“Don’t think I forgot how you were back then too.”

“What do you mean?” you snap, glaring at him.

“You were already a zombie,” he says before engaging in a cheap mimicry of you, drooping his eyelids and taking slow steps muttering, “I… must… maintain… gpa… grr.”

You almost take off your shoe to throw it at him before deciding it’s not worth your time. Ah, if only you had done that during club meetups, perhaps you’d have felt better about him joining. Everyone treated him so differently, and you hate to admit you now understand why. 

Everyone loves a good troublemaker.

And there happens to be another thing special about your sole competitor for the debate club’s president position. Apart from his strange antics (charms, he says), even this virus—this fuckall literal killer virus can’t infect him. He’s immune—an occurrence with a possibility lower than you finding him attractive. (There, you said it.)

You look at Yangyang still talking about Louis and a small smile crosses your face. You’d feed your right arm to a zombie before you admitted it but it’s nice having him around. You furrow your brows at the sudden familiar bubbling in your chest and shove it away in a flash before your conscious decides to tell you what it is. 

Your heart jumps to your throat when you make eye contact with Yangyang, turning away in a rather awkward manner. Oh, the end of the world does awful things to you.

“Are you listening?” Yangyang raises an eyebrow. “Oh my god, you weren’t listening at all.”

You roll your eyes. “I was distracted.”

“By me?” he offers in a sing-song voice, prompting a smack from you. It’s easier to pretend this way.

Yangyang massages his shoulder with a huff. “Why are you hitting me so much today? I’ve counted like eight and the day’s only just over.”

“Sorry,” you mumble before clearing your throat. “I mean, you’ve also said something annoying, like, more than eight times today.”

“I’m not annoying.”

There’s a pause.

“Okay, maybe a little bit.”

The sun starts to lay in rest by the time you reach the city. Compared to the green, red and yellow of the yet standing shrine, this place is in dull monochrome with the occasional coloured signs that flicker to life. You force yourself to think but have a hard time remembering if it was always this way. Was it any different with the rushing cars or apathetic crowds? You can’t tell. You were part of them, after all. 

“Hey, how about a bottle flip challenge but with traffic cones?” Yangyang thinks aloud, walking backwards as you pass by a particularly well-lit alley. 

You roll your eyes in response. Is it the lack of people making him that way? Your unflustered companion looks at home among neon lights, all of them seeming to point towards him as an answer to a question you haven’t quite figured out yet. 

You glance at the alley just a second longer. The electric lanterns still glow red, and although dim, there are many. The shops almost look like you could enter and be greeted with a crowd of university kids or a group of office workers drinking away in celebration of the weekend. You sigh. It’s most certainly deserted inside; there’s no doubt. At the most, the tables are still arranged neatly and the meat grills aren’t completely rusted. You wonder if it’s a Friday.

There was never much grass in the city but whatever growth there was has withered into a mustard yellow or a lamenting grey. An empty city is hardly appealing, but you can’t deny the ill-favored things you’ve done the past few months in the absence of people—a part of you questioning whether breaking into supermarkets is still against the law when no one’s around to keep it. You smile at the memory of Yangyang pushing you around in a shopping cart, though you’d gotten drunk off the (stolen) liquor prior. The neon lights hanging as a banner over sketchy shops sometimes spark alive before dying down over and over again, and to be fair, you don’t think they ever shined too bright. Ironically, they’re the liveliest thing about the city now. 

The sky’s soaked in ink at a time you assume to be around seven in the evening. You walk closer to Yangyang without realizing; it’s not often you’ve been out this late the past few months.

“Hey.” Yangyang snaps you out of your daze. “Be careful.”

The words are strange coming from him but you understand why. You look up ahead with caution and a shiver runs down your spine as you stare at the intersection, a lone, tattered figure droning aimlessly. It’s only one, you tell yourself. And they’re slow.

The memories of your previous encounters send warnings over your skin, shivers begging you to run as fast as you can. You would if it weren’t for Yangyang’s grip on your hand, tugging you forward gently and though it’s something he does every time, you wonder if he knows how you’re really feeling. His footsteps are soundless, with the same red sneakers he’s worn since the beginning of this but something tells you it’s not the shoes that give him a cat’s footfall. The purple lights flicker on and off over the shop on the opposite street, the suddenness of it making you latch onto Yangyang for a short-lived moment. You’re quick to let go, throat too dry to make any sound. 

You curve around what would be a straight path, careful not to be in the creature’s line of sight when you cross. The streets seem wider when they’re so empty, and somehow it feels more unlawful this way. Yangyang signals to you to stay closer, and you follow before bumping into his back when he stops abruptly. There’s absolutely no sound, the feeling in your gut much worse than at the shrine.

“Something’s wrong,” Yangyang whispers.

A strangled shriek erupts from your mouth when something launches itself onto the two of you, making you land on your butt. You would’ve placed your hands over your eyes, but you’ve learned how to be less of a coward these past few days. 

A shaky breath leaves you. A cat. It was a stray cat. The little asshole looks at you with almost twinkling eyes, tail swishing from side to side before deciding you’re not worth its time. Your shoulders sag, a moment of relief despite your stiff muscles.

“Uh, (name)?”

You look up only for your stomach to fill with dread. The zombie from before is staring directly at the two of you, the same vacant look in its eyes that has haunted you for the entirety of the apocalypse.

“It’s okay, he’s too slow,” Yangyang reminds you, voice barely a whisper as he helps you stand.

“We can just take the other street—it’s a little longer but it’s mostly safe and there’s no way he can—”

Yangyang is interrupted by a sickening growl from behind you and you jump back. There’s another one. And another. You count four more before holding back a swear. Yangyang grabs you by the shoulder and the two of you take a step back, onto the sidewalk. There’s a shop behind you; you read a smeared sign above the plastic door curtains indicating a dumpling place. Even if you were to hide in there, there’s no guarantee you’d be safe. 

But if you’ve learned anything in these months, it’s that anything is always better than nothing.

The night has settled in completely, you realize. You’re about to tug Yangyang to the inside as you turn around, only to freeze up in your spot. A pale woman emerges from the store, her makeup still fresh but you know that look, the look in her eyes. How cruel.

“Please,” she mumbles, taking a step towards you and you think you might just cry. It’s not long before she turns, you think with dread.

You stumble back to Yangyang when she emits a blood curdling screech, lunging at you and to either your alarm or worse, relief, Yangyang pushes you back. You watch with wide eyes as the woman sinks her teeth into his arm, nausea growing at the sight of blood. He moves fast though, his arm swinging the baseball bat to meet the woman in the head, hard enough to knock her out. In these few moments, one of the zombies is close enough to reach an arm out towards you and you swear you can hear the horrid sound of his bones cracking when you step back. The longer you remain in this state, the slower you are. You suppose you should take comfort in these words but when you look at it, you still see a man.

Hollow. They’re all hollow. 

You take a deep breath.

Just as the thought crosses your head, you see Yangyang swing his bat again, meeting the zombie on the head and much to your wide-eyed horror, the head flies off into the dumpling shop and the body reacts with just about as much confusion as you do. It wildly waves about its hands in the now vacant spot before crumpling onto the road with a quiet realization.

Yangyang makes a face, pressing his knuckle to his mouth to prevent himself from what you presume is gagging. However, when you look closely, he seems to be holding back a laugh instead and very painfully so. You know he has a habit of laughing at the most inappropriate times but this, it really takes the cake.

“Home run?” he suggests, turning to you with a sheepish half-grin. There’s no hint of malice in his voice and you think that it’s probably not that he enjoys swinging his baseball bat at zombies. 

“You’re disgusting,” you reply, shaking your head.

“Maybe I should leave you here then.” 

You can’t believe he has the gall to be cheeky with blood running down his arm and four of the undead drooling at the sight of you two. 

“Do you think we can find ingredients that aren’t stale here? I miss having dumplings.”

“Yangyang.”

“Okay, okay.”

The other ones are still far enough and the two of you take this chance to run off towards the street Yangyang mentioned earlier and safely out of view. You notice him panting heavier than before, and your eyes scan over his arm in worry. The bite is ugly, red with oozing blood, and you hold back the urge to ask him if he’s anaemic. 

Yangyang follows your eyes before an ‘ah’ leaves his lips. He spins his head to the right, trying to catch a glimpse of the wound in the same manner a dog chases after its own tail. He puts the bat down to try and twist his arm to see the injury but you stop him, clicking your tongue at his silly behaviour.

“You’re not twelve, Yangyang,” you scold. “Let’s get back to the hotel first.”

He shrugs, and you think some provoking words are ready to leave his mouth when he simply picks up his bat and walks off. You blink before quickening your steps to catch up with him. The blood dripping down his forearm makes you feel a little unwell but you know better than to touch infections.

It takes around fifteen minutes longer than usual to reach the hotel—Yangyang was right. It is safer here, with no zombies lurking around the corners. He must have been out late when he was scouting, you think with distaste.

You reach the now-rusting gates of your haven without trouble and the moment you reach, Yangyang falls to his knees, heaving a breath he seems to have been holding. You rush to him, eyes frantic when you reach your hand out to him, and he flinches, moving away from you.

“Don’t,” he mutters before getting up. “You turning into a real zombie would be my personal nightmare.”

It’s not enough to curb your worry but you follow him nonetheless, the stupid, wavering grin on his face making you unable to decipher what he’s really feeling. 

The familiar smell of honeysuckle washes into you as you pass by the entrance, locking the door behind you as Yangyang falls onto one of the chairs in the lobby. Kunhang happened to be passing by, a muffled swear leaving him when he sees the blood on Yangyang’s arm.

“You didn’t touch him, did you?” he asks, pulling on his gloves to further see the wound. A former med student is the best you have here, and somehow, you’ve never seen him complain about having to take care of someone as bothersome as Yangyang. 

You shake your head in reply to Kunhang and watch as he runs from shelf to shelf to procure more bandages than you’ve ever seen in your life. You’ve been seeing an awful lot lately. 

“We’re going to run out of bandages in a week if he keeps this up,” Kunhang says with a frown, moving so fast you can barely see his hands. “He’ll be okay, I guess. The virus just makes him dizzy.”

He’s probably thinking the same thing you are. Something serious happening to Yangyang is a little bit of a miracle. Maybe he’ll finally be set right in the head. 

Even so, you know Kunhang is worried despite his quick response, his frown lines deepening once he’s done wrapping up. He sighs before waltzing off to discard his gloves.

It’s not that you aren’t impressed by Kunhang; you’ve just seen him do that too many times to count. And of course, it’s mostly Yangyang on the receiving end. They might be good friends but this also happens to be the only time they're serious together. Moreover, Kunhang seems to beat Yangyang in the talking-for-twelve-hours-straight department. You have to admit though, being in charge of first aid for the few people stuck in this hotel is not an easy business. 

You take a seat opposite to Yangyang, dozing off in his chair and wonder if you should wipe the drool off his chin. Disgusting, you think to yourself, but another part of you dares to offer the word cute. 

The best thing about barricading yourself in a hotel during the apocalypse is not having to worry about beds. There’s at least five hundred rooms in this skyrise, more than enough for, what, sixteen people? The place is so big that you hardly run into the others. The only rule around here is regarding the pantry—to write down who’s taken what on the notepad stuck to one corner. Despite what movies show, people are far more helpful to each other in times of need, more so than usual even. You relax into the chair, the velvet cushion feeling comfortable against your back. 

There’s a nice communal feeling in this place. 

You frown. It’s not like you can stay here forever. 

At the very least, you can pretend each sundown and sunrise is ordinary here. You close your eyes, and slowly, thoughts of why you’re trying so hard to remember life before this drift away.

//

Yangyang wakes up before you do, grinning like crazy as he shrugs you awake. You stare at him through groggy eyes, untangling your limbs from yourself. The cold seeps into you and you shiver, hugging yourself.

“We found the keys to the lounge,” he rushes, albeit in a gentle voice. “Guess what?”

“Unh?”

“There’s a campfire spot over there! The others already started but I thought I should wake you up.”

It’s just like him to be excited about something like that. You get up nevertheless, Yangyang pulling you through the stairs and onto the only elevator that seems to work around here. There’s quite a few things about this hotel left to be figured out. You’re going to have to start worrying anyway when the power from the generator runs out.

Kunhang and an older man, Mr Kang, are the only ones there once you reach. You had expected it but the lounge is gigantic and a small part of it provides the artificial campfire area. There are paintings of wild animals and trees for children, you assume, on the walls only cut off by a large vent on the ceiling. The fire burns bright over the large circle of soil and firewood, whose authenticity is debatable. You sigh at the warmth, having grown tired of the autumn weather’s mood swings.

Kunhang greets the two of you with a grin before delicately poking Mr Kang to at least acknowledge your presence. It’s funny, the lot of you.

The place is a little small, considering there’s a literal fire in the middle of the room. You almost sit on Yangyang because he shifts too suddenly at Mr Kang’s disapproval of proximity, a small yelp leaving you whereas Yangyang, for the first time, looks like he’d rather die. He mutters an apology, and two of you manage to sit a good two feet apart, sudden awkwardness rising in the air—all of it unnoticed by Mr Kang. You heard he was a banker but if Kunhang and Yangyang had a polar opposite, it would most certainly be him. You can’t even remember the man’s voice.

You think you should say something but Kunhang’s laughter breaks the silence. There’s an unspoken exchange between him and Yangyang, piquing your curiosity though you aren’t sure what you should be asking. You just assume it’s one of their stupid inside jokes.

“I left your gift on your table. You can add it to your dumb shoe collection,” Kunhang tells Yangyang, smiling before standing up to stretch. “I’m going to bed. Mr Kang, won’t you accompany me?”

Mr Kang gets up begrudgingly and you’re about to ask them to stay longer when Kunhang turns to you enthusiastically. “Good night, (name). Don’t have too much fun. Although, I suppose there’s no better time to have too much fun either.”

You watch with furrowed brows as the two disappear into the doorway and down the stairs. You spend a couple of moments in silence before clearing your throat. When it goes unnoticed, you turn to Yangyang despite the warmth on your face. 

“It’s not dumb,” he mutters to himself, a little zoned out.

You stare at him for a few moments and the familiar feeling rises in your throat, now with a little voice to accompany it. 

Cute.

You cough, distracting yourself with any and all thoughts you would rather have, even of the zombies. Now isn’t the time—or is it the perfect time? You shake your head, calming yourself.

“Does it… hurt?” You ask, eyeing Yangyang’s arm.

He looks up as if broken from a daze, the campfire lights still dazzling in his eyes. You hold back a laugh. He really is a child; if he’s so easily mesmerized by fires, that is.

“Probably not any worse than the lady I whack-a-mole’d. Now that must’ve hurt.” Yangyang puffs his cheek before looking straight at you.

You stare back. It’s not the weirdest thing he’s said.

“What? I feel bad beating the crap out of zombies sometimes,” he says, scratching the back of his head. 

You hum in response. The thought of Yangyang developing a conscience is almost as bad as having to think about zombies. Though, you’ll have to admit, it does give you a strange relief. Zombies can’t really feel pain—they are, after all, numb in every possible sense—but some part of you wonders if it’s alright like this. Morals and survival aren’t meant to overlap. 

You feel the need to distract yourself with something.

“Hey,” you call, moving closer to Yangyang such that your shoulders almost touch. Before you know it, you brush the hair from his face, trying to style the mess into something more neat—a thing you’ve been wanting to do since the first time you saw him. Every time you’d see the messy mop of hair at an official event of the debate club, you’d have this strong urge and an almost putrid form of annoyance. You still don’t know how he managed to get in.

“You don’t look terrible with parted hair,” you muse. “You could’ve looked more decent at the debates.”

You look down from his hair to see Yangyang frozen, eyes wide as if a deer in the headlights.

“Are- Are you not breathing?” you ask.

Yangyang sucks in a large chunk of air, fast enough to choke on it and break into a coughing fit as he turns away from you. You reach out to pat his back but he waves his hand at you, indicating he’s fine before he can turn to you.

You look at him with no particular emotion, the night breeze having worked its way to you.

“What was that about a gift? Are you and Kunhang getting things for each other without telling me?” you say, trying to lighten the atmosphere.

There's a short pause, filled with the crackling of fire.

“It’s my birthday,” Yangyang says with a small smile as the campfire lights dance across his cheeks.

And yet, the words come out sad as if he’d been waiting for an occasion to tell you. You look at him, eyes widening ever so slightly accompanied by the loss of words and take a sharp breath.

“I’m not going to ask for a gift,” Yangyang teases. “Don’t look so worried.”

You open your mouth and close it again, unable to explain the gentle wash of sadness overcome you when you see just a boy. For all the talking he does, he never asks for much. 

“I mean, I- I liked spending the day with you. Why do you look so sad? Did I say something? Again?”

You look over his features, from his brow bone to his wide eyes to his lips and the conclusion arrives as gently as the end of the world. What’s the worst that could happen?

You quickly pull him into a hug, still careful of his injury, and a vaguely embarrassing sound escapes Yangyang, something akin to a sheep’s call. He clears his throat which turns into coughing before he can wrap his arms around you, his breathing soft against your shoulder. 

“I’m- I’m alive, you know? I don’t think I’m dying any time soon. I- I can’t even get infected! You know that.”

“That’s not why I’m- I…” You pull back, steeling your eyes so you don’t feel the warmth of embarrassment. 

Just like you prepare for debates, you think to yourself. Maybe Yangyang was right about you being a zombie—the way you follow the same drudging formula.

“I like you,” you say, your words more of a strained whisper but they’re out before you know it. You can fake confidence, you tell yourself. It’s horrible timing and spending your (potentially) last days with someone who rejected you is just another way to shoot yourself in the foot.

But part of you has been wanting to do this for so long that you almost don’t mind.

Yangyang sucks in a breath, pressing his knuckles to his mouth as he straightens.

“That was- Wow. Okay. I- Uh. Wow.”

You let the heat grow stronger in your cheeks, racking your head for an explanation or even a lie. Maybe you can say it was a mistake. 

“I- I meant…” You lose track of your words. You can’t lie.

“I’ve never been confessed to,” he blurts, and if you squint, you swear you can see him blushing.

“Huh?”

Yangyang coughs again, followed by the same embarrassing sound. “That was- That was the first time.”

The silence between you is accompanied by the crackling of fire and the soft path-making of wind. You’re at a loss for words, something that you should be used to by now—they clearly belong to someone else.

“Oh my god, that was so stupid,” he says, pulling a horrified face as he frantically waves his hands about. “I meant to say I like you too but I- I guess I forgot to say it out loud. Ah, crap- I sound even stupider now, don’t I?”

Your lips twitch, trying to contain your smile but you’re seized with uncontrollable laughter anyway. The mortified expression on Yangyang’s face makes you burst into another fit of giggles before you can somewhat compose yourself.

“I think that’s the longest you’ve been quiet for,” you say in between recurring laughter. “Did anyone ever tell you being able to talk fast doesn’t get you ahead in debate clubs?”

Yangyang frowns.

“Oh, I just joined because I thought it’d get on your nerves,” he says, not a hint of jest in his voice.

You straighten away from him, the smile dropping from your face.

“You can’t be serious.”

He grins sheepishly, scratching the back of his head and offering no explanation. You huff in exasperation, getting up abruptly to avoid another oncoming headache. It’s a little difficult, considering you have the human version of it right beside you.

“Wait- Where are you going?” Yangyang scrambles up to his feet. “It’s my birthday, you know?”

You turn around and put your hands on your hips, a small smile on your face at the sight of him. “It’s midnight already.”

“Oh. How was I supposed to know?”

You laugh, shaking your head. Maybe the little rascal is special.

“Hey,” Yangyang calls. “You know, since this is the end of the world and all…”

You stare at him, heartbeat erratic at the lack of distance and despite the fading of teenage fantasies. Yangyang shifts nervously, glancing here and there while simultaneously trying to keep eye contact with you, an action which makes you hold back a chuckle. There’s a particular twinkle in his eyes but he can’t seem to be able to look at you straight.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, finally.

And what a daring end to the world it is.

[infernwetrust]

The Devil In Me [Michael Langdon x Fem Reader] Part 1

Plot: What if we took the Antichrist, Michael Langdon and turned him into founder and leader of one of the largest cartel’s in California? And what’s even better, is that you’re by his side through it all.

Summary: Michael has some business handled at his California home.

Warnings: violence, swearing, fluff, a lil smut, MURDER, some graphic descriptions

WC: 3.1k

A/N: I thought long and hard about starting this, but I’m gonna go ahead and give it a shot. Outpost Michael fits this perfectly of course, but he’ll cut his hair every now and then lol. This will have it’s own bracket on my master list. Thank you for reading! -Juno

The air was cool. The evening was just right. Your husband Michael had decided to throw a small party that consisted of only close friends, family members, and some staff from your residency and Michael's line of work. Party music played moderately in the background as the backyard of the Santa Monica Villa you and Michael purchased this same year was filled with laughter, dancing, and casual conversation. Servers carried around platters of the most delectable finger foods. Drinks were also being served. Cars were lined up in the driveway, late arrivals having to park on the side of the road. Luckily, Michael always sent one of his guards on a golf cart to pick up his guests that had to park far away.

Michael laid in his hammock, across his rather large pool so that he was away from everyone else. Michael dressed comfortably. He wore a beautiful salmon pink floral shirt and white slacks, with a white belt. No need for shoes. Around Michael's neck was a platinum rope chain that glistened when the light shined on it just right. Around his wrist was a platinum iced out Rolex watch, his name engraved on the inside, one of his favorite gifts from you. The only ring he decided that he wanted to wear today was his wedding band, which shocked you. Michael always wore all of his rings.

Curled up against Michael's chest yours and his beautiful 1 year old boy, Malcolm. He was blessed with a full head of hair, just as blonde as his father's. He took after your eye color, but his resemblance to his father was unmatched. No worries because in his twin brother's arm was your handsome 3 year old son, Michael,who captured most of your features. All really, but your eye color. Michael won that fight again. Junior, is what everyone calls him. On the opposite side of Michael, still in his hammock was you, dressed in that sundress Michael loved to show you off in. Your wedding ring glistened on your finger, no matter what time of day it was or where you were. Michael made sure of that. Around your neck, your favorite Pearl necklace.

You lay head your head on Michael's chest, rubbing your hand gently against the back of your one year old. Michael raises his arm slowly as to not alert the sleeping child and takes a sip of his whiskey. He's glaring at someone, hard. And you know why and who, but you rather choose to not address it. All you were waiting for were the words.

"You know, brother." Jim said to Michael, using his free hand that wasn't holding Junior, to also take a sip of his drink. "I don't see how you do it."

"And what is it that I do, Jim?" Michael questioned, turning his head slightly to meet his brothers gaze. Junior nestled his head back into Jim's chest, mouth full of goldfish out of the bowl he was holding. Jim sat in a chair, adjacent to Michael's hammock.

"How you stay so calm and collected about things."

"Dirty work is not something I'm a fan of."

"But I am."

"I know, so that's why I gave this task to you."

"You know I'll do anything for my family."

"I just don't see why we can't just kick them out." you mumbled, watching as Malcolm grabbed your finger in his sleep as you tried to put your hand back down from his back.

"Because in this life, lessons have to be taught." Michael answered you, putting his glass down to wrap his arm fully around you. Michael made eye contact with his other twin, Duncan, who sat amongst a group of women, one of them in his lap, stroking his hair. He nodded, giving Michael the cue. "Will you go ahead and take the kids inside?" You sighed, sitting up, looking Michael in his soft blue eyes.

"Baby, you don't have to-,"

"One day you'll understand, Y/N." Michael said, cutting you off, grabbing one of your hands and giving it a few small kisses. Getting up, you gently picked up Malcolm, holding him close to you.

"Come on, Junior."

"Nooooooo." Junior whined, not wanting to leave his Uncle's side. "Don't wanna."

"Hey." Jim said, playfully grabbing Junior's tummy, causing him to giggle. "What was that phrase I taught you?"

"The first time." Junior responded happily.

"The first time what?"

"Listen!" he clapped, letting go of his bowl which Jim quickly caught before it fell to the floor.

"Smart boy. Now go with inside with your mommy. We'll play later, yeah?" Junior quickly nodded, scurrying off of Jim's lap and to your side, grabbing your hand. He turned around momentarily to look back at Jim, who shot him a quick wink before you took both boys inside. You also managed to scurry up the other children as well, promising treats and a good show on TV. You had them at treats.

"He loves you so damn much." Michael said, sitting up, hanging his feet of his hammock to come face to face with his brother. "Sometimes I swear he thinks you're his father."

"I mean. I could be. We're twins."

"Watch it, playboy."

Jim chuckled, reaching for his drink to take another sip. He dressed in a dark blue polo shirt, black slacks, and a pair of dark blue dress shoes. A black Louis Vuitton belt, midnight silver buckle, lined his waist. He sighed, reaching for his pistol that was tucked neatly behind him is waistband. He quickly removed the clip, checking it, and popping it back in before setting it down on the table next to Michael.

"Are you sure you want me to do this?" Jim questioned. "He's been with us for a few years, Mike."

"All the more reason to get rid of him. I've taken care of you for years and you betray me like that?" Michael answered. "He knows too much and has seen too much."

"That's true." Jim mumbled, rubbing his hand underneath his chin. "What are they doing with his body?"

"Burning it." Michael said quickly, squinting his eyes at Jim. "Like we do 90% of the time. Do you not want to, Jim?" Michael's question caused Jim to laugh as he got up, returning his shirt back into his slacks. He grabbed his pack of cigarettes off the table, taking one out, placing it between his lips and giving it a light, tossing the box back on the table. He inhaled sharply, before exhaling lengthy.

"You and I both know, Michael." Jim began as he took another hit of his cigarette. "That I shy away from nothing. Especially not an, how do I put this, opportunity." Jim tucked his gun back into his waistband.

"And speaking of opportunity." Jim continued, looking out into the body of people before hitting his cigarette one last time and then handing it to Michael. "Here's mine."

Jim made his way, at a decent pace, back to the other side of the pool, where all the party goers stood. He took his time, waving and smiling at familiar faces. Spotting his target, he moved with just a little bit more urgency. It's such a shame that Bryce had to go. Michael watched Jim as he moved, continuing to sip his drink. Part of him wanted to look away because this hurt him as much as it was going to kill Bryce. Bryce was one of his favorites.

He remembered when he stumbled across Bryce who limped out of an alleyway, screaming for help as Michael closed up his bar. When Michael laid eyes on him, his clothes were completely ruined by blood. He held onto his stomach, collapsing onto the sidewalk, coughing up more blood as he spoke. Michael made his way over to the boy, kneeling down by his side, removing his hand from his wound, watching as the he poured out.

"How bad do you want to live?" Michael asked, cocking his head at the boy.

"What the fuck is up with you man?!" he questioned. "Help me!"

"I asked you a question." Michael spoke again. "You want to live right? I could just let you die, here."

"Um, kinda, yeah!"

"Then tell me how bad you want to live."

"Bad man! Bad! I want to fucking live bad! Please don't let me die!" Michael grinned. How fragile life was, he thought. How it could just be taken from you at any moment. Moments like these.

"What's your name, kid?"

"Br-Br-Bryce." he responded before blacking out from the pain.

"We're going to get you alllllll fixed up, Bryce."

Michael took Bryce, not to a hospital, but instead back to his property, where his own private doctor could deal with Bryce. They managed to take care of what they discovered was a gunshot wound instead of a stab wound like Michael originally thought when he found Bryce.

"How's he doing?" Michael asked Dr. Joseph as he stepped into the rather large, renovated, shed he had given to his doctor for his medical practices. He even was nice enough to give him a little office space as well.

"Well. He's very lucky considering how much he was bleeding." he answered. "Those two bullets I removed barely missed his vital organs, but he'll make a full recovery."

"Which room do you have him in? Is he awake now?"

"Room 3. It has the most room. The last time I checked on him, yes."

Michael nodded at his words, making his way over to the room. He entered quietly, not wanting to startle, Bryce. Bryce sat up in the bed, sipping on an ice cold water, scrolling through the movies on the flatscreen TV Michael had gotten installed in every room. Jim's idea, of course. There was an awkward silence in the room as Bryce didn't know whether to thank him first or say fuck him for waiting until he passed out and asking him all those stupid questions.

Michael didn't say anything as he walked around to the side of Bryce's bed, pulling up a near by chair to sit closer to him. Michael leaned back in his chair, throwing a leg halfway over his knee as he clasped his hands together. Bryce never took his eyes off of him, not sure what his next move would be.

"You're welcome by the way." Michael said. "Isn't it nice having someone take care of you without all the pesky need for insurance information or just a bill in general?"

"Why are you doing this?" Bryce questioned.

"Answer me this, Bryce." Michael leaned forward in his seat. "What if I offered you a chance to start over? A new chance at life. Somewhere, where you could be safe, your meals paid for. And all you have to do is stay by my side, loyal to me."

"I'm not gay, man."

"Who said anything about being gay?" Michael questioned, raising his eyebrow. "And what if I was?"

"Listen." Bryce breathed out. "I didn't mean to offend you. Look. Thank you. For bringing me, to, well wherever we are, and helping me. And once I'm all healed up, I'll be all out of your hair."

"Do you have any family, Bryce?" Bryce's whole attitude changed. He looked softer.

"No..." he answered silently.

"Well you do now."

Jim was just a few feet away from Bryce now when the two made eye contact. And when Jim reached, rather quickly, behind his back, Bryce knew. Of course he knew what he had done. Bryce turned around to start running, when Jim quickly cocked his gun and fired two shots, both at the back of his legs. Everyone stopped what they were doing, in shock, but not enough shock to runaway. It was Jim and who dares question one of Michael's brothers. Everyone watched as Bryce fell to the floor, screaming bloody murder in pain. Jim continued to walk at his leisurely pace to him, standing in front of him.

"Now." Jim said aloud, over the groans and screams of Bryce. "I know you all looked at Bryce as family, right? 4 years ago my brother found this piece of scum bleeding to death, begging for help. And of course Michael helped him."

"I'm sorry!" Bryce yelled, hands reaching out to grab Jim's ankle and it took everything in him not to kill Bryce right then and there, but he wanted to get his point across.

"And with the help of our wonderful Dr. Joseph, he was taken care of, free of charge, can you believe that?" Jim continued. "And all we asked for in return was just his unwavering loyalty." Jim snatched his ankle away from Bryce's hand, stepping on it, instead, causing him to scream out again as his fingers were crushed.

"But when you lie to AND you steal from the hand that feeds you." Jim looked around at everyone as he said this. "There are consequences." Jim kneeled down in front of Bryce who looked up at him, his eyes filled with tears, pleading with Jim.

"Please..." Bryce whispered to Jim, grabbing ahold of him again. "Please Jim, I'm sorry. I was desperate."

Jim grabbed him by his face, snapping his head up to look all the way at him. He looked at the gun in his opposite hand, before looking back at Bryce. The small breeze that was in the air had come completely still, everyone virtually silent as they watched the events unfold. When things first went missing around the house when Michael would hold meetings, they didn't even think to look at Bryce. Not until Michael had trusted him enough to appoint him as Duncan's right hand man. Duncan handled all of the cartel's finances and when he kept coming up short on the days just him and Bryce would do the counting, he caught on rather quickly.

"I liked you Bryce." Jim said, jaw clenched. "I really did. We all did. We loved you almost, but you know the rules, don't you?"

"Jim please..." Bryce whined, starting to cry his eyes out, but only enough for Jim to see and hear. "Please man. I'll do anything. Anything please!"

"What did I tell you happened to those who betrayed the cartel? What is your own way out once you're in? I mean I could just let you go, yeah? But once you walk out those doors you become a liability to me, my brothers, and my family. And I just can't have that."

"Death..." Bryce mumbled. "But we can work something out, please!"  Jim chuckled as he let go of Bryce's face, quickly cocking his gun again, before holding Bryce's face up again. He put the gun inside of Bryce's mouth, looking him dead in his eyes.

"Maybe in another life." And with those words said, Jim pulled the trigger, the sounds of bloods and mush splattering across the ground. A few turned their heads, not wanting to see the sight. Jim looked up and back across the pool at his brother who downed the rest of his drink, nodding at Jim.

"Clean it up." Jim said to the disposal crew who stood near by, rising to his feet, and tucking his gun back away. "Everyone else can carry on."

///

The warm water danced on your skin as you stood in the shower, washing away all events from today. You put your face underneath the water for a few seconds before running both of your hands through your hair. When you turned around you were startled by the presence of your husband, Michael, who stood behind you, a little soaked from the backlash of you being underneath the water. His vibrant blue eyes were now several shades darker as he was out of the sun light. He simply just stared at you.

You offered to trade him positions under the water so he could get completely wet too and of course he didn't object. You were now staring at him as he stepped underneath the water, sighing as it hit his skin. He ran his hands over his face as he turned around to face you, getting off as much water as he could before he opened his eyes again to look at you. Water dripped off his skin and your eyes couldn't help but trail all over him. He was so beautiful. His long blonde hair, over shoulder length, completely wet now as the water continued to pour down on him. You almost smiled, remember when Michael told you that he was going to start growing his hair out. He cut it every now and then, but nothing compared to long haired beauty.

"I'm sorry." he spoke, running his hands over his face again. "I know you don't like when.. you know." You walked over to your husband, pressing your forehead against his, throwing your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you. His large hands found their way to small of your back, pulling you even closer.

"I know..." you mumbled, using your thumbs to rub the back of his neck. "I'm not mad at you, Michael. I just don't want you to become... emotionless."

"Everything I do is to protect you and our boys. Without my family, I am nothing. This empire? We built it, Y/N. Not just me. I'm still here emotionally, but you know it works. He was too much of a liability to just let go. And when the right information gets into the wrong hands, I'm only sure you can imagine what happens."

"Do you ever get afraid, Michael?"

"Only if it deals with you and my sons." he said, looking down at you, smiling. Cheeky bastard.

"I'm being serious. What if one day you go out and don't come back home? What if we get attacked here? What will I do? What will I tell our children?"

"Don't you ever worry about that, my love." Michael reassured you. "As long as my brothers and I are alive and breathing, no one will be in any kind of danger. I promise." Michael brushed his lips across yours as he finished his sentence. You pulled him in for a kiss. A hungry one, it was, as your tongues wasted no time entering each other's mouths, Michael's dominance showing as you basically let him devour you, melting away at his touch. He backed you up against the shower wall and you gasped against him as it was cold. He picked you up and you immediately wrapped your legs around his waist, holding onto him like your life depended on it. 

"Let me help you forget..." he said against your lips, brushing his nose across yours and you remembered, just how in love you are with Michael.

Taglist: @angelicmichael @whatcodysaid @9layerdevilfoodcake  @xavierplympton @jimmason @theneverendinghunger

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Jeweler Richard Fanbook Short Story #12

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Suit Story

If you went through Ginza’s Main Street from 7-chome to 1-chome, the change in the city’s atmosphere would shock you. Bulgari, Cartier, Louis Vuitton, Chanel. Felt like you could play shiritori with these high-class brand names. It was a fun neighborhood to stroll around during Christmas season, as all the stores would come up with elaborate plans for the decorative lights, but it was currently autumn. The store most closely related to me in these vicinities was the long-established stationery store where I went to buy stationery. It was, however...

“Please raise your arms a little more.”

“All right.”

“Pull your chin back a bit. Yeah, that’s great.”

“Haah. Is this really right?”

“Of course. Might be hard, but please do relax.”

For whatever reason, I was across the street from the stationery store, practically in front of it, on the second floor of a branded men’s fashion store originally from England. On the walls of this mysterious-gentleman-themed space, which housed a bar counter and even a huge aquarium, there were clusters of business suits, pants and waistcoats with basting threads attached to them in conspicuous spots.

It was a place for taking measurements for custom-made stuff.

I couldn’t get over the feeling that this was some kind of mistake. Wasn’t this the stationery store? The place where you could buy vanilla-colored envelopes for 30 yen each? Or illustrated writing paper with seasonal vibes, or pens.

“Seigi, you are too nervous.”

“Nakata-san is such an imp, but so are you.”

Leaning against the bar counter, Richard shrugged his shoulders, indicating possibility.

Today was Thursday. Having been called by Richard, who said he wanted to ask me to do some odd job, I went over to the front of Etranger, and then we came to this store in the green jaguar. Just when I thought he was gonna make me hang with him for shopping, the man on the driver seat hastily took out his phone, showing me a video letter from my dad, Nakata-san.

“Seigi, congrats on your graduation. I wanted to go suit shopping with you, but I’m in Jakarta, so I’ll be borrowing Richard-san’s assistance for that. Seems like people are getting them custom-made lately. Make sure to buy a good one. Well, see ya.”

Richard had watched over me in the passenger seat as my eyes got wet, but the tears drew back in when we stepped into the store.

While talking lightheartedly about the difference between English and Italian suits, the young clerk, who wasn’t all too apart from me in age, smoothly took my body measurements with a measuring tape and showed me countless textures.

“You can also choose the lining. What should we do about the pockets?”

When I started getting dizzy, said man, who was like a page of suits, began giving me suggestions from behind. I had nowhere to run. I was really going to have my suit made here. As I picked a charcoal-gray suit with blue lining, Richard quickly told me that tanzanite cuffs would look very nice in it. Of course, I was thinking the exact same thing.

By the moment that the Onii-san finished the measuring and disappeared into the back of the store to take notes, I heaved a deep sigh. “This kinda stuff’s been happening a lot lately. All I ever do is receive.”

When I said that, Richard laughed, giggles ringing up his throat.

Richard had two types of smiles, and whenever he raised his voice while laughing, if I refused to back down, he’d often give me a word of advice of some sort. When it was a silent smile, I’d feel like he was telling me in some way to “reflect about myself”, which would make me a bit anxious, but I liked both.

Walking up next to me as I stood in front of the mirror, Richard grinned. “It is no longer guaranteed that your body will grow out of your clothes. Isn’t it fun to sometimes purchase slightly larger clothes and try to wait for your body’s growth?”

“Feeling like this talk doesn’t have the ‘sleep well and drink milk’ kinda nuance to it.”

The reply was a smile. How strange. Richard’s face was right at my left side, but the smile in the mirror was looking directly at me. Clad in a double-button slender silhouette suit, his figure was perfect no matter from what angle I looked at it, like an extraordinarily fine jewel, so my own figure as I tensed up beside him appeared even weirder.

“Hey, Richard, I kinda have the feeling that suits are like the base metals of jewelry.”

“Are you referring to the foundation parts of rings, earrings and such?”

I nodded. The base metal was the metal part that formed the foundation for attaching gemstones to jewelry. In stores, people would often memorize the materials and call them by their names, such as gold base metal or platinum base metal.

It was a part that never played the leading role in Etranger, which handled accessories with gemstones on them. But it’d be hard to wear jewelry on the body without it, and it was also a part that allowed people to express their particularities regarding the materials, durability and design. Whether they would be prominent or not depended on the basis. Erm, this was probably what a jeweler from Kyoto that I was acquainted with would say. The contrary was also possible.

“Gotta psyche myself up. If I don’t become someone that won’t lose to this suit, I’d feel bad.”

“This is my personal opinion, but there is nothing more tiring to look at than a jewelry in which the gem and base metal are at rivalry with one another. What you should emphasize is the harmony. Just because you use the finest high-grade eggs and milk as ingredients, it does not mean you will create the best pudding – is that not the same thing?”

“Ah...”

When I replied that, indeed, high-end ingredients were often strongly in demand, the beautiful man nodded with an “exactly as you say”. By the looks of it, those were the sweets that he was into lately. I hadn’t been able to take time some for it at all due to being busy, but I decided to make pudding again one of these days and offer to him. Despite having a wallet that enabled him to eat as many high-grade desserts as he wanted, Richard would always be delighted anew no matter how many of them I made, which made me believe that, as one would expect, he had a talent for pleasing people. I was grateful for his existence.

“Both suits and jewelry are goods that exist for the sake of their owners. The initiative is clear from the start. You must handling it skillful and comfortably, not fight against it. That is why it is custom-made.”

“So you’re also ‘skillfully handling’ the clothes you’re wearing right now?”

“Evidently. Enough that I do not know anymore at what point it ends and I begin.” With that said, Richard sleekly patted his suit. I wanted to try saying that too someday.

We exchanged glances not through the mirror but directly.

When the clerk Onii-san came back, the measuring recommenced. I got kind of embarrassed as he praised me, saying I was well-relaxed.

   “Seigi-kun, good work! Wow, that suit looks really great on you.”

“Thanks, Tanimoto-san. Uh, this print on your furisode, could it be—”

“I was told it’s a modern type of print, but yep, it’s kinda like...”

“It looks like a bismuth crystal!”

With a face that said, “I know, right”, a dandy crease formed under her eyes, which were just a bit more on-the-mark than usual. Her bob-cut hair was the same as always, her cream-colored hakama paired with a yellow-green and dark blue furisode, which bore a mysterious geometric pattern print. On top of being cute, it was unique. She said it was rented, but I got emotional upon finding out there was a furisode that was so much like her.

As for me, I was wearing a double-button English suit that fit my body extremely well. It was a little embarrassing, but the creatures called college boys were more or less the same kind of individuals as myself, so they weren’t too mindful of their male friends’ clothes. Only one of them, who had found employment in the apparel industry, said that “the suit Nakata’s wearing is so nice”.

It was the graduation ceremony of Kasaba University. We gathered in the excessively large auditorium for all but an instant, and once we had our diplomas in hand, it was the beginning of a rapid shooting party, where we took pictures with our preferred friends in spaces near the auditorium. Tanimoto-san came running over to the spot near the central library, where we had decided to meet up.

“Seigi-kun, really, congrats. Things might get hard from now on, but if it’s you, everything will definitely be okay.”

“Thank you. I’ll do my best. I don’t think I’m that big of a deal, though...”

“That’s not true. I know very well how awesome you are.”

I played around a little and bowed my head, also congratulating Tanimoto-san for her graduation, she laughed with a “huhuhu”, looking happy.

She had passed in teaching and she would officially be a middle school science teacher starting this April. She fulfilled the dream that she had told me about when we were in our second year of undergrad. So cool. She had laughed when I said I wanted to take her classes if it were ever possible, but now I knew her video communication address, so it might be that I could actually get to attend her lectures at least once. Even if I were no longer living in Japan.

“Tanimoto-san, the school you’re assigned to is...”

“In Okayama Prefecture. It’s famous for the Katsuta Group of vicarya fossils. Compared to you, it’s next-door.”

In a few days, my address would change from Japan to Sri Lanka. I was going to be a jeweler apprentice. I had been told that I would often have to move around in rough dress, so sure enough, I was going to dedicate myself to wearing formal stuff for the time being. It was a bit of a waste, but Nakata-san and Richard had probably given me a chance to wear this kind of thing because they knew about that.

I could hear a voice in the distance calling, “Shouko~”. It was apparently a friend of Tanimoto-san’s. She waved at them in response.

“Seigi-kun, y’know... I think I was very lucky to meet you in this university. Literally thank you. Thanks to you, university was always fun.”

“Those are all my lines. But Tanimoto-san, I only ever gave you trouble.”

“If you’re gonna say that, same goes for me. I feel like you’ve granted me many opportunities. Seriously, thank you.”

When she smiled, saying she was going to do her best, she looked really cute. Neither of us had any familiarity with Okayama, but surely, she would actively pave the way with her own strength no matter where she was. And on her days off, she would go out to the Katsuta Group to dig up fossils.

“From now on too, if there’s anything I can help you with, I want you to tell me. I’ll do anything. If you run into any weirdo, I’ll get on a plane and come give them a beating.”

“Me too; if anyone ever messes up with you, Seigi-kun, I’ll take my crack hammer and go finish them off. Look forward to it. Ah, Aki told me that a sniper rifle suits me better, apparently?”

“I-I wonder.”

After that, we talked for a while, seated on an inconspicuous bench, and when it was finally time, she told me to at least take care of my body, offering me her hand. I nodded and squeezed it back. Her hand was small but very strong.

“Take care of your body, at the very least. May the blessings of the stones fall upon you.”

“Thank you. You too.”

We bowed deeply, taking pictures with each other while we were at it, and once we were done with the commemorative photoshoot, in which the two of us kept a moderate distance from one another, we parted ways. Students here and there were hugging intensely and wailing, but neither she nor I were that type, and I didn’t think this would be farewell for a lifetime. We would definitely get to see each other from now on too.

However, this was our last time seeing each other while we were students. After the handshake, my angel waved her hand with a “see you”, even more brightly than an actual angel.

Later on, having finished looking around for the friends that I could call friends and going on a tour to tell them “thank you for everything until now”, lastly, I sent a brief text. Not to Richard. To Nakata-san and Hiromi.

“I was able to graduate from university without problems. Thank you very much, truly. I will be in your care from now on too.”

Rather than a greeting, it turned into a notice to announce my renewed determination. The stylish suit indeed gave off an extraordinary feeling of fittingness, but I couldn’t think I was fully used to it. Obviously. It finished being made just a while ago. It would start from here. If it would take on my shape the more I wore it, then I would make sure to wear it steadily to my own liking.

What mattered was the harmony, he had said.

While smoothly stroking the suit, which I still couldn’t deem as anything other than formal wear, as if I were stroking my favorite gemstone, I seared the contrast of cherry blossom petals against the blue sky into my eyes.