#you chose to reply to my text. now you get to deal with the consequences

[ghastbutlikegay]

kinda crazy that i became the guy who sees little posts like “reminder that your friends like you and wouldn’t hang out with you if they didn’t” and thinks “this post is not talking to me”

[creativeashproductions]

Suddenly Stuck With You // Charlie Gillespie

Summary: Twenty-one years ago Owen Patrick Joyner was born into a life with a bright future and career bringing him two best friends. His best friends Charlie and Jeremy drag the blonde actor to Vegas to celebrate his first legal drink in America. What was supposed to be a weekend for the boys quickly changed all because a certain Canadian met a girl and drank a ton. Now they have to deal with the consequences of their actions.

Warnings: Swearing, alcohol, allusion to sex, heartbreak, angst and fluff

Words: 7.1k

A/N: Originally this was going to be a mini series but I can’t be bothered to stretch out this idea. I’m sorry, I just feel like this is shit already and I haven’t felt that happy with my writing lately.

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Masterlist

Fox and Hound Pub, Las Vegas July 2021

“Happy birthday man!” The voice of his castmate, work roommate and best friend announced.

Owen’s eyes found Charlie’s glittering viridescent eyes meeting Owen’s bright blue.

“Why did we have to celebrate my twenty-first in Las Vegas, Charlie?” Owen questioned with one hand, cupped around his first legal drink in America. 

Owen had had his fair share of beers in his life both in America and his visits in Germany after he turned sixteen. Charlie and Jeremy had been the ones to drag the actor to Vegas to celebrate. Owen didn’t see the significance of celebrating in a different state than Los Angeles.

“C’mon! You’re twenty-one!” Charlie exclaimed pushing a beer across the table in the bar they had found. Relatively lowkey the boys hadn’t been stopped for pictures by JATP fans thankfully.

Owen nabbed the mug from Charlie’s calloused hand to take a swig of the drink to Charlie’s delight with a sigh. The tall actor scanning the moderately filled bar, the world was coming back to terms after the pandemic officially ended.

“There you go!” The Canadian adventurer spoke nodding his head to the live music a local band was playing.

Owen’s eyes found someone he recognized from a show on the History Channel his dad was incredibly into for several years. Two men sat in a booth next to the bar with food in front of them with the dark-haired one wearing a shirt with a logo. It was hard to make out, but he believed it was for a famous pawn shop in Vegas.

“Drink up. I got the tab tonight.” Charlie informed his distracted best friend, “This is gonna be an incredible year. Shooting for season two with the gang back together.”

“Hey, sorry about that. Care and I had a scheduled live on Insta to do. Happy birthday, man.” Jeremy sat in the booth next to Charlie, still living on the high of seeing his wife.

“This is gonna be a trip to remember,” Charlie announced tapping mugs with his two fellow castmates and best friends.

Oh, how right Charlie was.

Your best friend lifted the wineglass to her red lips with a mischievous look in her eye that concerned you as usual. Cherry, nicknamed for her fierce love of cherries, had a wild streak that had mellowed after graduating college last year. Cherry had invited you to stay with her for a month to recover from a devastating loss. The offer hadn’t entirely left her lips before you bought a plane ticket from Heathrow Airport in England to Las Vegas.

You had met Cherry in your teens through an exchange program set up between your schools a few years back. Even since you two met at sixteen, you had been best friends and unable to get rid of the other.

“Why are we here?” You asked, tapping a manicured nail freshly done at a spa courtesy of Cherry. Of course Cherry chose a shade of red as per usual while you had chosen a traditional white tip French Manicure.

“I know the breakup was tough, but you need to let loose.” Cherry’s hand reached over to squeeze yours. The sympathetic smile irritating you for god knows what number of time it was.

Averting your eyes, you found yourself scanning the pub with barely any attention but you wanted to escape the warm amber brown of your friend. You loved Cherry, but you wanted to mourn the loss of your relationship within your own time and way.

“I need another drink!” You called over the loud music before pushing away from the table to head to the bar.

Ordering your favourite drink, you leaned against the dark wood with your arms crossed and a faraway gaze. Unaware of the man waiting next to you for his own drink.

“Hey!” The male spoke, bringing your attention to his soft hazel gaze.

Your e/c eyes finding the man speaking with a kind and absolutely breathtaking smile framed by the scruff his face sported. Facial hair sometimes turned you off if it wasn’t worn styled for the individual. This guy, however, pulled it off with the brunette moustache matching the medium-length head of hair.

“Hi.” You softly replied gracefully grabbing the drink when the barkeep set it down before hustling down the counter to another customer, “Am I in your way?”

“No. I already got my drink. You looked lost, and I saw the bartender coming. I didn’t want anyone slipping you something.”

“Thank you…”

“Charlie.” The man spoke, holding out his hand to you with his smile still on his cheerful expression. Your hand slid into his warm grip.

“Y/N.”

You and Charlie retreated to an empty table deep in conversation with such ease it felt like you had known each other for years. You learnt he was living in LA, but originally from Canada, a province called New Brunswick.

Charlie was enthralled as you told him how you had been born and raised in America for the first ten years of your life. After age ten, you moved to England for your mom’s job offer and settled in your father’s childhood hometown; he was originally from England but met your mother on vacation in California.

While you conversed, Cherry found you entirely focused on the male with an expression she hadn’t seen in ages. Her eyes floated by to you periodically for your safety until you sent her a text.

You: Sorry, I ditched you. I got caught up talking with Charlie.

Cherry sent a response back before paying your tabs and heading to her apartment a few blocks away from Fox and Hound Pub. Her heart was excited for how the night would pan out because the sexual tension could be felt across the duo’s room. She was confident you wouldn’t make any stupid decisions.

Oh, how wrong she was.

A hiss preceded the deep groan as a group of construction workers pounded away in your skull painfully. The back of your eyelids painted red from the sunlight pouring into the room from the open blinds.

Scrubbing one hand over your eyes, you slowly sat up with a satisfying stretch after a well-rested sleep. The cool air from the air conditioner raising goosebumps on your bare skin…wait a minute bare skin? The slightest sound of the sheet rustling together, freezing you in place. Firstly, you glanced down at your bare chest before sliding your eyes over to the left of the bed.

Eyes equally large the man from last night, Charlie, cried out when he sat up too quickly. The sheets pooled around his bare waist.

“Okay. Definitely didn’t wake up in my own bed.” You muttered leaning over to find your abandoned shirt on the floor.

Pulling it on despite the stare from Charlie’s hazel eyes, you scoured the room for the rest of your clothes. The room was silent as Charlie slid on his clothing like you did before you stood covered up in the hotel room.

“So, obviously, we slept together. Do you remember if we used-“Charlie started to ask. Your mouth opening to end his sentence.

“I’m on the pill. We used a condom.” You informed him equally as relieved you hadn’t made a stupid decision, “Thankfully even fully sloshed we used protection. We didn’t make a stupid decision.”

At least you hooked up with a really nice guy instead of a scummy guy only in it for his own pleasure and disregarding yours. Vague memories from the night in the sheets swayed you into believing the charming man was more of a giver than a receiver.

Charlie’s mouth opened he felt a new weight barely discernable, but he felt it, “Uh…guess again.”

Eyes furrowing you found the ring on his finger with shame, “Oh my god, you’re married?!”

Holy shit, you slept with a married man. You’re a homewrecker you thought to yourself getting further worked up. What if this guy had kids. Not noticing your feet had started pacing the room.

“I wasn’t yesterday morning.” Charlie faltered keeping his eyes on the cheap ring he definitely hadn’t been wearing yesterday. His eyes moving to look at the matching wedding band on your left hand, bringing you attention to it as well.

“Well, fuck.” The deep sigh guiding awareness from the male to the weary posture that came with the heartbreak.

When Cherry invited you to visit and take solace in your best friend, you never expected to wake up from a one night stand turned more. Tears built with the embarrassment of crying in front of his stranger that hadn’t asked for a morning with a hangover and a new wife.

“Whoa! Hey, we can get it annulled.” Charlie stuttered rushing over to draw you into his strong arms with such gentle care it melted your heart. The leftovers that hadn’t shattered to your toes from the failed relationship you escaped the UK for.

“This is a mess.” You sighed birthing an unintentional word vomit, “I left the UK to visit my best friend, Cherry. She brought me to the bar to cheer me up and instead of attempting the ‘to get over someone you have to get under someone’ I fuck that up as well. I get married.”

Charlie’s hazel gaze widened at the revelation, “You broke up with someone?”

“More cliché. He’s a rich frat boy in his fifth year of college, he’s brilliant but chose to stay for the frat house. He got a girl pregnant, and now he’s in a forced engagement.” The smile you hoped was strong came out wobbling, “Then he asked me to be his ‘official’ real relationship. An embellished way of being the secret girlfriend/mistress.”

Charlie winced, leaning back to stare down, “How long ago was this?”

“Around seven months? I kept it quiet for a while. No one knew until last month. I’ve gotten a lot of pity even if I’m over him but not the betrayal.” Charlie whistled lowly with a nod and a particular look in his eyes.

“This is gonna come out of the left-field entirely, but what if we check out the laws on Vegas weddings? See if we fit the annulment or if we need a divorce? If we need a divorce, we can play it out to make his regret his decision and get everyone off your back?”

The refusal just about dropped from your tongue before something changed, “Let’s do it.”

As Charlie quickly get ready, he nabbed his phone from the charger by the bed before he slipped his hand in yours. He answered your confusion with the excuse of getting used to each other. Instead of fighting the blatant denial, you followed him to his rented car for the week to give him directions to Cherry’s apartment.

“So, what’s our story?” You asked the man, “We don’t know each other that well.”

“My full name is Charlie Jeffrey Gillespie. I’m Canadian but living in Los Angeles for work, I’m here for my best friend Owen’s twenty-first birthday with our other best friend, Jeremy. I’m twenty-two turning twenty-three in August.” Charlie spitfire navigating the streets of Vegas with practised ease.

“You already know my full name. I’m twenty-three as of a few months prior. You already know I moved from America to England over a decade ago.” The hesitation came from telling Charlie the career you had had since you turned twenty.

The topic of jobs was evaded as you learnt about each other’s likes and dislikes in a crash course to convince Cherry. Just as Charlie started to list his siblings, his phone rang through the car’s Bluetooth.

“I’m guessing that’s the Owen you came to Vegas with?” You questioned flicking your gaze between the Caller ID and your husband. God even thinking of having a husband was incredibly odd.

“Yeah. I have to answer.” Charlie’s exuded nerves with his fingers tapping the steering wheel, “Can you play along?”

He didn’t wait for an answer before clicking the accept.

“Dude, where are you? We were supposed to get food together? I have a wicked hangover.” The voice of this Owen spoke with a tinge of annoyance you only caught with your training.

“I met Y/N.” Charlie infused his voice with the nerves and a slight change to his voice that impressed you as he stepped into a set of shoes in his chest of roles.

“Who? Is that the girl from last night? The one you had that drinking challenge with?” Owen questioned from his side of the phone settled at a table with Jeremy nursing a coffee for his hangover.

“I haven’t told anyone, but after Jeremy’s wedding, it made me feel like I was missing something? I signed up for a dating app, and with filming, I forgot about it. About six months ago, I met someone, and we’ve constantly been talking.”

“That’s why you refused the blind dates from Sav and me? Not that you wanted to focus on work.” Jeremy interjected, “You should have told us, man. We wouldn’t judge you.”

“I know that, but we all blew up after the show. I just wanted to keep this between us until we knew for sure but guys…this girl is the One.” Charlie chuckled, shaking his head at the irony of already being married to you.

“We’re happy. So, did you want to take me to Vegas so you could meet her?” Owen questioned with a pit in his stomach of Charlie’s motives not being only for him.

“I’m in the car with her. She’s sending a few emails for work and blasting music. I can hear it from the driver’s seat.” Charlie joked to the boys with the lie slipping quickly, “Hey! Y/N, sweetheart.”

“Hm?” You interject with such ease, Charlie wondered if you were an actor as well. The practised and on beat performance, “Oh! Hi, sorry. I’m Y/n, you must be Owen and Jeremy? Charlie’s talked about you guys. Congratulations on your wedding Jeremy.”

“Oh. Thank you.” Jeremy lightly laughed, shaking his head at the voice coming from Owen’s phone on speaker.

“Happy birthday Owen. I wish I could have met you in person to wish you a happy birthday, but Charlie and I tend to forget to tell each other where our trips happen! It was such a shock to see him last night.” Just as Charlie had used affected nerves, you played up the loved up role, “My best friend and I almost chose a different pub than Fox and Hound.”

Owen and Jeremy’s grins grew at the genuine care in your voice as you continued speaking before Charlie interrupted you.

“Sweetheart I think they get it!” Charlie laughed with a glittering of stars in his eyes, “It was shocking to see Y/n in Las Vegas of all the 50 states. This week has been the best. Getting to bring my best friend to Vegas for his big twenty-one and meeting the love of my life in person?”

“Charlie’s dropping me off at my best friends. You’ll have him again in an hour. I hope you have a wonderful weekend Owen.” You finished unknowingly winning them over at the care in your voice and the happiness you brought out in Charlie.

Owen ended the call with a quick goodbye, leaving the rented car quiet between the new husband and wife.

“That went better than I expected.” Charlie admitted with a soft smile on his lips only to drop at your expression, “What?”

“Our next obstacle in convincing my best friend this relationship is real.”

“I’m sure it will go-“

“She’s an extremely successful criminal prosecutor who graduated high school a year early and fast-tracked through college.”

“Well, shit,” Charlie stated, leaning back in his seat as the entire situation hit him that he had married a stranger.

Charlie may be able to fool his friends but his family? His mother to be specific would immediately know what was up. The young Canadian had always been open on one day getting married surrounded by his family and have his parents there. Dropping this bomb on his family could only go one way: terrible.

“I’m a good actor. I’m sure we can convince her. We’ll get together with her tomor-“

“Unfortunately, I’m meeting with her in a few hours.” You revealed with a sheepish smile on your pretty features. Charlie could feel his heart drop in dread and fear at how the hand given wasn’t in his favour.

The drive was quiet as dread filled the two individuals as the distance was eaten up between the car and the apartment that housed an intelligent woman. Cherry Parker had only been working at the firm for a year with a clear future as a partner within ten years. Cherry with perfect grades in high school and high percentages in college and a perfect smile. A natural at finding people’s ticks she would be near impossible to deceive.

“We could turn around. Make an excuse to be introduced through the phone.” Charlie supplied, biting his lip, “Oh my god. She’s not gonna kill me, is she?”

“No.” You swiftly told the spiralling man, “She’d kill me and frame you.”

Maybe that wasn’t the best to calm the man down as he freaked out more, “Oh my god. What are we gonna do!?”

The apartment loomed as the car came to a stop outside just as the individual wearing seafoam green peacoat stepped to the entrance. Her blunt bob of caramel brown hair and unique earrings screaming that it was Cherry.

“That’s her.” You breathed as Charlie parallel parked in between a compact car and an SUV in front. Jerry, the doorman, waved with his beaming smile that reminded you of a jolly man just as he had since you had first visited Cherry in her apartment.

Jerry mumbled towards Cherry before she turned swiftly on her black pumps notorious to her work attire. Since her first year of law school, she had gone through two pairs and adored them with her new income.

The woman rushed over as your door opened with the help of Charlie, how you didn’t notice he had turned the car off and walked to your side, appalled you. The 5’8 male was shoved to the side as Cherry tugged you into her arms with a scathing glare at Charlie.

 “I don’t know who you are or how much you rocked her world, but it’s been hours. I thought you kidnapped her.” Cherry hissed at the male with her brown eyes flaring with anger that made both you and Charlie flinch.

“Whoa! We got stuck in traffic, and Charlie’s friend called.” Your hands raised in defence at the pointed glare now directed at you. The amber-brown eyes scanned your form and other than the apparent walk of shame appearance, you looked fine.

Cherry’s red lips parted for the usual questions she gave to all her friends after one-night stands. With a subtle shake of your head, Cherry tabled the questions for later before locking her eyes on the newcomer.

“Cherry Parker. And what’s the name of the guy that plastered a smile on her face?” Cherry questioned, holding out her hand to him.

“Charlie Gillespie. It’s nice to meet you.” Charlie replied with that charming smile that melted your heart. It didn’t appear to melt Cherry with the thick skin she developed first in her family and then as a lawyer.

“Likewise. Well, thank you for delivering her safe.” Cherry spoke hand, reaching for your own impatient for all the details she would demand. Her words failed when her amber gaze peered at the near-identical faces, “What did you do?”

The demand startled the two individuals before the attorney began ushering the duo in the building you had been staying at. Her red nail stabbing the golden-hued elevator surrounded by emerald green displaying a vintage colour scheme.

“Please tell me it’s not as bad as senior year?” Cherry pleaded massaging the bridge of her nose with her free hand. The other clenching her briefcase so tight the knuckles had turned bleach bone white.

“What happened senior year?” Charlie asked following the two best friends into a spacious apartment that could fit two of his in it. His hazel eyes catching the unspoken conversation between the two best friends.

“Not important.” Cherry sighed eyes, lowering to your fingers, “Of course. Vegas. You eloped. Jesus Y/N, you know how your family is.”

Catching the confusion from Charlie, you elaborated for Cherry, “My family is incredibly strict and old fashioned. Divorce isn’t accepted in my family for anything less than the most serious scenarios.”

“Drunk eloping in Vegas? Practically get prepared for silent judgemental stares from Nana and drowning disappointment.” Cherry sighed, pushing a strand of her caramel brown locks behind her ear.

“I have a plan for that. We can pretend to be married before amicably divorcing later. We can figure out the details for a reason later in future. We already started the ruse.” Charlie admitted seating himself at the island in the spacious kitchen his mother would dream of cooking in.

Charlie could already tell just how successful Cherry was with her apartment and her outfit that dripped money. Her kindness, however, set her on a different level to the people Charlie had encountered with the same dollar signs.

“Of course,” Cherry grumbled digging around for drinks. Charlie fully anticipated it to be some kind of fancy wine, but he was proven wrong.

Cherry had taken out two different kinds of beer from the fridge, along with cold mugs straight from the freezer.

“What just because I’m dolled up you think I drink strictly wine? I have that for my mother and sister when they visit.” Charlie barely caught the eyeroll at Cherry’s mention of her family as she turned to you.

“Besides, I’m my father’s daughter.” You cheered cracking open your choice into the mug with skilled ease. The foam perfectly dealt with it brought a smile to Charlie’s face.

“Okay, so this ruse. What did you do so far?”

“My friends think she and I met on a dating app seven months ago and coincidently ran into each other last night at the bar. We’ve kept it private because of my job-“

“-along with Y/N’s job.” Cherry simply spoke raising the rim of her mug to her lips, “Okay, there’s no way you’d sign up on an app after Harvey. So, I went behind your back and made one for you.”

“Then Charlie messaged me after I found out. It started off as apologizing that he chose my profile. It started a friendship that turned into a relationship.”

“We did Facetime dates before becoming exclusive, and you wanted to ensure it was something that would last longer than a fling.” Charlie inserted with a beaming grin as he felt into ease with the two girls before him.

“I think we got a story for you two. Just two rules: One, don’t go falling in love with each other and two, don’t get pregnant.” Cherry joked sitting in the barstool across from you and Charlie. Her red lips revealing white teeth, one tooth with a tiny chip out of it from high school.

The rest of the days’ Charlie was in Las Vegas he alternated between his friends and you with the odd time he invited you to dinner with them. There was such ease between Charlie and you that hadn’t be there even with your ex Harvey. Unfortunately, the time in Las Vegas dwindled down until you were dropping the boys off at the airport.

“I’ll call you when I get home.” Charlie mumbled in the earshot of his friends, “Whirlwind wedding-“

“Married.” Owen scoffed in disbelief once more having found out at dinner last night that included colourful words. Jeremy had been placed in silent shock seeing the real matching wedding bands.

“In a month, you’ll fly out to England to help me pack up the flat and then we’ll fly to see your family for your cousin’s wedding.” You finished for the man with a beaming grin that had steadily lost its fake appeal. It quite literally felt like you had known Charlie for longer than a few days.

“It was really nice meeting you. I hope Charlie can convince you to come visit my wife and me. You and Carolynn would hit it off.”

“Could I bring Bindi?” Owen joked as he tugged you into a hug as soon as Jeremy had released you. Charlie was quick to drag you back into his embrace, even adding a kiss to your forehead.

The airport speakers announced the second warning of their flight number boarding rather suddenly in which the trio frantically rushed. The feeling of your stomach dropped took you by surprise just as much as the manicured hand of Cherry.

 “You okay?” Cherry asked softly sliding her hand down your arm to clutch yours in hers. It was an act of comfort you both had done throughout your friendship, whether it be uncomfortable situations or heartbreak.

“I feel like I’ve known him years instead of days. Cherry, I think I’m in danger of falling for him.” You fully admitted turning your head to meet her concerned brown orbs.

“Sweetheart, you’ve never been good at doing no feelings.” Cherry replied with a squeeze of your hand, “He feels the same. Now we need you to get to your gate since you’re ditching me.”

“As much as I would adore staying here. I need to get back to England to finish packing my flat.” You informed Cherry with a small grin as her red lips parted in a gasp at your announcement.

You had temporarily relocated back to the US at eighteen when you were recruited into the CIA, and then you were sent to England for work. It was very under the cover, and Cherry knew the basics but not the entirety of your career.

“You’re coming back!” Cherry cheered grinning at what could be the best news of the week for the lawyer. No more fumbling of time zones and long distances between phone calls leading to relying on messaging.

“I am!” You beamed right back, “I’ll move to Washington for a year and then hopefully I can be transferred to Los Angeles. As much as I love Las Vegas, it isn’t the place I want to live.”

“It would make sense to move to LA since Charlie is there. You could even use the marriage being the reason you’re moving instead.” Cherry offered with her lips turned up, yet her brown eyes didn’t glitter.

Cherry missed having you around like back in high school. Living apart sucked for the two best friends but at least you would be in the same country. 

“This is insane. I still can’t believe I’m married.” You whispered, staring up at the high ceiling of the airport. You relied on your instincts to walk in the busy airport to your gate.

“I wasn’t even there.” Cherry snorted walking in complete sync until you both came to a stop at your gate. Her eyes saddened further after so many days spent together when she wasn’t working, “I’m gonna miss you.”

“Knowing my mother. She’ll be planning, and as she’ll say it, a real wedding for Charlie and I.”

Another lingering hug with the caramel brunette was the last for a while as more and more distance came between you. Metres changed to different continents within hours, and suddenly you felt more alone than ever.

The rain was drizzling in London, a welcome change to the blistering heat Vegas had given you in the days you had been there. However, the most welcome sight was the six-foot-one lean frame of your father leaning against his pride and joy. The bright metallic blue with two very wide vertical stripes up the hood of it had been a staple in your family since you were twenty.

The blue Shelby Cobra had been challenging to find, but it was worth the massive grin on Theodore Y/L/N’s face. You and your mother had joined forces with your uncles to get it for your Dad, and one of them was a mechanic that did most of the work.

“Dad!” You yelled, jumping into his arms. Dad’s grip tightened around your shoulders with his face smushed into your neck.

“Darling!” He exclaimed just as he did no matter how long it had been since you saw each other. You were closest with him from father-daughter days watching football (the European version of soccer).

“Mum at home?” You questioned as he placed the small amount of luggage in the tiny boot of the car. His e/c eyes, the ones you inherited from him, twinkled with mischief and a wink.

“You didn’t hear it from me, but there’s a surprise.” He spoke ushering you into the passenger seat on the left side of the car. It was still jarring driving on the opposite side of the road in America.

“Another one to sway me from moving to Washington?” You retorted to the tall male in the driver’s seat. At the mention of moving his smile dimmed like it did when you flew to see Cherry for a while.

As he drove down the streets, your eyes scoured his features as if it had been years instead of mere weeks. He had been in Germany for business for a week when you flew out to Las Vegas. His hair still had the dark locks with grey mixed throughout as if had been since he was in his late twenties. The laugh lines still the same as they had been previously, but the most important thing was that he was still healthy.

Ted Y/L/N had beaten a severe bout of sickness a few years ago that had taken months of recovery. It was just second nature to check him before anything else.

“How’s Cherry.”

“Living happily with her success story.” You piped up, finding it would be the perfect place to start planting Charlie’s existence. Your father glanced over slightly confused as you continued, “After Harvey, Cherry signed me up for a dating app. I hit it off with someone, and I’ve been dating them ever since.”

“A dating app.” He questioned glancing over, “Aren’t those what people use to sleep around? Nothing wrong with having sex but isn’t that what the apps are predominantly used for?”

Your lip was taken between your teeth, “Some of them are. The one that Cherry did was surprisingly more about human connection. He’s originally from Canada but moved to Los Angeles for work.”

“Hm.” Ted hummed keeping his entire focus on the road, “And are you okay with this so soon after-“

“I never acknowledged this, but I waited a few months before I told you that Harvey and I broke up. I hit it off with Charlie, and well I’ve never been so in love before.”

“I sense there’s a chapter in this new love that I’m not going to be thrilled about. Out with it.” He ordered momentarily glancing over to see you sheepishly grinning, “Are you preg-“

“I married Charlie-“

To both your father’s and your horror the sound of the Shelby’s tires screeching reached your ears. The car skidded to a stop in the middle of the street with yelps coming straight from your surprised mouth. Dad’s eyes blinking owlishly at the road.

“You’re married? To someone, I’ve never even met?” The question was croaked from the middle-aged man staring straight ahead. The car slowly moved down the road as Dad applied less pressure to the pedal.

“It was so fast, but I swear you’ll meet him. He’s flying out to help me pack, and we’ll fly out to Washington. You’ll love him.” You gushed ignoring the smart of guilt at lying to the first man that had ever truly loved you.

The father that had learnt how to do your hair and supported you in everything you did; for the first few years, he had been a stay at home dad. Your mother was the one that worked and then when you got to the right age, your father returned to work. He had taught you how to ride a bike and drive, the police didn’t need to know you were driving years before you legally could.

“Your Nan is going to be pissed.” He snorted, shaking his head, “You’ll be throwing him to the wolves at the reunion.”

The reunion you had completely forgotten about. Shit.

A month later brought Charlie to your small half-packed flat in London and then straight to your parents’ house in the country. The country home had been in your family for years before your parents moved out of the city full time.

“Okay. So, your five-year-old cousin is adamant he be called Agent Jack because he works for James Bond. Don’t mention football, which is soccer in the US, or else World War III between your Nan and great-aunt Dottie will happen.”

“Oh! My mom loves ice hockey! She grew up playing until she was in high school!” You gasped glancing over at Charlie in the passenger seat of the car. He’d arrived two days ago ahead of schedule to get rested for the reunion.

This morning he had spent longer getting ready with his hair meticulously styled and his clothes chosen to fit the weather and the event. No matter how much you had soothed him, the nerves still flared. This wasn’t meeting your SO’s parents, this meeting his wife’s family who had no clue about him.

“Do I call your Dad, Mr. Y/L/N or Sir?” Charlie questioned as the country zipped by in the clear window of the car. His fingers tapped the beat to the JATP song ‘Now or Never’ on the black denim of his jeans.

“Go with Sir.” You replied, reaching one hand over to grasp his in your hand, “My Nan will interrogate you about where we would have kids. Aunt Dottie will ask if you got me pregnant and that’s I’ve never said anything about us.”

“I…really? They’ll ask that?” Charlie choked turning to face you entirely with a face pale as bleached bone. The wince you offered was enough for him to relax into the leather of the car.

“Their old ladies that live on gossip and personal questions. But don’t underestimate Nan if she gets plastered and demands an arm wrestle. You won’t win.”

The car rolled to a stop on the rocky drive filled with other vehicles of all colours and types. The house was the background feature of the menagerie of cars. It was a gorgeous colour your mom had spent weeks trying to find in countless shops before she saw it three hours away. Flowers were strategically placed for viewing pleasure.

“Your house is beautiful.” Charlie breathed circling the car to open your door without prompt just it had become second nature to him. His hazel eyes moved across the parcel of land your parents owned.

Before your lips could even part to respond, you were attacked in a hug by two little pairs of arms. The sandy coloured hair, one set of curls hitting past their shoulders and the other a mop on his head. You knew immediately it was your little cousin Jack and his twin JJ from the strength of the hug.

“Y/N!” The twins squealed jumping in their spots as their father, your uncle Seth, corralled them. His eyes crinkled with the grin that matched your father and other uncles. It was the signature L/N smile your family carried.

“Hey! It’s Agent Jack and-“

“Doctor JJ! I’m Jack’s doctor!” JJ clapped her small hands together, displaying her cute little dimples. Charlie’s quiet awe melted your traitor heart entirely, “Is he your boyfriend?” 

The three adults’ all had a deep chuckle at her cute little scrunched nose as she saw Charlie’s hand grasp yours.

“Not exactly. You know how Dad and I are married?” Seth asked, crouching in front of his little girl. Her eyes blinked in confusion, “Y/N and Charlie are married. Y/N is his wife, and he’s Y/N’s husband.”

In his usual tornado-esque style, Jack had already taken off around the side of the house to the family gathered. JJ’s hand had slid into her father’s familiar grip.

“But Daddy you and Dad are husbands? How can they be married if she’s a girl?” JJ pouted with her green eyes twinkling in suspicion.

“Well, JJ. When two boys get married, they are husbands, if two girls get married, they are wives, but if a boy and girl get married, they become husband and wife. Or maybe depending on the genders they prefer to be called partners.” Seth told his little girl as his husband Fred rested his hand on his shoulder. While Seth was fair-haired and blue eyes, his husband Fred was the example of tall, dark and handsome with green eyes.

“Okay.” JJ simply spoke, skipping over to grab Charlie’s hand in her left and yours in her right. The little girl dragging you two in the direction her brother had disappeared around where the noise grew louder.

“Relax.” You whispered to the wide-eyed Canadian steadily becoming quieter and more nervous. As soon as you rounded the corner of the house, JJ released your hands to chase after Jack and your other cousins.

“You have a big family,” Charlie mumbled, looking over the adults and the young children set away. His eyes found your parents wrapped in each other’s arms talking with a woman confidently wearing the marks of time and wisdom, “You have your father’s smile.”

“I know.” You spoke tugging him to your parents, “Dad! Mum!”

The couple glanced over to see the man that had snuck into their family without a hint. Your father was quick to tug you in a bear hug with a resounding kiss on your forehead. Mum had yanked Charlie into a hug as well that relaxed him with the words she whispered in his ear.

“This is Charlie Gillespie. Charlie this is my mum and dad Theodore and Amelia.” You swiftly introduced the three people in your life.

It was tense for a moment before it melted away, “He’s a lot better than Harvey.”

“Ted!” Mum spoke slapping his arm, “It’s not his fault he was born with a silver spoon in his mouth-“

“-and a boob in his hand.” Dad chortled, dodging the slap from your mortified Mum. Her dark eyes wide open in shock, she really shouldn’t be surprised with your father, at how he had spoken.

Charlie’s lips parted in a strong of impish laughter bringing a grin to your little party’s faces. All the nerves from before melted from the Canadian as he found he fit in perfectly with your parents. His hand never felt yours the rest of the night, and with it, you wished you didn’t have to live with the ruse. You had fallen swiftly for the Canadian and wished this was marriage was real.

It wouldn’t be until Charlie, and you had devoured the food and two mugs of beer that the truth comes out in the upstairs bathroom. You couldn’t be sure who made the first move, but two hours upon arriving at the reunion Charlie had you pinned against the bathroom door. Lips moving against each other like you’d been made for each other.

“Mhm.” Charlie moaned, gripping your hips hard enough to leave bruises. The vision of seeing your bruises hips had a flutter in your stomach.

Heat rose from your stomach to your chest as your fingers slid into his once perfectly groomed hair. His lips parting yours with a warmth that washed over your entire body like the sun brushing skin after peeking behind a fluffy cloud. If Heaven was a feeling, this would be it.

Charlie’s hands slid under your shirt to rest on the warmth of your hips, a fire flared at his mere touch. He only parted from your lips at the sound of the floorboards outside the bathroom.

“Call me crazy, or the beer is making me say this. I’ve never felt this way for someone like I do for you,” Charlie whispered brushing your temple with his lips. The words created a shiver down your spine, “We have this connection and ease between us. I see you in the sunlight when I first wake up, and all I ever want to do is cuddle you close.”

“Char-“

“I know we’ve gone about this out of order, but I’d really like to be more than what we are. I want to be more than a guy making your ex regret hurting you. I want to be more than just your accidental husband. I want to do this the right way.”

“Me too.” You fully admitted, “Watching you geek out over my dad’s car with me. I want to keep seeing that. There’s something I’ve been keeping from you that I need to say before this goes further.”

“What’s wrong?” Charlie murmured cupping your cheeks in his warm hands. His hazel eyes lingered on your swollen lips that no doubt matched his own.

Your bright e/c eyes flickered between his hazel orbs with something he couldn’t quite decipher.

“If we do this, there are things I won’t be able to talk to you about when it comes to my job. It’s sensitive information, and no matter how much I trust you, I won’t be able to say anything. Charlie, the reason I’m moving to Washington is because I finished my tasks.”

Your hands moved around as you spoke to the silent Canadian just staring at you, “So what kept you in England for so long?”

“I work for the CIA. I have since I was recruited on a college campus a few years ago.” You revealed to the flabbergasted actor blinking rapidly. His mouth hung open, and his eyes widened more than you thought possible.

“So, we’re both in the business of deceit and pretending.” He grumbled, wrapping his arms around your shoulders, “I’m an actor by the way. It doesn’t matter what your job is, all I care about is trying to make this work.”

That was the moment that turned your relationship around, a year later, you had traditionally renewed your vows. Your wedding in the backyard of your parents’ house with friends and family watching as you walked down the aisle in your white wedding dress. Charlie waiting with the officiant unaware of the tiny gift of a little bean inside your belly growing.

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[twiddle-dee-twiddle-dumb]

A/N - I was bored in the office. There’s nothing much to do and an idea for ficlets, drabbles for Haikyuu Boys came into my mind. So here it goes…

WAS SUPPOSED TO ADD USHIJIMA HERE BUT I'M ALREADY TOO SPENT. HAHAHAHAUHSHSHAJSSAJSJK (TT-----TT)

HAIKYU! BOYS & S/O ARGUED BEFORE AN IMPORTANT EVENT

Toru Oikawa

Warning: slightly suggestive (???); jealousy, jealousy; provocation

It's something petty, honestly. It's just because you didn't hear what he was trying to say since you are busy making dinner in the kitchen. And that you made him repeat what he said three times. THREE TIMES. That is enough to make Toru feel neglected. You knew that there's a change in his demeanor so you apologized but he ignored you all through out the dinner. He's stubborn and you knew better than to push further. You both went to bed not speaking to each other. I mean, Oikawa not speaking to you.

The next morning, hours before the event, he went to work early. He just left a note on the fridge. "I'll go to the party. I brought my party clothes in the office. Attend if you want to." you crumpled the piece of paper you're holding and you're gritting through your teeth. You are seething with anger that Toru chose war—he chose to prolong this petty drama, so be it.

It's time to change the plans. He already knows what you're gonna wear. Well, since it has come to this point, you decide to go to an emergency shopping. You bought a red open back dress with a low neckline paired with a white gold chandelier earrings and chandelier choker necklace. Show-stopping, attention-grabbing like he wanted.

You drove to the venue, not informing your husband that you're gonna dang see him at the party. You arrived earlier than him. You greeted everyone you know at the party. They were complimenting you, men and women alike. However, people can't help but ask where your husband is. "He is still quite occupied but he'll arrive shortly." is what you tell them and try to swerve the point of the conversation to them.

Not moments later, Oikawa entered the scene as pointed out by someone in your circle. You see him greet everybody who comes in his way. Looking at him right now, he's still as popular and handsome as before (too bad, he's being a real bitch to you). You turned back you attention to your social circle before he could see you looking at him.

It was not that long when you felt a scorching gaze from across the room. You feigned indifference. You knew who it was. Your phone kept on buzzing. Taking your phone out of your purse, you checked who it was thinking it was an emergency at home or your parents' house. It was just Toru—bombarding you with messages and missed calls. Trying to get my attention I see, you thought. You glanced at his direction, for mere seconds, before turning your attention to back to your phone. With no intention to reply, you returned your phone back inside the pouch. Two can play this game.

Until you caught a whiff of his cologne and felt something being placed on your shoulders, covering your back. You eyed him, expression unreadable. "I'm afraid we're going to go home early, sweetheart.", he whispered in your ear as you feel the pressure of his grip on your side.

"So, we're talking now?", raising an eyebrow, you can't help but retort, pushing his buttons even more, even though you know that you're going to pay the consequences for the rest of the night.

Tetsurou Kuroo

Warning: suggestive; provocation; innuendos

Kuroo informed you that the company anniversary is coming up and he's bringing you along for the party. The day before the event, you decided to go to the dresser to get your hair done. It was going well until the dresser made a mistake which resulted to your hair a tad shorter that it was. The dresser apologized profusely. The poor girl was nearly in tears. You just laughed it off, reassuring her that it's fine. Not really making a big deal out of the nagging feeling that your husband might react. Oh please, hair grows back. Plus, it doesn't look bad. You looked more glowing so maybe that mistake isn't bad after all.

When you got home, Kuroo was acting weird. He kept on glancing at you like you're someone unfamiliar. When he saw you at the door, he just stared at you with his brows furrowed. When you were eating dinner, he was awfully quiet. Usually, he would tell you about his day at the office but to day, he's painstakingly silent.

"Babe, is there something wrong?" you asked again for the umpteenth time. Because clearly, something's wrong. He just evades or refuses to answer. But, this time, you pressed further. "Come on, tell me."

"Your hair!" he answered, voice slightly higher than the usual with a slight anger undertone. Of course, you we're expecting some reaction but not like this. You were surprised. You know how much he adored your long hair. You were even more surprised that he's noticed. Oh my dork, baby.

"Well, the dresser kind of made a mistake so we end up cutting it." you reasoned which he responded with a grunt. He's really sulky about this. "I apologize for the accident. But love, it's just four inches long and it's going to grow back in time."

"NO." he said. you gawked at him. Shocked at his response.

"Ruru, you're being a baby about this."

He proceeded to ignore you. He isn't usually like this. Most of the times he listens to actual reasons. You just shrugged it off, thinking that he'll come back around in the morning.

Oh boy, he's still that sulky little kid with a cold reception. He ate the breakfast you made him though but he went to work in haste. Guess, you really need to do something to rectify your situation as you start to get annoyed. He's smart but he's acting like a dummy right now. It's just hair and he perfectly knows that hair grows back.

It's only hours before the event, you're rummaging your closet for something to wear. You settled with a salmon pink pantsuit with a white chiffon string strap as an innerwear. you brought out your cream faux leather block heel sandals. You also laid out all the accessories you want to wear for this event.

You start prepping up for the event. "Testu, babe. I'll be a bit late.", you texted him but this motherfucking child had the guts to purposely leave you on read.

You put your hair in a messy half bun adorned with cute pearl accent hairpins whilst curling the remaining hair into soft waves. (Makes your hair a bit shorter, heh.) You're going for the Smokey eye look and those cat eyeliner is popping. you put on the accessories. you even wore ear cuffs for some additional swag.

All satisfied with your vibe, you took a cab to the company. When you arrived, you were greeted by the people you know while they ushered you to where your husband is. When you arrived at the table, he still hasn't spoken a word. Trying not to get the silent treatment under your skin, you excused your self to socialize with the people you know. As you kept on chitchatting with them, someone pointed out that your husband is sending weird glares to your direction. You told told them to pay him no mind.

You occasionally push your hair behind your ear or play with your hair like subtle flips while laughing with your friends. Partly provoking, trying to get Kuroo to look at the angle of your jaw and neck with your new hairdo. You got compliments because of your more fresh and glowing look.

Your phone kept on vibrating in your pocket. It was Kuroo. Ranting about what you're doing. You can't help but play with fire so you replied only with "Oh, so now we're talking?" inwardly smirking, you think you had the upper hand.

"Party's over. We're going home. There are things we needed to discuss." he replied back. Not long before a hand touched your lower back and the voice you badly want to hear was murmuring excuses and goodbyes to the people at the party while casually leading you to exit.

Oh sweet, you've never been more excited to go home than tonight.

[imagining-in-the-margins]

Here to Misbehave (Pt. 3 | S.R.)

Summary: Spencer decides to return to a previous tryst. Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Smut (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Dom!Spencer, handcuffs, hair pulling, oral, fingering, penetrative sex, rough sex Word Count: 9k

MASTERLIST | Series Masterlist

—————————————————

It was a Saturday night and I had nothing to do. My roommate had gone home for the weekend and all my other friends were at bars. I could've joined them, but it just didn't seem worth it. The last time had been so perfect, I just couldn't imagine that anything else could compare.

I'd tried going back to the same area a few times, but I never saw him again. Then again, seeing me back there might just piss him off. Then again, that would've been okay, too. He was pretty cute when he was mad.

But I wasn't looking at a cute boy that night. No, I was just sitting in my apartment, staring at the textbook that I wasn't even interested in reading. Wishing that something could save me from the boring limbo I had found myself in.

Then, like magic, my phone stirred to life beside me.

Bzzt. Bzzt. Bzzt.

I looked down at the LED, fully expecting it to just be someone tagging me in a picture of a cat. But it wasn't. The number was one I had saved in my phone, hoping that I would see it pop up again one day.

It had been almost a month. I didn't think it would ever happen. But there it was; a text message from Dr. Reid himself.

"Hey (y/n)."

When I slid the message open, I saw he was still typing.

"Long time no talk," was his second message.

That was an understatement.

"Hey yourself."

It was a cursory response. I wanted him to sweat a bit. He'd made me wait, so now he had to deal with the consequences. But then I changed my mind and immediately followed with a second text of, "Texting isn't talking you know."

"You never called. Why should I?" His response was so quick I swore he'd planned this all out in his head. He was playing me like a chess board. Bet he was good at that, too.

"It takes two to tango, Dr. Reid," I jokingly replied.

He read the message, but he didn't answer.

Getting nervous that he was losing interest, I continued typing.

"I figured you wouldn't want to see me again after I made you late. Are those marks still there?"

I smiled at the memory, because I knew he wasn't there to call me out for it. By the time he'd finally made it down to his ride, I had covered his neck in petechiae and his back was equally marked with scratches.

I'd wanted him to remember me.

It'd worked, too.

He'd been typing for a while and I was getting anxious. It had been a bold message to send, and I didn't really think it through.

Was he trying to let me down easy? No, that didn't make any sense. Who the fuck texts a one night stand at 10:30 PM on a Saturday after not speaking for a month just to end things?

He responded.

"Sadly, no. And I wouldn't be so quick to assume I don't want to see you because of that... Revenge is a powerful motivator."

That was the cheeky bastard I wanted to see. I could be cheeky, too.

"Is it?" I asked.

"Where are you tonight?"

His answers were starting to make my heart race. I had to get ready, because he was definitely about to ask me to be his booty call and I was definitely going to do it. Closing my textbook, I shot back another teasing reply.

"Not a club. I'm being a good girl tonight. All by my lonesome."

Thank god my roommate wasn't here and I had somehow been bored enough to clean today. I pulled out my make up and turned the light on my mirror on. As I started to apply it, I got a message that immediately solidified my answer to his inevitable proposition.

"Do you want to change that?"

'God, yes, I do.'

I waited another minute, wanting to be able to finish at least the bare minimum before he saw me. I knew he wasn't a superficial guy, but the last time he'd seen me I had gone full out.

"Which part?" I responded, already knowing his answer.

"Both."

So unpredictable in the most satisfying way.

I took a deep breath and a pause, tapping back a confident reply.

"Are you trying to entrap me, Agent?"

His reply was within seconds, and I was immediately reminded of how incredibly clever this man was. He knew exactly what to say to make me melt.

"Is that what you want?"

I wanted to pick up the phone, dial, and scream yes. But I didn't, opting instead for a calm and composed, "That would certainly be exciting."

My application grew significantly quicker, and I was already eyeing the special drawer I had for these exact situations. My mind was running through my collection of sheer fabrics and lace details, trying to decide what would work best.

Then he said the magic words:

"Send me your address."

Spencer was coming over, and it wasn't a dream. I was going to have that strange, brilliant, beautiful man back in my arms and I wasn't going to fuck it up. With shaking hands, I thumbed out my address with no other commentary. In a few seconds, I would know how long I had until Spencer Reid was in my apartment.

"I'll be there in 20 minutes."

Thank god. It was time enough to prepare.

—————————————————

Spencer Reid was going to be at my door at any minute, and I was suddenly terrified that he'd be disappointed. Convinced that I'd done everything wrong.

We'd had a good time before, right? I'd played over and over again in my head ever since it happened. I was reminded of the soft way he'd touched me in the morning, the childish laughs we'd shared, and the smell of his cologne on the sheets.

God, I hoped he wouldn't be disappointed.

Knock Knock Knock.

When I heard the sound, I immediately tried to fix my appearance in the mirror despite having spent the last 20 minutes doing whatever I could given the time. I had opted for one of my easier-to-remove loungewear pieces. A simple white lace negligee. He seemed like he'd like simple. The little hint of purity, however silly, would also probably appeal to him.

Slowly exhaling, I composed myself before opening the door.

"Hello, Dr. Reid."

He looked as handsome as ever, although I did have the distinct impression that it had been awhile since he had a full nights sleep. I wondered why, but decided not to dwell on it. 

"Hello yourself," he responded, his eyes ravaging my figure the very moment I stepped out from behind the door. He waited for me to take a step back and fully open the door before he walked in, and I watched the way he scanned my apartment.

I wondered what he saw.

"How can I help you, Agent?"

It was a tease, and based the look on his face when he finally turned to me, it took him a moment to figure it out. He was too much in his work brain. I could feel it. I'd never seen him at work, but I could tell.

"You seem tense," I spoke coyly, stepping closer and running my hands up his chest and onto his shoulders.

He didn't speak; instead his gaze bored into me, like he was going to lose his composure any second. But he held himself back. 

"Can I help you with that?"

That dark shine in his eyes was getting stronger.

"That depends."

As he spoke the words, he finally touched me, a sneaky hand finding its way to my hip. I gasped at the sensation and my eyes fluttered shut. He always had this immediate intoxicating effect on me that I just couldn't explain. I didn't care to, either. I just wanted to keep feeling it.

"Hmm... On what?" I murmured.

I tried to keep track of his hand as it sneaked to my lower back before pulling me closer. I tilted my head to look up at him as I opened my eyes. I just wanted to see that look again. That starved, possessive stare that made me feel like the most beautiful girl in the world.

Although he appeared stoic, I knew there was something brewing. I knew that he was reveling in the effect he had on me.

Such a quiet, peculiar mind.

"What do you have in mind?" he asked, and I recognized the question as something deeper.

He was asking me for my limits. He wanted me to tell him what he was allowed to do. I didn't know how to tell him that I would do anything for him.

How could he not already know my answer? Perhaps it was just his attempt at being a gentleman. But I didn't need him to do all of that tonight. I'd much rather see something more... feral.

"Whatever you need," I answered as sweetly as I could. 

I heard his soft chuckle. It brought a smile to both of our lips, and he used his free hand to stroke the side of my face. I quickly leaned into his touch, trying to prolong the contact for as long as I could. 

"Is that so?"

Yes, I thought before saying, "Anything."

His thumb glided over my cheek and to my lips, gently separating them as he stared at me with a morbid curiosity. He was wondering how far he could actually push me. So was I.

In lieu of an answer, I slipped his thumb into my mouth, running my tongue up it before closing around it. The gentle sucking was mixed with soft rotations of my tongue. His breathing rate increased as he stepped forward and pressed his body flush against mine.

"And if you change your mind?"

What a gentleman.

I wouldn't change my mind, but I chose to indulge him with the proper form. I released his thumb and held my mouth open for a second before biting down on my bottom lip.

"Hmmm," I hummed as I thought about what I might be able to say to set him off.

I needed a safe word that would drive him wild. The thing was, I only knew a few of his interests. But I did know enough.

"Starship," I giggled, a little nod to the enterprise we'd already bonded over.

The effect the word had on him was immediate. His hand shifted to hold my chin. He used that grip to push me against the wall to the side of us, and our mouths connected just as harshly.

What a ridiculously sexy nerd.

The impact of my back against the wall was nothing compared to the fire coursing through my veins. My hands scrambled to grab onto his belt buckle, already trying to unwrap the present meant just for me tonight.

Once I'd gotten the metal separated, I smiled into the sloppy, heated kiss. He stopped, pulling away just enough to look down at my satisfied grin. He didn't say anything.

"What's that look for?" I said with half-veiled bashfulness.

Had he noticed something strange that I hadn't intended to display? Was I going too fast?

"Nothing. It's just..."

'Please don't be something I did wrong.'

"You're so cute when you think you're in charge."

I couldn't control the way my hips rolled against the front of him as he spoke, and I licked my lips before concluding, "I am in charge."

I don't know how Spencer was so fast, but he was. Within seconds, he had both of my wrists pinned against the wall behind me. Just as quickly, he shifted so he could hold them both up with one hand, the other lifting the side of negligee so he could touch the skin of my hip. I wasn't wearing anything underneath.

"Adorable," he whispered to me.

Naturally, my body reacted by trying to regain control, to touch him more somehow. He knew this, which is why he took a step back, letting go of my wrists and watching them fall back to my control.

"Are you challenging me, Dr. Reid?"

He gave a content, sarcastic smile before shrugging.

"No, I'm not, actually. It's not a challenge if I already know I'm going to win."

I could barely notice the way I puffed out my own chest in response, ready to give him the challenge he was so clearly begging for.

"Fine."

I put my hands in the air in surrender, turning and strutting my fine ass down the hallway in front of him. I didn't turn around, and I didn't tell him to follow. He would. I was confident in that.

I took a seat on the side of my bed, crossing my legs over the other and looking down at my nails with a bored expression. Before I knew it, he was crossing the threshold into my room. He walked up to me, his hands in his pockets and a voice filled with too much confidence.

"I know what you're doing."

He had something up his sleeve. I could feel it.

"What am I doing, Dr. Reid?"

The way he approached me reminded me of a hunt. The cautious, quiet strides toward me were purposeful. He stopped just in front of me, with my foot resting against his shin.

"I thought I already warned you what would happen if you did this."

"Do what?" I feigned innocence, raising my hand to my neck before perching my chin on it and leaning forward.

"Tease me."

That time when his hand made contact, it was on the top of my head. He ran a gentle hand over my hand, and the feather light touches almost tricked me. I'd almost thought he just wanted to appease me. To end my temper tantrum. But shortly after he had gripped the back of my hair in his hand and used the new grip to roughly tilt my head back to him.

"I thought you said you were going to be a good girl tonight?"

I bit down harshly on my lip to stifle my giggle as he tightened his grip.

"Oops," I said with a smile.

Suppressing my laughs enough to string together a sentence, I pressed my hands against his chest while he maintained his grip on my hair.

"I guess if you really want me to be a good girl, Dr. Reid... You'll have to make me."

That instruction was what I needed to break the man in front of me. It was the command he'd been waiting for; the bait for him to finally take what he came for.

Before I knew it, he had spun me around. He abruptly yanked my arms behind me at the same time he bent me over the side of the bed. An unfamiliar, harsh, and fucking freezing material on my wrists told me all I needed to know. The clanking of the short chain when he released my hands was music to my ears.

That beautiful son of a bitch actually brought his handcuffs.

"At least one of us follows orders," I joked, happily remaining on display for the man behind me.

I'm sure he noticed earlier that there wasn't anything blocking him from taking what he wanted underneath the negligee. But he didn't take it. Instead, he pulled me up by the chain, letting me teeter onto my feet before he twirled me back to face him.

"Get ready to learn."

Spencer slowly began removing his tie from his neck while he watched me squirm. His threat raised the tension in the room, but he gave me no clue as to what he was about to make me do.

I couldn't wait.

Once he had removed his tie, he unbuttoned his shirt. It was infuriating not being able to touch him, and I was quickly becoming impatient. It was shocking that it somehow wasn't awkward. I guess I just liked him that much. My thighs were pressed together, and the friction from rubbing them back and forth was the only stimulation I could find right now.

He raised his eyebrows as he noticed, shooting me a warning glance that I knew meant to stop. I did, but only because I was worried he would make me wait even longer if I didn't.

"Get on your knees."

I swayed back and forth, prying my hands apart to shake the chain holding my hands back.

"I can't," I said with a pout.

Spencer seemed to be entertained, and for a moment I thought he might give in.

He leaned over, a quiet breath in my ear as he gave a few words of caution.

"Get on your knees or I will bend you over mine."

My legs shook at the way his breath felt on my ear, and the words made me want to melt. As always, he knew exactly how to get me to do what he wanted.

Deciding that I didn't want to be a full on brat right off the bat, I gradually lowered down to my knees and threw him yet another pout from my new position.

"I want to touch you," I whined before tugging at the chain again.

He must have known it was a test. I had been so open to the hand cuffs being on before, and I still was. I just wanted to see how much power my pout had. Judging from his response, my puppy dog eyes didn't have very much power at all.

"You don't need your hands for that."

In a twisted sort of way, I was glad. I wanted him to do whatever he needed. I wanted to be what he needed. I would be the fight he could always win.

So, when he finally pulled his pants down and let them fall to the ground in front of me, I leaned forward to reach him.

I was quickly stopped by stern hand fisting my hair once more, leaving me hanging in front of him with nothing fun to show for it. He didn't say anything, just watching me as I returned soft whines and rubbing my legs together again.

"For a brat, you're very eager. You don't even realize you're challenging my authority, do you?"

Per usual, he was right. Even on my knees and handcuffed before him, I was trying to take back my control. He at least offered me the control over my neck again, though. He released my hair, smoothing it over the top of my head as he licked his lips. I couldn't take my eyes off them.

"Maybe I shouldn't. Maybe I should just let you beg."

I bounced on my knees, trying to express what I wanted without resorting to outright begging. Not yet.

"I'll listen to you, I promise." 

"Good," he acknowledged. "Open your mouth."

I obeyed, as I'd just said I would, opening my mouth wide with my tongue forward to receive him. As he pushed into my mouth, he would only give me a couple inches before retreating. He continued this pattern until he had gotten over half of it into my mouth.

That time, he paused, granting me a pleased groan as he let his head fall back. I responded in earnest, continuing to move forward as my tongue swiped over whatever it could reach. When I pulled back, I barely released any of him before going even further forward. I looked up at his face to see if he was impressed.

He was.

Shortly after, I choked as he hit the back of my throat. I receded enough to take a deep breath through my nose. I wished I could use my hands, but I appreciated the novelty of the cuffs for at least this one time.

I swore he heard my thoughts. Because after I finished my breath, his hands found the back of my head and pulled me even further onto him. If my hands were busy, he would just use his own.

That time as I choked, I swallowed. I could feel him slip further down my throat, blocking the air supply just for a second. When he pulled me back, I knew this was just the beginning.

Once he knew what I was capable of, he was ready to take control for good.

Sure enough, he set a moderate pace of thrusting into my throat, keeping direct eye contact with me as he did so. I paid all my attention on making sure I timed my breath, feeling tears prick the inside of my eyes as I let him take over.

He was so beautiful like this. I thought about what it must be like for him at his job, that I was the first thing he came to. I decided right then, that he would never feel powerless with me. I would be anything he needed.

Suddenly, his pace slowed down, eventually coming to a stop. He slipped himself out of my mouth, and the strings of spit snapped onto my chin. I couldn't do anything to stop the running make up or saliva with both of my hands behind my back.

I was certain I looked like an absolute mess. My knees were weak from the position, and Spencer had never looked so pleased. Bending over, he grabbed me under my arms and helped haul me  up onto the bed.

His hands casually wiped the tears from my cheeks, and he used the back of his hand to clean the area around my mouth.

"You are so beautiful," he uttered.

'Oh my god, I think I might love him.'

"You're not bad yourself," I croaked, my voice hoarse from what we'd just done.

"Tell me what you want," he dared me, his hand dropping from my hand down to my lap.

"Whatever you want."

It was the answer I had already promised him. I'd meant it before, and I'd meant it then.

He had still maintained eye contact, staring directly into my soul as he slipped his hand between my thighs. The lack of underwear made his job so much simpler, and I was thanking myself for not putting another barrier between the two of us.

Because as much as I wanted to be patient for him, I was growing desperate. Which is why when he finally touched me, his finger slid into my heat with ease. The slickness that had pooled was more than even I expected from the complete lack of stimulation I had received.

His finger wasn't there for long. He briskly removed it and held it up to my face before rubbing them together. He smiled as I struggled to breathe through the teasing.

"I've barely touched you... And yet..." he taunted, causing me to roll my hips, trying to get to something wholly out of my reach.

I was ready to start begging.

"Please, Spencer."

"Please what? Use your words."

He was loving it. He knew damn well that I had absolutely no control over what I wanted. I couldn't grab him, and I couldn't touch myself. All I could do was beg.

"Fuck me. Please."

It was as straightforward as I could possibly be.

"Still so impatient... so needy," he laughed, his hand returning to its place between my thighs.

I wailed as he began thumbing my clit. It was mind-numbing. He knew that I desperately wanted to be filled, and he was doing the exact opposite.

"Yes," I panted. "I need you. I need you to fuck me. Please."

Spencer didn't stop, continuing to stroke the bundle of nerves with quick, repetitive motions.

"Not yet, little girl," he growled in my ear.

It didn't take long for my cries to pick up, my hips rocking furiously as he drove me into my first orgasm. A steady flow of pants and cries were mixed with mangled attempts to call his name. He still didn't stop, refusing to touch me anywhere but the one spot until I finally ceased shaking.

I almost fell backwards, but he caught me with an arm around the waist. I could barely see straight, and ever such a gentleman, he held my delirious body upright for a moment. I could tell he was wondering if I was alright.

The concern mixed with overwhelming desire was too much. Even as he tortured me with pleasure, I could see what an incredibly kind man he was.

That was the only way this would work, I thought. I had to trust him. And I did. I trusted him with my life.

"Tell me what you want," he uttered, offering me a guilt-free retreat that I would not take.

"You," I purred. "I want you, Spencer."

Finally allowing himself to give in to both of our desires, Spencer turned me onto my stomach one more time. When I heard the crumpling noise of foil as he tore the condom wrapper open, I raised my hips into the air. I stood on my tip toes and rested my head and chest against the bed.

He didn't say anything else, lazily rubbing the head against my sex. A trembling, relieved sigh escaped my lips as I felt him breach my opening. He took his time inching into me, savoring the way I clenched around him as he stretched me open. I wished I could see the look on his face, but I could barely keep my eyes open as the rapture overtook me.

Once he was fully in me, he paused, grabbing hold of my locked wrists as yet another reminder that he was the one in charge. I

wasn't going to fight him if he kept it up, that was for sure.

Almost pulling himself entirely out, he jerked me back at the same time that he snapped his hips forward and bottomed out inside me. I yelled out at the sensation, which clearly urged him on. His pace went from composed to frenetic in a matter of seconds, and each time he would slam into me, I couldn't stop the loud moans and cries from spilling out of my mouth.

He didn't let them dissuade him. I was pretty sure that he very much enjoyed the fact that I couldn't control myself. That he was the one doing that to me. But, in typical, sympathetic Spencer fashion, he leaned over me from behind and wrapped a hand over my mouth to stifle the noises.

Didn't want to alert anyone of what was happening behind closed doors, after all.

I could barely breathe as he fucked me into the bed, my feet lifting off the ground from the sheer force he used in each thrust. I let him take out all his pent up frustration on me, enjoying the harsh sting as his skin slapped against mine.

I wasn't going to last much longer. We both knew that we were riding dangerously close to the edge. As much as I didn't want it to end, I was ready to fall off that cliff with him.

His thrusts became jagged and stunted, and my thighs tensed tightly together. I chanted his name into his hand, unable to control myself as I felt my muscles flutter around his cock, urging him to finish with me. He happily obliged, pulling me roughly back to him one more time. Our hips violently collided and he held me down as far as he could onto him before emptying himself into the latex.

I could feel the soft twitching of his cock, and I started to wonder things you're not supposed to wonder about a booty call. I'd come back to that later.

A booty call. A one-night-stand.

Were we still just that? I wasn't going to ask... yet.

It felt so cold when he peeled himself off my back and slowly removed all of himself from me. I whined at the friction following the overstimulation. My legs shook terribly as my feet scrambled to touch the floor.

I couldn't see him, but I heard him throwing the condom in the trash before going through his clothes. Soon after, his hands were gingerly repositioning mine, granting him access to remove the cuffs. Once he'd slipped them off, I realized just how numb my arms had gone. They flopped uselessly to my sides, and I struggled to move my fingers.

Spencer's arms were around me before I knew what was going on. Delicately, he turned me onto my back despite my protesting groans. His touch was so gentle in a way I can't explain. He was acting like I would shatter at his fingertips.

"Wait here," he spoke in a hushed voice, placing a gentle kiss against my cheek.

I would wait anywhere for him.

While I did just that, I moved just enough that my entire body was on the bed. I inched up to the pillows and waited to regain my strength. My wrists were irritated and dented, but I couldn't really care. If anything, it would serve as proof that this night wasn't just a wild fever dream.

I saw Spencer out of the corner of my eyes, carrying an assortment of items that I couldn't help but laugh at.

"I come bearing gifts," he snickered before gracelessly dropping two bottles of Gatorade, a bottle of Advil, and lotion onto my bed.

"My hero," I spoke through the daze as I watched him pull his underwear back on. Understanding that the Advil was to stop my wrists from hurting, I took a couple quickly before I couldn't help but snicker at the sight before me.

"Awwe. I like the way you look without them, though," I teased, motioning to bottom half. "You have a cute butt."

He just chuckled, sitting down next to me and pumping lotion into a hand before motioning for me to give him my wrist.

I turned onto my side and presented him with my hand. Once he started to work the tired, abused muscles, I watched his face. The way he carefully admired the muscles while he worked, like he was trying to rebuild my wrist to the way he found it. He was so careful.

After a few moments, he held out his hand to switch, to which I also obliged.

I muttered a soft, "Thank you."

He only gave me a fleeting glance before returning to our hands.

"It's the least I can do. After what you let me do."

It was a bit of a joke, but also very genuine. He didn't call it aftercare, but that's what this was. I was familiar with it.

He was good at it.

Once he was satisfied that my wrists were going to be okay, he turned to his side to look at me. I looked up at him and wondered if he noticed that I saw the world in his eyes. I wondered if he could sense the overwhelming joy that flowed between us. I wondered if it was just in my mind that it was going both ways.

"I hope you know that I really do appreciate you," he said with a surprisingly serious tone.

My heart fluttered in my chest in a very inappropriate manner.

"Is there anything you need from me?" he asked.

Yes, I wanted to answer. Everything.

I wanted to kiss him, but I couldn't.

This doesn't mean anything, I reminded myself. He was just doing what he had to.

"No," I lied, instead. 

I think he knew I was lying. Of course he knew. Nonetheless, he draped an arm over me and scooted closer to me until my head rested against his arm. He gave my forehead a chaste kiss, and moved his fingers unhurriedly against the bare skin of my back.

I could've fallen asleep just like that, but I didn't want to. I wanted to feel that close to him forever. The freedom and happiness flowing through me was so intoxicating that I'd started to think about my previous thoughts I had during sex.

He was about that age men started to want kids and...

"Do you want kids, Spencer?"

'Oh, fuck, did I say that out loud?'

He looked as surprised as me to hear the question, and for a moment his hands stopped clean in their tracks.

'Oh no.'

"Uhh," He cleared his throat, "Yeah, I do. Wh-Why do you ask?"

Although he continued to drag his fingers across my back, it was different now. He was suddenly much more distant. Because seriously, why the hell would he not? We barely knew each other, and I definitely sounded like a crazy person.

"I was just wondering. You're good at taking care of people."

It was true. If he noticed I was covering my ass, he didn't say anything about it. Thank god.

"I'm not actually too sure about that. Right now you just think I'm good at it because your body is coursing with endorphins and adrenaline. The chemical process of love is extremely finicky and easily mimicked. Especially post-orgasm. Once that goes away, you might find you feel differently about me."

I doubted it.

Still, I shifted away from him, backing up so I could see his face again.

He continued, "You know, almost half of women surveyed said they felt anxiety and overwhelming sadness after sex. They even coined a term for it, aside from the typical sub-drop discussed in communities of more extreme sex. 'Post-coital dysphoria.' It's a shame really, that the idea of reassurance after sex isn't more mainstream."

Sometimes it was easy for me to forget he was some kind of genius. I always saw him at his most confident, which happened to also be his most quiet. As he taught me about things that I definitely should have been taught in high school sex education (but was not), I was not filled with anxiety or sadness.

In fact, I was happy.

I didn't really know him that well yet, but I wanted to.

"I can see why people mistake sex for love sometimes, then," I mumbled, not realizing the weight behind my words. It seemed obvious to me in the moment that he wouldn't think I was talking about us.

But then he pulled his hand back, running it through his hair and clearing his throat again.

"Yeah," he agreed, nonetheless, "It's pretty common."

I took a deep breath, panicking on how to pull him back to me. I lightly stretched, shifting to sit up and put some literal distance between us before the figurative distance was too far.

"Well, no worries here, Dr. Reid. I can confidently say I am not in love with you."

I could feel his eyes following me. I said I was confident, because I was. I was not in love with him.

Was I falling in love with him? It was a different question. I didn't know the answer to that one.

I excused myself for a moment to go to the bathroom and freak out in isolation. I could not believe I was somehow incapable of controlling my words around him. He just had this face that made you want to spill your heart out to him.

Did he know that? Whatever. It was easier to blame him for being so damn cute.

When I made it back to the bed, he was already half-asleep. He looked so peaceful and unassuming compared to the dominating personality I had seen not even ten minutes ago. As quietly as I could, I sneaked into my side of the bed. He began to stir, so I came up behind him and wrapped an arm over his waist.

"You know, they say it's dangerous to stay the night after a one-night-stand," I whispered, resting my face on his shoulder. "People might get attached."

"Technically this would be a two night-stand, so I don't think the same rules apply," he grumbled before placing his hand over mine on his stomach.

"Well, if you really  want to get technical, we are a one-night-stand plus a booty call," I corrected, earning a playful scoff from the man beside me.

"Pretty sure those are mutually exclusive."

I tried to repeat to myself that he was just trying to be nice. He was doing what all people are supposed  to do after sex. It didn't mean anything, I tried to convince myself.

It didn't mean anything.

"You're right."

I still tried to convince myself. It still wasn't working.

Fuck it.

"We could be something more. If you want to," I suggested. I'd sounded absolutely bored by the idea on purpose, but it still hadn't been enough to convince him that I wasn't out here proposing marriage to a fucking bootycall. 

His entire body tensed under my touch, like my words had inflicted pain. From my position half on top of him I felt his chest stop moving as he held his breath.

I shouldn't have said it. It was easy to say that in hindsight. But the truth was, I wasn't the only one blaring sirens of my growing attached to the kindhearted man who'd just massaged my wrists. Spencer had always been the one to be blatantly affectionate with me. It was him who had wanted to make this a recurring habit in the first place.

He was the one that always chose to stay the night. He was the one who initiated it. It wasn't just me who wanted something more, but he had to be a stupid, proud man like the rest of them.

"(Y/n) I—"

I knew that tone. I'd heard it before. He was going to tell me he couldn't be with me. We couldn't 'date,' or whatever he'd convinced himself the mature version was of the juvenile phrase.

But I already knew that. He was a fucking FBI agent and he was 10 years older than me. I barely knew anything about him. Had he ever even had a girlfriend? Did he have one now? I didn't even know, and that wasn't what I'd asked. 

Still, he was struggling to come up with a way to let me down easy, and I didn't want to hear it. It was going to be a lie, anyway. So, I covered his mouth with my hand and stopped him before he ended things for good.

"Friends, Spencer. I meant we can be friends."

Suddenly, we could both breathe again.

"I'd like that."

The tension melted from the room, but only so much. There was still a wall between us. I wasn't sure if it'd ever go away, but that was a problem for another day. 

"Me too," I lied.

I didn't want to be friends. I was scared what 'friends' meant. I was nervous that what I'd done was give him an out to never talk to me again. I was petrified that he'd lose the ability to see me as anything more than a collection of mistakes he'd made.

I didn't tell him any of that. If he noticed, which I'm positive he did, he didn't say anything about it. I was sure he wouldn't. Because even though he was about to shut me down, I knew part of him was craving the intimacy I was willing to offer him. I figured I'd just have to do it quietly for the time being. Wouldn't be the first time a woman took responsibility for a man's feelings.

At least the sex was worth it.

I tried to pretend like that's all it was. After a minute of listening to his heart beating rhythmically underneath me, though, he rolled over once more. Unable to leave him behind just yet, I joined him. I turned so he could pull me as close to him as he wanted.

There was never a barrier between us when the words were removed. My body fit next to his like it had been molded for that purpose. I curled into the warmth and I savored the quiet moments that I was convinced could never come often enough.

As I drifted off into sleep in his arms, our legs tangled together like we were part of the same two headed beast.

My last thought of the night was the one I'd been trying to avoid.

I don't want to be friends, because friends don't do this.

—————————————————  

Waking up next to Spencer in my bed that morning was somehow even more ethereal than before. Although I'd shifted several times in my sleep, he'd found me in the darkness each time so that he could cling to me again.

I didn't want to move. I was worried I would wake him and we'd return to our previous lives like this had never happened. I thought back to how tired he had looked when he first got here. I still wasn't totally certain what a profiler is, but the haunted look in his eyes and the tension in his muscles told me it wasn't easy.

I ghosted my fingers over his hand splayed out on my stomach, and the touch only served to make him pull me closer to him.

He was like a child with his favorite toy, desperately seeking out the comfort only I could provide him. I continued to run my hands along his, eventually going up his arm and quietly giggling at the goosebumps that formed. I didn't want him to wake up, but I also didn't want him to be awoken with another notice that he had to leave.

I wondered what the morning would be like without a time limit.

When Spencer began to stir, the first thing he did was bury his face between my shoulder and neck. I giggled at the tickling sensation of his breath, and he responded by peppering the area with short, light kisses.

It was my favorite way to say good morning.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," I said through the laughter. 

He didn't speak, just humming back contentedly as his kisses became more involved.

"Now who's the needy one?" I teased, tilting my head to grant him more access.

"Still you," he sighed against my skin.

"You know what I really need?" I began, starting the impossible task of turning onto my back while he refused to let go of his hold on me. "Coffee."

I couldn't help but laugh at the playful groan he released in response. He clearly agreed, and even followed the joyful sound with, "And they say the perfect woman doesn't exist."

It didn't mean anything, I warned my heart as it began to race. It was just a joke.

"Well, I didn't for the first ten years of your life. But don't worry, Dr. Reid. You have me now."

The brag, paired with the reminder of our age gap, earned me my release from his embrace. I was sad to lose it, but I'd also been scared of the effect it had on me.

"Your humility is my favorite part," he said in jest as he watched me squirm out from under his arm.

I stuck out my tongue, and he spoke again.

"Wait, never mind. I forgot about that part. That's my favorite part."

My face burned as I sucked it back in before pouting and climbing out of the bed. Grateful that I still had on my negligee, I stopped to pick up his clothes and tossed them onto the bed.

"Come on, lazy bones. I don't know how you like your coffee."

He just smiled, that gentle yet goofy look that told me he was enjoying himself. I didn't stay to watch him get dressed, deciding he deserved his privacy, despite the fact that I had shoved his dick down my throat the night before.

When he got to the kitchen, the pot was already on. I was leaning forward against the counter, half asleep on my propped up hand. He didn't take a seat at the table. He positioned himself directly behind me and wrapped an arm around my chest.

The man just couldn't keep his hands to himself. I wasn't complaining.

He slipped a hand beneath the front of my negligee, becoming more daring as he gently kneaded my breast and his mouth continued to mark my neck.

"What did I do to deserve all this attention now, Dr. Reid?"

It was a serious question. I had literally just been standing there. I had just woken up. I hadn't even cleaned my face.

"Nothing. You just exist."

I both chuckled and scoffed at the answer. So much for not wanting things to be emotional. Being the more responsible of the two of us, I focused on the way his tongue devilishly drew different sounds from me.

He suckled gently on the side of my neck, and his fingers began to tweak my nipple. A moan was ripped from the back of my throat as I jutted my hips backwards against him.

"God, when you react like that I can't help but think you want me to fuck you over this counter."

He was right. I did. Men weren't the only ones who had to deal with illicit thoughts in the morning. I figured he knew as much.

"Please," I begged, moving my arms so I could brace myself against the ceramic.

"Only because you asked nicely."

He withdrew from my neck. I heard as he drew familiar, crinkly foil from his pocket and I giggled at the anticipation. At the knowledge that he'd clearly pulled one from his wallet before he ever left the bedroom.

Soon enough, his fingers were trailing up my inner thighs, quickly encountering my very wet center that was still affected by the night before. Upon realizing I didn't need any preparation, he skipped it entirely. Slowly and with purpose, he slipped inside of me. I let out another loud moan as he filled my sore heat.

"Fuck," I heard him mutter under his breath.

I loved to know he couldn't entirely control himself with me. I wanted to know how I made him feel. It wasn't like the other times. There was no battle for dominance; I submitted to him immediately and freely. He was not rushed or driven by high emotions. His thrusts were slow, deep, and intimate. One of his hands returned to my chest, paying special attention to the breast that had been ignored before.

I leaned forward into his hand, my back arching to provide him with whatever relief he was looking for inside me. I panted out his name as my own version of a Sunday morning prayer.

It went on like that for a while. He took his time with me, like he was memorizing each nook and crevice he could reach. My legs were beginning to shake from his intrusion and also from my impending orgasm.

"Spencer..." I whispered his name differently this time, and his hands withdrew. I whimpered at the loss. But my disappointment was short lived, as his hand found its way down to where our bodies met. I gasped at the contact.

"What, (y/n)?" he asked with the utmost concern, beginning to make soft circles around my clit while he continued to fuck me from behind.

"I-I'm going to..."

I couldn't finish my sentence, collapsing forward as the stimulation became too much to bare. As it usually did, his other hand grabbed hold of my hair, clutching it tightly to pull me back up to him.

"Then do it."

His statement was a demand, but also its own beg. He wanted to feel me finish before him. I couldn't fight it even if I wanted to. The way he commanded control of my body was a force that could not be ignored. The ever tightening coil inside of me snapped, causing twitches and spasms to rack my body.  My mouth tried to call his name, but my voice didn't come out.

I tried to grip the ceramic when he began to pick up his pace, fucking me harder as my orgasm went on. I knew how much he loved to feel me come undone from the inside. But he held on, continuing his brutal pace until even after I had devolved into a panting, dripping mess underneath him.

My soft mewls from the sensation of being fucked through peaked bliss were still not enough.

"What do you want, little girl?" he growled in my ear as he leaned forward, somehow thrusting harder. Another moan was bubbling up my throat as my feet left the ground with each impact.

"I want... I want you to cum. Inside me."

It was a beg laced with pants and high pitched whines. It was what he wanted to hear.

He grabbed one of my hands, guiding it to my lower abdomen and holding it there. I didn't realize why until the next thrust, when I felt a bump form as he moved within me. I hadn't even considered how deep within me he was. He was showing me how much of me belonged to him.

I'd already known, but the reminder was nice. 

With a few more rough, deep thrusts, he had buried himself inside of me, and I could feel it against my hand. From within me I could feel him spilling into the condom.

I remembered my question about children. I remembered his answer.

That beautiful, sneaky bastard was imagining what it would be like to make me pregnant, whether or not he would admit it. I had put the thought in his mind. I just wasn't expecting it to have that profound of effect on him. I was more turned on by that than I'd like to admit.

I had said that I'd do anything for him.

He didn't say anything else. He released my hair and pulled out of me. He left me to prop myself up on the counter the best I could while my body trembled from the loss. 

At some point, the coffee pot had finished. I figured there were worse ways to pass the time.

Spencer was gone when I turned around. I figured he had gone to the bathroom to clean up, and I tried not to think anything of it. I poured two cups of coffee and pulled out the cream and sugar.

When he came back, he'd come with his phone. He sat down at the table and silently read through messages from the past hours he spent with me. I watched him prepare his drink, immediately downing some of the contents despite its temperature.

"Good lord, do you even have feeling in your throat?" I asked, laughing as I continued to stir my cup.

"Interesting you would be the one to ask me that. After last night, I wondered the same about you."

Touché.

"Did you get any interesting messages? Is the ever-so-busy Special Agent Dr. Reid going to be whisked away from me without a proper goodbye again?"

The words were laced with only a little bit of bitterness. He ignored it.

"I don't know if I would classify our goodbye last time as improper. At least, not in the sense you're using the term."

He was avoiding an answer. I figured he had to go. Or, well, he wanted to.

That's fine, I told myself. He can go. Even though I didn't want him to.

I watched him, the way he continued to nurse his drink with one hand and look at his phone with the other. I tried to suppress the hearts forming in my eyes.

"When will I get to see you again?" I asked, my tone full of trepidation.

"I'm not sure," was his honest answer, given without ever looking up at me.

"We should do something fun."

That made him look up, with a sly grin forming on his face.

"Not like that, you perverted old man," I laughed.

He raised his eyebrows, choosing not to reply outright to my taunt just yet.

"As much fun as we have in bedrooms, I don't know much about you. I'd like to change that," I explained. 

He watched me carefully, his eyes shifting away as he began to overthink it. I could see the cogs of paranoia turning in his mind. I think even he knew he was being sort of ridiculous.

"As friends, Spencer," I reminded with a gentle smile. "Let's do something fun. As friends."

The reserved half smile he gave would be good enough for me.

"Sure," he conceded, which filled me with a bubbly happiness I tried (and failed) to conceal. "I do have to go now, though. If for no other reason than wanting to change."

An understandable concern. I was fine with him leaving if I knew I would see him again this time. But still, something about him leaving so soon hurt a deeper part of me. I wondered if it was that dysphoria he was talking about, but decided not to question it, lest he tell me it was something more worrisome. Something like infatuation. 

I nodded, leaving my coffee on the table as I took his already empty cup. He stood up, waiting for me to return before the both of us walked over to the door. Something about his hesitation resonated in me. My puppy dog eyes were out in full force as I stared up at him.

I wasn't able to smile as he left.

"I'll see you again soon. As soon as I can," he assured me.

I wanted to believe him, but I hated that I didn't know when that would be.

He reached a hand down, brushing loose hairs from my face and commanding my attention that I so readily gave. 

"Don't look so sad," he instructed. "It makes it hard to leave."

My chest swelled with anxiety and adoration. I wasn't sure how to combat it. I hugged myself with one arm, and Spencer shook his head with a laugh.

"Still not following directions."

He didn't seem to mind all that much, though. He leaned forward and cupped my face in his hand. Our lips pressed against each other with a tenderness that made my head spin. We kissed each other in a way that was carelessly romantic.

When he pulled away, he stared into my eyes for a second too long. And when he waved goodbye and walked out of my door, I couldn't get the thought out of my mind.

Friends don't do this.

—————————————————  

| Part 4 |

[bmx3-lukanette-blog]

“The Text Message”

Note: This is my first time in a long while attempting to write a fic, so I apologize for any mistakes I may have in this. I just couldn’t get the idea out of my head once I wrote my “Tikki, the Lukanette Shipper” dialogue. It just felt too short, so I wanted to expand it a little. (Do keep in mind I’m probably not going to write much. I prefer drawing, personally.)

Anyways, on to the fic~ ;P

______

Today was just one of those days. Those of which Marinette was exhausted from everything going on in her life. 

Chat Noir's advances. Lila's lies. Alya and the rest of her friends with their whole "Getting Adrienette Together" project. Normally, Tikki wouldn't have minded the latter, since it was to Marinette's benefit. However, it was beginning to feel hopeless. Or rather may as well have been hopeless since it first began. 

Adrien never noticed any of her holder's advances, no matter how obvious she may have been. Tikki felt it was about time Marinette gave up on him. She knew how much it tormented Marinette knowing that her feelings would never be reciprocated. 

It pained Tikki to see Marinette so upset. She knew exactly how the girl was. Friendly, clumsy, selfless, always there to help whenever possible... Whereas Ladybug was composed, confident, always thinking on her feet as to how to defeat whatever Akuma came her way. She was creative and used whatever she had at her disposal, it was what made Marinette special. 

Therefore the kwami put it upon herself to help ease the girl's pain. And who better to go to than Luka? The sweetest boy who was always there for her partner, no matter what problems arose in the girl’s life.

She glanced over from her spot at the bedside table, to the dark haired girl curled up on her bed, trying to find a sign that she was alright. Upon further inspection, the kwami could make out the outline of dry tears on Marinette's cheeks. She could hear her holder's breathing becoming a bit more even, but not quite. Tikki thought she deserved rest after the day she's had, but not like this. Marinette deserved better than to cry herself to sleep most nights. 

All of this was enough for Tikki. She couldn't stand for Mari to be this miserable any longer. And so she decided to make her way towards the girl's phone and text the only person who could assuage her feelings. Luka. He's always managed to be there for her when it mattered most, so Tikki had the utmost faith in him to do as he always did. 

'I know in time she'll be thankful I did this.' Tikki thought to herself as she sent out a text to the guitarist. 

For now though, she knew she and Marinette needed some rest. She'd done what she had to, and would deal with whatever consequences came her way in the morning. 

_______

"Eeek!" Marinette shrieked, completely flustered at the contents on her phone. She couldn't remember how or when the message could have been sent out. 

“Hey Luka. I haven’t exactly been feeling my best lately and was hoping maybe you’d like to join me at the bakery tomorrow morning? As friends! I mean it doesn’t have to be a date, unless you want it to be?”

She blinked repeatedly as she reread the text. She couldn’t believe she actually did that. Wasn’t she asleep at the time? Or perhaps Marinette was never fully asleep and just sent it out while she was half conscious? No… That didn’t sound like her at all. 

The only other being in her room at that time was… Tikki. 

“T-Tikki, what’s the meaning of this?” The flustered girl questioned her, all the while pointing to her cellphone. 

“What? You needed a slight push in the right direction.” The ladybug kwami casually commented. “At least this one returns your feelings wholeheartedly.”

"Th-That's not the point!" She exclaimed towards her kwami. "You know fully well that I'm pursuing a different boy." 

"Yeah… The wrong boy." Tikki responded. "I mean just because he lent you his umbrella that one day after school, because you forgot your own, doesn't warrant your crush on him. He would have done that for anyone." 

"B-But he-" Marinette started, but couldn't continue due to Tikki's interruption. 

"Was desperate for friends!" The kwami went on. "Still is by the way he acts. That's why he doesn't help you stand up to Lila. Why he lets her get away with all that she does… He doesn't even defend you to Chloe when she hurts your feelings! Is he really the type of guy that you want? Because the way I see it the blonde's not worth your time." 

Marinette sighed. Trying to come up with something… anything to prove Tikki wrong. But how? She was right… the boy hadn't shown any romantic interest in her, no matter what she did. 

"Tikki, look… I understand what you're trying to do, but… My heart chose him." Marinette started. "He doesn't see it yet… B-But Adrien…" 

The ladybug kwami tuned out of whatever Marinette tried to argue. Honestly… She loved her holder, but was she serious about this? Marinette's so-called "love" for him was extremely unhealthy… And Tikki could see that every single minute of every day. 

"Over Luka, the only guy who actually gives you the time of day? Who's always there when it matters? Who returns your feelings?" Tikki argued back, so done with Marinette droning on and on about Adrien, with her usual reasons. "You'll give him up for this dense blonde who doesn't even realize you like him? Who constantly friendzones you every chance he gets?"

"I… I…" Marinette started, unsure of what to say anymore. She'd said it all, hadn't she? Or at least attempted to. However deep down she knew Tikki was right. There wasn't any way for her to make Adrien see she liked him, could there? 

Adrien had constantly friendzoned her during everything… Times when they were alone, whether planned or otherwise. And it was draining… Hopeless, even. Yet she still put herself through the pain willingly. 

It was as if she was holding on to something that was all the more unattainable the more she tried. Especially with the heart eyes she'd seen him give Kagami lately. She knew she should give up. The heartbreak wasn't worth it. 

But then why would she continue to insist on the idea of Adrien being her perfect match anyway? She really believed they were soulmates deep down in her heart… And yet when Chat displayed these same motives towards Ladybug, she was completely against it. 

“I’m just as bad as Chat on this matter, aren’t I?” Marinette said, as the realization came to her. “I’ve been desperately waiting for something to happen between us… Something that could never be, no matter how much I want it to.” 

“You and Chat may share some of the same morals, such as putting your crushes on some pedestal, but you two have different ways to deal with them.” Tikki stated calmly. “You’re not constantly flirting or throwing yourself at Adrien. Nor do you throw tantrums or leave him when you can’t get what you want. Both of your situations are different.”

“None of that matters when I still try to pursue Adrien anyway.” She insisted.

“Mari, stop this.” Tikki said, firmly. “You’re not like him. I mean you clearly talk your feelings out with me. Then there are also Alya, Juleka, Rose… The usual girl group at school you’re a part of. Sometimes even Luka. And neither of them judge you for that. You’re allowed to feel as you do and I hope you come to understand that sometime.” 

"How Tikki? I'm a mess of emotions every single day!" She replied. "How could that be alright? Or healthy in the least?" 

"Because you don't keep them in." Tikki said. "And if you think that would turn everyone away from you, you have another thing coming. Luka clearly loves you!"

"I… I don’t deserve it though.” Marinette said, tears glistening in her eyes. “I don’t deserve him.” “That’s something for him to decide, Mari, not you.” Tikki said, offering her holder a soft smile. “Yet he still undeniably loves you, faults and all. It’s what makes Luka, well, Luka.”

“I know… But I still can’t help but think that he deserves someone better. Someone who can give him the life he deserves. Someone who can love him unconditionally and put his well being first, as he does for me.” She began, just as a lone tear slid down her face. “How can I be that for him when the first boy that comes to mind is one I can never have?”

“How can you be so sure, you can’t be that person for him?” Tikki asked her holder. “Isn’t he all you wished Adrien to be for you? Kind, caring, attentive, affectionate, encouraging… All the while just there for you when you need a friend. He’s perfect for you, and if you’d only get your mind out of the gutter, you’d see that’s true.”

“How would that be fair to him, Tikki?” She asked, all the while wiping away some fresh tears with the back of her hand. “I wouldn’t want to use him to just get over Adrien, nor would I want him to feel like second best.”

“Do you have any romantic feelings for Luka at all?” The kwami asked her holder in a more serious tone. 

“Well, yeah, b-bu-” The girl attempted to respond, but was interrupted. 

“Then there you have your answer.” Tikki said. “Luka won’t be second best, unless you treat him as such. And since that’s something you’re not too keen on, then there’s no real issue. All he wants is for you to be at your happiest, be it as a friendship or romance. Though if you ask me, I think you owe it to yourself to be happy, Mari. Giving him a chance wouldn’t hurt. In fact, I think it would help you become happier.”

Perhaps the tiny kwami had a point. Luka was all the things she was looking for in a guy. So what if he wasn’t the boy she chased after for so long? So what if he wasn’t the blonde boy who’d offered her his umbrella the one day she’d forgotten hers? Or the first boy to awaken such feelings inside of her?

Luka was different. He was there for her when nobody else was. He was the most comforting presence in her life. Never pushing her to return his feelings, but instead encouraging her to chase after the boy she really liked. The guitarist was content just being her friend. He didn’t demand anything from her. If anything all he wished was for her happiness, however it is that she would find it. 

“O-Okay…” Marinette concluded, coming to a decision. “You went through a lot of trouble trying to set us up, so I’ll let it slide this time.”

“That’s the spirit!” Tikki exclaimed, giddy with excitement. “Now come on, let’s get you ready. Your new boyfriend could be coming in any minute now~”

“T-Tikki!” The girl cried out, flustered at the ‘boyfriend’ comment. “Don’t get so ahead of yourself!”

“What? We both know you’ll both become an item soon enough.” The kwami declared, very sure of herself.

“T-That’s not the point!” Marinette responded, just as flustered, if not more so than before.

Ding. 

Marinette's phone chimed, alerting her a new message had arrived. 

"Just arrived. Hope to see you soon." 

She smiled fondly at the message before typing in her own response. 

"I'll be right over with you in a few." 

Without another word, the girl put her phone down and entered the bathroom to fix herself up in order to finally face Luka. 

Marinette was filled with new purpose and hope to start a relationship. A real one that she was sure they both wanted. 

Perhaps Tikki's meddling was a blessing. After all, it had helped Marinette see more clearly that there was a different boy she could pursue with more than successful results.

[hichi842]

Scenario: s/o taking care of sick midoriya, bakugou, todoroki (individual scenarios)

Pairings: Midoriya, Bakugo, Todoroki x reader

Warnings⚠️: None

S/o Taking Care of Sick Boyfriend

Izuku Midoriya

You and Izuku had been planning a date on the weekend since you both had an off day from school.

Though the morning of the event, you were surprised to see that you’ve received a text from the boy himself.

He told you that he had to cancel your date. He had caught a pretty bad cold and wouldn’t be able to make it.

As soon as you read it, you felt as if you should go to his place. You assumed that his mother was taking care of him, but maybe she could use your help or at least you can stay by your boyfriend’s side while he got better.

So you packed up a small bag of essentials and made your way to the Midoriya residence.

As soon as you got there, you knocked on the door, Midoriya’s mother opened it after a few moments.

“Oh! Hi dear, what brings you here?”

“Hey! I heard Izuku was sick and wanted to see if you need any help taking care of him.” You replied to the lady.

She smiled to you and ushered you in. There sitting at the couch in the small living room, was Izuku wrapped in a fluffy blanket, a dampened towel resting on his forehead.

You guessed he had heard his mother answer the door to you. “(Y/n), You really didn’t need to come over, I’m not too sick.” He said with a raspy voice.

“I know, but I would like to help and spend some time with you.” You replied, making your way to the boy’s side and patted his head lightly, which made him smile. “Anyway, Inko do you need my help with anything?”

“Could you help me make some soup darling?” You nodded with a smile as you two made your way to the kitchen.

From there, you guys made some miso soup and talked to each other, mostly about Izuku and your guy’s relationship.

Once you guys finally finished the soup, you dished it into three bowls for you guys.

“I already gave Izuku some medicine, so he should just take time to recover now. If you guys want to, I could leave you two alone and you guys can watch a movie together.” The middle age woman offered.

You smiled and immediately accepted her offer with a ‘thank you’. So she made her way to her room and you went to the living room to where Izuku was.

“Here you go.” You told him as you handed the bowl to him and plopped down next to him. “Let’s watch a movie!” You said.

“Okay!” He chuckled slightly, a couple coughs following. He removed half of the blanket and wrapped it around you, you pulled his head onto your shoulder and smiled, kissing him lightly in his soft hair.

You guys chose a cute Disney movie and sat there watching it together, eventually both of you ended up falling asleep together.

His mom most definitely took pictures of the two of you.

Katsuki Bakugo

It was any average day at school, going between your normal classes and interacting with your friends and boyfriend, Katsuki.

Though, for some reason, Katsuki wasn’t quite himself this day. He seemed very tired and dazed which was definitely interesting since this man legitimately goes to sleep at 8.

He also hasn’t yelled at a single person today, even when Midoriya bumped into him on accident or Kaminari was making fun of him.

Not to mention, that he was sweating A LOT. You knew his quirk required a lot of sweat, but this much was really unnatural.

Currently, you both were walking down the hall side by side to get to lunch when you decided to confront him about his weird behavior.

“Are you okay babe? You’ve been acting weird today.” You asked and he looked over to you.

“Tch. I’m fine you idiot, stop over reacting.” He rolled his eyes and you frowned.

“Well okay, but if something’s up, you can always tell me.” You stated.

He grabbed your hand and continued walking. “Yeah whatever.”

From then on, Katsuki continued with his off behavior, the only problem is that he wouldn’t tell you anything and you were starting to get worried.

It wasn’t until hero training class where you guys were sparing in pairs that you really started to get concerned.

You and your boyfriend were teamed up, but unlike usual, Katsuki was having a really tough time fighting you, he was breathing extremely heavy and was moving very slowly.

You had stopped trying to fight him, but as soon as you did, he collapsed and became unconscious. You immediately ran to his side and picked him up, calling for the teacher.

Aizawa simply told you to take him to the nurse which you swiftly did.

Once you had got to Recovery Girl, she examined him and determined that he had a high fever. She gave him some medicine and such before returning to her other duties. She allowed you to stay by his side till he woke up.

So for a while you just sat there watching the boy until he finally got up. He looked around the room, a bit confused.

“You idiot, you shouldn’t have went to school if you were this sick, why didn’t you tell me?!” You immediately began ranting and Katsuki just stared at you, he almost looked intimidated.

After you finished, he spoke up. “I know..............” He hesitated a bit, almost like he was fighting himself internally. “...and I’m sorry.” You were a bit shocked by that.

“Oh!... um... well, it’s fine.” You said. “Let’s just get you home so you could rest, okay?” You smiled and he gave you a defeated nod.

Shoto Todoroki

Ever since you and Shoto has started dating, you went to his house every Sunday in order to study or do homework together.

It was only a few hours and you had to leave as soon as his father came home from work, but you guys valued the time together nonetheless.

Currently you were walking to said boy’s house, only about five more minutes away. You didn’t even contact him before you left since you did this every week.

Once you had made it to his house, you immediately knocked on the door which Shoto’s sister, Fuyumi, answered.

“Oh (Y/n)! I’m sorry, I forgot to tell you that Shoto can’t meet today.” She said as soon as she saw you.

“Oh, why?” You replied, a bit surprised to hear that.

“He was training his quirk and used a bit too much of his left side, he got a really bad fever from it.” She answered and you nodded, understanding the situation.

You sat there, thinking for a second. “Well, is it okay if I visit anyway to see how he’s doing?”

Fuyumi smiled and gave you a quick ‘of course’. You made you way into the familiar place before excusing yourself to Shoto’s room.

Once you made it down the hall, you saw that his door was already cracked open, so you decided to just go in.

Stepping into the room, you saw the boy laying in his bed. He seemed to be asleep, so you made your way over to him.

You could tell he was in bad shape. His breath were ragged and he was sweating. You laid your hand on his head and it was burning up.

As soon as your retracted your hand though, Shoto began to stir from his slumber, looking up at you with tired eyes.

“(Y/n)...?” He asked.

“Oh Shoto, how are you feeling? You don’t look to well.” You frowned.

“I- I’m a bit warm...” He hesitated before saying the next line. “I think I’m going rest again now.” He started to waver, obviously in a dazed and feverish state.

Of course, I’ll go out in the living room with your sister, get lots of rest!” You were about to turn around before arms pulled you into the bed.

“Would you lay with me for awhile love.” Your cheeks reddened slightly at his words, he was definitely a bit more affectionate in this state.

Nonetheless, you laid down facing the boy as he adjusted his arms around your waist.

You two were there for awhile, Shoto eventually going to sleep as you laid there in his warm arms.

You had started to feel a bit tired yourself, you tried to stay awake, but the longer you did the harder it was.

Soon enough you just decided it was best to sleep and deal the consequences later, after all you felt like your boyfriend needed this.

You looked up to the sickly boy, it almost seemed like his fever was going a bit down. You smiled before kissing him gently on his forehead and cuddling into his chest.

You slowly nodded off to sleep.

[ahnsael]

Got an update on brother-in-law this morning. He’s still in the hospital, possibly to be released on Friday (a week after the last potential release date).

He’s still on oxygen, but the oxygen levels have been reduced by 60% since last Friday and he is breathing well with the lessened supplemental oxygen. I texted him after my sis said he had his phone, but he hasn’t responded (but my sis, after I texted him, said that she was talking to him on the phone).

I told my sis that the casino staff with whom I work was rooting for him, and she said his response was “wow.” They don’t know him (some have met him when they’ve visited us, but not many, but they care about him because they know he’s family to me, but none of them are very familiar with him).

But things are definitely looking up on his end, which means things are looking up on my end mentally.

I am just sick and tired of people who don’t take COVID seriously. He literally almost died, and many others HAVE died, and yet I still have to fight people over wearing a mask because they’re wimps who think it’s hard to breathe with a mask on, who have NO CLUE how hard it can be to breathe when you have COVID. And I’ve had not only my brother-in-law, but two coworkers go down with COVID. These people who are what I refer to as “maskholes” are truly terrible people to spend time with. I may be vaccinated, but I have coworkers and other regular guests who have refused to get vaccinated, and I’ll feel bad for them if they get it, but...at some point your choices have consequences (both coworkers, plus my sis and brother-in-law, CHOSE not to get vaccinated, and wish they had done so).

I am glad I have the next two nights off so I don’t have to deal with these people. I have to go in for a manager meeting tomorrow morning, and COVID is always a part of those meetings these days, but other than that I don’t have to deal with ANYONE until Friday night. I have plenty of food and beverage for the weekend, so other than this meeting (which usually lasts 30-60 minutes, but closer to 60 these days), I don’t have to go ANYWHERE and be around maskholes. Because even my local supermarket isn’t enforcing the masks other than signs outside saying that masks are required. Someone walks in without a mask? They just ignore it. And that PISSES ME OFF, but there is no other store around who is enforcing it, either, which makes my job harder because people say “Well, Smith’s isn’t enforcing it, so I don’t have to wear one.” And then I have to explain that the Gaming Control Board IS enforcing it, and the size of the fines that we get if they don’t wear a mask, and they literally reply with “I don’t care if you get fined. I’m not wearing one.” I despise being the mask police. It’s stressful when people tell me that they’re going to kick my rear end if they see me around town after I ask them to leave. I’ve got at least a dozen people who have told me that they are going to beat me up in the near future because they are too much of a wimp to wear a piece of cloth over their mouth and nose.And one of these days, one of these people are going to see me at the market and make good on their threat. This is the stress I deal with every night at work, and when I go shopping for food. But when fines have been up to $30,000 PER PERSON not wearing a mask (the casino gets fined, not the individual -- we literally got a $30,000 fine because someone took their mask down for two seconds to speak, and put it back on), we’re fighting a losing battle in this VERY Trump (formerly Red, but now full-blown Trump idiocy) area of the state. Let me put it this way -- I live in Nevada, which became a state during the Civil War, in an effort for Nevada to support Abraham Lincoln. But I live around a bunch of Confederate flag-waving fools who think that celebrating “heritage” doesn’t include the heritage of supporting slavery. Despite my brother-in-law’s situation (and I’m glad he will apparently survive), maybe if more people catch this virus, word will get around that vaccines WORK, and that despite the side effects (both doses kicked my butt, the second worse than the first), it’s a LOT better than suffering the effects of this virus. And I’m not actually wishing COVID on anyone. But as many more people are getting it now, maybe they can convince their friends that the vaccine is a better way to go.

[nosferatvpussy]

distorted lullabies [chapter XI]

Word count: 5,131 

Warnings: vulgar language

Pairing: Dracula x female reader

AO3 link

Author’s note: My beta reader gave me a few suggestions and it's truly something that's been bugging me, so I decided it would be better to check with you guys, my readers. I'm writing this story purely for fun so I don't mind changing things. I'm not well versed in writing Character x reader stories and I'll admit the whole concept sometimes escapes me (ahem, fully does) and my beta pointed out that it's become an OC x Dracula fic. This chapter in particular touches into something that may upset some people if they're really invested into the reader POV, which is religion. You may not agree with the reader's thoughts regarding christianity, and I don't want to needle anyone's beliefs because this is a reader insert. My question is: would you guys prefer if I gave the reader a name, in which case she becomes a fully realised character? I'll still avoid describing her because then you can picture her however you like. Longwinded question, I know, but I thought it deserved some explanation. On a more positive note, I made two spotify playlists; one is oriented towards alternative songs (mostly) and the other one is purely made up of classical pieces.

Regardless, ENJOYYY

________________________________________________________

The rest of the trip would have been completely silent if it wasn’t for Portishead’s music. 

I barely looked at Dracula as he dropped me off at the Airbnb I had rented. He parted with a promise to meet me at the wedding tomorrow and an indifferent goodbye, although when I made it all the way to the flat’s second floor, his car was still parked at the front door. When I turned around to throw my backpack on the bed and looked out the window again, the black BMW was gone.

Not even the wide array of DVD stacks inside the Airbnb managed to keep my mind off of Dracula.

After settling in and having a shower, I occupied myself with sitting in front of the TV in the living room and analysing the owner’s collection – an impressive one at that – however, when I picked up a copy of The Rocky Horror Picture Show I could almost hear Count Dracula laughing as I sang along to Frank N Furter and immediately put the disc back to where it belonged. So I chose something harmless to watch.

As Mulder and Scully bickered about aliens on the television in another episode of The X-Files – really, props to the Airbnb owner for supplying his entire collection to guests – I glanced at my phone for the hundredth time. 

Would Count Dracula be a Scully or a Mulder? Such a silly thing to wonder about, nevertheless I was curious about it. Perhaps if he was here with me, watching TV and making his remarks about what was going on, I would manage to concentrate on the episode playing. 

It had worked out fine last time. Well, for the most part. As long as we didn’t watch anything with sexual undertones such as Interview with the Vampire, I would be fine. For how long, was the question.

I frowned as I rewinded the last 10 minutes on the DVD player. Scully was lying in a hospital bed while Mulder screamed at a doctor when just two minutes ago Mulder had been talking to their boss. Obviously, I had missed more than two minutes, too stuck in my thoughts about the Count.

I glanced at my phone again. 

He’d be gone tomorrow. And I needed to know if he would like Scully or Mulder better.

I took my phone between shaky fingers.

A small part of me, one that was still thinking straight, suggested that maybe I shouldn’t do this on account of that kiss earlier. But nothing of what had happened during that trip mattered anymore, not when I would never see him again. Whatever I did today would have no consequences.

 Are you there?

Count Dracula replied just as Mulder screamed at the doctor, and I still had no idea why.

 Yes.

I typed a message as quickly as I could before I regretted this.

 I can’t sleep. 

I chewed on my lip as I waited for a response but when none came, I started typing another text and then erased it. Inviting him over might develop into less innocent things than simply watching TV. 

I curled my toes. I came this far. I resisted him this long. There was no reason to jump ship at the last second. 

Tomorrow he’d be carted away by the Foundation and while I would very much like to do more than kiss Count Dracula, the idea of giving myself to him and then never feeling his touch again seemed unbearable. 

 Do you want to take a stroll through Gloucester?

I’ll be there in a few minutes.

His reply came so quick that he must have been staring at his phone, waiting for me to send another text.

I rushed to change from pyjamas into jeans, jacket and boots. I had just finished fixing up how I looked when my phone buzzed. Without bothering to read the text, I left the flat, heart beating like a hummingbird’s as I went down the stairs to the building’s front door. 

Count Dracula wore the same leather jacket as earlier, waiting for me just as he had waited hours ago in London.

“Did you walk all the way here?” I asked as soon as I noticed the BMW’s absence.

“I was in the neighbourhood.” He smiled.

“Exploring?”

He smirked but said nothing.

“Eating, then,” I concluded. “Drinking, sorry. I forgot you get stuck in the technicalities.”

“You get used to it,” he said, extending a hand for me. 

I gasped when I placed my hand on his. Someone else’s blood had made his temperature rise from cadaveric cold to match my own but I was too fascinated by how plump his flesh felt to care about an unknown person’s death. 

“You don’t feel like a statue,” I said, squeezing his hand to make sure I wasn’t imagining things.

“You get used to it,” he repeated. “Come. I found a lovely place to break into.”

He pulled me to him so fast that my stomach lurched. I almost lost balance but he wrapped an arm around my shoulders to steady me. 

“May I remind you that I’m human and next time you do this I might throw up in your shoes?” 

My vision was still swimming and I had to lean my body on his until I could see properly. 

“I’ll warn you next time.”

I craned my neck to look up at him, noticing absently that I had my arms around him in a hug. Light coming from a neighbouring house glowed behind his head likening a saint’s halo. Horns would be more suitable, and more alluring. 

“Will I like this place you intend to take me?” 

“More than I will,” he said, securing me in an inescapable hold, one I had no desire to fight. “It’s a cathedral.”

“Gloucester Cathedral?” I loosened my arms around him. “It’s a holy place,” I said and he cocked an eyebrow. “Can you even set foot in there?”

He snorted.

“I can waltz with you in there while reciting biblical verses as long as I don’t look upon the cross.” 

“I’d like to see that. A healthy dose of blasphemy is always fun.”

A slow smile spread on his lips.

“Then you’ll love it.”

To my dismay, he untangled himself from me but still kept an arm around my shoulders in a half embrace. Instead of avoiding him, I circled his waist with my arm, basking on how uncharacteristically warm he felt in comparison to the chilly night. 

Dracula looked at me with furrowed eyebrows, though a grin creeped on his mouth. For the first time, we had exchanged roles – he, doubtful that I was so willing to touch him, and I, sure of what I was doing ever since I struck that deal. 

Pity it wouldn’t last long.

“Lead the way,” I told him. 

  _______________________________________________________

Except for a couple of stray cats and a dog, Count Dracula and I were the only ones wandering through Gloucester’s narrow streets and quaint façades. The moon was hidden but with how bright it glowed, even beneath a swath of cotton clouds, I would guess it was full. 

I relied more on Count Dracula’s eyes than on the unsteady old street lights that seemed to hail from the 18th century, but I didn’t need his vampire eyes to catch a glimpse of a towering Gothic building, concealed behind a row of modern restaurants and stores, all closed now that it was closer to dawn than to dusk, wedged inside small houses stylised in Tudor architecture. 

“Here we are,” said Dracula just as we rounded the corner and faced Gloucester Cathedral.

It was an enormous and monstrous thing yet beautiful all the same in all its complicated detail of spiking roofs and pointed narrow glass that composed huge windows amongst blocks of stone. Sculptures of saints and kings stood watch at the front, arching above the intricately woven entrance. 

“Is there an alarm this time?” I asked as we approached the door. 

“What for? Christians trust their god to keep it safe. There is someone sleeping inside, though. A priest if I had to guess, so we’ll have to be very quiet.”

“There goes my plan,” I said, although I had none. No space for calculated words and carefully measured tone there. All I had left was impulsivity, and saying things without really meaning them provided me with a rush unlike any other. 

“What plan is that?” Dracula questioned, side-eyeing me.

I shrugged.

“What does it matter if I can’t be noisy now?” I snickered. I would have tried being reckless more often if I’d known I would earn so many bewildered looks from Count Dracula. “Open the door.” I bidded, staring at him. “Please?”

Something crossed his gaze, something that made me wish that he would press me against a wall and demand that I tell him about my sordid plan. But he did no such thing.

“Since you asked nicely,” he said, just as he had done earlier during our trip.

Dracula forced the door open with the same ease I would have opened an unlocked door.

My mouth was a little dry but the thrill of doing something forbidden still made my heart thud, despite the fear of being caught. Perhaps I’d been developing a new habit of doing dangerous things such as making deals with vampires, and getting excited at the prospect of desecrating a church with one. I would have to find a substitute to that after he was gone but I couldn’t think of anything that could compare. 

I followed Count Dracula into the cathedral’s nave. 

The massive round pillars surrounding the aisle took away some of the simplicity of the ribbed vaulting, which derived from early Gothic architecture if I remembered my art classes correctly. There weren’t any pews positioned in usual rows as most churches did, and from where I stood I couldn’t spot an altar. The place seemed bare without them but it was still imposing, as most religious things were, I supposed.

The ground's yellowed stone, that one day may have been white, was dappled with a luminescence of blue, red and purple. I whirled around, looking up to find out where that variety of colours came from, and grinned upon finding a stained glass window that extended all the way up to the ceiling. 

“I never liked churches as a child,” I whispered to Dracula, ignoring that he probably knew it. “They creeped me out. I couldn’t understand how some people felt love inside them, when all I felt was judgement. And like I was being watched by saints, angels and Jesus.” I grimaced as I admired the pictures on the glass. Saints looked back at me with their saintly stare. Jesus Christ was pictured at the centre pane. “My parents weren’t very religious but my grandmother was one of those fervent catholics, full of guilt and fear. She used to take me to mass every other Sunday at Westminster Abbey until one time when I started arguing with the priest during his sermon about how illogical the bible is at some points.” I glanced at Dracula and saw him chuckling soundlessly. “I was 13. My grandmother was so humiliated and angry at me that she never took me to mass again.”

“And you were relieved to never have to go back again,” Dracula supplied. “How do you like churches now?”

“I like them as long as I’m just visiting. And I’m not scared of them anymore, not since I won that argument with the priest.” I looked at him. He was making a point of observing the rest of the church instead of gazing at the stained glass as I was. “You were raised christian, too. And if Wikipedia is right, you fought in the name of God.”

“In another life.” He bobbed his head, lacing his hands behind his back as he wandered down the aisle. “Not the foolish, gullible and fearful catholic as Justina was.” Dracula cast a brief glance at me. “My late wife.” He explained but I had already surmised as much. 

Since he had mentioned her without my needing to ask, I felt the urge to goad him with more questions. The urge to see that odd semblance of grief in his face as I had seen weeks ago. The reminder that he was capable of emotion, still. But I left it alone. It was possible he would shut down and assume that distant and impenetrable façade, and then our last date would be over much faster than I was ready for it to be.

“No, you were more the type to rip people to shreds when they didn’t condone your faith.” I lowered my voice mid sentence when my words echoed. 

Following him down the aisle, I noticed that a big apparatus was raised up in a wooden structure ahead of us and it looked like an organ. Had we been alone at the church, I would have climbed up the stairs to knead a few keys just to hear the resounding, spine-chilling noise it would make. 

“Precisely.” Dracula laughed.

“Did you ever do it for fun?”

“What do you think?”

“I think you did.”

He turned around, stopping at the centre of the aisle a few metres away from me. 

“For fun, for boredom, but most of all to instill fear into my enemies’ hearts. Does it still bother you?”

I stopped.

It had when I first found out about it. And although he had just admitted torturing people simply for the fun of it, it didn’t bother me nearly as much as before. I ought to have been disgusted or disapproving, at the very least. It was a little worrying that I didn’t feel any of those things, like I had just discovered a part of me that was capable of terrible cruelty.

“No,” I said. “Not anymore.”

Dracula’s grin was all teeth as if that answer was everything he had been longing to hear. 

“You’re not nervous tonight.” He was still grinning. “You’re usually nervous around me.”

“Usually,” I agreed, smirking. 

Was this how it felt? Not having to worry, not caring about what could happen, not being cautious about every little thing, not minding that he had done horrible deeds and I still wanted his lips on mine?

This foreign feeling swelled inside my chest and my smirk became a grin. 

“Let’s see the rest of the place,” I said, beckoning him with my hand. “There is a door back there and I think I saw something interesting.”

I didn’t wait to see if he would follow and simply turned around, heading to my right where I had seen a long corridor dappled with more colourful light from stained glass. Through an arched portal, I could see the extent of the corridor but it still didn’t prepare me when I crossed the threshold. 

What I thought was only one corridor, was actually two positioned in an L-shape and I stood at the cusp of both. Elaborate lines composed patterns on the vaulted ceiling and walls, fanning into long and curved designs etched in stone and ending in what resembled flowers. Light poured from a collection of stained glass windows and with the way each corridor bent at their ends, I supposed the structure continued until it formed a rectangular. I squinted past a clear glass on a windowpane, and smiled. I could make out shapes of trees and what looked to be a fountain outside. These weren’t corridors but covered walks surrounding a square. Westminster Abbey had something similar.

“Gorgeous,” whispered Dracula.

I turned around to see what he was admiring. His stare was fixed on me, and I had a feeling it had been the same way when he spoke. He moved towards me and the stained glass bathed his face in red. Dracula placed one of my hands on his shoulder and took the other one into his own, extending our joined hands up in a dancing stance.

“I’ll step on your feet,” I warned as he splayed a hand on my back. “I’m not a good dancer.”

“I’ll teach you. Waltzing is easy, and I told you we would waltz.”

In a hushed voice as to not wake whoever slept inside the cathedral, Count Dracula instructed me how, his knees touching mine ever so slightly to point me in the correct direction as I stared down at our feet rasping on the floor, his hands pushing and tugging gently as we swayed to silence. 

After a little while, I felt confident enough not to step on his feet, although I had done it a few times during his lesson, and looked up at his face. We were both a mess of colours and blurry features clouded in darkness as we danced out and into the stained glass light. The air was so chilly that my lungs burned with the effort of dancing, his hand so unrealistically warm on mine as we danced pointlessly – it was surreal, and filled me with an unusual melancholy that I wouldn’t experience something like that again and happiness because I had let myself experience it.

“I dare not ask for love–” Dracula’s words cut through the silence and I drew a sharp intake of breath for what he was about to say. His next words were accompanied by the cadence people used to recite something, which removed some of the impact of what he had first said and I relaxed. 

“ I dare not ask for love – with all

My many sins, both great and small,

I am perhaps of love unworthy!

But if feigned love, if you would

Pretend, you’d easily deceive me,

For happily would I, believe me,

Deceive myself if but I could. ”

I held my breath halfway throughout but continued to dance. The mention of love completely escaped me when he spoke of deceit and I could not help but wonder if he suspected me of it. Did he know I was leading him on and did not care? Or did he know about me and Zoe and this was just a fancy way of telling me so? My heart raced. I hoped he took it not as panic but exhilaration instead.

“Is that in the bible?” I asked in a shaky voice.

“It’s Pushkin. I’ve been reading Russian literature again, old and new and it’s stuck in my head. Pushkin remains a favourite of mine and Anna Akhmatova is a close second from the new generation. Well, old generation, for you.” He chuckled. “The Pushkin stanza sounds better in Russian. Most things sound better in Russian,” he said in an even voice. I raised my eyebrows at him, and he recited the verses in Russian, and although I understood none of it, it did sound better. “This, however, is from the bible. I don’t remember from which book but I remember that I liked it when I was human. I’m translating directly from Latin, though, because that’s how I studied the bible, so I’m taking a few liberties here to make it sound better, and less ridiculously holy. It goes like this:  Place me like a seal over your heart, like a seal on your arm; for love is as strong as death, its jealousy unyielding as the grave. It burns like blazing fire, like a mighty flame.”

“It could very well be Pushkin,” I offered. 

“It could. Ironically, I prefer these verses more than Pushkin’s.” He laughed lightly and I fully relaxed. He sounded like himself, not at all as if he knew something he wasn’t supposed to. 

I did wonder, though, why he chose those verses out of anything else to declaim. Pushkin was a hopeless romantic through and through from what I had read of him. Of Anna I knew little but what I did know spoke of bitterness, death and failed, tragic love. Why suddenly speak of love? He could’ve quoted something else from the bible. Perhaps something to do with Samson and Delilah, since we had joked about it in the past. Anything else would have made more sense, even the parts that made no sense at all and had driven me to argue with a priest years ago.

Was Count Dracula attempting to tell me something? No. Couldn’t be. He was as forward as one could be. And the idea of him feeling anything remotely close to love seemed a little silly. 

He had loved Justina; more than he thought he was capable of, he’d said. But that had been centuries ago in another life. 

For a moment my determination in being reckless faltered and I felt at loss for what to say. 

Dracula let go of me briefly to spin me around in a move I wasn’t as deftly trained in as he was, causing me to squeal at the velocity and trip over my feet. I thought I would fall but he caught me and started moving again in the waltz pattern he had taught me. Laughter bubbled up to my throat in my hurry to catch up with him and the sound of it was amplified by the long walls. Dracula’s laughter joined mine until it became a song for which we danced.

It doesn’t matter, nothing matters.  I thought as I gazed up at him.  He’ll be gone and whatever I say doesn’t matter anymore. I can entertain even the wildest of things because they’ll never happen. Nothing will happen, for the rest of time.

“I’ve got one for you,” I breathed as we spun in a dizzying pace. “The Devil’s hands directs our every move; the things we loathed become the things we love.” It didn’t come out nearly as expertly as his declamation but I was out of breath, spinning and spinning as he commanded. Like a ballerina in a music box. Dracula simply stared at me, the corners of his lips in their own fight of tugging upwards or downwards. “It’s Baudelaire. Have you read it?” I wasn’t sure if I saw him shake his head. Suddenly, we were dancing so fast that I could barely see my surroundings, much less his face. “I know Baudelaire as you know the bible, only the parts that matter, but I know them from heart. There’s one phrase that I particularly relate to, especially now.” I gulped as if I was looking down a cliff. “What can an eternity –”

Dracula stopped abruptly and I gasped, strands of my hair landing on my face as my head reeled at suddenly being motionless. The world still whirled around and I swayed on my feet as if I had forgotten how to keep myself standing up still, but the Count’s grasp kept me in place. 

Interrupting our dance, I realised not a second later, was for the best. I’d been about to quote something very dangerous, something that could land me with both feet on a grave for all eternity with Count Dracula. And I would’ve said it out of sheer wickedness, just because I was tempted about what could happen if I broke a few rules. 

I looked up at his face, heart teetering on the verge of stopping in fear of what I would find in his expression. But Dracula wasn’t paying attention to me. His eyes were focusing past my head. And then I heard it. Footsteps.

Our laughter must have woken up whoever had been sleeping inside the cathedral.

“What -?” A male voice drifted from behind me, sounding panicked and angry. “You can’t be here at this hour!”

“Shit,” I whispered to Dracula. “What now?”

He gave me a lopsided grin.

“This is your warning,” he said, not bothering to lower his voice now that we had been caught. I had time to frown at his reply before both of Dracula’s arms pulled me into an embrace, my feet swinging beneath me. I emitted a sound of surprise but didn’t struggle. “Hold on and please try not to throw up on my shoes, they’re rather expensive.”

I had one valuable second to wrap my arms around his neck and bury my face in his chest before we moved faster than I thought was possible. My insides tossed inside of me, suddenly demanding for a way out of my body’s cage. I kept my eyes closed the entire time, too frightened of opening them. I had never gone on a roller coaster ride but I supposed the feeling was similar. 

Gusts of wind assailed my hair and threatened to steal the breath out of my lungs. I was afraid the feeling would last forever until we finally stopped and I landed on safe ground.

“You can let go now, Y/N.”

“Can you give me a second?” I mumbled, eyes still shut. “I think my soul is still trying to find a way back into my body.”

Dracula’s laughter tickled my ear and I tightened my hold on him. He did, too, his fingers pressing gently on the flesh of my back. Slowly, as if in a limp, my senses caught up with me and my stomach settled on what felt like an appropriate position. 

I opened my eyes tentatively and turned my head to the side. Startled, I realised he had brought me all the way from Gloucester Cathedral to the street where my Airbnb rental was located. And he’d done it in a span of two minutes, if not less. 

I tipped my head to look at him, resting my cheek on the cold of his leather jacket. Dracula’s eyes were closed, sets of black eyelashes casting soft shadows on his face, and he was breathing steadily. Not because he needed to, I presumed, but because he was taking in my scent. My lips tugged up automatically; it was odd perceiving that as something sweet but I did.  

His throat moved, drawing my attention. A most devilish thought occurred to me and before I gave myself too much time to dwell on it, I stretched up and nibbled at the skin of his neck. It lasted no more than five seconds but the sound that came out of Dracula would be seared into my memory forever. Raw, rapturous, and chilling at the same time. Satisfied, I let go of him, but he didn’t let go of me. Too fast for me to react, he took my hands and placed them where they had been, and then trapped me into his embrace again.

I had just blurred some very important lines with what I had just done, and yet part of me only cared about the thrill of it.

“Your scar has faded,” he said, and my heart hammered madly. A hand delved into my hair, grabbing a mass of it to expose my neck. “You didn’t really think you could get away with what you just did, did you?”

“Not really. But if you bite me without my consent, then the deal is off.”

“And I have no intention of breaking my word. Don’t think of this as reprisal. It’s more of a gift, such as you’ve just given me.”

Dracula bent his head slowly towards my bare neck, like he was giving me time to protest. I remained silent. It was imprudent, this need to know what he would do, but I wanted to garner every possibility of my time with him to cherish in my heart, forever. And the uncertainty of it made me all the more excited. I stared up at the sky and then his lips touched my throat where he had bitten me, softly, so very softly. And then again, not softly at all. Riveting pleasure sparked to life as if the scar was still fresh and I choked on my breath. Dull teeth nibbled the skin there and a flash of pulsating warmth coursed down my chest and back, spreading gradually in the same way spilled blood spread on the ground: trying to encompass everything in its wake, tainting it with inevitable appeal and fear of what it meant. I held on to Dracula forcefully, more forcefully than one would judge to be adequate, and he laughed against my skin before giving it a long lick. 

“Careful,” he whispered in my ear. “I may interpret your willingness as consent. And I know you well enough to know you won’t give it to me easily. Will you?”

“No.” The word was automatic and I thanked the part of me that still harboured a sense of self-preservation above my heedless desire for him. However, I still leaned all of my weight on him and made no attempt to put distance between us, as I should’ve. “Not easily at all.”

Dracula, showing way more restraint than I had all night, disentangled my hair from his fingers and stepped back. It took everything in me not to launch myself into his arms again but I let my hands drop to my sides.

“You’re dangerous,” he accused.

“Not as much as you are.”

“A different kind of dangerous.” He licked his lips. Could he taste my skin in his mouth? 

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It is one.”

I smiled. Being called dangerous filled me with power. Power over him. I was delighted for only a second before wondering if he would think the same thing tomorrow when I stuck a needle with sickly blood in him.

“The cathedral was a good idea,” I said. “Defiling a church has always been in my to-do list, plus I learned how to waltz. So thank you for that.” I sighed. “I should really go to bed now, and so should you. Isn’t the sun almost coming up?”

He nodded. 

“Before you go–” he looked behind me with obvious disdain at the building I was staying at and then back at me “–what were you quoting before the priest came upon us?”

I gulped.

“I don’t remember.”

He narrowed his eyes, shifting closer.

“You’re lying. I thought we had established that you don’t lie to me.”

“You established that.” I stepped back, conjuring a cheeky smile. “I didn’t.”

“Tell me.”

“I’ll regret it,” I admitted. “And I prize my sleep. I prefer not to go to bed with a heavy heart.”

He stared at me for a long moment and I waited under his scrutiny, doing my very best to keep it together.

“Tomorrow, then,” he finally said. “Tell me tomorrow.”

But I wouldn’t tell him tomorrow. I would tell him nothing at all. 

“Okay. Goodnight, Dracula.”

“Goodnight, dear.”

As I laid my head on the pillow that night, I realised I still didn’t know if Dracula would like Scully or Mulder better. And would never know.

 .

.

.

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[alixanonymous]

How A Demon Commissions An Angel ~ A Daminette FanFic ~ Chapter 5: An Exchange Of Information

From: DoWhatISay@email.com

To: Marinette.D.C.@email.com

Date: November 5, 2021 5:30 P.M.

Subject: RE: The Plan

Dear Marinette,

(Am I assuming too much by addressing you by your first name if you’ve already addressed me by mine? If so, that would be a little hypocritical, wouldn’t you agree?)

Just as a general rule, I probably won’t get any references you make to any kind of children’s show (I had to look up Arthur after your first email). Like I mentioned before, I lived with my mother for the first part of my life and the idea of her ever even considering letting me watch cartoons is laughable. I did look up what you were talking about however and it seems like you were describing when shows try to portray a person’s conscience by putting an angel and a devil on either of their shoulders. In that case, I would agree with your assessment: between the two of us, I would definitely not be the angel in this case. 

I’m grateful for that fact too as it seems that your kindness has only helped you to be so easily taken advantage of by those closest to you. You asked me for my thoughts on your situation so I trust that you won’t hold anything I say against me (again) on account that the whole point of this is that my opinion will obviously contrast with yours. 

Here’s how I see it: Your friend (although I hope you will choose not to call him that any longer) is simply not in a position to offer you friendship and so in any case he cannot be angry at you for not accepting whatever he can give. What are you, a dog? What can he expect, that you will come when he can call but accept being ignored the other half of the time? Surely you have more self respect than that if your first email to me meant anything. 

As for feeling guilty, he chose to put his needs above yours, if he blames you for doing the same, then he is a hypocrite. He made his choice and he will have to face the consequences for it; in no way is any of that your fault. 

After reading your last email, I must admit that it’s relief to see that you at least have some idea of how this will work because saying that all this is new to me would be a gross understatement. As for the aforementioned incident that started this whole ordeal, let’s just say my family’s lecturing on the subject more than sufficed. If I come across any situations that I could use another opinion on, I will let you know. I confess that writing to you is far more preferable than being chided by any of my idiot brothers.

On the subject of idiot brothers, for the commission, the sweaters would be for Grayson and Drake and the jacket for Todd. I trust your judgement when it comes to the designs and will be ready to give my disapproval should anything on the sketches seem off-putting. I look forward to seeing what you come up with. As for the NDA, I’m afraid you’re right in that I cannot oblige. I trust you understand. 

Sincerely,

Damian W.

Postscript: Considering what happened the first time I ended an email 

to you with two initials, can you really blame me for not taking any chances, especially when you take into account my “snobbish” self, your word not mine, and the fact that my self-esteem is still suffering from your first email. I mean if you really want something to feel guilty about… 

From:Marinette.D.C.@email.com

To:DoWhatISay@email.com

Date:November 6, 2021  1:30 A.M.

Subject: That’s Not How This Works

Dear Damian,

I’m afraid that simply saying you “trust my judgement when it comes to the designs” is not going to do it. If I tried to design anything based on the information you gave me, all I would have to go on is that you want two sweaters and a jacket. Do you have any idea how many types of sweaters and jackets there are?

On top of that, didn’t your father say these gifts have to be sentimental? If you really want the pieces to be meaningful I’m going to need a lot more information on your brothers. Tell me about them. What kind of relationships do you have with them? How would you describe each of their aesthetics? Imagine what you think would be their ideal sweater or jacket and then describe it to me, the more details, the better okay?

As for what you said about my uh maybe-maybe not a friend, I won’t deny your thoughts were somewhat valid if not a little harsh. I just need some time to think it over. I guess, beyond the guilt, I’m having a little trouble moving on. I mean besides the fact that he’s practically my only friend left in the class, he was also the first boy I ever really liked. Once upon a time, I thought I was in love with him even… It all seems so silly now. I’m just struggling with the fact that so many people in my life aren’t who I thought they were. Anyway, I don’t need your opinion on any of that last stuff, okay? I think the rest is up to me and like I said, I need some time to figure this out.

Thanks for listening, Damian. You do have a way of putting things into perspective. Now please, give me a better understanding of what I need to make your brothers so we can get this show on the road. Love,

Marinette (Which you can call me!)

P.S. I like how you lectured me on how being kind allows people to take advantage of me and then proceeded to try and guilt trip me into ignoring your past misdeeds. Fyi, Mr.Postscript née Blackmailer? It didn’t work!

From: DoWhatISay@email.com

To: Marinette.D.C.@email.com

Date: November 6, 2021 5:30 P.M.

Subject: What The Hell Is An Aesthetic?

Dear Marinette,

I understand that I’m not a fashion designer myself but I really can’t see how much answering your questions would help with the design. How will knowing about my relationships with them help you make their clothes? If I tell you I don’t like one in particular, are you going to make theirs out of a scratchy material or something? Are you sure that question wasn’t posed out of curiosity because you gave me more insight on your personal life but I didn’t offer anything on mine? I assure you it’s nothing personal, I simply like my privacy.

As I’m sure you can guess from the subject line, I had a little trouble researching what aesthetics are because nothing seems to make sense. It’s as if a lot of people collectively decided to use a word wrong. I don’t know what you want me to say. 

In hindsight, I can admit I didn’t really give you much to go on but in all honesty I think my brothers will probably freak out simply over the fact that they’ll get to have MDC originals. If I were to guess what they’d like, I’d say Drake could really do with something comfortable, Todd’s wardrobe consists mainly of biker jackets and I truly couldn’t see him wearing anything else, and Grayson? He’s the easiest to please but if we’re going for sentimental value I think a Christmas sweater would do, the tackier the better. 

Is that enough to work on? Sincerely,

Damian

Postscript: Have you yet to realize that while you let your “friends” walk all over you, you seem to not let me get away with anything? Is it also too much to assume from your email that you’ve since discovered you can do better than your good-for-nothing friend?

From:Marinette.D.C.@email.com

To:DoWhatISay@email.com

Date:November 7, 2021  12:01 A.M.

Subject: (Sigh)

Dear Damian,

No, that was not nearly enough to work on. All I have to go on at the moment is that Drake wants a comfy sweater, Todd’s fashion sense is limited to leather jackets, and Grayson wants a “tacky” Christmas sweater. I don’t even know where to start with that.

Now because it’s taking us so long just to sort out the basic details, I was going to suggest we exchange phone numbers to make things go a little faster but as it seems that you think I have nothing better to do than wonder about your personal life (I do by the way), I’m worried you’d accuse me of being a stalker. So, let me try to be a little more clear.

Sentimental value comes from using what you know about a person to give them something that would mean more to them personally than say a random stranger on the street. I can’t help you much with the design because I don’t have a relationship with your brothers. I don’t know them and I have no clue what they like or want. Still with me?

The reason I asked about relationships to them is because the more personal you make the gifts, the more thoughtful they’ll be considered and, here’s what your stake in this is, the more likely you are to not be sent away. I was looking for details like inside jokes, common interests between your siblings, maybe things you bonded over in the beginning. A lot of my inspiration and artistry comes from little small details expressed in the design through methods like stitching or embroidery. 

I can now see that it might be hard for some people to know what might provoke inspiration. So I’ll start with some small specifics: What colors are their favorites? Hoods or no hoods? Zipper or buttons? Pockets? Like I mentioned before, it would be a really big help if we could set up a time and just hash this out through text messages. It’s important that we’re on the same page here. If you don’t like the first few rounds of designs, well then we’d really be cutting it close for time. I’d normally be doing this kind of a commission in person or at least over the phone or skype. 

That being said, if it’s truly something you’re not comfortable with, we can totally find a way to make this work. Okay, Damian? Love,

Marinette

P.S. I’m beginning to see that there’s a difference between writing to you and dealing with my classmates. I don’t know if it’s because we’re not face to face or the fact that you’re still practically a stranger. Something about our emails makes me feel, I don’t know, self assured again, maybe your arrogant manner just trumps any restraint I’d otherwise have. And as for if I’ve learned I can do better (Now who’s more invested in the other’s social life?), you might be interested to know I’ve stopped replying to my no-longer-a-friend’s texts. 

From: DoWhatISay@email.com

To: Marinette.D.C.@email.com

Date: November 7, 2021 6:30 A.M.

Subject: Let’s Get This Over With

Dear Marinette,

I see I may have overlooked a little when it comes to the designing process. I didn’t mean to insult you by saying your questions weren’t valid. In my defense, I may have been a bit frustrated after failing to learn what an aesthetic is (you still haven’t explained that by the way). I also think I’m beginning to understand what you mean about sentimental value and of course I want to maximize my chances of staying.

So, here’s my phone number: X-XXX-XXX-XXXX. I will make myself available today from 2:00-5:00 p.m. Gotham Standard Time which is 8:00-11:00 p.m. Paris time I believe. Does that work for you?

As for your smaller questions: Grayson’s favorite color is dark/ navy blue, Drake and Todd both like red and black. On the subject of hoods, possibly one for Drake’s sweater, perhaps the kind that has those ties that can be pulled to close it, and for Todd’s jacket, definitely. If a zipper or button is needed then zippers would be preferable. As for pockets, perhaps we could go over them later. I suppose it would depend on the design.

I trust this email was a little more helpful than the last few and look forward to your further contact, if the timing’s to your liking. Sincerely,

Damian

Postscript: I can’t say I entirely understand what you mean but our emails are definitely new territory for me as well. I couldn’t imagine talking to my classmates the way I write to you. While I am satisfied to see you made the right choice (with my suggestion mind you) about what to do about your no-longer-worth-a-thought peer, I find it quite misrepresentative for you to say I’m invested in your social life when this whole deal of ours was your idea in the first place. 

Needed to go over this while writing chapter nine and figured while I had the document up I might as well repost it here. To any of my AO3 readers, guess what? Chapter nine is practically finished! I still have a few more details to work out but it should be up either today or tomorrow! I’m both nervous and excited to finally have it posted! Anyway, see you soon!

Master List

[kaptainkhadijah]

Kaptain’s Blog #1 - Rules

Not a bad title right? I think that’s what I’ll call my blog posts that I want associated with the podcast

So right now I’m staying at an AirBnb in Lakewood, CO. I think I have an inkling as to why because I’m seeing some books on manifestation and law of attraction by Esther and Jerry Hicks (aka Abraham Hicks) who I’m very interested in learning from because I really like their philosophies.

But that’s not what this blog post is about. This is a post about rules. Because at this AirBnb, I’m being confronted with my distaste for rules that I deem unnecessary. I’m not needlessly defiant, but I don’t just follow rules for the sake of following them. Here’s what happened to me today that inspired this post: 

So today is 4/20. International Day of Ouid. Me, being the pothead that I am, was planning on smoking today as much as possible so I go ahead and roll up all the strains I have. Naturally, because I’m in Colorado, that shit is loud. Just as I’m finishing up, the host of the AirBnb wants to talk to me. I know that smoking inside and outside the house is against the house rules (I’ll touch on that later. Don’t let me forget.) so of course, I’m not smoking it. I won’t lie, I thought about it, but I didn’t! I’ve been here for two days now, and the weed has been in the room with me sealed this whole time. She asks me if I’m smoking and I say no in the tone of “of course not” and tell her I’m just rolling it up and that I’m on my way out. Her reply is, “Well can you leave your stuff in the garage because I can smell it already.” This was the first strike. What I wanted to say was “Well you’re only smelling it because it’s out and I’m working with it. Once I pack it all up, you won’t smell it for much longer. I don’t want to put my stuff out in the garage,” but instead, I just said “Ok” and finished up and dipped. I left it in my room though and just sealed it up and sprayed the room down because I figure that’s easier than putting my stuff out in the garage and it’s the same end result: no smell. 

Now here comes strike two. While I’m out and about looking for a place to partake in the festivities, I text my host and sort of, extend the olive branch. I apologize for the smell and let her know I sealed everything up and I don’t even plan on taking any more out any time soon so we shouldn’t have any more issues. Thumbs up emoji. All good, right? Nope. The host is not satisfied and insists that I leave it in the garage so “the smell doesn’t linger”. Mind you, I just walked my loud ass up through the house and out the garage, so it makes sense that the smell is lingering at the moment. Let’s return back to that rule I was talking about.  

So the rule is no smoking in or outside of the house because her and her neighbors don’t like the smell. And this is a common complaint with people against weed smoking. What’s interesting is, people almost always prefer weed over cigarette smoke because weed smoke doesn’t last as long. Easier to remove. So that’s one. But my thing is: If you can stand the smell of your own farts, of your own poop, of your dog’s farts....how is it you’re drawing the line at weed? I understand if it gives you headaches. But really, does the smell of weed really trigger such an averse effect that you absolutely cannot stand to smell it at all? Like is it really that deep? Cause it always sounds dramatic to me and I was thinking about all the smells we tolerate. So I’m just like “what is it about weed that makes the girls act like that?” You could say that it’s their prerogative since it’s their house. And that’s true. But that’s not what I’m questioning. I want to know why is it that people who don’t smoke weed hate the smell of weed so much. Like can they just not appreciate what the smell means? I’m genuinely asking. Cause it sounds like classist bullshit to me. But I could be wrong. 

Anyway, so at strike two, I’m definitely upset. Here’s the thing: I don’t like to be controlled. Don’t get me wrong, I’ll bottom no problem. I’ll even submit to the right person. But that’s me choosing. I don’t like when people try to exert control over me. Could be my superiority complex as an Aquarius, idk. But I don’t like when people try to wield authority over me in an oppressive way. It’s one thing if I have to answer to you because I work for you. Or even in this situation where you own the house and I follow your rules. I understand that. What I don’t understand is the need to insist on your way of doing things just for the sake of doing things your way. That is one of my biggest pet peeves. I’ve been in leadership positions and I’ve found that the people you’re leading always respond better to relatability than power moves. Yes, you will have to assert yourself sometimes, but overall, I find that people respond better to me when I’m not trying to impose my will on them. 

So that’s why we’re discussing rules. Because I believe that if you want a rule to be followed, it needs to have a reason for existing. Like traffic rules. Safety regulations. We know why we need to follow those rules and there are clear consequences if we don’t. But insisting that I have to do things a certain way, when another way would get the desired result, is ridiculous to me. And I encourage anyone to question those type of rules. Because to me they’re completely unnecessary and only serve the rule-maker’s ego. And one thing about me, I love to challenge a person’s ego. 

Let’s get back to the story. By strike two, I’m considering leaving this place. I’m already sacrificing my smoking habits to stay here, plus there’s this overall judge-y attitude I keep getting from her. But maybe I’ll talk about that in a different post. In any case, I don’t like the way I’m feeling in this situation, so I’m ready to bolt. Then I get home and I put the weed away in the garage and then I get another text “reminding” me to put my weed in the garage. At this point I’m definitely questioning the motive behind the rules. In my mind, if you can’t smell the weed anymore, why does it matter where it is? Why would you need to confirm that I did what you asked? I’m offended at this point. I feel like if we’re both adults here and you still smell the weed then you can just tell me that and I’d let you know I already put it in the garage and try to do something about the smell. But that’s not what she said. So I’m like “Alright bitch I think I officially don’t like you.” 

THEN as strike number 3, she asks me not to eat in the bedroom. I had passed her on my way back from picking up food I had delivered, and then I get a text later on saying she “forgot” to tell me she’d prefer if I ate outside the bedroom in the living area or used a TV tray. Now at this point I’m like “I’m getting tf out of here” because first of all, I eat in my room all the time so you’re really fucking up my flow with that one. But second, I’m paying to be in this private room unbothered. If I eat in the room and I make no mess then what exactly is the issue? You could say that maybe she doesn’t know that I won’t make a mess. That’s true. But! You could charge me for cleaning fees and you’re going to strip and wash the sheets anyway so if I do make a mess, there’s a fix for it. So what other reason could she have for saying that? And if she were actually concerned about messes or even pests, she could just say “Hey, can you be careful if you’re going to be eating in the room not to leave food out in case of pests?” Or “Hey, if you’re gonna eat in the bedroom, just be careful of the carpet in there.” And that could be it! But instead she chose to invoke some kind of rule that I’d have to follow. And that’s what bothers me. 

But I’m writing about it, not only to vent, but to say that if someone does this, it’s a red flag. There’s ways to communicate concerns or needs without making things rules that others have to follow and therefore putting yourself in a place of authority over someone else. Don’t let anybody tell you different. And don’t accept anything less. If a rule doesn’t make sense, you have a right to question it. 

I’ll probably be leaving this space earlier than intended simply because I’d rather be somewhere else than live with someone who feels the need to control what I do to this degree. To some this might not be a big deal, but I know that this stuff is never just surface level. And typically people like this tend to make more and more rules until they feel satisfied. Also, I don’t want to be around this kind of energy longer than I need to be. I’ve gotten enough of it in childhood, thanks. 

Have you had a run in with someone like this? How’d it go? Were you able to get out of the situation? What was that like? Let me know, and thanks for reading! 

[nsfw-bnha-and-dangan]

Commission!

Hello everyone! Im back with another commission, this time its the final piece of the Gonta/reader/Hoshi Yakuza series! Ive had so much fun working on this series and i hope you all enjoy it as well! Its going under the cut for length!

Warnings: Torture, near death experiences, angst, general dark Yakuza concepts, but this time with a happy end!

In this moment, Hoshi wished he were dead. 

Death would have been easier than facing the reality in front of him. Death would be preferable to what was going to happen in the next few moments. He had one job. One job given to him in order to keep you and Gonta safe, and he’d fucked it up royally. He hadn't expected such high security, hadn't noticed a carefully hidden camera, and it had been only a second or two after he stepped into the main room of the building that he had been taken down. 

His arm felt broken, having snapped when it was forced behind his back as he was searched for weapons. Someone had taken his phone, had looked at the contacts and the texts that made it obvious who he was working for. They whispered as if he wasn't there, tying his arms back before trying to decide what to do with him. Hoshi watched as the seconds ticked by on a broken clock, watching as his final check-in time came and passed. If he didn't call now, they’d know he screwed up, would assume he was dead, and come finish the job themselves. 

Silently, he begged the universe to let this end, let them kill him, quick and dirty, so that he didn't have to face the consequences. But, when his request was ignored, he thought for a moment. About what this meant for you and Gonta. It wasn't just him who was going to be hurt by this, you and Gonta… there wasn't much hope for the two of you. With him soon to be dead, one way or another, you would be left to the mercy of the Yakuza as their playthings, toys that would be smashed and broken before you knew it. 

Hoshi struggled in his bonds, trying to get his arms free in some vain hope that he could fix this. He was tied up tightly, though, and there was no chance of getting free, not in his weakened state. Hoshi was forced to watch as the men he was supposed to kill chatted about him as if he wasn't even there, everyone in the room jumping as the sound of steel-toed boots kicking down the door echoed off the walls. Hoshi squeezed his shut, not wanting to see the lethal chaos right in front of him, his breathing labored as blood sprayed his face from some poor soul. 

“You fucker, think you can just tap your heels and go somewhere else?” Someone spat, grabbing Hoshi by the chin and forcing him to look up. 

“I can't fucking believe your alive right now, figured they’d shoot you on sight, weak motherfuckers. Bet you wish they had, too, now that we’re bringing you back to the boss. Better start praying for your little friends, even if I don't know what he's going to do with them.” 

Hoshi swallowed thickly as he was dragged to his feet and forced to walk out the door, unceremoniously shoved into the back of a van. They didn't bother untying him, slamming the doors and leaving him in relative darkness as they drove. He didn't say a word, fear gripping his throat until it was hard to breathe. 

He didn't give a damn what they did to him, beat him, break him, kill him, it didn't matter. 

But you and Gonta… he had to do whatever he could to keep you safe. Although, he was already doing a pretty shitty job of that. Hoshi just closed his eyes and waited for the van to stop, bracing himself as the door was opened and he was yanked out, his injured arm shooting pain through his body. Hoshi just bit his lip and let himself be led inside the warehouse, knowing that now was not the time for fighting. He was taken through hallway after hallway, each one dirtier and darker than the last. Finally, he was pushed into a room, landing roughly on his knees and groaning. 

“Well, well, well… If it isn't my fucking lapdog.” Hoshi looked up, seeing the man he had cursed with every breath for the last three months, the man he had wished every horrible death he had ever thought of upon. 

“Not talking? That's fine, I have plenty to say to you.” The man stood up from his chair and cracked his knuckles loudly. 

“I should fucking put you down, shoot you and get it over with. You had one fucking job, one chance to be the little hero my prisoners see you as. And you fucked. It. Up.” He spat in Hoshi’s face, landing a right hook that had Hoshi toppling onto the stone floor. 

“One fucking job! You can't even fail a mission properly, getting your ass captured instead of killed! It doesn't matter, really, who kills you at this point. As long as it gets done. I'm finished with you, you worthless fucking piece of shit.” The man pulled a gun from his pocket and pressed the barrel to Hoshi’s temple, digging it in as he leaned closer. 

“We don't fucking need you anymore, bastard. Have to take out the trash sometime.” Hoshi closed his eyes and waited, silently apologizing to you and Gonta, praying that you would get out of here in one piece, if nothing else. 

He tensed, waiting for the gunshot, the pain, the darkness, but it never came. He slowly opened his eyes to see the man sneering down at him, crooked yellow teeth shining in the dim lighting. 

“Not going to let you die that easily, that's too damn good for someone like you. It's more fun to break you properly, let you see what you’ve done to the ones you love, then have you beg for me to end your miserable life.” Hoshi took a kick to the nose and felt blood spill down his chin, going limp as they attempted to pull him to his feet, passed out. 

“Fucker doesn't deserve to rest, but whatever. Throw him in with the other two till he wakes up, then call me.” The men did as they were told, carrying Hoshi like a sack of flour. You jumped when the door to your prison opened, waking Gonta up quickly in case he needed to defend himself. 

“Special delivery.” One of the men said gruffly, dumping Hoshi at his feet with a laugh before closing the door, leaving the room in an eerie silence. You felt like you couldn't move, could barely even breathe, as you stared at the seemingly lifeless body of your boyfriend. 

You remembered the threats the leader had made, talking about how Hoshi wouldn't survive this mission, no chance of him getting out alive. And here he was, bloody and broken and not moving. Just as tears started to prickle at your eyes, knowing Hoshi was gone, he twitched. You gasped, getting up from the barebones mattress and rushing to Hoshi, draping over him in an emotional hug. 

You couldn't speak, only sob as you pressed your forehead to his chest and heard a heartbeat. Gonta followed you quickly once he realized what was going on, smiling through his own tears as you pulled Hoshi close. He was still unconscious, but he was breathing, he was alive. And that's better than you could have hoped for. 

“Ryoma is… here. Gonta doesn't know what happened…” You nodded, wiping your face and running a hand through Hoshi’s messy hair. 

“Me neither, but he's alive… That's all that matters right now.” In the back of your mind, you knew this couldn't mean anything good, if they had tossed Hoshi in with you and Gonta, he must have done something. But you couldn't force yourself to care, helping Gonta get Hoshi on the bed and wrapping him in a blanket. His hands were stuck tied behind his back, but Gonta managed to break the rope, letting you move his arms to a more comfortable position. 

One was clearly broken, so you tried to be careful, hoping Hoshi wouldn't wake up in too much pain. You and Gonta huddled close together, protecting Hoshi from anything that could come, no matter how fruitless it may have been. It felt like hours when Hoshi finally started to stir, groaning and gasping when he tried to move his arm. 

“Whoa, whoa, don't move, Ryo, it's okay. We’ve got you, your arm's broken, just stay still.” Hoshi’s eyes flew open at the sound of your voice, his eyes wide with panic as he attempted to sit up. Gonta helped him to gently sit up, watching worriedly as Hoshi looked around the room. 

“Oh fuck, no s-shit…” Hoshi muttered, struggling to get to his feet. 

“No, Gonta won't let Ryoma get up, he needs to rest!” 

“I can't rest! I have to get out of here, if I'm in here with you guys then that means they-'' Hoshi was cut off by a loud bang on the steel door that caged them in, yelping with pain when Gonta pulled him to his chest protectively. 

“He’s awake, huh? Damn, I kinda hoped he’d die in his sleep, maybe choke on his own blood or something.” You bit your lip and got to your feet, refusing to cower from the man you knew had hurt Hoshi. 

“Someone's feisty today, hmm? Good, I like it when you fight a little, makes it more fun to put you in your place.” You stood your ground even when the man got closer, his hot breath fanning your face. 

“Rot in fucking hell.” He laughed, his saliva making fight off a gagging reflex. 

“I'll see you there, then, honey.” Your arm was grabbed and something heavy was pushed into it, smooth metal of a gun handle making your heart jump. The last time you had seen a gun, the unthinkable had happened… 

“Now, don't get any cute ideas, babydoll, one wrong move and you’re toast. See, you have a choice to make, and the lug over there can help you with it.” Still angry, you chose to reply. 

“What, shoot you and die?” 

“Cute, but no. You so much as get a twitchy finger and both your pretty boys die, and you become my personal pet. Not a choice I’d make. Instead, you get a shot at freedom.” You paled, trying to will your shaky hand to steady. A chance to get out of here was tempting, but you knew there had to be a catch. 

“See, I want that fucking piece of shit Ryoma dead. One way or another, he's not coming out of this, but I'd love to see the look on his face as you pointed that pretty piece his way. Shoot him, right between the eyes, and the two of you are free. Two lives for the price of one, what a fucking deal!” 

You bit your lip, cursing yourself for the brief millisecond where the idea of accepting crossed your mind. The two of you had just gotten Ryoma back in your arms, as battered as he was, nothing was worth losing that. Instead, you shoved the gun back in the man's hands. 

“Id never fucking take that deal.” You shouted, storming away back to the bed and weaving your fingers with Ryoma’s. 

“We’ll get out of here together, or not at all. You can fucking break me, if you want, but I won't hurt either of them.” 

“Let's see if you regret that in a few days, darling. I'm more than happy to make your life that much worse.” You kept your calm as the man shot you a toothy grin and left, security goons shutting the door firmly behind them and locking it. Ryoma groaned in Gonta’s arms, shaking his hand loose from your grip. 

“You should have just done it…” He muttered, lacking the strength to even open his eyes. 

“No, I shouldn't have. I don't want to escape this hell hole without you, Ryoma.” 

“Gonta agrees! As much as he wants to leave, Gonta would never let (Y/N) or Ryoma get left behind!” 

“It's not as if I deserve to live anyway, especially with what it will cost you guys.” You just shook your head and wrapped your arms around Ryoma as gently as you could, forehead leaning on his shoulder. 

“I meant what I said, I don't care what happens, I'm not letting either of you get hurt.” 

“And neither will Gonta.”

Ryoma only hummed in response, body giving in to instinct as he passed out again. Like that, you and Gonta were able to lay him down easier, covering him in the thin excuse for a blanket and curling around him protectively. Taking a stand left you exhausted and it wasn't long before you fell asleep as well. 

Unbeknownst to you, it would only be a brief respite from torture. It could have been minutes or hours until you were woken up by a shock of freezing water, ice cubes smacking against your skin and making you yelp. 

“Aww, did we wake you up? Too fucking bad.” You barely had time to blink the water from your eyes before you felt a weight lift from the mattress, Gonta squirming as two sets of hands pulled him up. Senses dulled from sleep and arms yanked behind his back, he wasn't able to fight back enough to stop them, shouting as he was dragged away. The men stopped briefly in the hallway, just long enough to tie Gonta’s hands and wrap a blindfold over his eyes before escorting him further and further away. 

Just when you stopped being able to hear the yelling and struggle, you and Hoshi were pulled up, tossed over someones back like a wet sack of flour as your own eyes were covered, shutting out any light. Still, that didn't stop you from squirming, trying in vain to get free as the man carrying you cursed. 

“Fucking bitch, settle down before I make you.” Something sharp was pressed against your back and you went still, knowing they wouldn't hesitate to cut you if given half a reason. 

“Ryoma! Are you okay!” You heard a pained groan in response, knowing he had been given the same rough treatment, if not worse. 

“Alright, let's go.” You were carried out of the room, whimpering every time the man hefted you higher, your soaked shirt clinging to your skin as the chill set in. 

“Shes fucking heavier than she looks, damn.” The man grumbled to himself, kicking open the door to a dog kennel. You cried out as you were shoved inside, hitting your head on metal bars. You didn't struggle for long, barely having any room to move inside the cage. Your head throbbed where it had connected with the metal, breath hitching as you tried to figure out where you were. Bars surrounded you entirely, with only a few inches in any direction to move. Blindly, you kicked out, gasping when your foot smashed into stiff metal, unbending no matter how hard you fought. 

“Where G-Gonta? What did you do with him? Gonta! Hoshi!” You screamed, hot tears pouring down your cheeks. 

“For fuck's sake.” Someone muttered, opening that small gate to your kennel before you could kick again. A sob caught in your throat as the sharp blade of a knife was held to your windpipe, going quiet. 

“Good girl, that's better. Now sit pretty and shut the fuck up, got it? He’s closer than you know, so don't get all excited.” You couldn't find the words to respond as the knife disappeared, curling around yourself in the hard darkness and doing your best to listen for any sign of Gonta. It wasn't long until you heard sounds of a struggle down the hall before they suddenly went quiet. 

“Yeah, that's what I thought. I've got it from here, this little shit isn't much trouble on his own.” Hoshi swallowed thickly, deciding that silence was the best choice as he was marched down the hall, cold barrel of a gun once again finding his temple. He wobbled unsteadily between the pain and having his eyes covered, doing as he was told and hoping it would be enough to keep you and Gonta safe. Finally, the man told him to stop, standing in a room far from the one they had been kept in before. 

“Where am I? Where the hell are Gonta and (Y/N)?” 

“What, you still want to see them? After they refused to put you out of that miserable existence of yours? They’re right fucking here.” The leader tapped the top of a cage, flicking his dirty nails against the bars until it clicked. He had caged you, like an unruly pet, locked you in a tiny box and hurt you, somehow or another. 

“What the fuck did you do to them? Gonta? Hey, (Y/N), say something.” Hoshi got no response, chewing his lip with the effort to not fight this. He called out again, ignoring the slight snicker from the other man. 

“You fucking killed them, didn't you? What did you do?” Enraged, Hoshi lunged blindly, easily shoved to his knees when he lost his balance. The leader roughly shoved the gun against his head again, leaning close enough to Hoshi’s face that he could smell the rancid whiskey on his breath. 

“You think I would do that? Let it end so soon?” Hoshi could hear the sound of the cage doors opening, shuddering when you cried out as a heavy boot kicked you a few times. He gave Gonta the same treatment, hitting him hard enough to wake him up, in tears from the pain. 

“See? Still breathin’. Happy? Now, in.” Hoshi groaned as he was kicked into his own cage, crawling blindly inside. The door was slammed shut and laughter echoed throughout the room as the man left, abandoning the three of them like unwanted animals. Hoshi stayed quiet for a moment, fighting panic and trying to keep his head. They wouldn't be left like this forever, would they? Surely this would be no fun for the sadistic leader, they couldn't be left in here long. 

“R-Ryoma…” You called out softly, reaching your fingers through the bars. You couldn't feel anything, neither cage was close enough for you to touch. 

“Are you alright? What did they do to you?” 

“Just roughed up a bit… I'll be okay. I'm more worried about Gonta, he's so quiet…” 

“Gonta is awake, mostly, but he can't see or move.” Hoshi sighed, hoping he could keep the two of you at least somewhat calm. 

“We… they put us in cages, like damn animals, blindfolded us as well. Can you get out of your ropes, Gonta?” A few groans of pain later and Gonta made an excited noise as he freed himself. 

“Gonta managed to, yeah, are Ryoma and (Y/N) okay?” Hoshi nodded to himself, shakily taking off his blindfold and blinking quickly. You managed to get your own blindfold off, but only more darkness awaited you. The room was pitch black, the only light coming in from the crack between the door and the stone floor, barely enough to illuminate the vague shape of the other two cages. 

For a moment, your strength slipped, the face you had put on for Gonta, to not give the men what they wanted, faded. A sob wrenched its way from your throat and you curled in around your knees, shaking with the effort not to cry. 

“H-how long… will we be in here?” You managed, trying in vain to stay calm. 

“I don't know… It'll be okay, (Y/N), we’ll be okay.” You finally burst into tears, fear overwhelming you. You were freezing cold, clothes soaked through with water, trapped in a cage barely big enough for you to move in. And yet, you felt weak for crying, fighting to stop the tears and get control of yourself. 

“S-sorry…” You muttered, sniffling. 

“Gonta wishes he could hold (Y/N) and Ryoma…” Gonta said softly, Hoshi humming in agreement. Time went by in weird ways while you were trapped in those cages. At first, the three of you talked, if nothing more than to just fill the silence until Hoshi fell asleep. The darkness eventually lulled you to sleep as well, unsure of how long you were out before waking up again. 

Time passed achingly slow in the cages, especially when one of you was usually asleep at all times. It could have been a few hours or even a day before the door was open again, the sudden light making you groan and shield your eyes. Once your eyes adjusted, though, you were able to see the rough condition Ryoma and Gonta were in, chewing your lip. 

“Let us out,” You demanded, throat dry. The man, who you didn't recognize, didn't respond to your pleas, even when you started shouting. 

“Don't hurt yourself, (Y/N), it's okay,” Gonta said softly, a worried look in his eyes. You nodded and sighed, sending Gonta a faint smile. Before you had a chance to think, the door to your cage was being opened, a package of crackers and a water bottle tossed into your lap before it was shut again. You didn't have the time to react or try and bolt, just blinking silently. 

Gonta made no effort to move when his own door was opened, gulping down water quickly. Hoshi, however, sprung forward the moment his own cage was opened up, only to be met with a gun barrel pressing against his forehead. 

“Sit down, now.” The man commanded, cocking the gun when Hoshi hesitated. Finally, he relented, sitting back down and making a pained noise when the water bottle connected with his broken arm. The man disappeared just as quickly as he came, leaving the three of you back in the darkness. 

“I'm sorry…” Hoshi muttered, apologizing once again. 

“Don't be, Ryoma.” 

“I should be, though! It's my fault you two are here, being tortured for weeks on end! If I hadn't let myself love the two of you, if I hadn't thought I could be happy and make you guys happy, you would be safe! If I had just died, or never gotten out of-” 

“Shut up!” You shouted, frustrated and with tears in your eyes. You quickly lowered your voice, though, taking a deep breath. 

“Ryoma… it doesn't matter how we got here, alright? I'm glad that you let yourself be happy, with Gonta and I. Because even though we ended up here, we’re still together. We got to have those good times. I fucking love you and Gonta, and I don't give a damn what happens, nothing is going to change that. Got it?” 

Gonta perked up, moving around a bit in his cage. “Gonta agrees. He wouldn't want to have a life without Ryoma, even though things went badly. Gonta loves Ryoma, and (Y/N), and he's glad that everyone is together now.” 

Hoshi was silent for a while, heels of his hands pushed against his eyes in an attempt to fight off tears. “Dammit, why do you two have to be so… good?” 

You didn't skip a beat, smiling softly into the darkness. “Because you’re just as good, Ryoma. You just don't see it. We’re gonna get out of this together, got it? Don't… don't give up yet, alright?” Hoshi nodded before remembering you couldn't see him. 

“I'll try.” You breathed a quiet sigh of relief, trying to relax as much as you could. Things settled down for a while after that, the three of you eating slowly and talking about anything that came to mind. After everything that had happened, especially in the past couple of days, it was almost… nice. Nice to be able and just ignore your situation and chat, reminiscing about better times. 

At one point you even laughed, giggling until a sob caught in your throat. You shifted and your shoulder brushed the metal bars, reminding you of exactly where you were right now. The talking stopped after that, drifting in and out of consciousness with your water bottle clenched tightly in your hand. Things were never quiet for long, though, not in this hell. 

At one point, you were woken up by yelling as the door was pushed open and Hoshi was dragged out, easily picked up by a mountain of a man despite his attempts to fight. Both you and Gonta shouted after him, searching for answers but only getting silence in return. When Hoshi finally returned, he looked a little worse than before, somehow, and was scarily quiet. 

“What did they do to you, Ryoma?” 

“Don't… d-don't worry about it.” Hoshi muttered, not wanting to worry you or Gonta any further. What was a little more pain, at this point? They were smart enough to keep him alive and hurting, for now at least. Pain was the least of Hoshi’s worries at this point. He knew the leader of this group well enough to know he would get bored of this before long, having them caged would only bring him so much joy. 

And yet, they remained locked up, every so often one of you would be taken away and return with a few more cuts or bruises, usually Hoshi. You didn't speak of it anymore, just tried to comfort one another and keep your sanity. And then it all stopped. For two days, the heavy steel door remained closed. 

No food delivery, no water, no torture. 

Nothing. 

The three of you slept when you could, talked when the silence grew too loud, fought to stay calm. Too much longer and you wouldn't make it out, the mental image growing stronger by the hour. Dying of thirst while locked in dog kennels, beaten to hell and back… it was almost funny. Just as you felt your mind starting to slip, contemplating the idea of drinking your own blood, the door finally opened. You immediately closed your eyes, the light making your already present headache worse. 

“Shit, you three look terrible!” A familiar voice laughed, pulling a grimace from your face. 

“I guess being turned into pets would do that, huh? Well, good news! You get to take a walk today!” You didn't have the strength to fight as you were pulled from your cage, managing to walk unsteadily as you were led out of the room. Gonta and Hoshi weren't far behind, both struggling to stay on their feet as they were pushed along. 

“Where are we going?” 

“Oh, you’ll see, darlin’.” You rolled your eyes, nearly collapsing when you were shoved through a doorway. The room was fairly empty, save for a full bathtub and some unsettling stains along the concrete walls. The boys were pushed to the ground, Hoshi sucking in a sharp breath when his broken arm was moved. 

“Ryoma, are you-” 

“Now, dogs don't talk, do they?” The leader interrupted, forcing you to bite your tongue before you said something you regret. The men who had helped drag you here left, shutting the door behind them with a heavy thunk. 

“See, all this time, I've been trying to decide what to do with you three. Keeping caged puppies is no fun, especially when they don't fight back. So, I started thinking. What's the best way for me to hurt all three of you.” You saw Hoshi dig his nails into his palm, almost too exhausted to do much else. 

“Not interested in being chatty? That's alright, I got plenty of shit to say all on my own. Honestly, Hoshi, it's no goddamn fun hurting you anymore. I've kicked your ass a few too many times to really enjoy it now, so I ruled that out. If I beat up these two again, they just might not make it! So, what the hell else can I do?” 

The silence was nearly tangible in the air as you stared at the floor, having no interest in looking at the man behind your captivity. 

“I gotta start getting creative! Maybe even bring in a little outside help, you know? Could hunt down one of those little friends of yours, it wouldn't take more than a day or two. Let's see… We already got the bratty little detective, what about the pretty maid? The ditzy space cadet? I could pick off your friends one by one, bring them here, force you to watch them suffer until they finally break.” 

Hoshi made a move to speak, against his better judgment, but you grabbed his hand, a warning. Talking back now would only end in pain. 

“I thought about taking pieces of you two, cut the girly’s hair, take a few fingers, maybe more. But that's not quite as easy as it sounds, wouldn't want you guys fuckin’ dying on me!” You gasped as your chin was grabbed, forcing you to meet the man's eyes. 

“You are easily the most fun to play with, I have so many ideas about what to do with you. It doesn't have to be so painful, you know? Could be fun if you let it be.” Bile rose in your throat at the implications of what he was saying, tears stinging in your eyes. Before he could do anything else, though, Hoshi spoke up. 

“Don't you dare fucking… t-touch her.” The man looked away, a smirk spreading across his features. 

“Take your hands off her right fucking now.” Laughing quietly, the man pulled back, allowing you to finally breathe a bit. 

“And what the hell are you going to do, bastard? You think you can save her, save either of their sorry asses? Face it, you are my pets, and I'll do whatever I damn well please!” Hoshi stood up, even when you tried to stop him. 

“Do anything you want to me, but don't fucking touch them.” 

“You’d rather do it yourself? I don't mind a show, keeps me from having to get my hands dirty.” You cried out when you were grabbed by the hair and pulled over to the bathtub, Gonta receiving the same treatment as he was pushed right beside you. For the first time in what felt like years, you could see your reflection, features distorted by the water's movement. 

You could have guessed you looked rough, but the reality of seeing it brought more tears to your eyes. Your face was thin, dark circles under your eyes with dirt and blood smudging your skin. You didn't have time to mourn your appearance, though, not when Hoshi was shoved towards you and Gonta. 

“You wanted so badly to save them, you can be the one to kill them. Go on, shove them under for me, why don't you? You wouldn't want me to get fucking bored, I won't wait for long.” The gun reappeared and a shiver ran through your body, not daring to look back at Hoshi, who gingerly placed his hand on the back of your head. You could feel his hand shaking, tense, trying to think of any other way to get out of this.

“Five… four… three…” Hoshi bit his lip, the ticking of the gun being cocked forcing him into action. 

“Forgive me…” He muttered under his breath and pushed your and Gonta’s heads under the water. 

“See, was that really so hard? Probably a lot nicer than what I would do with the two of them. Don't you dare fucking let them up, either.” Fat tears dripped down Hoshi’s cheeks as he pushed harder, using every ounce of his remaining strength to force you and Gonta under the water. Distantly, he could hear wet screams, the water raging as the two of you squirmed, but being starved in the cages enabled Hoshi to keep you under. 

Hoshi’s eyes squeezed shut, unable to bear the sight of what he had been forced to do. Of all the horrible things he had done, of all the lives he had taken, the pain he had caused, this was the worst. His heart was beating out of his chest, barely able to breathe as he murdered the two people he loved. Hoshi only felt worse as your fighting subsided, barely moving under his grip as your bodies began to succumb to his actions. 

Finally, the man moved towards him and yanked Hoshi’s hands back, pulling you and Gonta from the water. Hoshi’s heart skipped a beat when you both fell backward, unmoving to his eyes. 

“Aw, damn, that was over pretty quick, huh? Shit, looks like you did a number on em!” Hoshi could barely see through his tears, eyes burning as he fell back and hit the ground hard. He couldn't make a sound, even when his mind was screaming, sobbing, begging to take it all back. 

“Congrats, you piece of shit, you’ve officially ruined everything you touch, fuckin’ murderer.” That was the last thing Hoshi heard before he blacked out, his body finally giving in to weakness, only exacerbated by the pain that gripped him. Unbeknownst to Hoshi, though, you and Gonta were still alive. 

You coughed up water, chest burning worse than anything you had ever felt, mind too foggy to realize what happened next. The three of you were carted back to your old room, dumped in there like trash with little more than a passing thought. It could have been a few hours or a few days before you noticed anything else, body and spirit broken after nearly being drowned. That voice was back and you cowered from it, too weak to do anything but curl into yourself, eyes glued shut. 

“Shit, you people are like fucking roaches, just don't fucking die do you? I'm fuckin’ over this, too much damn work.” You were out of it not long after, waking up some time later to only darkness, a blindfold tied tightly around your head. Finally, you were able to squirm, trying to call out by finding your mouth covered as well, by duct tape if the tight feeling was any indication. Still, you attempted to scream until you were slapped on the back of the head, tears springing to your blinded eyes. 

“I guess this one's awake too, huh? Time to fill em in.” An unfamiliar voice spoke much too close to your ear, making you shudder. 

“See, you three little shits are all work and no play, so the boss is done with you. No point in keeping around toys you can't have fun with. So we have some lovely orders to dump you off in gang territory.” You heard another voice, laughing. 

“Not just any damn gang! The Crazy fuckin’ Diamonds territory, and they don't take too kindly to visitors.” You tried to get free, only to realize your arms and legs were bound, body still exhausted even as adrenaline coursed through you. 

“You know, there's a lot of rumors about their leader going around, I wouldn't fuck with him if I were you.” 

“Yeah, like the one where he fuckin’ merked some shrimp with a dumbbell, just cause he called him weak. Strung his little body up as a warning to anyone else who wanted to cross him.” 

“And damn, the story of how he rose to power of the group? Dude killed his own brother, the old leader, in cold fuckin’ blood, just for the title. Mowed him down with a truck, how nasty is that?” You shuddered at the thought that you were only going to be delivered into the hands of someone equally horrible to endure more torture. 

“Welp, here we are. Have fun, fuckers, I'm sure we’ll see your sad little stories in the newspaper before long, Crazy Diamonds won't have much to play with.” You were frozen solid with fear as you were moved to the ground, hands stuck under your back as you heard footsteps walking away. 

Faintly, you could hear Hoshi and Gonta nearby, trying to get free with no more luck than you had had. It was a gentle comfort as you passed out again, adrenaline leaving your body vulnerable to your injuries. Hoshi, in the best condition out of the three of you, started squirming around, yelling through the tape over his mouth, trying to catch anyone's attention. 

It was all in vain, his voice too muffled to be heard from the street, not when they were so well hidden in an alleyway, almost entirely blocked from view by a dumpster. Eventually, footsteps could be heard coming towards the three of you. 

“Shit! Holy fuck, please tell me that those aren't… fuck.” Hoshi, unsure of whether this new voice was dangerous or not, stayed still, waiting. 

“Hey, Mondo? Yeah, I know you’re with Fujisaki right now, I'm sorry, but we have a situation. You know the alley by the bar? Yeah, there's three fuckin’ bodies here, dude. They ain't movin’, should I- In five minutes? Okay, thanks, sorry again.” 

The man hung up and Hoshi breathed as quietly as he could. He couldn't know what was or wasn't true about where they were dumped, it was better just to play dead for now until he got a better understanding of the situation. It wasn't as if he could do much in the way of fight anyway, not with a broken arm and a weakened body. But he would do what he had to in order to keep you and Gonta safe, no matter what happened to him. A few minutes later more footsteps could be heard, coming from the other direction. 

“Oh my god!” A soft voice squeaked out, footsteps halting. 

“Stay here, Chihiro, don't get too close.” A man muttered, what Hoshi assumed to be his footsteps moving closer. 

“Fuck, you weren't kidding, were you?” 

“No, sir, I didn't… know what to do.” The new man leaned down near Hoshi, gingerly rolling him onto his back. Hoshi couldn't hide the way his breath caught in his chest with pain, giving him away. 

“Wait, this one’s alive! Check those two! They might be alive too! Chi, call Taka, tell him to send anyone whose free, and get Mikan on standby, okay?” 

“Got it!” 

Anxiety flooded Hoshi as he was sat up, blindfold and gag removed. 

“Hey dude, you okay? We’re gonna get you and those two out of here in a few, what the fuck happened to you?” Hoshi couldn't talk, couldn't think, even as gentle hands shook him lightly. 

“Whoa, hey, don't pass out on me! Shit! Okay, we gotta get them the fuck out of here, someone did this to them and I don't want them coming back to try and finish the job.” Hoshi was unconscious, his body overwhelmed and, subconsciously, relieved. It seemed as if this man wanted to help them, if the way he called for help was any indication. 

When he woke up, he was in a new building, a steady beeping urging him awake. Hoshi blinked quickly, another way of panic running through him when he didn't recognize the room he was in. He started thrashing, ignoring the pain shooting through his arm and trying to get free of the cables and tubes connected to him. 

“Let me out, let me go!” He shouted, nearly jumping out of his skin when someone touched his shoulder. 

“P-please be careful! You’re going to hurt yourself! Please!” A girl said nervously, urging him back down.

“Mondo?! He’s awake!” She called to the doorway, the man who had helped him up before emerging. He was a character, to say the least, a large pompadour sticking out from his head and a biker jacket covering his body. 

“I got it, shit, stay back for a second. Hey, dude, it's okay! You’re safe here, I promise, don't go ripping out all of Mikan’s hard work. Your friends are over there, just lay down, it's all good.” 

The man, Mondo he assumed, pushed Hoshi back down onto what he now realized was a hospital bed, sighing with relief when Hoshi didn't fight back. He took stock of the room, finding it similar to a school nurse's office, but with much nicer equipment. The beeping Hoshi had heard before was the heart monitor, connected to his chest with wires that had gotten a bit tangled. 

“Where are…” He trailed off, chest heaving as his adrenaline faded. 

“Oh, the two you were with? They’re right here, though they haven't woken up yet. We honestly thought you guys were dead when we found you, it still doesn't look too good.” Mondo pulled back the curtains on either side of Hoshi to reveal two more beds, you and Gonta passed out and connected to several machines. 

“Um, are they your friends?” 

“More than that… they were, at least.” Hoshi muttered, not sure how to characterize your relationship now. Since you three were safe now, he could only assume that you and Gonta would want nothing to do with him and leave once they were able. He couldn't blame them for it, either, he would break up with himself too after what he had done. Hell, he had nearly killed them, Hoshi would be shocked if you or Gonta even looked his way once you woke up. 

“They aren't doing too well, they, um… they were in worse condition than you were when you got here. What happened? I-if that's okay to ask!” Hoshi shook his head, laying back down and digging his nails into his palm. 

“I almost fucking killed them…” He said quietly, not ready to say anything more. He’d have to tell the story at some point, but the longer he could put it off, the better. 

“Hey, you want us to call anyone, dude? Like, your family or something?” Hoshi shook his head, closing his eyes. 

“Just want to sleep…” 

“O-okay! We’ll leave you alone, you need to rest to heal up. Here, you can press this if you need me to come back for anything.” The girl, dressed in a classic nurse outfit, pressed a small remote into Hoshi’s good hand, closing the curtains and nearly stumbling as she left. Hoshi didn't bother to fight his exhaustion, wondering if you and Gonta would still be here when he woke up. 

It was your voice, hours later, that pulled him from unconsciousness, along with several other people shouting. 

“Don't come any fucking closer!” You yelled, brandishing a random syringe that had been within arms reach when you woke up. 

“P-please put that down! I promise, you’re safe here! No one is going to hurt you!” 

“What she said! Come on, put the damn needle away, you don't need a weapon!” Hoshi struggled to sit up, barely managing to reach the curtain beside his bed and yank it open. You were on your knees, still hooked up to machines even as you prepared to fight Mondo and the nurse. 

“(Y/N)...” Hoshi muttered, finally grabbing your attention. 

“Ryoma! You’re okay! Where's Gonta?!” Hoshi pointed to the other curtain, breathing hard. 

“It's safe, you don't need that, they aren't going to hurt us.” You finally lowered your hand, fingers uncurling from the syringe and letting it drop to the bed. 

“Oh…” You muttered, still on guard as the nurse quietly took the syringe away and helped you lay back down. 

“Sorry… I didn't…” 

“It's okay, I-I understand, you were scared. How do you feel? You’ve been unconscious for a long time…” You flinched a little when the woman started taking your vitals, unable to relax even with Hoshi so close. 

“It's a little hard to breathe… and I'm cold, too.” The woman nodded, tucking the blanket around you gently. 

“Are you in pain? I need to get more x-rays, but all three of you have broken bones. You’re also malnourished and dehydrated… Among other things.” The nurse was soft-spoken but firm as she covered you in a second blanket. 

“How are they? Is Gonta… is he okay?” She nodded, walking over and opening the curtain that had hidden Gonta from view. 

“He’s not in good shape but… all three of you should recover.” You nodded, trying to take a deep breath and wincing. 

“Ow… That's not… that's pretty painful.” The nurse returned to your side, looking over the chart you hadn't realized was at the foot of your bed. 

“Would you like pain killers? I'm pretty sure you have a couple of broken r-ribs and your lungs… they’re damaged from water.” Hoshi’s face fell at the mention of the water, memories surging back from when he had held you and Gonta under until you nearly died. 

“Please…” The nurse gave a small smile and turned to Hoshi, concerned. 

“Your lungs are better but your arm is badly broken and healing wrong, we’ll have to… rebreak it to fix it. Would you like some medication too?” Hoshi shook his head adamantly, even when that much movement sent a jolt of pain through him. 

“I'm fine.” He said quietly, falling back against the pillows as the nurse left. 

“Why won't you take the meds, Ryoma?” 

“I'm fine…” 

“You're not fine, Ryo! I can see it on your face that you’re in pain, please… You’ve been through enough, I don't want you to hurt anymore.” You whispered fiercely, biting your lip when Hoshi shook his head. It wasn't that he didn't need the pain relief, not that he didn't want it, but he didn't deserve it. He had almost killed you and Gonta, had hurt you beyond belief, not to mention the countless others he had murdered. The pain radiating through his body was nothing compared to the pain in his heart. 

Before you could try to argue, Gonta coughed roughly, starting to wake up. You attempted to get out of bed, jumping when a hand touched your shoulder. 

“You’re going to hurt yourself doing that, just stay here.” A man said gently, going to Gonta’s bedside, ready to hold him down if needed. 

“Where is… who are you?” Gonta asked, his voice rough and sending him into another fit of coughs. 

“Gonta, it's okay, we’re right here!” You shouted, forcing a smile even when more pain made you shudder. Hoshi nodded, not able to meet Gonta’s eyes as he sat up slowly. 

“Are (Y/N) and Ryoma okay? Gonta doesn't recognize this place…” 

“We got dumped off and then rescued, it's okay, we’re… safe.” The word felt foreign in Hoshi’s mouth, like it was a lie. 

“Hey there big guy, you scared us there. Thought you weren't gonna come back from that shit. Names Mondo, I guess you guys should know that, huh?” Slowly, Gonta relaxed as Mondo fiddled with the bed, making the head side raise so that Gonta could sit up easier. 

“Gonta and the others were saved?” Mondo nodded, flashing him a smile. 

“Yep! One of my guys found you and we got you here, Mikan is the best nurse I've ever met, she's the one who’s been taking care of you.” All three of you stared at Mondo wordlessly, not sure what to say. Finally, you spoke up. 

“We were told we were being left in gang territory, the…” 

“Crazy Diamonds?” Mondo supplied. You nodded, a shiver running through you at the name, remembering the stories the men who had brought you there had told. 

“Yep, that's us. I'm the leader, or whatever, it's not that big a deal.” You paled, Gonta and Hoshi no better. Slowly, you shrank away from Mondo, blood running ice cold. So you weren't safe after all… Mondo awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck when he noticed how scared you looked. 

“You’ve heard the rumors, huh? That I murdered the last leader for this spot, killed someone else with a dumbbell? Other horrible shit like that?” You didn't respond, discreetly looking around for another syringe, just in case. 

“None of it's true, you know. The last leader, he died, but he was my brother. I killed him, but not… like that.” You could tell the sadness in Mondo’s eyes was genuine, you had seen it in your own right before you had been pushed under the water by Hoshi. Before Mondo could continue, a small boy entered the room, short with dainty features, almost feminine. He shook his head, speaking up quietly. 

“It wasn't your fault, Mondo, don't make me tell Taka you're saying things like that again.” He smiled and turned to you, biting his lip when he saw the bandages covering your body. 

“My name is Chihiro Fujisaki, I was with Mondo when we… found you. Are you okay? I was so worried, you guys weren't moving and… I thought the worst.” You couldn't help but smile back, not wanting Chihiro to feel bad. 

“We’ll… be okay.” Chihiro perked up a bit at that, greeting Hoshi and Gonta before returning to Mondo’s side. 

“You guys want to talk about how you got this screwed up? I mean, from the shit Mikan said, you three have gone through hell.” You all exchanged looks, tears burning at the corners of your eyes. 

“I promise, you’re safe here. Mondo’s group may be known as a gang, but they are good people, they won't anything else happen to you. And I built an amazing security system for this building, no one can get in here without us knowing.” 

You took a deep breath and looked towards Gonta and Hoshi, nodding. So, as painful as it was to reminisce, you started telling the story of your kidnapping. Being taken, locked up for days on end with no clue if Hoshi was alive, the things Hoshi had been forced to do in exchange for your safety. You were about to mention Saihara when Hoshi stopped you, taking over. 

You understood, letting him explain the death of your friend as fat tears finally slipped down your cheeks. Gonta was in near sobs as Hoshi, stone-faced and somber, caught Mondo and Chihiro up with just how you had ended up there. You got a hold of yourself, wiping your face on the hospital gown. 

“And now… we’re here. And we don't, I don't… know what to do next.” You looked up, biting your lip with the effort to not cry again. Chihiro had his hands over his mouth, eyes shining with tears, Mondo’s face worryingly pale.

“And you said… it was Yakuza who did this?” You nodded quickly. 

“Shit…” Mondo muttered. 

“It was my fault, they wanted me. Those bastards hurt (Y/N) and Gonta to get to me. This is all because of me, if I had just died in jail then-” 

“Ryoma, no! Gonta doesn't think that! Gonta knows this is because of the men who hurt him and Ryoma and (Y/N). Ryoma never wanted them to get hurt, he tried to stop them! It isn't… R-Ryoma’s fault!” Gonta’s voice echoed throughout the room, louder than he had meant it to be. 

He didn't like to yell, but he couldn't stand hearing Hoshi blame himself when it was the yakuza’s fault, one man in particular. Chihiro ran over to Gonta, handing him a little pack of tissues from his pocket. 

“Thank you…” Gonta said softly, coughing. 

“But if I had just-” 

“No. You don't get to blame yourself, Ryoma! Not when you almost died, multiple times, to save us! No one blames you for this, it's those bastards faults, not yours.” You chewed your lip, flinching when Mondo sat at the foot of your bed, still not used to people being close without the intent of hurting you. 

“Yeah, I agree. If the fucker who did this is the guy I think it is, he’s sadistic, loves hurting people just for the fun of it. Toss revenge into the mix and I'm honestly surprised you three got out alive.” 

“Barely…” Hoshi muttered, laying down and pulling the blankets over himself. You were about to say something, but Mondo stopped you. 

“Let him sit for now, I get how he feels. Seeing you two get hurt, your friend too, and then blaming himself, it's not easy to deal with. Let him go.” You nodded, trying to take a deep breath. You hated that Hoshi blamed himself for this, but he wasn't ready to listen yet, it was better to let him rest. Soon, Mikan returned with medication for you and Gonta, which had you quickly falling asleep as it took effect. 

Even when everyone was passed out, Mondo sat in a chair by the door, just in case anyone tried to get in. Chihiro and Mikan came and went, checking up on your vitals and setting up Alter Ego to monitor them remotely, allowing them to keep an eye on you from across the little compound. 

You woke up groggily to see Mondo talking quietly with another man, bright red eyes and dark hair, dressed oddly formally for a gang’s nursing wing. 

“Do you think it's wise to tell them? It wouldn't be good for a war of sorts to break out.” Mondo shook his head, glancing over at you, not realizing you were waking up. 

“If it's Yakuza, those two can help, even just to keep them safe. I'm not letting them get hurt anymore, they’ve been through too much shit as it is.” The other man nodded, looking over as well and frowning at the sight of your injuries. 

“It's a miracle they’re alive, are they… stable?” 

“Yeah, Mikan says they’ll be alright, but it's gonna be awhile. Not to mention recovering from something like that, mentally, it won't be easy.” The conversation faded as you slipped back into sleep for a bit, grumbling when you felt something cold against your chest. 

“S-sorry! I didn't mean to wake you up, I was just checking on your lungs.” Mikan helped you sit up, moving over to Hoshi after a moment to listen to his breathing. 

“Odd, your lungs are pretty much fine, aside from your broken ribs.” 

“He didn't… we went through different methods of torture.” You said softly, not missing the guilt in Hoshi’s eyes as Mikan moved on to Gonta. 

“Your’s are the worst… if they don't improve soon, we might need to give you medication for it, or surgery.” Gonta shook his head quickly. 

“Gonta… really doesn't want that.” 

“W-well, Gonta, do your best to heal up, okay? It's late, you guys should try and go back to sleep. We’ll need to re-break your arm in the morning…” 

“Hoshi, that's (Y/N).” 

“Right! Get some rest, if you can. If you need anything, there's a button by each of your beds, a-and Mondo and some of the others have been guarding the door, just in case.” Mikan left quickly, turning down the lights so you could go back to sleep. You were exhausted, but didn't lay down just yet. 

“Ryoma, please, talk to us.” 

“Gonta hates seeing Ryoma so hurt, he wants to help.” Hoshi just shook his head, not looking at either of you. 

“I'm fine, really. I don't deserve your help, anyway. Just lay down and get some sleep, alright? Don't worry about me.” Hoshi was silent after that, leaving you with little choice than to curl up under the hospital blanket and drift off into a restless sleep. 

Once he was sure both you and Gonta were asleep, Hoshi tossed off his covers, methodically tearing out his IV and unhooking all of the other cords he was attached to. It hurt like hell, blood dripping down his hand from the poor job, but it would work. He just had to get out of there, he’d figure it out after that. Cradling his bad arm, Hoshi quietly got out of bed, making it no more than a few steps before the door opened. Mondo and Chihiro were there, Chihiro’s phone saying something to him in a very similar voice as the boys own. 

“Are you okay? Alter Ego said your heart rate stopped, I-” Finally, they both realized that Hoshi was fine, albeit dripping blood onto the tile. 

“I'm leaving.” 

“You’re bleeding, fuck, you aren't in any condition to be walking around dude!” Hoshi shook his head, covering the wound with his hand. 

“I'm fine, just let me through.” 

“B-but why would you leave? You’re safe, you don't have to worry about anything happening here.” Something dawned on Mondo, the things Hoshi had said earlier. 

“Chi, can you go back out for a bit, keep an eye on the door?” 

“Are you sure?” Mondo nodded and Chihiro left, closing the door softly behind him. 

“Would you move, dammit? I don't want them waking up until I'm gone.” 

“This is about you blaming yourself, right? For them getting hurt?” Hoshi sighed, unsteady on his feet. 

“At least take the chair, man, you’re going to pass out if you aren't careful, and Mikan can get scary when she's mad.” Hoshi scowled but sat in the metal chair, blood leaking past his hand. 

“What happened back there that makes you so sure this is your fault?” 

“The part where I was the one that bastard wanted hurt? The part where my friend died because of me? Or the part where I held the two people I love underwater until their fucking lungs gave out and nearly killed them?” Mondo was quiet for a moment. 

“That wasn't you though man! That was the Yakuza, they made you do that shit!” 

“Doesn't matter, I still did it. They still got hurt. They will never be the same after what they had to go through because of me.” 

“But they don't blame you. They just want you here, to get better and all that.” 

“They’re wrong. They don't see it, because they don't want to see it. If I had died in prison, they would have never gotten hurt. Shuichi wouldn't be fucking d-dead.” Hoshi dug his nails into his thigh, tears burning behind his eyes. He refused to let them fall, he didn't even deserve that mercy. 

“You know that rumor about me taking out the last Diamond leader?” 

“Yeah.” 

“He was my brother. My big brother, he led this gang better than I ever could have, and he was passing me the torch when he was ready to move on. I challenged him to race, tried to show off, nearly got hit by a big ass truck. My brother, he pushed me out of the way, took the brunt of it, didn't get back up. He died, and I was still here, and for a long time, I blamed myself. If I hadn't gotten so damn reckless, he wouldn't have gotten hit. I shut everyone out, until I found out what was happening. My guys, they needed a leader, and Daiya was gone. They needed me. And leading them was more important than wallowing in that pity shit.”

Mondo slapped Hoshi on the back, almost enough to hurt. 

“Those two, they need you. And you sure as hell need them too. If anyone was gonna blame you for what happened, it would be them, but they don't. So you shouldn't either. Let them in, ‘aight? It helps. I can't force you to stay, but Mikan is pretty convincing, and if that doesn't work, no one can really say no to Chihiro. So leave, if you want to, but it's not gonna benefit them at all.” Hoshi sat there, silent, trying to make a choice. He stood up shakily, blood loss starting to set in. 

“I guess I'm staying, then.” 

“Good shit, man, here, lemme help.” Mondo got Hoshi to the bed, pushing the button for Mikan so she could fix Hoshi’s IV. As they waited, Mondo spoke up. 

“It gets easier, but you gotta let people in, alright?” 

“Yeah… Thanks.” Mikan arrived, immediately fussing over Hoshi and getting him settled back into bed. You stirred from the noise as Hoshi was reconnected to the heart monitor, blinking tiredly. 

“Mm, what's going on?” 

“It's okay, (Y/N), I'm alright. Just fixing something, go back to sleep.” You smiled and nodded, still half asleep as you laid back down. You woke up again a few hours later when it was finally morning, sitting up and wincing in pain. 

“Hey, morning,” Hoshi said from his bed, eating breakfast from a tray. 

“I didn't want to wake you up, even for food, you needed the rest.” You smiled, he seemed… better, somehow. 

“I'll grab you something, be right back.” Mondo smiled, Chihiro by his side as he left. 

“Did they fix your arm?” Hoshi nodded, holding up a white cast. 

“Yeah, hurt pretty bad, but Mikan gave me some pain meds, they help. How are you doing?” You shrugged, rolling your shoulders. 

“Better, sorta. Still hurts but… I got to sleep, Ryo. I got to sleep, and not wonder who would be hurt in the morning, or if I’d get woken up with cold water, or be let out of a cage… It's weird.” 

Hoshi nodded sadly, turning his head when Gonta yawned, rubbing his eyes. 

“Gonta heard talking… are Ryoma and (Y/N) okay?” 

“Yeah, we’re fine, don't worry. They’re bringing food here in a few, if you're up for it.” 

“You better eat, Gonta, you need your strength.” You managed a smile, barely able to keep from drooling when Mondo came back with… pancakes? Bacon? In his hands were two trays with a large spread on them, food you had only dreamed of eating since your capture. 

“I'm under orders to make sure you eat this shit slowly, Mikan says your malnourished, you’ll get sick if you inhale it.” You nodded, taking your tray as Gonta was handed his. Chihiro came in, holding a couple of bottles of both water and juice. 

“I wasn't sure what you’d like, so I got a few different drinks.” 

“Thanks, guys.” You were almost hesitant to eat, waiting for something to happen, some sort of punishment or shouting. But it never came, and you took a careful bite of a pancake. It tasted like heaven on earth, whether that was because of whoever made it or the fact that you had been nearly starved, you didn't know. Still, you forced yourself to go slowly, not wanting to make yourself sick. 

“Gonta has never tasted anything so good…” 

“We’ve got a guy who cooks for us sometimes when he isn't busy, he makes the best damn food you’ve ever had, trust me. He’s got a restaurant, you should go some time.” The words struck a chord with you, tears prickling faintly at the corners of your eyes. You could go to restaurants now, go anywhere, really. 

You were free. 

And sure, you and Gonta and Hoshi were all a bit messed up, mentally and physically, and it wasn't going to get better overnight. But without the constant threat of death, of torture? You could heal. 

“So, listen. You guys were taken by Yakuza, yeah?” You nodded, confused about where Mondo was going with this. 

“We know a Yakuza leader, different from the asshole who you guys were with, he's one of the good guys. He could probably do something to help keep you guys safe after you get out of here, if you wanted.” The room was quiet for a moment, unsure of how to respond. You couldn't fathom the thought of getting involved with more Yakuza, but if Mondo said he was good… you wanted to believe him. 

“You trust the guy?” Hoshi asked, equally put off by the idea. 

“Entirely, he wouldn't hurt a fly. He can seem a little harsh and shit, but I trust him.” The three of you shared a look, silently agreeing. 

“Can we meet with him, then? Here?” Mondo nodded, waving his phone. 

“Yeah, he can probably come down today honestly, sound good?” Mondo left the room to make the call, the three of you facing each other. 

“I don't like this,” Hoshi said quietly. 

“Gonta trusts Mondo, though, he doesn't think Mondo would bring in someone who would hurt (Y/N) or Ryoma.” Hoshi shook his head, fingers of his good hand clenched in the blanket. 

“Stay on guard, either way.” You were silent, biting your lip before speaking up. 

“Ryoma I think… we have to call the others, too. We’ve been missing for what, months? They’ve probably been looking for us, and… him. We have to tell them.” Before Hoshi could respond, Mondo returned, slipping his phone in his pocket. 

“He’s gonna come by later to talk, I gave him the short version of your story, so you don't have to repeat it.” 

“Thanks.” You smiled, picking at the remaining food in your lap, not hungry anymore. 

“Would, um, would you like to borrow my phone?” Chihiro asked softly, holding it out to you. 

“I'll take it, I'll do it,” Hoshi muttered, taking the phone like it would shatter between his fingers. 

“Gonta can do it, Ryoma doesn't have to.” Hoshi shook his head, already starting to dial. 

“He died because of me, I should be the one to do it.” A hushed, tense silence fell over the quiet room, save for the beeping of various monitors.

“Kirumi? Kirumi, it's Ryoma Hoshi.” You could see how rigid Hoshi went when Kirumi said something back that you couldn't hear. 

“We’re… it's a long story, alright? You need to bring everyone here tomorrow, we need to talk. Can I trust you to bring them all? Yeah, Ouma as well, everyone, please. Thank you. I'll text you the address, alright? Okay. I'll tell you when you get here, it's… hard to talk about. Bye.” 

Hoshi handed the phone back to Chihiro and stared at his lap as he and Mondo left the room, leaving the three of you alone with one another. “How… How do I tell them that Saihara is dead? Dead because of me.” 

You shook your head, shifting around the wires and IV so that you could shakily get out of bed and grab Hoshi’s hand. 

“If he's dead because of you, then he's dead because of me and Gonta too. He went looking for all of us, so if we’re gonna blame anyone, it should be all three of us. It's not our fault…” You trailed off, fighting back tears. Saihara had been your friend, and you had watched the life drain out of him through a hole in his skull. 

“Gonta thinks it wasn't anyone's fault, except for the man who killed Saihara. He hurt him, Ryoma didn't.” You nodded, going back to your own bed before your weakened legs gave out. 

“We’ll tell them together, all three of us. No one blames you, so try not to blame yourself, alright?” Hoshi managed a nod and finally looked up as you fumbled with your blanket. As you did, the sleeve of your hospital gown rode up, revealing a nasty, barely healed scar from the same day that Saihara had died. 

Hoshi could almost hear the muffled scream that had followed a cut like that, staring until it disappeared again under the thin fabric. Something like would never go away, not the memories, not the scars. He had almost grown accustomed to death, having seen it so many times, but you and Gonta hadn't until then. Hoshi couldn't fix that, couldn't take that back, just like he couldn't bring Saihara back. He swallowed thickly, reminding himself of what Mondo had said, that putting up walls and hiding behind them wouldn't help any of you heal. 

“Hey, guys?” 

“Hm? What's wrong?” You replied, concerned. 

“If… no, when this is over, do you want to get a dog? Or, a cat, or a pet, or… I don't know, something like that.” The faintest hint of a smile graced Hoshi’s tired features. You couldn't help smiling a bit yourself. 

“Yeah, a dog would be nice.” 

“Gonta likes dogs, even if they aren't as nice as bugs. He knows that Ryoma and (Y/N) don't like bugs as much as he does, so Gonta is happy with a dog!” Hoshi turned to Gonta, nodding. 

“You can have all the bugs you want, I'll get over it, if it makes you happy.” 

Your smile widened, thinking about how things could, eventually, get better. “Me too, I don't mind them so much now, so you should have as many as you can.” 

Gonta’s smile was enough to make the pain in your body fade, even if for a moment. It was a reminder of before, when the three of you had been happy. Your conversation went on for a while, the most relaxed and at peace you had felt in months now. After a while, you were interrupted by cursing and scuffling behind the closed door, immediately putting all three of you on alert. 

“Hey, hands off asshole! I told you, I'm with Oowada! Let us through before I fucking- Peko, no! Put that shit away!” You prepared to get up and run if needed, a glance at Hoshi and Gonta showed them readying for the same fight. 

“Guys, it's fine, he's with me! Seriously, they're good, just let em through, okay?” The door opened and Mondo, along with a shorter man and a woman with silver hair, sheathing what looked like a katana, walked in. 

“So, this is the guy I mentioned!” 

“Fucking hell, you could warn your guys before sending us down a hallway alone, you know?” Mondo rubbed the back of his neck, laughing. 

“I can't blame em, I told them not to let a soul through unless I said. So, this is Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu, and Peko Pekoyama.” You stared, wide-eyed, at the odd duo as the man, Kuzuryuu, took off his hat. 

“I'm the head of the Kuzuryuu clan and all that, Peko is a friend of mine.” 

“And bodyguard.” 

Kuzuryuu rolled his eyes. “I told you, you don't have to do that shit. Not the point, though. Mondo told me you got caught up in some shit with a branch of Yakuza and needed some help, yeah?” 

You nodded, not sure what to say. Hoshi was the first to speak, albeit tersely. “That's the understatement of the year, yeah. How much did Mondo tell you?” 

“I know that your Ryoma Hoshi, and I have a pretty good guess as to who did this, and why. I also know that that bastard has been getting more and more ruthless, and you probably shouldn't have gotten out of there in one piece.” You nodded sadly, coughing before speaking up. 

“We almost didn't. And we… We were the lucky ones. Our friend, he didn't… he fucking shot him.” You went on, describing the beatings, the cages, the choices all three of you had been forced to make in order to stay alive. Peko and Kuzuryuu remained emotionless, aside from Peko’s tightened grip on the strap of her sword bag. 

“After almost killing us, he tossed us in an alley. We were lucky that the Crazy Diamonds found us, and not someone else. At that point… I really thought we were going to die.” Kuzuryuu nodded, running a hand through his short blond hair. 

“Fuck… I’d heard rumors about that fucker and the shit he's done, but this… this is a whole other level of fucked up.” He shared a look with Peko, who nodded quickly. 

“From now on, you three are under the protection of both the Kuzuryuu clan and the Crazy Diamonds. Between our two groups, no one will touch a fucking hair on your head. This offer is extended for as long as you want it, and if there are others who need it, just tell us.” Your mouth hung open as Kuzuryuu stood, Peko following suit. He held out a hand to Hoshi, who clearly didn't know what to say. 

“I… Thank you.” Was all he said, shaking Kuzuryuu’s hand as the blonde smiled. 

“Whatever you need, just let me or Mondo know. Bodyguards, a place to stay where you’ll be safe, you’ll have it. You’re honorary members of the clan now, so I'll be seeing you around.” Peko nodded at you and you waved, unsure of what to make of her quite yet. 

“Show them out, thanks. Fuyuhiko, thanks for coming.” 

“Happy to help, especially after the shit they’ve been through.” Just as they were about to leave, you called after them. 

“Wait! Don't… don't you guys have better things to do? I mean, you shouldn't have to worry about me, really.” 

“(Y/N), you deserve this after-” Kuzuryuu shook his head before Mondo could finish. 

“Trust me, you guys are worth it. Plus, I've wanted to get this fucker off the playing field since I heard about him, he gives us Yakuza a shitty reputation. So don't worry about a thing but feeling better and shit like that, got it?” You nodded and he waved before turning around, leaving with Peko by his side. 

“Like he said, you guys need anything, just ask. Even after you leave here, we’ve got your back!” You smiled, a slight warmth in your chest. You still felt like a bit of a burden for Mondo and the others who wanted to help, but it was nice knowing you were under the protection of not one, but two groups. Soon, Mondo left, allowing the three of you to return to chatting. It was the most normal you had felt in a very long time, and before long dinner was being brought to your beds, along with Mikan checking in and seeing how you were doing. 

The lights were turned down and you yawned, wishing you weren't hooked up to so many wires so that you could get up and lay down by Gonta or Hoshi. Mikan insisted that you stay connected to the monitors for now, since it had only been a few days since you had started healing. 

“I'm sure you're eager to l-leave, but I'd like to see you guys improve a bit first, especially Gonta. His lungs are better but… I'd rather be on the, um, safe side.” You went along with it, not knowing enough to argue. Your friends would be coming tomorrow, regardless, so it was better to stay put, at least until after that. You soon found yourself laying down, barely able to keep your eyes open as you talked with Gonta and Hoshi. 

“If you're that tired, go ahead and sleep, it's okay.” You half smiled, exhausted. 

“Mm, okay, you guys sleep too, okay? We all need it, especially for tomorrow.” It was easy to drift off, as relaxed as you felt. Maybe it was a bad idea, trusting Mondo and Kuzuryuu and the others to keep you safe, but your mind couldn't take much more fear and panic anymore. Hoshi soon laid down as well, almost ready to go to sleep when Gonta’s voice made him sit up. 

“Ryoma?” 

“Hmm? What's up, Gonta?” 

“Gonta… feels really bad.” Hoshi looked over, noticing the faint glimmer of tears forming in Gonta’s eyes. 

“What's wrong? Should we get Mikan or something?” Gonta shook his head, chewing his lip. 

“Gonta said horrible things to Ryoma, right after Shuichi…” Hoshi nodded, remembering the call he had gotten from Gonta right after, where he had called him a murderer. 

“Gonta didn't mean any of it! They made Gonta say it, and he didn't want to, but he had a gun pointed at him and he… he h-had to call Ryoma such horrible things. Gonta is an awful gentleman, he shouldn't have said-” 

“Whoa, shit, hey!” Against his better judgment, Hoshi got out of bed, dragging the pole his IV was connected to as he grabbed a box of tissues and handed them to Gonta. 

“They fucking threatened you?” Gonta nodded, taking a tissue and wiping his eyes before the tears could quite spill over. 

“Gonta should have fought him, told him he wouldn't say such mean things, especially when they weren't true.” Hoshi shook his head, hand shaking as he reached out to stroke Gonta’s messy hair. 

“They would have hurt you, or killed you, you did the right thing, even if you didn't want to. You’ve been a damn good gentleman, Gonta, considering what you were faced with. A lot better than I could have been in your place.” 

“Gonta still feels bad, he called Ryoma a murderer… and disgusting. Gonta would never think that way about Ryoma! Ryoma is a good gentleman too, doing all of those things to keep Gonta and (Y/N) safe, even if he had to do horrible things as well.” Hoshi smiled softly, hand cupping Gonta’s cheek as he got ahold of himself. He had forgotten what it was like to touch someone without violence, just hoping to comfort the much larger man. 

“Something like that, yeah. I know you didn't mean it, that you wouldn't have said anything like that if you weren't being threatened, so don't worry about it, alright?” Gonta nodded, leaning into Hoshi’s touch slightly until he pulled away. 

“Get some sleep, big guy, you need it.” 

“Ryoma should sleep too.” 

“I will, if you will.” Gonta smiled softly as Hoshi got back into bed, wincing a bit. He still wasn't in the best condition, but every day it was getting a little easier. Before long, all three of you were asleep, but even that came with difficulties. 

For hours, you tossed and turned, caught in the all too realistic plane between awake and dreaming. You didn't wake up, no matter how many horrible images plagued you, tangling yourself in your blanket and soaking your hospital gown through with cold sweat. Hoshi and Gonta were no better, a choked sob from Gonta finally waking you up from your nightmares, your memories. 

“Gonta? You okay?” All that followed was hitched breathing for a moment. 

“Gonta is fine… bad dream.” You nodded, grateful for the pale light of the sunrise starting to come through the windows. It was still early, but not early enough to go back to sleep, even if you wanted to. 

“Me too, I kept seeing that fucking man… Gonta, I can still smell him in my dreams…” You trailed off, stomach turning a bit at the memory. It wasn't long before Hoshi woke up as well, jolting a bit before sitting up and rubbing his eyes. 

“What’re you guys doing up?” He asked quietly. 

“Nightmares, mostly. How did you sleep?” Hoshi shook his head, stretching and wincing when he moved his arm the wrong way. 

“Not much better, kept seeing things I didn't want to see.” You understood the feeling well, thankfully distracted as Mondo knocked on the door and poked his head inside. 

“Hey, Chihiro said you guys were up, you want food or anything?” You knew you needed to eat, but after the nightmares and considering what was soon to come when your friends arrived, you weren't all that interested in food. 

“Something small, I guess.” Gonta and Hoshi nodded in agreement and Mondo disappeared, soon returning alongside Ishimaru and Chihiro, each with a tray. You could barely nibble at a piece of toast, mind wandering as conversation carried around you. 

How did you tell a room full of people that someone they all cared about had been brutally kidnapped, beaten, and murdered by a Yakuza leader? 

How do you tell them that you didn't stop it, didn't save him? 

How could you apologize for something like that, when you were sitting right there, still alive? 

“(Y/N)? Are you okay?” You snapped back to the present, forcing a smile. 

“Yeah, just not super hungry, I guess.” You looked over at Hoshi, who hadn't eaten much either. Desperate to change the subject off of yourself, you turned to Chihiro. 

“How did you know we had woken up, by the way?” Chihiro smiled and almost bounced to your bedside, showing you his phone. 

“I designed a program, with Tsumiki’s help. It monitors your vital signs constantly, and when there's a change, like a quicker heartbeat from waking up, it tells me. I programmed it to be compatible with my other program, Alter Ego, and he can deduce the cause of the change to a certain extent!” 

Chihiro went on for a moment about the programming, terms that flew over your head entirely until he noticed he was rambling. 

“Oh, u-um, sorry! I really enjoy programming, you probably didn't understand any of that…” 

“It's okay, I think it's nice that you enjoy something that you’re so good at.” You smiled, still lost in all of the terminology as Chihiro poked at his phone. 

“T-thank you!” His cheeks flushed a soft pink and you couldn't hide your smile. 

“Amazing, isn't he? Best damn programmer out there!” 

“Agreed, Chihiro, no one could make a program that compares to yours, especially in how little time it took you.” You let the three of them chat, managing to eat a bit more. You gave up eventually, promising Mikan that you would eat more later before she could worry too much. Once the trays were gone and the others had left to do one thing or another, you turned to Hoshi and Gonta. 

“They’ll be here soon, huh?” Hoshi nodded, running a hand through his hair, much longer than he usually kept it. 

“Yeah, Kirumi said around noon, but who knows.” You went quiet, fiddling with a stray thread on your blanket. 

“Gonta is… scared, to tell them. He doesn't want them to have to know, even though he knows they have to.” 

“Yeah, me too. But… we’ll just get it over with, and go from there, you know?” Gonta nodded but Hoshi said nothing, drumming his fingers absently on his cast. 

“You guys should just let me do all the talking, alright? I got us into this, I should be the one to break the news.” You shook your head quickly, not having it. 

“We’re all a part of this, you aren't going to get stuck with all of the burden of telling the story. We lean on each other, so you can start, if you want, but I'm not going to let you be the only one to tell them.” 

“Gonta too, he isn't going to let Ryoma be the only one to tell them about Shuichi, what happened isn't Ryoma’s fault.” Hoshi looked like he was about to argue but you shushed him gently. 

“It's no one's fault, you didn't pull the trigger, okay? So just… Share the load, alright?” A sad smile made its way onto Hoshi’s face as he nodded, sighing quietly. 

“You two make it hard to argue shit, you know that?” You laughed, fighting back a cough that followed. 

“That's the point, babe.” As time passed, you got more and more nervous about the conversation, how the others would take the news, what they would do. Saihara was everyone's friend, nobody disliked him, losing him was going to hurt everyone in the room greatly. The man by the door, whose name you hadn't caught, muttered something over a radio before turning to face you. 

“The friends you invited are here, alright if I let them in?” 

“Last chance to hide under the beds.” You joked dryly, hands shaking as you smoothed the blanket in front of you. You didn't know what else to do as your friends streamed in, one after another, each talking to each other or the three of you. 

The room buzzed with more energy than you knew how to deal with and it didn't take long for you to feel overwhelmed as Angie and Kaede swarmed your bed, asking questions you weren't prepared to answer. Finally, Kaito caught on, shouting above the din and getting everyone's attention. 

“Guys! Don't scare them, jeez! This is probably a lot for them to deal with all at once, let em talk!” Thankfully, the room quieted down, many people sitting on the edges of beds and others standing. Unsurprisingly, Ouma was the first to break the seal of silence. 

“So where exactly were you guys, anyway? Cause you look like total hell, especially you! And where is Saihara-chan?” He pointed at Hoshi, who swallowed thickly. The moments that passed may have been only seconds, but they were weighed down by the knowledge that you didn't know how to share. 

“Fuck, I guess… we should start at the beginning, huh?” Taking turns, you, Hoshi, and Gonta told your story, hopefully for the last time. You kept it brief, not wanting to saddle your friends with the images of your torture. Anytime one of you started getting overwhelmed, another took over, glossing over moments best left locked away until you got caught up. 

“Wait, so this whole time… you’ve been pretty much almost fucking dying?!” Kaito looked pale, as if he couldn't believe what had happened. 

“Um… yeah, more or less.” You said sheepishly, unable to meet anyone's eyes. The room burst into sound once again, questions streaming in one after another until Kirumi spoke up. 

“Please refrain from all speaking at once, it can't… be easy to talk about something like this.” You nodded, thankful. Ouma’s voice stood out from the others as he hopped off Gonta’s bed, hands on his hips. 

“That's a craaaazy story and all, but you dodged my question. You three are here, but Saihara isn't. So where is he? You didn't even mention him! Unless this is all a lie?” He quirked an eyebrow and you barely refrained from rolling your eyes. 

“Was he involved with this somehow?” Maki asked, picking up on your anxiety. 

“Atua hasn't said anything about him either… hmm. Maybe he's just been on a vacation to a faraway country!” You shook your head, sparing Hoshi a glance before continuing. 

“Saihara… he came to look for us, not long after we disappeared.” Kaito nodded, pacing the room a bit. 

“He did say something about a case, he ditched training and stuff a few times for it but never really said much more.” 

“Gonta and Ryoma and (Y/N) were the case… Saihara started searching and asking around about them, but Gonta thinks he talked to the wrong person.” 

You continued as Kiibo stroked Gonta’s hair comfortingly. 

“The men we were involved with, they don't take well to people looking for them… The kidnapped Saihara and brought him to the same building we were in, threatened him, but didn't do much at first.” You trailed off, trying to push away the mental image of Saihara tied to that chair, body slumped forward while he was unconscious. You wished he had stayed that way, hearing him plead for his life at the end had only made it hurt more. Hoshi picked up the story, hand holding the covers with white knuckles. 

“They ordered me to kill him. They put a gun in my hand and forced me to kill my friend.” You opened your mouth to argue, Hoshi hadn't been the one to pull the trigger, he hadn't had a choice in the matter anymore. But it was fruitless, Hoshi continuing before you got the chance

“He's gone.” Was all Hoshi said, the room exploding into chaos and questions. 

“What do you mean he's gone?!” Kaito yelled above the sound, met with several noises of agreement from the others. No one responded, the room growing heavy with the things they knew, but didn't want to say. 

“Saihara is dead. He’s dead, because of me.” Hoshi’s voice was barely audible, but enough people heard it to send the room spinning into shouting and crying. Kaede clasped her hands over her mouth as she realized what had happened, sobbing. Ouma looked ready to hit someone, small hands clenched into fists as he glared daggers into Hoshi, eerily quiet. 

The room was buzzing with reactions, some shock, some disbelief, some sad and crying. You didn't know what to do, blindly grabbing Kaede's hand as if it would ease her pain. You didn't bother to wipe away your own tears as they fell, breathing hard to keep from absolutely collapsing into sobs. 

“What the fuck, Hoshi?!” Kaito shouted, moving closer than Hoshi would have liked. 

“Why did you do it? Why did you fucking kill my best friend goddammit?!” His voice was loud enough to hurt your ears, Kaede squeezing your hand a little tighter. 

“Kaito, don't, that's a little-” 

“I don't care! He fucking murdered Shuichi! He murdered him and he's here, just fucking fine now!” The argument only escalated as Kaede and a few others tried to calm Kaito down, Hoshi stone-faced and staring at his hand. Finally, Mondo entered the room, groaning at the chaos before raising his voice. 

“Hey! Shut up! You guys are screaming loud enough that the entire building can hear you and that shit isn't what they need right now! So either be quiet, or leave!” You were grateful for the interruption as it finally got Kaito to quiet down, at least for a moment. 

“And you, you and Gonta. Why the fuck didn't you stop him, huh? You were there too, you could have done something!” 

“Gonta’s supposed to be all big and strong right, you couldn't get a gun out of Hoshi’s tiny fucking hands?!” Ouma chimed in from across the room, his voice much more flat than usual.

“Exactly! You didn't stop him, so your just as much at fault here as he is, you fucking killed-” 

Your head snapped to look at Hoshi as he finally spoke up. 

“Shut the fuck up!” He screamed, louder than you had ever heard him yell. It was almost scary, seeing such rage spread across Hoshi’s features. 

“They didn't have a choice to stop me! They would have been killed if they even fucking moved!” 

He took a breath but held up a hand when Kaito moved to speak again. 

“They gave me a choice. They told me to either kill Saihara or let them get beaten until they could hardly breathe. They couldn't have done a thing to stop it, they got it bad enough as it was. He cut them, and made me fucking watch while they got hurt, because I couldn't go through with it.” 

“What? What do you mean?” Kaede asked, still tightly gripping your hand. 

“I dropped the damn gun, I couldn't pull the trigger on Saihara. And they still killed him. But Gonta and (Y/N) begged me to just let them get hurt instead, but I couldn't let them go through that. Blame me all you want, hate me forever, that's fine. But you don't get to fucking blame then when they were tied up and hurt and begging me not to choose him.” 

Kaito glanced between you and Gonta, noticing how you were in much worse condition, between the scars and bandages, while Hoshi mainly had only his cast as evidence of his pain. 

“I don't give a damn what you think about me, cause it's probably true. But don't you dare fucking blame them for his death.” The room went quiet enough to hear a pin drop as Kaito finally relaxed a bit, no longer looking like he was ready to hurt someone. 

“Fucking hell… so he's really dead, huh?” Kaito muttered, sitting on the edge of Hoshi’s bed. 

“Yeah,” Hoshi responded, finally looking up from his lap. 

“I'm sorry about what I said man, you didn't… you didn't deserve that, especially when I didn't mean it.” Hoshi just shrugged, looking around the room. 

“Doesn't mean it isn't true, but thanks. The things that happened in there…” Kaito just nodded in understanding as the atmosphere relaxed a bit. Still sad, mourning, but no longer tense with so much anger. 

“Are you guys going to be… alright? No offense, but you look like shit.” You laughed softly, running a hand through your hair. 

“They think we’ll be okay to leave in a couple of days, if we want to.” 

“Gonta isn't sure he wants to go back home anymore… he remembers the house being all messed up from being taken.” 

“Yeah, it's… not great. I was staying there between… jobs. It's pretty bad, honestly, I never had the energy to fix shit or clean or anything.” Kirumi looked between the three of you, and then to the others. 

“Don't worry about that, we’ll handle anything that needs to be taken care of before you return home.” You met her eyes, as sad as anyone else's over the loss of Saihara, even if she hadn't shown it. 

“Are you sure? You don't have to do anything for us, really.” She shook her head, a small smile appearing on her face. 

“It's my pleasure, you deserve to have a nice, clean home when you are released from here, and I prefer to keep myself busy in times like this.” 

“Me too, I'll help. You guys have been through enough, we want to make it a little easier for you to adjust and get better!” Kaede smiled sadly, and you didn't have the heart to tell her otherwise. It would be nice, not having to fix the wreckage of your kidnapping on your own. Others began to chime in, offering to help with cleaning up, getting groceries, anything you could have needed. 

Soon the entire room, even Ouma, was in agreement that they were going to help you back on your feet, no matter what it took. 

“Gonta… is very thankful that he has such generous friends.” Gonta sniffled and Himiko patted his head. 

“It’ll be easy to fix things up with my magic, as long as I'm able to recharge my mana beforehand…” After that, people streamed in and out of the room, some leaving for the day with things to do, others hanging out a while longer until the sky began to darken. It was nice, albeit a bit overwhelming to be around other people again, people you knew and trust, who wanted to help you. Soon, it was only Kirumi and Kaito left, both getting ready to leave. 

“Is it alright if I return tomorrow? I'd like to figure out the best way to go about restoring your home, among other things.” Hoshi nodded, smiling a bit. 

“Sure, if you want. Thanks again for helping out, it really means a lot. Especially after what we told you.” 

“At moments like this, it's best for people to be together, to overcome their hardships. So, frankly, you’re doing us a favor by allowing us to help. Also, Gonta, your glasses are missing, would you like me to bring you another pair?” Gonta nodded eagerly. 

“Gonta would really like that, he hasn't been able to see in… a long time.” You smiled, having almost forgotten that he usually wore glasses. It had been so long since you had had the mental capacity to worry about things like your boyfriend's eyesight, really, it was a miracle he had managed to get by without them this long. Kirumi left after another few minutes, promising to return the next day to make a list of tasks to get done with the house, even when you insisted it wasn't that big of a deal. Kaito stood up to leave, lingering a bit. 

“Sorry, again, man. I said some pretty horrible shit to you earlier, I really shouldn't have let my temper go off like that, not cool of me.” 

“You just lost someone you cared about, I get it. Someone told me something like that, I probably would have gotten mad too.” Kaito nodded and held out a hand for Hoshi to shake, which he did. 

“We’ll get revenge for Shuichi, you know? We’ll make sure the bastards who did this to him, and you guys, pay for this.” Mondo, seemingly already on his way to you, held out his phone to Kaito. 

“Looks like someone beat you to it.” He had pulled up an article on his phone from the news, detailing the death and almost meaningful placement of the body of a nearby Yakuza leader. Kaito read the article aloud before showing it to you, a picture making a wave of nausea rise in your chest. It wasn't the violence or death that bothered you, it was the man in the photo. 

“That's him…” You muttered, torn between being sick at the sight of the man who tortured you or celebrating his death. You looked to Hoshi and Gonta, who seemed equally tense. 

“You didn't hear this shit from me, but Fuyuhiko? He takes care of problems like that guy, when he has to. My guess is you won't have to worry about those fuckers again, not after this.” You just nodded as Kaito left, mentioning he’d be back later. Quickly, you turned to Gonta and Hoshi, a sigh of relief leaving you. 

“He's dead… that asshole, he's fucking dead!” You covered your mouth at the sound of your joy, unsure of how to feel. 

Mostly, though, you felt relieved. The man who had kept you captive for months, threatened you, beaten you, not to mention what he had done to Gonta and Hoshi, was permanently out of the picture. You no longer had to wonder what he was planning, whether he would come looking for you again, not now. 

“Good.” Was all Hoshi said, smiling alongside you. Briefly, the three of you talked about what had happened, about leaving the building soon, about figuring out a way to hold a memorial for Saihara. You had no clue where his body would be anymore, so he couldn't be buried, but surely you could set up something to say goodbye, to thank him for trying to save you. It was easy to fall asleep after such an exhausting, emotional day, laying down and letting your eyes fall closed when you felt you had nothing else to say. 

“(Y/N)? Gonta?” 

“Mm?” You responded, eyes still shut. 

“Love you guys.” His voice was soft, quiet, and you smiled. 

“Love you too, Ryo.” 

“Gonta loves Ryoma and (Y/N) as well!” You giggled, too tired to even sit up. You drifted off happily, feeling more at peace than you had in quite a while. It didn't last long, however. Just like the night before, nightmares came at you quickly and constantly as you tossed and turned in your bed. 

This time, Hoshi was the first to wake from his dreams, startled and gripping the blanket tightly in his good hand. He flexed his fingers, trying in vain to forget what he had seen. His nightmare had been of the day that he had held you and Gonta under the water, pushing you in deeper even as you squirmed and the air bubbles indicating your screams started to stop. 

He held you and Gonta under until you were lifeless and even when he pulled you out, you didn't come back. Your chests were still, no matter what he did, you were gone. He woke up after giving up on bringing you back to home, glancing between you and Gonta and watching as you breathed and turned over in your sleep. It was enough of a reassurance that you were alive for him to lay back down, counting your heartbeats on a monitor until he was able to fall back asleep. 

It was an ongoing cycle for a couple of hours, one of you waking up from a nightmare where the others died or got hurt, making sure they were okay, and then going back to sleep, only for another nightmare to occur. Mondo, taking a turn on guarding the door, noticed as Gonta woke up for the second time, the faintest sob escaping him as he wiped his eyes and tried to calm himself down. 

“Hey, are you alright?” He asked, leaving his chair by the door and sitting on the edge of Gonta’s bed. 

“Gonta had a nightmare, he’ll… he's okay.” Gonta forced a smile and tried to slow his breathing down a bit, wondering how late it was. 

“The others have been as well, they keep waking up and checking on you.” Gonta looked over and noticed the pain in Hoshi’s features as he tossed and turned a bit, you in a similar position. Mondo and Gonta chatted for a moment, passing the time until Gonta felt a bit better. You shot up in your bed, panting and clutching your chest, heartbeat thrumming in your ears. You had had a nightmare about being back in that room, a gun forced into your hands and told to choose between Gonta and Hoshi, kill one or both would die. You could still feel the cold steel against your skin as you returned to reality, quickly looking over at Gonta and Hoshi. 

“Hey, did I wake you up?” You asked softly, not wanting to wake Hoshi up as well. 

“No, Gonta had a bad dream as well, Mondo was helping him calm down a bit. Is (Y/N) okay?” You nodded, not wanting to worry him any more than necessary. 

“I will be, now that I'm awake.” Mondo looked at you curiously, thinking for a moment before getting an idea. 

“Here, I want to try something.” You watched with wide eyes as Mondo started pushing Gonta’s hospital bed towards the middle, not stopping until he connected with Hoshi’s bed, startling him awake. 

“What's going on?” He muttered, sitting up and rubbing at his eyes. 

“Nightmares, again.” You replied, jumping when Mondo started pushing your bed towards Hoshi as well. It took some arranging, between the IV poles and all of the wires, but after a few minutes, your three beds had become one large one. 

“Mikan and Taka might kill me for this, but you three need to be able to hold each other when this kinda stuff happens. It helps, trust me.” All three of you exchanged glances, unsure of what to do. 

“Let me know if you need anything, ‘kay?” Mondo left the room and you started to scoot closer to Hoshi, mindful of your IV line and his cast. It had been so long since you had been this close to him, without fear, without having to protect him from someone. Still, old habits resurfaced as the three of you cuddled together, overlapping blankets and getting comfortable. 

In the end, Gonta had his arms wrapped around you both, Hoshi sandwiched between you gently to keep from making his arm worse. No one needed to speak, just enjoying the familiar contact between each other. You pressed your face against Hoshi’s chest, listening to his heartbeat as you started to fall back asleep. This time, you stayed asleep, the comfort of having both of your boyfriends right there warding off any nightmares. 

All three of you slept soundly, relaxed by each other's presence until morning came and hushed whispers caught your attention. You didn't move, barely awake as it was and not wanting to disturb Gonta or Hoshi. 

“They needed this, you know? I get that it wasn't great, like, medically, and something could have happened, but Alter Ego would have let us know if something changed.” You recognized Mondo’s voice and the little sigh that followed sounded like Mikan. 

“They do look peaceful… Just warn me next time, so I can keep a closer e-eye on them.” You drifted back off, smiling softly. You were too comfortable and safe to care about what time it might have been or the repercussions of moving the beds. All that mattered was that the next time you woke up, it would be wrapped in Gonta’s arms, face buried in Hoshi’s neck. You groaned as someone shifted, not ready to get up. 

“Stay.” You whispered, trying to pull Hoshi back to you as he moved to escape Gonta’s hold on him. 

“Gotta get up, it's late.” 

“Gonta doesn't want to yet, he wants Ryoma to stay for a little longer.” You didn't miss the little huff that Hoshi replied with, but he stopped moving, letting you pull him close. You didn't go back to sleep, just rested, thinking. 

It would be a long time before the three of you were okay. Physically, maybe a few weeks, but mentally, you would never be the same.

 Fear would creep up on you from seemingly unimportant things, you’d find yourself looking over your shoulder, unwilling to be alone. 

You would have scars to last you years, and you would never be the same person that you had been before this happened. 

But, cuddled close to Hoshi and Gonta, you could have hope. Hope that someday, you’d be alright, all of you would. Maybe no overnight, maybe not soon, but one day, this would only be your past. 

[propertyofnikkisthighs]

Sure Feels Right Ch. 8

Taglist: @hllywdwhre, @xxkellsvixen19xx, @desdestiny, @lain-ee, @crystalbaby12, @lovemythsworld, @hxllywood-whxre

Warnings: Angst, Drug use

2019

“No Colson I’m not firing my assistant because Rook expressed his feelings before you did” Ash crossed her arms over her chest. She was pissed to have been woken up at 1 a.m. in the first place and her annoyance was growing with every word that came out of Colson’s mouth.

“Fuck them both” Colson ranted pacing her hotel room. “Rook’s replaceable just like she is”

“Oh shut the fuck up Colson.” Ash rolled her eyes “You’re drunk and angry, but you don’t mean that.”

“Yes I do. They’re all replaceable, I don’t need anybody but my damn self.” Colson was seething with anger. Ash could practically see him steaming.

“So I’m fucking replaceable too? Slim’s replaceable? Do you hear how stupid you sound?” She was raising her voice at him and sober Colson would have known better than to push it, but this was drunk and angry Colson and he was dumb.

“You start fucking my band members then you are fucking replaceable. She was just getting close to me to fuck me over just like everybody else does. That’s why I can’t trust anybody.”

“She wasn’t fucking using you!” Ash yelled. “She got a fucking tattoo with YOUR symbols about YOUR band for YOU!”

“She fucking chose Rook!” Colson screamed back at her. They were both red faced and staring each other down. Colson sat on the edge of one of the beds and put his face in his hands.

“She kissed a guy, you’ve never minded it before. She fucked Doug and you were cool with that. You fuck other girls all the time, why is it now such a big deal?” Ash sat next to him and rubbed his arm. She had a point and he knew it, but expressing why he was so hurt wasn’t easy.

“What if she stops wanting anything to do with me now that she has Rook?” It came out much more quiet than he intended. He hated feeling vulnerable, but luckily Ash was someone he could be that way around. Well Lux had been too.

“Colson, she has HAD Rook. She has had the both of you this whole time, she loves you both, and you both love her. Stop being insecure and stop being an asshole.” Ash lightly pushed him up and into his room shutting the door between them and locking it.

He didn’t want to be alone with his thoughts tonight. He couldn’t be when that meant facing the consequences of his actions and replaying the hurt on Lux’s face. Sure he could text any of the girls that were at the party to come distract him, he could smoke until his brain was hazy, he could drink until he couldn’t see straight anymore, or he could use what was in the tiny ziplock bag in his pocket to help drown out the thoughts. He sat on his bed and pulled the small bag out examining it. The white powdery contents screaming at him to use. The urge to self destruct stronger than any other urge he has felt recently. He closed his eyes, was it worth it? He heard the sound of the room next door opening and shutting signifying Lux must be back at their hotel room. He tore his eyes away from the shared door between the rooms and focused back on the baggie in his hand. This wouldn’t chose his drummer over him. He poured some of the powder on the small side table and grabbed a hotel key to create a small line.

Ash had told Lux she didn’t have to go back home as she was Ash’s assistant and not his, but Lux was sort of regretting her decision to stay. She avoided all the boys as much as possible, especially Colson. She would only speak to him if needed to in order to relay a message that was business related and she would leave a room if he entered and she wasn’t required to be in there. When the boys set up for shows she didn’t stay backstage to keep company with conversation anymore. She would no longer stand side stage before and after the shows to watch them, to feel the kick drum in her chest, instead she hung around the merch tables or went back to the bus. It seemed all she did now was sleep and if she wasn’t sleeping she was crying and isolating herself. She kept herself holed up in her bunk letting silent tears fall from her eyes onto the pillow beneath her. Rook tried to check on her, but she just pushed him away for the sake of his relationship with Colson.

She heard a loud noise and jumped seeing that Ash had slammed a plate with a bagel on it down in front of her.

“Eat. Now.” Ash demanded.

“Oh no I’m okay, I’m not hungry.” Lux gave a tight lipped smile hoping it was convincing enough.

“I haven’t seen you eat anything in like two days” Ash kneeled in front of Lux and took her hands into her own. “Please you need food.”

“I eat” Lux avoided eye contact. “It’s just usually while you’re at the venues to avoid running into anyone”

“Bullshit” Ash replied sadly. “You’re just as bad as Colson with this self destructive bullshit.”

Lux winced at the mention of his name. She wished she could ask how he was doing, he looked rough honestly, but he wanted her out of his life so she abided by his wishes. She missed him so much it hurt and every time she caught a glance at her tattoo it was as if she was being stabbed a thousand times.

“I’ll eat it see.” Lux took a bite of the bagel and chewed slowly to fight off the wave of nausea that now overcame her every time she tried to eat. She swallowed harshly and smiled at Ash again hoping that the smile would appease her. Seemingly convinced Ash walked back to the back of the bus where the boys were playing video games. Lux waited until she was sure Ash wouldn’t walk out and ran to the trash can to dump the rest of the bagel in there. She quietly made her way to her bunk where she figured she wouldn’t be bothered. She placed her headphones in her ears and laid down waiting for sleep to overcome her. The tour would be over in a week so she just had to make it till then. Seven days and she would be home free, and able to look for a new job. That last thought had the tears cascading down her cheeks.

Colson could hear Ash telling Lux she needed to eat from his position in the bathroom and he frowned. He shouldn’t care that she wasn’t eating since she clearly no longer cared for him. She was avoiding him, she would leave rooms he was in, and she wouldn’t even look him in the eyes anymore. To make matters worse when she was forced to speak to him she had reverted back to calling him “Kells” like when she first got hired. He looked at the substance on the sink in front of him, he guessed he wasn’t fairing much better than she was doing. He had it under control though, he wasn’t binging at all and he would stop when the tour was over since he could relax then. He leaned down and quickly snorted up the line from the sink. He heard the faint sound of the trash can lid and Lux’s retreating footsteps. He slowly opened the door and tiptoed to the trash can to see the full bagel with just a bite missing from it in the trash can. Fuck.

“What are we gonna do?” Ash asked after locking the door to the back area where the boys, minus Colson, sat.

“I don’t know dude. Lux isn’t eating and Colson is using again and thinking he’s slick about it.” Rook sighed.

“They are such idiots. They need to talk and clear the air.” Ash gestured with her hands wildly.

“Can’t we just do a two for one intervention?” Slim tried joking.

“No they’re both stubborn assholes” Ash chuckled humorlessly. “They need to be forced into reconciling, but think it was their own idea.”

“I think I may have an idea, but it’s really dumb and cliche” Rook said nervously rubbing the back of his neck.

“Well I got nothing so shoot” Ash groaned.

“We need to get them locked in a room together, somewhere they would least expect to be locked in together. Like a sound booth or something.” He replied nervously.

“Okay I actually like this idea” Slim laughed and Ash nodded.

“We get them in there together, rig the door, and don’t let them out till they sort out their shit. Or until the show needs to start.” Rook smiled triumphantly.

“Hey Colson this cute girl in the sound booth just keeps going on and on about how she’s a fan and would love to meet you.” Slim clapped Colson on the shoulder passing him.

“Really? Well shit let me go say hi” Colson waggled his brows and headed to the sound booth. He walked in shutting the door behind him and saw a head of long dark hair in one of the swivel chairs. Throwing on his best flirty voice he leaned against the door.

“Hey I heard you were a fan” The chair suddenly turned around and he caught sight of who was really in there. Fuck, Lux. Abort mission.

“Uh sorry Ash told me to meet her in here to go over some things for the show.” Lux shuffled nervously.

“Yeah uh slim said...uh nevermind” Colson went to open the door and found it wouldn’t budge.

“Let me try?” Lux asked nervously before trying to pry the door open as well, but again it wouldn’t budge.

“Fucking great! I’ll text Ash” Colson groaned pulling his phone out and flopping on the couch.

“Already on it.” Lux sighed tapping on her phone. An uneasy silence fell between them as neither wanted to really acknowledge the elephant in the room.

Colson was on a come down and was feeling extra antsy. He bounced his leg as he waited for someone to come free them from this makeshift prison. Lux sat back in the rolling chair and held her head in her hands.

“Um are you good dude?” Colson asked concern dripping from his voice.

“Yeah, just a bit faint.” Lux replied not lifting her head.

“Yeah, well, that happens when you don’t fucking eat.” Colson scoffed.

“We’re gonna do this right now?” Lux finally lifted her head to fix him with an angry glare.

“All I’m saying is maybe if you ate more than a bite off a bagel then you wouldn’t ‘feel faint’ right now” He threw his hands up defensively.

“Yeah well maybe if you weren’t doing coke again you would be less of an asshole!” Lux snapped. Colson froze and stared at her with wide shocked eyes. “I’m not a fucking idiot I know when you’re using again”

“And here I was thinking you were too busy with Rook to notice anything about me” Colson rolled his eyes.

“Oh fuck you Colson!” Lux yelled suddenly standing up.

“Fuck me? You were the one with your tongue down my drummer’s throat after weeks of us-”

“Of us what? Cuddling? Being ourselves? We’ve always done that. You making out with a girl at that very party you fucking hypocrit” Lux continued ranting irate.

“I know that Lux! I just saw you and Rook and I freaked out okay!” Colson began yelling back.

“Why the fuck would you freak out?” Lux could feel her face heating in anger.

“Because I love you dammit! I love you and I don’t want our relationship to change and we can’t be us if you’re dating Rook” Colson yelled exasperrated.

“You love me?” Lux asked voice suddenly at a normal volume.

“Didn’t I just fucking say I was?” She walked up to where he sat.

“You love me.” She stated and he looked up at her making direct eye contact for the first time since that night.

“Yes I love you-” Lux cut him off crashing her lips to his and cupping his face in her hands. The kiss was quick, but it lit a fire in both of their bodies.

“I love you too you big dummy” Lux laughed.

“You love me?” Colson searched for any hesitation in her eyes.

“I’ve loved you for a long time Colson Baker” Lux said stroking his cheek with her thumb. Colson leaned up and pressed their lips together again loving the feeling he got from the small action. He had a realization and pulled away.

“But you love Rook too don’t you?” He stroked her cheek with his own thumb. Lux nodded sadly and braced herself for another freak out.

“I don’t like my life without you in it.” He let a shaky breath out. “So I’m willing to try to figure this all out”

“Thank you” Lux leaned her face into his hand and Colson pulled her back down to kiss her again. Lux sighed into his mouth and he pulled her down more trying to deepen the kiss when the door flung open.

“Oh good I see you two made up” Ash said smirking at the two of them now red in the face with embarrassment.

[taexual]

HOLIC - 25 | jb x reader

pairing: Im Jaebum x Reader

genre: enemies to lovers au | roommate au

warnings: some domestic life with jaebum (and this is surprisingly long)

words: 7.2k

disclaimer: i do not own the gif, please let me know if it belongs to you, so i can give proper credit

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Your alarm clock had rung like it did every morning but, for some weird reason, this time, the sound was coming from the wrong direction – even your sleepy mind could fathom that. It took a lot of groaning and a lot of sporadic shuffling for you to realize that your phone was at the far edge of the bed, wrapped tightly in the blanket that you must have thrown off of yourself at night because you were too warm.

As you reached for it to turn it off, you ended up stumbling over someone’s leg and yelping in surprise before the events of last night returned to your mind within the next few moments. At first, all you could remember was that you’d fallen asleep very late. So late, in fact, that once the clock on your phone passed midnight, you started to fear to check the time because you knew you’d have to be up early tomorrow. Somehow, you just couldn’t bring yourself to get up and leave Jaebum’s room.

And, judging by the fact that you were sitting – dizzy and a little hazy – on his bed, apparently, you hadn’t bothered to leave at all in the end. Jaebum was laying on the other side of the bed, his eyelashes fluttering every now and then, his fingers tapping lightly against the pillow next to his face – he was awake. Undoubtedly so, because a second later, he opened his eyes.

For a good minute, the two of you just watched each other, your minds completely blank. You weren’t sure what you were expecting him to say – if anything – but you knew that no matter what he chose to say next, the fact still remained: you’d fallen asleep in his bed last night. Again.

“Uhh…” you were the one who opened your mouth first in the end. “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I was in here for so long, I fell asleep—”

Jaebum chuckled, the surprising sound cutting you off. He had closed his eyes again – you didn’t blame him, six in the morning was far too early to have your eyes opened – but the smirk on his lips remained.

“You just can’t leave my bed,” he said, his groggy morning voice laced with teasing, “even if I built yours.”

Suddenly glad that he wasn’t looking at you, you smiled and shook your head. It was too early to come up with a good comeback and, truth be told, you probably wouldn’t have had what to reply with either way. It was just refreshing to hear how completely unfazed by this he seemed to be.

Still grinning to yourself – and, consequently, not realizing that Jaebum had opened his eyes as soon as he heard you shuffle on the bed again – you gathered yourself to your feet and quietly tip-toed out of the room. Despite wanting to stay here longer – not even touching him, but sharing the space of his bed with him – you also had to get ready for work and no matter how appealing calling in sick sounded, you hadn’t done that when you felt unprepared to deal with Jiho, so that meant you weren’t going to do that now, either.

All was well in your apartment. You didn’t want to take it for granted or, worse, ruin it by overstaying your welcome in Jaebum’s room.

After a brisk shower and a quick breakfast, you located your purse and your car keys and prepared to head out, stopping for a moment outside of Jaebum’s bedroom. His door was open and you could see him sleeping in the exact same position that you’d left him in. He had the whole bed to himself now and he was still sleeping on the left side as if he’d left the right side vacant on purpose. As if he was waiting for you to sneak back in.

Inhaling sharply to hopefully ease the sudden surge of violent butterflies inside of your stomach, you turned around and, still smiling, exited your apartment.

Your slightly wet hair flowing in the cold wind outside didn’t worry you as much as it probably should have because the irresistible urge to chuckle every time you recalled bits of conversation that you’ve had with Jaebum last night was keeping you warm. You were sure that as long as you kept thinking about last night and hoping for many more nights like this in the future, you were going to survive the coldest winters with minimal heating needed.

At this point, there was no denying it: you had feelings for Jaebum. Strong ones, too. Frustrating, as well, because you weren’t sure what you were supposed to do with yourself. And confusing, on top of everything, because you didn’t know what Jaebum was feeling – you could have guessed but guessing meant raising your hopes.

Funnily enough, it’s been days since you and Jaebum had the fight that had opened your eyes – and your hearts, too – and you still haven’t properly discussed what either of you has said. On the one hand, that was good – now you knew you might have exhibited some Suji-like traits and you could work on that. There was no point talking about it when you and him seemed to be getting along much better now. But, on the other hand, you knew that he’d said many things that required explanations – you just weren’t sure how you were going to continue to live if the explanations you received didn’t live up to the expectations you’d grown to have.

You focused on actually doing your job today and it seemed to work this time – you didn’t get distracted –  until, during your lunch break – which you deliberately took after two o’clock – you decided to listen to Jaebum’s radio show in hopes that he’d dare to finally play his own song but, of course, that didn’t happen.

Honestly, Jaebum would have probably texted you if he decided to play his song on air – or, at least, you hoped he would – but it wouldn’t have been surprising if he just played it without warning anyone, knowing how bashful he got whenever he had to speak about his music. It was admirable in an almost annoying way because, honestly, there was nothing he should have been embarrassed about. Unless it was about his immense talent, anyway.

You didn’t hear Jaebum’s song today but you did get to listen to his voice as he talked to his listeners and, somehow, that seemed to lift your mood even more. That was why, when Hyojin texted you to get some coffee after work – you and her used to host “productive” coffee sessions when you were both in college, where you’d get together to edit pictures (in your case) or toy around on Polyvore (in Hyojin’s) – you agreed without hesitation.

Although, normally, you felt like going home and not seeing anyone after you finished work, right now you were feeling just upbeat enough to interact with others. You were in the kind of mood where you wanted to go out and conquer the world but, at the same time, you wouldn’t have felt bad about not achieving much today because you knew that, at the end of the day, when you’d return home, Jaebum would be there.

Back in the day – a week ago, really – you used to dread going home because you knew you’d get into an argument with your roommate, but now, just the thought of getting to see him later tonight kept your spirits soaring the whole day. It was a nice change; you welcomed it with open arms.

Hyojin noticed your great mood almost immediately after you walked through the door of the café and saw her waving at your from the table at the back.

“You are glowing,” she declared, a smirk on her lips. “Dare I guess the reason why you’re looking so wonderful today?”

“No need, I can tell you myself,” you replied, giving her a quick hug hello and then sitting opposite her by the table. “I got a good night's sleep, tried a new—delicious—brand of cereal that I’d gotten on sale last week and ended up being pleasantly surprised by the taste, and there were no screaming crowds of children on tour at the gallery today. It’s been a… a decent day.”

“Hmm,” Hyojin was still smirking. “And that’s it?”

You shrugged your shoulders. “Yeah.”

“How’s the roommate?”

Of course she wasn’t going to let you play around and pretend Jaebum didn’t have any influence on your—almost uncharacteristically—good mood. You sighed, giving in.

“He’s great,” you replied, watching Hyojin’s smile spread. “We talked a lot last night. It was nice. Didn’t even feel real, to be honest.”

“How come?” she asked.

“I don’t know, we’ve only talked to each other – and I don’t mean those shallow conversations about who’s doing the grocery shopping; oh, speaking of, I have to get that done later. Remind me, will you? – after we’ve had some pretty big fights,” you replied, trying not to get too side-tracked. “So, this felt like slipping into some sort of a parallel universe where Jaebum and I were the kind of people who got together after work to talk about their day and eat pizza.”

“That doesn’t seem too far-fetched in this universe, either,” Hyojin replied. “You and him have hung out in the past, haven’t you?”

“Well, yeah, but that was only because we’ve—”

“No, no,” she cut you off, “the ‘because’ doesn’t matter. The fact matters and the fact is, you and him have enjoyed spending time with each other long before you began to do it purposefully. I can’t stand the sight of Jacob after we fight,” she continued, mentioning her boyfriend and grimacing at the memory of their latest argument. “We both need a lot of time to cool off and get back to our previous activities – and even then, we’re still wary of each other – so, in this case, you and Jaebum might be more mature than us when it comes to resolving your arguments.”

“Yeah, well, you know,” you said, “we’ve had a lot of practice.”

Hyojin laughed. “Maybe. But still.”

You didn’t reply – too busy getting your laptop out of your bag so you could actually start being productive – and Hyojin hesitated before continuing because she was afraid the question that she’d been itching to ask was going to provoke a negative reaction out of you. A moment later, she finally dared to clear her throat.

“You know… Kiera only briefed May and me on the fight that you’ve had with Jaebum,” she said slowly, gauging your reaction. Your face remained stoic. “And we’d assumed you had made up because you’re still living there and everything, and I was just curious… you don’t have to tell me how you resolved all of that if you don’t want to, though.”

“It’s, uh…” you looked around the café as if someone overhearing what you’d say next was a matter of national security. “It’s not really resolved. We just moved past it like we usually do. We both apologized this time, though, which, I think, is an improvement.”

“An improvement,” Hyojin repeated. “And towards what? What’s the end goal here?”

“Growth into adults, I’m hoping,” you said. “Adults who can live in each other’s space without it being a problem. Without fighting. Uh, without frequent fighting.”

Your friend smiled watching the nonchalant way you toyed with the napkin you’d picked up from the table. Hyojin was only giving you the benefit of the doubt because she wanted to hear you out – truth be told, she already knew all the answers to her questions.

“And that’s it?” she asked then, adamant to get you to admit your true intentions – even though she’d already seen right through you. “Because, you know, an improvement of friendship usually means—”

“There wasn’t a friendship,” you cut her off, putting the napkin down and sighing. “I—I know what you want to hear but I’m serious. There was nothing. Jaebum and I—we thought we kind of bonded through texts but we knew virtually nothing about each other when we moved in. I mean, wow, I didn’t even know he was a guy. What kind of friendship could we even talk about?”

“Well, people are not friends with a gender. They’re friends with a person.”

“No, of course,” you nodded, “I just mean—it’s an important part of his life and I knew nothing about it. Or his name, for example, which I also did not know and did not bother to ask. Honestly, when I look back at it, I’m kind of surprised you even let me go through with this. I could have moved in with a serial killer.”

“We did tell you that, though! But you—,” Hyojin said, reaching out to put her hand over yours, “—you were so convinced you were moving in with your new best friend, we didn’t even dare to intervene too much. Kiera was actually kind of jealous but she was willing to see how this played out.”

Out of your group of friends, you and Kiera were the closest – that wasn’t a secret to anyone – and yet you had no idea you were making her jealous by boasting about how excited you were to move in with your roommate. You’d known Kiera for so long, nothing was ever going to replace your bond with her, but you still felt awful for not realizing what she might have been feeling.

“If only Kiera knew that she had nothing to worry about,” Hyojin added, “because you didn’t end up moving in with your best friend. You might have moved in with your soulm—”

“Okay, no,” you cut her off mid-word, almost afraid that she’d jinx everything if she finished her sentence. “L-let’s not go there. What I was saying is that, I thought my future roommate and I had become friends – and we have, honestly – but then all of that flipped upside down when I found out that my roommate is actually the same guy I’d slept with the night before moving.”

“Oh, that’s right!” Hyojin released your hand because the waitress had approached your table, bringing you both the coffees that your friend had ordered before you got here. “I keep forgetting that part. Honestly, in my opinion, that just proves that you and him were meant to be. If you hadn’t met him that night at the bar, you would have still met him after you moved in. And if you hadn’t decided to blindly move in with someone, you’d have still slept with him. You see what I’m saying? You two are destined.”

Your face was suddenly warm and you tried to hide your clearly flustered state by taking a sip of your coffee.

“We’re trying to be friends,” you said after – the drink was too bitter, you couldn’t hide your traitor smile behind a cup until you put enough sugar inside of it, “all over again. It’s surprisingly difficult in real life.”

“I’m not one of the people who believe that boys and girls can’t be just platonic friends,” Hyojin said. “But I genuinely don’t think it should be this hard to be friends with someone. Maybe there was always something else there. From the first moment you saw each other.”

“Yeah. Anger.”

“No, not that,” she disagreed. “I mean, obviously, you’re both attracted to each other – otherwise you wouldn’t have slept together – but, maybe, after you both had enough time to realize how much stuff the two of you had in common, this little spark just… lit up. And, knowing how stubborn you are about certain things, I can assume that Jaebum is the same way, which means that this spark ignited a different kind of fire than it would for most people and this fire burned inside of you both. You argued instead of acting on your real feelings.”

“Hmm,” you hummed, permanently confused why Hyojin studied Fashion instead of choosing Psychology. You tried your coffee again and then continued, “alright. So be it. We’re working on putting that fire out now.”

“The spark will still be there, though. Maybe that spark was exactly the reason why you fought so much – you were so angry about not knowing what to do with it,” Hyojin hypothesized, smirking now. “Hopefully, this time, the fire will light up at the right moment and in the right way. And, hopefully, this time, you’ll know how to deal with it.”

You shook your head, trying to control the stupid grin that was threatening to spread across your face. Hyojin could read through your emotions, however – and not just because they were all clear in your eyes – and she had to admit, seeing you like this made her happy. Perhaps all of this fighting was worth it in the end – it meant that you and Jaebum had finally learned how much you meant to each other, platonically or not.

After you and Hyojin finally finished chit-chatting – and your first cups of coffee – you finally got your laptop out and actually began to work. At first, you didn’t feel comfortable enough to edit the pictures you took at Jackson’s studio while you were in such a public space – somehow, you felt like you could only look at the shots of Jaebum in a very private environment, and the back of a café didn’t cut it – but, eventually, after clearing your throat a hundred times in an attempt to fight your own awkwardness off, you dared to open the photographs on Photoshop.

Normally, you’d look at a picture and immediately know what you had to do – whether it’s lowering the saturation or adjusting the general coloring – but as soon as you saw the first picture that showed a part of Jaebum – the left side of him, to be exact, since that’s the hand he used to write something down on a notebook in his lap when you started to photograph – you were suddenly breathless and at a complete loss of direction.

The picture didn’t need editing. You couldn’t come up with a single thing to do to make it better. Jaebum looked natural, he made the background blur just by being in the shot, and, most importantly, he looked beautiful. For the first time in your life, you stared at a picture in disbelief – trying to decide if you loved every single thing about it because Jaebum was in it, or because you’d actually, finally taken a picture that was genuinely flawless in your eyes.

Suddenly, as you went through the other pictures, following Jaebum’s movements, you understood why Jiho chose to photograph people. It wasn’t just the dynamics that captured the eye – buildings that you loved to photograph so much never made your heart skip a beat when they accidentally glanced at the camera – it was the emotion behind it. You didn’t have to edit the pictures not just because you found every part of Jaebum too beautiful to alter, but also because he was the emotion inside of the picture that you’d looked for.

You’ve photographed the nature for years. The city skylines at night. The forests in winter. The grass after rain. And, all this time, you spent hours editing those pictures until they started to speak to you. Until they showed the emotion you’d been trying to capture.

And Jaebum did all of that – and more; God, he made you feel the emotions that you didn’t even realize were there when you looked at the pictures – by simply allowing you to photograph parts of him while he did what he loved to do the most – worked on his music. You had a feeling the end result would have been similar if you’d photographed other people too because, maybe, the reason why you were so overwhelmed with the lack of editing needed, was because you just weren’t used to photographing actual people. But, at the same time, there was something special about Jaebum specifically; there was something inside of those pictures that was exclusive to him only. You couldn’t name what it was, though.

“Are you actually doing something,” Hyojin said, interrupting your thoughts, “or just staring at your laptop screen? Because I’m almost done editing and I haven’t heard you click your mouse for the past thirty minutes.”

“Yeah, uh—” you cleared your throat again, closing the fifteenth picture of Jaebum that you had opened. “I’m working. There’s not much—not a lot of stuff for me to do. I’m kind of here to keep you company, at this point.”

“Oh. Well, that’s very nice of you,” she said, a hint of teasing in her voice. “Refill?”

You glanced at her over your laptop, noticing her empty cup of coffee.

“Actually—”

Your phone buzzed loudly against the glass table, startling you and cutting you off. You’d expected it to be a text but as you moved your laptop to a side to pick your phone up, it buzzed again, indicating a phone call.

Jaebum’s name greeted you on your screen.

“Sorry,” you said to Hyojin quickly. “It’s Jaebum.”

She just smiled widely in response and nodded her head, allowing you to take the call. You didn’t know why your hands started to shake when you saw the caller’s ID, but you barely managed to press “answer.”

“Yeah?” you spoke, trying to keep your voice neutral. Excitement; that was the reason for your hands seemingly starting to vibrate just like your phone had.

“Hey,” Jaebum greeted you, his voice affecting you the same way it always did – thank God you were sitting down. “Where are you?”

“At a café with Hyojin, we’ve been trying to get some work done,” you replied, glancing at your friend when you mentioned her name. “What’s up?”

“Oh, am I disturbing?” he asked and you almost considered pinching yourself to make sure this was really happening: you were on the phone with your roommate, having a civilized conversation after he’d clearly called you about something important but was willing to put it off because you might have been busy.

“No, not really,” you replied slowly. “I was—I wasn’t doing much, anyway. Procrastinating, I guess.”

By staring at pictures of you, you wanted to add but resisted.

“Okay,” he said and then stayed quiet for the next few moments, “I just got home a little while ago. I got the groceries, so don’t worry about that. Or about starving.”

You smiled despite yourself. “I was supposed to do that.”

“It’s okay. There’s, uh, something else you could help me do instead,” Jaebum said.

You were surprised—but intrigued, obviously—to hear this. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, uh, since we’re such mature household heads,” he said, “I’m going to need you to help me out with the laundry.”

If you weren’t so taken aback by this request, you would have laughed. Everything already seemed bizarre enough – since you still weren’t used to the fact that, apparently, you and Jaebum now called each other – and now you were genuinely planning to help your roommate do the laundry.

“We, um—the—I haven’t—alright. Yeah,” you stumbled around before finally deciding to just agree. You weren’t sure why you were fishing for an excuse anyway. “Right now?”

“Ideally, yeah,” Jaebum replied, his voice almost sheepish. You swore your heart was racing even before you noticed the needy undertones in his words. “But I don’t want you to bail on your friend because of me, so—”

“No, no,” you cut him off, feeling Hyojin’s eyes on you. She wasn’t even trying to hold back her teasing smile. “She won’t mind, I’m sure.”

“Great, then.”

“I should be home in ten minutes,” you said and then, after glancing out of the window, changed your mind, “fifteen maybe. It’s raining.”

“Alright,” Jaebum replied. “I’ll wait for you.”

Almost shivering, you hummed in response and then hung up the call, taking an extra moment to get yourself together before you dared to look up at Hyojin again. She enjoyed every single emotion that passed on your face.

“So, uh—”

“You have to run?” your friend guessed, thoroughly entertained by how easy it was for her to get you flustered. “A roommate emergency?”

“Actually, yes,” you replied. “He, um, asked for my assistance with the laundry.”

Hyojin raised her eyebrows before repeating it with a shit-eating grin, “the laundry.”

“Mmhm,” you nodded, closing your laptop. “Not sure how that’s going to go, either. Hopefully, we won’t end up drowning each other since we’ve never really done anything as domestic—I guess—as that before. Is it alright if I go?”

“Of course!” Hyojin said. “Go ahead. I’ll get another refill and then I’ll be off, too.”

“Really? I’m—”

“Oh, don’t you dare apologize.”

“Well, you’re smirking like you’re not being fully honest with me—”

She laughed. “Perceptive! Alright, I just didn’t know you and Jaebum were that far ahead in your friendship.”

You frowned and stopped packing your things to give her a confused look. “What do you mean?”

“Well, for one, he just called you instead of texting,” Hyojin explained. “And what’s more, he’s literally asking you to come home to help with laundry. Are you sure you’re not working on your life as an old, married couple instead?”

“Ha ha,” you replied dryly and swung your handbag over your shoulder. “I’m heading out and I feel less bad about leaving you here now because you will never stop teasing me.”

“That’s right, it is my duty as your friend and I’m set on serving it for as long as I live,” she replied, responding to your quick hug and then laughing after she heard you groan. “Bye. Have fun doing… laundry.”

“Bye, Hyojin.”

You realized you had to get used to being civil with Jaebum – well as civil as it was possible to get when he groaned, “finally” and then followed up with, “thank you for not changing your mind on me” right after you returned home – instead of getting surprised by every decent thing he said and did. He was a person and his previous determination to make your life hell had just been one of his charms; it wasn’t a part of his actual personality.

But, as you headed to the bathroom and watched him eye the washing machine suspiciously – how was it that, in over a month of living here, Jaebum hadn’t used it once? – you realized that you and him were about to reach a new level of bonding.

“I have plenty of clothes to last me over a month,” he explained, “and, back in my old apartment, there was a laundromat on the first floor with overly specific instructions on how to do everything. I mean, they even listed tips on how to get your clothes out of the machine properly.”

“Huh,” you mumbled, wondering what kind of apartment he’d lived in before. “I didn’t realize there was a wrong way to get clothes out of a washing machine.”

“Oh, you’d be surprised what the society expects from you.”

“Right. Well, we’ll do it my way,” you warned him. “And doing it my way means stuffing your clothes in the machine, putting the detergent and the fabric softener in there, and hoping for the best.”

Jaebum smiled, shrugging his shoulders. “That sounds better than buying new clothes every day.”

You snickered, turning around and heading for your own bedroom. You still didn’t own a closet and your clothes were very much still in many different boxes – one of which was now dedicated to the clothes you had to wash – but, somehow, you’ve gotten used to it and only when you and Jaebum stopped outside of your bedroom, eyeing the various t-shirts that were laying on your floor, did you realize that perhaps living out of boxes wasn’t entirely perfect.

“Alright,” you said, ignoring your messy floor. “Let me gather my stuff that needs washing and then we can separate our clothes by color, yeah?”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Jaebum nodded and then, after you entered your room, you heard him chuckle. “It’s an achievement of sorts, isn’t it?”

“What is?” you asked, shooting him a quick, confused look.

“This,” Jaebum gestured at you and then waved his hand in the direction of the bathroom. “Us doing laundry together.”

You smiled – your face was suddenly very warm – and looked away from him. “Yeah. It’s nice to know that, at least, if we get into an argument about which fabric softener to use, it probably won’t be so bad that one of us will decide to move out.”

“Oh, don’t be so quick,” he warned, “I’m very particular about the way my clothes feel against my skin.”

“So, do you have a preferred brand?”

“No, I just use whatever and hope for the best,” he replied, smirking. “Kind of like you.”

“Okay. It’s great that you’re trusting me to teach you how to do this,” you told him, leaning down to pick up your clothes from a box nearby, “but now I’m starting to feel like we’re in a bit of a “blind leading the blind” situation.”

“Oh, come on,” Jaebum waved his hand dismissively. “You’ve done this before all by yourself without any instructions and overprotective girlfriends breathing down your neck. I trust you.”

You swallowed heavily at the sudden mention of Suji, pausing in hopes of finding what to say so you wouldn’t make this awkward and, consequently, making it awkward by not responding.

“She, uh… Did she never actually teach you how to do it yourself?” you asked slowly.

You weren’t expecting him to reply but he took a breath and then shook his head.

“No. She wasn’t in it to teach me,” he said. “She was in it to do it for me.”

“Right,” you said, feeling on edge whenever you had to talk about Suji – although you knew that you should have probably gotten used to it. She’d been a part of Jaebum’s life, conversations about her were almost inevitable. It was just so much easier to pretend she never existed. “Well, today is the day you learn. We’ll have to do laundry twice if you have a lot of clothes that aren’t black, since most of mine are and—”

“No, no, almost all of mine is black as well,” Jaebum replied, bringing out a basket – that you weren’t aware you owned – full of his clothes from where he’d left it in the hallway outside of his bedroom. “Do you think we can do it all in one go?”

“Yeah if you don’t mind washing your clothes with mine.”

He scoffed. “I think we’re close enough to wash our clothes together.”

You tried to hide your smile. “You think so? Sharing detergent is a big commitment.”

“I think we’re ready.”

Laughing – and then turning away from him as soon as you saw his smile widen in response – you brought your clothes over to the kitchen counter to double-check the tags and then instructed Jaebum to check if any of the clothes he needed washing actually needed dry-cleaning. You didn’t want the first time you did laundry with him to turn into a disaster after you’d accidentally ruin his favorite sweater or something.

Preparing to do laundry took a while and doing it took even longer – who could have thought Jaebum would find it so crucial to differentiate cotton from synthetic material vaguely resembling cotton – and, by the time you’d finally started the washing machine, it was already dark outside and both of you found yourselves eating the first things you saw in the kitchen for dinner as you waited for the machine to do its’ job.

“Sorry if I made you starve,” Jaebum mumbled, finishing his sandwich. “You should have gotten some food before we—”

“No, it’s fine. I wasn’t hungry when I got home,” you replied, giving him a reassuring smile. It was heartwarming to hear the concern in his voice but you had almost completely forgotten about any kind of food as soon as he called you, asking for your help even if it was help with something as minimal as laundry. The effect he had on you really shocked you sometimes. “The croissant I had for lunch was surprisingly filling.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “You shouldn’t eat croissants for lunch.”

“There’s not much else I can eat,” you shrugged your shoulders. “The gallery might be as modern as it gets, but it doesn’t offer any restaurant services yet.”

“You could pre-cook some food and bring it with you,” he said. “I do that when I know I won’t have time to go out for lunch. I-I could do that for you as well if you’d like.”

“You’d do that?” you asked quietly, your eyebrows rising.

“Sure, it’s not hard,” he replied, obviously trying to play it off. “I mean, I’d be cooking for myself anyway.”

“Thank you,” you said, watching him but only because his eyes weren’t on you. It was a weirdly intimate moment that neither of you was ready for and you could feel the electricity buzzing between you. Eye contact would have turned that electricity into fire in a heartbeat.

“No problem,” he said, his tone as light as always but you saw the shaky way he exhaled when he stood up to put his plate in the sink. “Oh, Jackson called today, by the way. He was asking about you.”

You perked up. “He was?”

“Yeah, he’s wondering about those pictures,” Jaebum explained, turning around to face you and leaning against the kitchen counter with his hips, his palms flat against the granite countertop on either side of him. “I told him to give you some time but he’s of the impatient kind, so don’t be surprised if he finds a way to get your phone number and calls you.”

“Oh,” you mumbled, bringing a napkin over your lips after you finished eating. This move also helped you cover up a smile that had appeared on your face when you remembered the pictures you’d taken. “I was actually working on the shots I took today.”

“Really? How are they?”

“They’re…” you started, hesitating momentarily, “they’re good. I’ll show them to you. But maybe not right now. I still need to, uh, get used to the pictures myself.”

“Oh, yeah, of course,” Jaebum nodded.

If anyone was going to understand your hesitation to show your art to others – it was going to be him because he was exactly the same way. Only, in your case, you needed more time to prepare to show him the pictures you’ve taken because you were afraid that your feelings for him would shine through every picture.

“Don’t let Jackson pressure you,” Jaebum added. “He’s excited – this was two of his worlds, photography and music, colliding – but he can wait until you’re ready.”

You nodded, still smiling, and looked down, thinking about your next words.

“He’s a good friend,” you finally said, talking slowly. “And he seems like a good person in general. He… doesn’t strike me as someone who’d lie just for the sake of maintaining a good relationship with someone.”

“He’s great,” Jaebum said, frowning lightly because he could not understand where you were going with this.

“Then why – if you don’t mind me asking – don’t you believe him when he says that your music is good?” you finished the question, noticing the way Jaebum’s eyes drifted away from yours as soon as the last word left your lips. “I mean, I’d get it if you wouldn’t believe me. I don’t have a musical background and I don’t know you that well but—”

“I believe you.”

“—he just—” you stopped suddenly. “Y-you do?”

Jaebum nodded. He took a deep breath and sat back down in his previous spot in front of you before continuing.

“I believe you and Jackson both,” he said. “At this point, it’s not that I think my music is bad. I think it could use some improvement but I’d like to believe that I’ll get there. I’ll reach a point where I’ll like everything -- or, at the very least, almost everything -- about the way it sounds. It’s just that I don’t know what to do with my music on top of everything. Playing it at my radio station – if we ignore how unfair that’d be for the other amateur singers – should be a step towards recognition, right? But what if it won’t be? What if I play it, and that’s where it ends? My career in music does not advance and this also brings an end to my inspiration. What if I won’t want to work on my music anymore because my first song will… flop?”

Hearing his concerns about this made your heart beat faster and your hands itch to touch him as reassuring words about how everything was going to be okay almost spilled from your lips.

“But what if it won’t flop?” you tried, your voice small as if you were afraid to say the wrong thing and have him close off again. There was a tiny gap in the protective wall inside of his chest leading right into his heart and you’d have done anything to keep it open. “What if you play it and that doesn’t become an end – it becomes a beginning?”

Jaebum considered this, nodding his head. Your approach was obviously a lot more optimistic than his and, once again, he found himself appreciating that you and him found ways to complete each other whenever you had different opinions about something. Jaebum was set on believing that he was going to fail – but he had you, right across from the kitchen counter, to tell him that not everything that seemed like an end was actually an end.

“I see people who want to become singers fade into the background,” he confessed and you lost yourself in the feelings that poured out of his chest through his words. “They send me countless songs. And then I play one of their songs on the radio. They send me a thank-you note. And then I don’t hear from them again. Anywhere. It doesn’t work out. Getting your song played on the radio does not guarantee you a career.”

“But is it a career that you want?” you asked. “Or is it being heard? Is it sharing your music with the world?”

“That’s the thing – I don’t know,” Jaebum admitted. “And I think it’d be awfully bold of me to say that I want all three.”

“I think it’d be ambitious,” you said. “And that is what I admired the most about you ever since I texted your ad all of those months ago.”

“I thought it was the cat I’d used as my profile picture.”

You laughed. “I admired that, too. But it’s your confidence about what you wanted in life that really pulled me in and even inspired me to be more certain about my own goals. At the end of the day, all you want to do is to create music. That’s your passion. Don’t let the fear of failure stop you from turning that passion into a living.”

Jaebum watched you for a moment before speaking again, “you’ve been a motivational speaker in your past life, haven’t you?”

You laughed again, shaking your head. “No. I’ve been a supportive friend. That’s what I’m trying to be in this life, too.”

It was—probably—very brave of you to call yourself his friend and you almost regretted it as soon as your eyes met his. Jaebum looked at you for a long while, this time, not saying anything and, thus, further fueling your regret.

“Thank you,” he finally spoke, his hand brushing lightly against yours on the counter between the two of you. “All of this means a lot to me.”

Hours later, you and Jaebum were crouched down on the floor of your bathroom, both of you watching the clock on the clothes dryer. You were leaning against the wall in the corner of the room, your eyes following digital numbers on the dryer in front of you while Jaebum rested against the wall next to you, his head halfway on your shoulder. It was already after midnight and, having had an early morning, both of you were too tired to care about how close the two of you were sitting to each other.

“Do you think it’ll take long for it to finish?” you asked, yawning for the sixth time in the past two minutes. “We should have moved into an apartment where the dryer actually showed how much time is left until the laundry’s done.”

Jaebum smiled – yawning a second later as well. “It probably always takes long, that’s why there’s no timer. You can go to sleep if you’re tired.”

“No,” you sighed, wanting to shake your head but stopping yourself before you did because you didn’t want to hit Jaebum who was leaning against you. “We still have to figure out the right way to get our clothes out of the dryer. To appease the society as one would.”

“Not sure if we’ll figure anything out if we both fall asleep while waiting for it to finish drying.”

“Sleeping on the bathroom floor,” you said. “Doesn’t sound so bad, to tell you the truth.”

Jaebum snickered quietly and then pulled away from your shoulder to give you a teasing look. “I’m sure sleeping in my bed is much more comfortable.”

You were sure he managed to catch the sight of your widening eyes before you looked away in embarrassment.

“Right,” you said, the sudden memory of falling asleep in Jaebum’s room last night – and the night before, after you’d confronted Suji – waking your mind right up. “Sorry I keep… falling asleep there.”

“I don’t blame you,” he smirked. “My bed is great. I guess I won that bet in the end, didn’t I?”

You scoffed. “No way. I would have built my bed faster if you hadn’t broken the frame.”

“Sure. But my bed is much more comfortable, so I’m the real winner,” he insisted.

“No, you’re not.”

“You wouldn’t have fallen asleep in my bed if it wasn’t more comfortable than yours.”

You didn’t say anything for a few moments before finally whispering, “I don’t think it’s about the bed.”

“No?” Jaebum asked, his eyes tracing the features of your face. You still weren’t looking at him so you didn’t notice the desperation hiding behind his gaze. You’ve just said something he’s been waiting to hear. He needed you to continue. “What’s it about, then?”

Too tired to filter your thoughts properly before you voiced them, you shook your head. You’ve already said enough. Now was not the time for pathetic confessions of love that may have not been reciprocated. No one deserved to get their hearts broken after midnight. It was the worst possible time.

“You know exactly what it’s about,” you chose to say.

Jaebum didn’t give in, “do I?”

“I think you do.”

“I’d like it if you said it.”

You laughed suddenly, your mind too tired to argue with him. “Get lost.”

It was so obvious what the two of you were talking about – you didn’t fall asleep in Jaebum’s bed because the bed was comfortable; you kept falling asleep there because he was there – and yet you were both too stubborn. You refused to voice the real reason why you found yourself in his bed and he refused to give up without hearing you say it out loud.

You were so close to something. So close, you could almost taste it on your lips after you nervously brought your tongue over them. You could almost feel it in the rapid beating of Jaebum’s heart when you moved your arm to find a more comfortable position and ended up positioning it right on his back.

You were so close but you weren’t there yet.

Jaebum responded to you with a tired chuckle and then, after slowly getting up from the floor, extended a hand for you. “Let’s go to sleep. We’ll get the clothes out tomorrow.”

“But they’ll be all wrinkled—”

“At least you’ll get a good night’s sleep,” he said, “so it won’t matter as much.”

You sighed, taking his hand and allowing him to help you stand up.

“So,” Jaebum said, his eyes glazed over with exhaustion, but his lips still curled into a teasing smirk. “My bed or yours?”

You pushed his shoulder, making him laugh again.

“Goodnight,” you said, walking past him towards your bedroom. Jaebum watched you go with the same smile still on his lips. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

 chapter directory

[emdythewriter]

Let me be your shield | chapter five (Elriel)

“Can you hand me the peonies?”

“Which ones are those?”

“The ones your about to step on!” Elain shrieked halting her bodyguard in his place as he turned to see the flowers that were dangerously close to his feet. They hadn’t taken as long as Azriel had expected at the store seeing as she already seemed to have an idea of what she wanted the garden to look like. He picked up the container of peonies and handed them to her, then moved away from the other plants she had yet to put in soil.

Azriel found an empty patch of grass that he chose to sit down in, watching Elain get her hands dirty. She looked blissfully happy, like she was blocking out the rest of the world and only focusing on the flowers she was making a home for. She looked like she had found something good in the darkness. His phone buzzed in the pocket of his jeans.

I need you to come to the office.

The text was from Rhys who sounded like he was trying to be professional. Something was wrong Az thought as he read the text once more before typing a response.

Everything okay?

I’m trying to save your ass so please listen to me for once.

I’m not Cassian.

Just get here.

I’ll leave now.

“Everything okay?” Elain asked having noticed his mood shift. All day Azriel had been smiling and laughing as she shopped and rambled about her passion. Now he was frowning and looking down at his phone, therefore she knew something had to be wrong.

“Rhys just needs me to come to the office,” her bodyguard said as he stood up, brushing the grass and dirt his jeans had collected from sitting on the ground.

“Right now?” Elain said getting up as well. She brushed the dirt from her hands onto her apron though there was still dirt on her face, which caused Azriel to smile.

“I won’t be long and you can just call if you need me,” he said before opening the back gate and heading for the SUV he kept parked out front. The office was towards the center of the city whereas the townhouse Elain lived in was on the outskirts. He knew it would be awhile before he was back and she probably did too, but neither had chosen to acknowledge the fact that he was lying.

The bad part about the distance between each location was that Azriel had plenty of time to think over what this could possibly be about. It could be as simple as Rhys wanting to catch up with his brother, but he highly doubted that. It could be as bad as him being reassigned to another sister’s detail, most likely Feyre if it was Rhys’s choice. Azriel hoped that wasn’t the option though, he didn’t want to say goodbye to Elain.

When he made it to the city there was an open spot right in front of the building, so he took it. Easily Azriel parked the SUV and then headed in through the rotating glass door. The elevator was just opening when he made it there, finding his fit in the crowd he pressed the button for the floor Rhys’s office was located on.

He didn’t bother knocking when he made it to the office, if Az ended up walking in on something it certainly wouldn’t be the first time. Luckily for him he only found Rhys and Cassian talking. The conversation halted immediately when his brothers noticed him in the doorway.

“Did you call me here just to chat?” Azriel asked as he entered the room and closed the door behind him. He took up the seat next to Cassian, one of the leather chairs Rhys had placed in front of his wooden desk that he currently sat behind. The office was nice, filled with bookcases on both sides and a giant open window behind the desk, the kind you see in movies. Feyre had definitely decorated the space.

“More like to lecture you,” Cassian said.

“Lecture me?” Azriel wasn’t aware that he had done anything to be lectured about.

“Lucien Vanserra came to my office this morning,” Rhys started causing Azriel to roll his eyes. He had a feeling he knew where this conversation was headed now. Lucien knew the three brothers personally, having all grown up and gone to the same boarding school together. They all tolerated each other but Lucien always had it out for Azriel for reasons still unknown.

“What does he want this time?” he asked leaning back in his chair and propping his feet out in front of him, getting comfortable.

“He said you’re getting too close to Elain,” Rhys said leaning back in his own chair and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Isn’t that the point of my job?” Azriel asked. If Lucien wanted to deal with the consequences of him not protecting Elain than he didn’t understand the threat on his girlfriend’s family all too well.

“Lucien says it’s to the point of being inappropriate,” Cassian added using air quotation marks around the word inappropriate, telling Azriel neither of his brothers believed the other male was telling the truth. In fact Az had a feeling Lucien was just jealous for whatever twisted reason.

“I thought he left this morning anyways,” he said remembering how Elain had told him about her boyfriend’s text this morning.

“Either he lied or came to me before his flight left,” Rhys answered. “I’m not keeping tabs on the guy.”

“Sometimes I wish you would,” Cassian inputted. “If you had we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

“What mess is that exactly?” Azriel asked realizing he still wasn’t sure why he had been called here.

“Lucien believes you’re trying to sleep with Elain.” He busted out laughing at Rhys’s words. They weren’t laughing so he knew it was true, which only seemed to make Az laugh harder. It was the most comical thing he had ever heard, and to think that was the whole reason for this meeting in the first place. Azriel had nothing to worry about after all.

“That’s stupid,” he said when he fianlly caught his breath. “We’re friends.”

“Lucien doesn’t believe that,” Cassian said.

“Tell him to ask Elain before he goes running if he doesn’t believe me, which he won’t,” Azriel replied.

“What do you mean?” Rhys asked noticing the way his brother had phrased his words.

“Lucien left Elain a text telling her that he would be gone a few days on a last minute business trip or whatever,” Az explained crossing his arms over his chest. “She said it sounded like he was running from her.”

“Idiot,” Cassian scoffed. “You don’t put distance between you when you’re having trouble that just makes things worse.” Both of his brothers knew he was speaking from experience. At the start of their relationship Cassian had made a mistake and he thought some time apart would make things better, in the end he almost lost Nesta to a darkness she was starting to call friend. He hadn’t made the same choice since.

“He’s going to lose her,” Rhys added an understanding shadowing his eyes. He had almost lost Feyre to another man, Lucien’s best friend.

“I’ll keep some distance if that’s what he wants but it’s up to him to do the rest,” Azriel said. Rhys nodded and with that he left the office, closing the door behind him on his way out. When he made it to his SUV he pulled out his phone and texted Elain.

I’m going to have to take care of a few things, call me if you need me.

Be safe :)

Azriel smiled down at the text on his phone. He shook his head and set it in the cupholder before pulling out of the space and onto the busy streets. He headed in the direction of a place he hadn’t been in some time, a place he almost thought he would never go back to.

___

Elain instantly felt sad when she read the text Azriel had sent her. She didn’t know what it was but something bugged her about the text, about the whole reason he had to go into the office in the first place. She didn’t like that feeling.

Now she was alone in the townhouse. Lucien was away working, Azriel was running errands, Feyre was at the studio teaching a class, and she had a feeling Nesta too entrapped in a book to pay attention to her phone. Elain wished at that moment more than anything that she was better at making friends. Wished that she was normal and not famous because of her father, it would make it easier for her to make true friends.

Elain had tried making friends throughout school but each time they always backstabbed her. Each one wanted something from her, the popularity, the lead role in her father's next movie, the boy that Elain was currently crushing on. There was a never ending list.

She decided to take a shower and clean up from gardening. She started stripping the moment she entered her bedroom, letting her apron, jeans and shirt fall into a heap on the floor. When she got to the bathroom she turned on the water to warm, because no one can stand a cold shower, and took her underwear off before stepping in.

Showering allowed Elain to think and right now she was thinking off things she could do to pass the time. She thought of going out but she didn’t want to wait for a temp bodyguard, guess that also meant she was ordering in for dinner. She thought about watching a movie or starting a new show, but she didn’t watch enough TV to know what was good. She was out of ideas.

When Elain was thoroughly cleaned she rinsed off and headed for her closet to change. She pulled on an old shirt of Lucien’s that was a simple green and then a pair of black pajama shorts. She pulled her hair up to keep it out of her face and because she didn’t feel like brushing the tangles out of it right now.

She thought about checking in with Nuala and Cerridwen while she was in the showere thinking, but they had just gotten back in town and most likely wanted to catch up with their families. Elain grabbed a book off the shelf in her bedroom and curled up on the window seat. The book was one Nesta had given her a few months ago but she hadn’t gotten around to reading it yet. It was a romance of course because her sister loved the genre. It was about a pair of friends that had been denying their feelings for the other since the day they met and now were starting to step over that line.

Elain had read a good bit by the time her phone started ringing. Having left it on the bed she was forced to save her place and get up to answer it. Not looking at the caller ID she answered it on the third ring “hello?”

“Hey babe,” Lucien. Elain wasn’t in the brightest of moods when it came to her boyfriend and his behavior recently. She didn’t hang up just yet though, hoping that he was calling to apologize.

“I’m mad at you,” she said in response to his greeting. There was a heavy sigh on the other end of the line, like he expected this reaction. And what girlfriend wouldn’t react the same way she was?

“I’m sorry, I was going to tell you in person but it was last minute and I didn’t want to wake you up,” of course he was going to use that excuse.

“I don’t accept your apology,” Elain said, walking around the bedroom they shared as she waited for him to form a new excuse, or better apology.

“I’m not surprised you are an Archeron.” Over the years her family had gained the reputation for being thick skinned and considering the things they had gone through in the public eye, Elain could see why.

“I would’ve been fine with you waking me up.”

“I know and I promise to make it up to you when I get home.”

“Only a few days right?”

“Yes, I’ll be home before you know it.” Elain thought is over. What could she make Lucien do as an apology? He was in the palm of her hand and she would use that to her advantage as much as possible.

“We’re going on a date when you get back, a nice one.” Last time they had gone out Lucien took her to some promotion event to meet some guy he hoped to work with in the future. Dinner had been drive thru at some fast food chain.

“Wherever you want to go,” Lucien promised and Elain knew he was sincere based off the tone of his voice.

“I want to go dancing too,” she added before she could talk herself out of the idea once again. She had wanted to go to the dance club that opened in the city since they had the grand opening a few months back. Feyre was always telling her how wonderful it was and how much she would love it. Now was the time to ask because Lucien couldn’t say no.

“Dancing?” Lucien said curiously and with a hint of teasing. “Haven’t heard that one before.”

“Well I really want to go and you said anything I want.” He chuckled on the other line and Elain knew he was smiling, just the thought made her smile as well. She loved the fact she could make the people she cared about and loved happy just like they did her.

“It’s a date,” Lucien said and she smiled even brighter. Finally after so long they were doing something they both wanted, it was starting to feel like the old days before the media interfered.

“How has your trip been so far,” Elain asked after concluding her little celebration. She walked over to the window seat and took her place up once more.

“Just a bunch of meetings today nothing too interesting,” Lucien said and she knew there was a shrug paired with the words.

“There’s got to be.” Elain teased but he hardly ever shared the juicy stuff with her, though she wished he would.

“I’m sure your day was far more interesting.” She sighed knowing that was as far as she was getting with Lucien about his day. He hated talking about himself.

“I started a garden in the backyard,” she told him smiling at the fun her and Azriel had putting it together. She should check in on him before going to bed. “I also started that book Nesta gave me months ago.”

“Which one?” Lucien asked knowing that Elain had been given a stack of books by her sister. Usually every month there was a new pile of books she had to find a home for.

“It’s about to best friends finally acknowledging their feelings for the other, it’s good so far.”

“If Nesta gave it to you I have no doubt.” Her sister was very good at picking out the right books. She had picked out a few for Lucien to read while he was on long flights. “I have to go babe I have an early day tomorrow.”

“Alright,” Elain said slightly disappointed.

“I love you.”

“Love you too,” and then they both hung up at the same time. Elain stared at her phone for a moment before clicking on the messaging app. She pulled up Azriel’s contact and typed a simple and to the point text.

Finish all your errands?

As she tucked herself into bed Elain’s phone buzzed on her nightstand. It was Az. Turning off her lamp she picked up the device and read the new message.

Yes, you need anything?

Nope just wanted to check in. my day’s been boring without you.

Was that flirting? Elain thought it over but stopped when her phone buzzed in her hand again. They were friends so it shouldn’t matter on how she had phrased the text, as long as Lucien didn’t see it.

Sorry to hear that. We can do something fun tomorrow.

You picking?

It would be my turn since gardening was yours.

So was the Farmers market

Guess I have a few events to plan.

I’ll let you get to it then. Goodnight Azriel.

Goodnight Elain.

With that she curled up under her covers and fell asleep with a smile on her face.

Tag list:

@maastrash @mis-lil-red @poisonous00 @ifangirlninja @nightcourtstarlight @sleeping-and-books @liquifyme @azriels-forgotten-shadow @allaboutthosegenes @azrielismycinnamonrollprimary @court-of-fuck-me-daddy @bookdork6 @fireheart-of-your-dreams @schmlip-scribble @but-she-was-aelin-galathynius @erinmau @cc-psm @impossiblescissorspeachpaper @kiss-my-mass @inrealliampain @fourshizzle149 @propagandaprincess

(Let me know if you want to be tagged!)

[byuniebh]

history | part three

pairing: baekhyun x reader genre: angst, slight fluff, soft smut summary: a year and a half ago, baekhyun cheated on you, and everyday, he lived a life where he regretted making you left him.  note: this chapter might be all over the place and it will be going fast forward, as i said previously.. somewhere, this fic is only going to be five chapters max, that explained why it’s going too fastforward. also this is a pretty short chapter hehe.  note #2: oc is pretty confusing in here, please baer with it.

history masterlist | general masterlist 

Pain. It was the only thing that you could feel right now. It had been two weeks since the last time you saw Baekhyun’s face, even though texts were still exchanged. You were hesitant in talking to him through text, and you always refused his invitation for dinner. He had been understanding, not rushing you into anything. Sadly, the demon inside of you kept asking you when would he grow tired of waiting for you.

You lived your life the usual, just like how before you met him on Jongin’s wedding. It was quite hard to shrug everything off about him. It did mess up your performance at work and how slow you were with your creativity, in which your co-workers noticed it. They said nothing, only silently caring for you by doing their best to not mess up and add more burden to you.

Lying to yourself that you’ve gotten over him was just not the way to deal witg things, that's why it was hard for you. After all, Baekhyun had been a big part in your life that you’ve come to cherish and love wholefully despite of the pain and how broken you wrre because of him. You were quiet thankful of him too, because of the pain and damage he caused, you were able to be independent in your own.

Three weeks after seeing Baekhyun for the last time, Jongin called you, informing you that he’s back from his honeymoon that lasted for a quiet while. They both deserved it, anyway. He asked you to meet up with him, wanting to catch up with you, in which you agreed right away. Meeting Jongin wouldn’t be bad, right?

So you found yourself sitting in front of him for dinner in your favorite pizza joint, Baekhyun’s too, and you hated that his name would always be associated in the little details in your life. Jongin looked happy, radiant, and you almost envied him. After all, he married someone he claimed as his forever. The title that belonged to Baekhyun at some point in your life, and how you wished you were still able to give him that title.

Jongin noticed how distant you’ve become, he wanted to ask, but he didn’t want to push you to think about something that might hurt you or made your pain escalate even more. The conversation carried on, until you received a message from Baekhyun. With your phone laying just beside your plate, you knew that Jongin was able to read it. You didn’t mind, though.

Baekhyun: Dinner? Baekhyun: I’m on the way to our favorite pizza joint, I’m meeting Jongin. Baekhyun: Should I bring you some?

Your eyes widened at the second message, lifting your head up to glare at Jongin accusingly. Jongin only gave you a sheepish smile, and you cursed at him.

“What the fuck, Jongin.”

“Is it wrong if I want the three of us to hangout like the old times again? I saw you talking to him on my wedding.” His answer was simple, and it indicated that he didn’t know what happened between the two of you the time where he was off for his honeymoon.

You groaned, dropping your head to the table and you could see Jongin chuckling. You disliked this side of Jongin, the side where he did whatever he thought was right, but you decided to deal with it after since you could see Baekhyun heading towards your table. You noticed how sunken his cheeks, even worse than a month ago when you saw him at the wedding.

Out of habit, Baekhyun sat himself beside you, almost giving your temple a kiss that didn’t go unnoticed by both you and Jongin. You sighed, thinking how it was going to be a long night. Baekhyun and Jongin fell into a conversation easily, with both of them still having a tight friendship, but you just couldn’t join the conversation, finding it too awkward.

“You okay?” Baekhyun asked when he noticed that you’ve been playing with your salad instead of eating it. You almost snapped at him, but you decided to shrug, continuing to play with your salad. You could hear him sighing, too, but you pay no mind about it.

Once the dinner came to an end, you realized that you didn’t bring your car today and it was already too late to catch the bus. Leaving you begging for Jongin to send you home in which he declined, saying that his wife was already waiting at home. You didn’t dare to glance at Baekhyun, knowing he will drive you home in a heartbeat, but it seemed Jongin liked to get to your bad side today as he told you to ask Baekhyun instead. In which Baekhyun agreed.

And now here you were, sitting on the passenger seat of Baekhyun’s care with the radio on. The atmosphere between the both of you were filled with awkwardness and silence. Internally, groaning at yourself for being in this situation. It always felt weird to not be able to talk to Baekhyun about everything, but you knew that you couldn’t trust him yet for what he had done. After all, who in the right mind would do what he had done?

“How are you? Cramp up in work?” He asked, voice soft and you could hear the hesitation in his voice. You hummed to answer it, not necessarily wanting to have a conversation with Baekhyun. He would understand, you thought. And again, you justified your action as a consequences of him being an asshole. By this rate of point, you were not sure either you were able to forgive him or not, since the idea of forgiving him were too far away from your reach.

You just wanted your pain to end, you just wanted to find some worth within yourself, and you just wanted to feel loved, and you were starting to think that you couldn’t find all of those in Baekhyun. And you hated that you’ve come to the point of where you couldn’t really trust yourself with him. What could you say? The damages had been made, it wasn't like you could undo all of it so easily.

It has been four weeks since the last time you saw Baekhyun after the dinner with Jongin, you were not sure about your feelings anymore since in this four weeks, Baekhyun didn’t do anything that made you upset. On contrary, he has been a sweetheart. Sending you bouquet of your favorite flowers to your apartment, and sending you motivational text messages. And you started to open up to him, again. You hated how weak you have become when it comes to him.

You decided, you wanted to try again. If it worked, then hallelujah, if it didn’t, well.. You were already aware of how it would end and all the pain that you might face again. You realized that if you wanted this to work, you needed him to prove himself not through texts and bouquet of flowers, but through him being here with you and how much he could keep a promise.

You texted him, though you were still weighing down either it was the right choice or not.

You: Dinner?

The reply from him came right away before you managed to even regret your decision.

Baekhyun: YES. Baekhyun: I mean, sure. Should I pick you up? Baekhyun: ...is it a date?

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his excitement, reminding you once again at how he managed to bring the same amount of butterfly on your stomach like years ago. You were still cautious with your heart, you didn’t want to jump right away into it since the heartache were still there.

Awhile later, you could hear him ringing your phone, telling you that he was at the lobby of your apartment. You were dressed in one of the summer dress you owned, it had a pretty flower print decorated the dress. You noted how it felt less awkward to be in the same car as Baekhyun when he gave the back of your hand a gentle kiss. His smile blinding. Even though the lighting were dark, you could see how he styled his hair to the side. The hairstyle that you’ve come to love.

On the way to the restaurant, both of you talked as if nothing happened for the past weeks―conversations always fell easily when you both were together and knowing how comfortable you were with him, you were a tad bit scared that you’d make a decision you didn’t wish to have.

Today’s dinner was seafood, Baekhyun chose the place and you realized it was the seafood restaurant you wished to try but didn’t have the time to go. You noticed that Baekhyun's habit of shelling the prawn and giving it to you didn’t change, he still remembered how bad you are with shelling them. Again, you felt the familiarity of being with him without being afraid of how things would go.

Since it was on the weekend, both of you decided to hit the club. Seated in front of the bar, you both let loose on the slight tensed atmosphere after a few shots, leading you into dancing with Baekhyun with his arms around your waist and his lips pressed against the back of your ear. You loved it, you loved how Baekhyun was pressed against you and you loved how be brought warmth to your body like no other man was able to give.

You found yourself underneath him then, having him hailing a cab to his apartment since it was nearby. Both of you were naked and he was pressing kisses around the juncture of your neck. It was slow, something that you didn’t expect since the dancing earlier was filled with grinding and Baekhyun talking how bad he wanted to be inside you.

“You’re so beautiful,” He whispered, circling his tongue around your areola as his hardness pressed against the inside of your thigh. “So, fucking beautiful.”

You whimpered shyly at his compliment, digging your nails to his back in pleasure. “Baekhyun, please,” you whispered. Wanting him closer to you if it was possible. He hovered on top of you, his hair was now clinging to his forehead because of how sweaty he was, and his eyes sparkled in so much love. Leaning down, he pressed a soft kiss on your lips, moving it ever so slowly and you could feel it―you could feel his love through the kiss and even though it scared you a little, you didn’t let it show.

That night, he made love to you. His thrusts slow as he peppered soft loving kisses on every inch of your body. He showed it to you how much he loved you, and you took all the love he gave you. That night, you were sure that you wanted this man back in your life for a long run despite of the consequences.

You woke up feeling soft fingers caressing your arm and a pair of lips pressed against the crown of your head. You sighed softly before you opened your eyes and looked up to meet Baekhyun’s. He smiled softly before giving your forehead a loving kiss as he hugged you closer to his naked body.

He loved you. It should've been enough. And you told yourself it was—nonetheless how much anxiety and insecurity still lingering inside you. You’d deal with it later, but for now, you were going to enjoy the warmth and love he was giving you. Feeling content by being in his arms.

< previous chapter | next chapter > 

[artificialqueens]

i don't want to be alone anymore (branjie) -- frenchy

a/n: hi hi!! i want to thank you all for the love on my first part of this story, i appreciate that more than you know!!! i decided to give it a second part, though both can be read on their own. & yes i am running this billy joel song title theme with the names. ps. i can be found at alaskathunder on tumblr & also now at frenchys on ao3, where these will end up eventually, along with others, i definitely plan to write more things & pairings soon. hope y'all enjoy, angels!! <3

@Bhytes1: @VanessaVanjie I’m going to Starbucks you want something?

*****

Brooke wasn’t sure how they did it, how they proceeded to shamelessly flirt online as if their private kiss hadn’t even happened only a few nights ago. If it wasn’t for the video evidence, she could have sworn that entire night was a fever dream. Part of her almost wished that she didn’t remember it so vividly, that the way Vanessa touched her and kissed her with no audience wasn’t so detailed in her head. Wished she didn’t have to stop herself from smiling when she remembered it.

It was one thing remembering and thinking about the kiss – she couldn’t change that that happened, and that she didn’t stop it. If anything, she wanted it. She knew it was partly on her for leaning into it, and for getting upset that it hadn’t lasted even longer. She couldn’t blame Vanessa for that. But she could blame Vanessa for what she said.

“At some point we have to quit pretending like this is only for the fans.”

If Brooke thought she was over analyzing these social media interactions before, she was even more fucked now. She only assumed this is how the fans felt on the daily, trying to decipher everything, trying to figure out if this was all Vanessa playing into the contract or using it to hint at how she really felt. How she still felt.

It was futile to put any music on as she took her time getting into drag for the viewing party tonight, where she’d be joining Phi Phi O’hara in a screening of episode 5 – the Monster Ball. No attempts at turning up said music could stop her mind from being only focused on Vanessa, on the moment they shared, on the fact that she had to spend another night reliving the honeymoon phase of their relationship on a giant screen in front of an audience.

Just as Brooke anticipated, it was rough. No. Rough was an understatement. She was conscious of how often she gazed dreamily into the screen, star-eyed. Watching them kiss, and comfort each other, and not be able to predict their fate.

She didn’t expect anyone else to notice, too.

“Can I ask you something? Without you getting defensive?” Phi Phi asked after the episode and Brooke’s consequent performance, standing against the closed dressing room door. She kept her distance, her prodding question accompanied by a sensitive color in her voice. Brooke knew she was trying her best to sound open minded, borderline empathetic.

Brooke sighed. “Shoot,” she encouraged the other queen, but didn’t look up. Phi Phi’s second question was enough to warn her that this wouldn’t be a lighthearted conversation.

“If it wasn’t for the fans. Or the publicity, or the ratings, or the – you get the point,” Phi Phi cut herself off, presuming that Brooke heard enough synonyms. “Would you care?”

Brooke stopped fiddling with her bobby pin, blinking up at Phi Phi through the mirror. “What do you mean?”

“Would you be able to stop all this weird, mysterious twitter stuff tomorrow and not give it a second thought?” Phi Phi wasn’t sure if Brooke was just deflecting, or if she was really that far removed from reality and genuinely needed the simplifying. “Not miss him in your life?” At the use of ‘him’, Brooke knew this was deeper than just not having Vanjie as a fellow queen and friend. “I know it’s none of my business, but if you could see what I saw – the way you watched that episode out there tonight – you’d be asking the same thing.” Phi Phi shrugged, and Brooke hated her for it. She hated how easily Phi Phi could get into her head and understand. Worst of all, she hated how Phi Phi saw it her duty to confront Brooke about it. Maybe she’d thank her in the future, but for now she was brimming with frustration.

“I don’t know. I don’t know, okay?” Another sigh, this one inspired by her own irritation and defeat. “One second we’re flirting and both understanding that we need to stop it before it goes too far. The next we’re –” Brooke stopped, closing her eyes as to stop herself from admitting to Phi Phi what went down the other night. Was it even a big deal? As big as she was clearly making it in her own mind?

“You’re…?” Phi Phi lifted an eyebrow, coaxing Brooke’s frustrated rant. Feelings could be spared for the truth.

Brooke took a deep breath, steadying herself, hands planted onto the table. “We kissed. Like, actually kissed. And I don’t know what her intentions are.”

“Well, I recommend figuring that out. Maybe talk to her? You guys are clearly not on awful terms, how hard could that be?” Phi Phi pressed.

You have no idea, Brooke thought. “Yeah, I’ll try. Thanks, girl,” Brooke smiled at Phi Phi, hoping her appreciation was evident.

*****

She was thrilled to finally share the photos taken of her Monster Ball looks, looks that proved successful in the challenge. She was especially thrilled at the comments regarding her final look, the one that she had fabricated herself. A storm of tulle and black fabric, off the shoulder, with a snake wrapped tastefully around her neck. The more she looked at it, the more critical, but she would defend her win.

She scrolled through the comments, smiling at the sufficient compliments and praise. How would she ever stop being appreciative of everyone who appreciated her back?

Her finger stopped scrolling upon seeing Vanessa’s Instagram handle, a blue check verifying it wasn’t a fan account.

@vanessavanjie: Put my snake around ya neck

She didn’t know whether to like it, comment some orange heart emojis and move on or to roll her eyes after what had happened the other night.

She chose a third option.

If Vanjie wants to keep playing this, then fine. I’ll play along, she thought before hitting send on the comment.

@bhytes: @vanessavanjie haven’t we already done that?

Brooke barely had time to think about the repercussions of her remark before she received a text, shocked at the speed at which Vanessa saw the comment.

Vanjie: Careful there Brooky Poo

Vanjie: Don’t want anyone getting the wrong idea

Brooke felt her heart rate speed up with no gradual increase, immediately beating fast enough to shatter through her rib-cage and land across the room only upon reading Vanessa’s messages. She took a deep breath and typed, then retyped her message a few times, wondering if Vanessa was watching the dots disappear and reappear. Wondering if it was killing her just as much as it was Brooke. When did they turn into giddy teenagers again, instead of professionals with a common goal?

Brooke: What if i do?

She decided against adding a winking face to the end of her reply, but it didn’t stop her from immediately locking her phone and throwing it to her side. God, she needed a cigarette. And maybe a cold shower now. She’d revisit that idea depending on what her phone read next.

As if on cue, she heard the buzz of the phone ring through the bed. She took a minute to gather herself – or prepare herself was maybe the better way to put it. With a reluctance she could only blame on her fear of misunderstanding, Brooke let her hand approach her phone again. It was silly, she thought, how she could fear misunderstanding Vanessa’s intentions even after her initiation of the kiss making it fairly clear how she felt about them.

Vanjie: Oh

Two minutes ago. Brooke tried to ignore the way her heart dropped at the one-word answer; one she couldn’t even see herself replying to in a way that made sense. Maybe it was best left there, and Vanessa really was just adding a playful comment that held no substance.

She was moments away from plugging her phone in for the night and setting it aside with an air of defeat, when it buzzed in her hand. A message from Vanessa. She held her breath as she slid to open it.

Vanjie: You home?

She never exhaled quicker, and never replied quicker, either.

Brooke: Text me when you’re here.

Brooke couldn’t have anticipated what came over her to make her invite Vanessa to come over, if not beg her to come, following her last text with a sharing of her location and hotel room number. All she could do was thank the universe that they were in the same city, which was rare considering their consistent interviews, appearances and performances.

She didn’t think she had been this nervous about something since they first began seeing each other, minus possibly the night that the cast was revealed. And deep within she knew that perhaps her nerves were fruitless – what guaranteed that she and Vanessa would even do anything beyond talk? She wouldn’t dare get her hopes up based on an Instagram comment that was no different than their usual flirt-mance. But she also knew that she had to take this opportunity to confront this, whatever it was.

It wasn’t long before she heard a faint, yet urgent, knock on the door, though it felt like forever. Rolling her eyes, Brooke made her way to the door to the room, opening it with a look of counterfeit annoyance. “I told you to text me when you got here, bitch.”

“Shut up,” Vanessa was quiet, fondness diminishing the harshness of her words. “Can I come in or not?”

Brooke stepped aside, allowing Vanessa to pass her and enter the dimly lit hotel room. Brooke watched her for a moment, so caught up in the way she smelled and the way her hat sat backwards on her head in the most endearing way possible that she almost forgot to close the door.

“Don’t forget to put the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign out,” Vanessa called behind her, laughing to herself before taking a seat on the edge of the bed, looking up at Brooke, who followed her into the larger area. Vanessa’s laugh didn’t linger after seeing Brooke’s humorless expression. “I was kidding.”

“You have no idea how hard it was, Vanjie, to watch that episode up there. Phi Phi actually clocked me, y’know. The way I looked at you up there. No doubt some of the fans did, too. It was the hardest thing. You don’t even know.”

“You think I wasn’t watching the same episode? I never said it was easy for me, Brooke,” Vanessa didn’t let her continue, nor did she let the incredulous laugh leave her lips, in fear of making Brooke more upset. “I don’t like watching it either.”

“I think I’m confused,” Brooke didn’t mean to change the topic so abruptly, but this had been bugging her for days. “This was your idea. It was your idea to take a break – said you knew the ‘pressures that came with TV’,” Brooke’s immediate dive into the deep end caught Vanessa off guard. If she knew that her visit would turn into her own interrogation, she would have stayed home. “You were the one who said this wouldn’t work, Jose,” Brooke stood her ground, arms folded across her chest. Vanessa didn’t like the way she looked down upon her. Cringed at the way her real name was used. “Why the change of heart?”

“It’s not a change of heart,” Vanessa countered, eyes lit with a newfound boldness. “It’s the… same heart, just. Tired of hiding it. Which, we can keep doing it, we don’t gotta tell anyone anything. But, B,” she stood then, moving to take hold of Brooke’s hands, forcing her to uncross her arms. “I’m not a fan of us lying to ourselves, to each other.”

“Yeah? And when you tweet another flirty reply or comment something on my next live, then what? I’m not a fan of not being able to tell the real from the fake.”

“Tell me this is fake,” Vanessa was calm when she said it, her words and the way she slid her hand to the back of Brooke’s neck serving as the only preparation for the way she brought their lips together. Brooke couldn’t act surprised, like she didn’t anticipate this after their texts and intuition that what happened in that office wasn’t a one-off thing. Her expectation helped her react faster this time, without letting Vanessa end the moment before Brooke had a chance to take action. It was a much necessary continuation of what they didn���t get to finish prior to Vanessa’s performance.

Her frustration, her passion, her longing all charged Brooke into flipping their positions, hands on Vanessa’s shoulders as she held the shorter man against the wall she had been leaning against, prompting a whimper to pass between them from Vanjie’s lips. This was no sweet reunion kiss, but one that had been months in the making.

Brooke could feel Vanessa’s smile after they parted, nothing but heat in the space between them (or lack thereof), their lips still phantoms on each other. “I’m waiting,” she whispered against Brooke’s lips, all victorious smiles. “Tell me.”

“Didn’t you already try this the other day?” Brooke didn’t return her smile, but Vanessa could hear it in her voice.

“Worked, didn’t it?” She carded her hand through the barely-there hair at the back of Brooke’s neck, oblivious to how badly Brooke wanted to kiss that damn smirk off her face. “All you been thinking about, isn’t it? Our kiss?” Brooke tried to step back, though she still felt Vanessa’s hand on her, the other one now coming up to rest on Brooke’s waist. “Shit, I gotta say, though, I think I liked this one better.”

“Yeah?” Brooke cursed herself for the teasing spirit in her voice, but for some reason, she couldn’t help it. Something about Vanessa was electrifying, intoxicating her even after a year. Kicking all her resolve and purpose under the hotel carpet.

“Mhmm,” Vanjie’s eyes lay heavy-lidded, her hunger telling through her gaze. Brooke knew due to her makeup-free face that her bedroom eyes weren’t painted on deliberately. She also knew that she held the same ache in her own body, wondered if her own eyes were as teasing as her voice. “You wanna Instagram live this or somethin’?”

Brooke found herself laughing more at the way Vanessa’s suggestive voice didn’t match her sarcastic question rather than the implication itself. “Oh, fuck off,” she laughed under her breath, swatting Vanjie’s chest as gently as possible, her hand lingering there. They both glanced down at the contact, reminding Brooke of the way their eyes had been jointly fixed on Vanessa’s hand in the room at the club, mindlessly tracing patterns into Brooke’s leg. But there was somehow more tension now, the tension only slightly more comfortable than it had been before. Less fear, but just as much caution and the question of ‘What are we doing?’ not yet obsolete.

It was Brooke who leaned in first this time with little hesitance, hand spreading out more against Vanessa’s chest, twisting delicately in her shirt. Her kisses transferred from lips, to cheek, to jaw, then placing open mouthed kisses along the shorter queen’s neck, evoking a throaty moan above her.

“C’mere,” Brooke wondered if she only imagined the rasped whisper, and she blinked back up at Vanessa, who looked desperate. Brooke noted the way her tattoo was coated red under the flush on her neck and chest, only the top of it visible from under her black T-shirt. She noted the way Vanessa’s breathing was ragged. She looked so fucked, so in disarray, and they hadn’t even taken their shirts off yet.

Brooke’s stomach knotted at just the suggestion that she had that power.

Vanessa pulled her back up, hands coming to hold the sides of Brooke’s face and kissing her with a passion that they hadn’t yet reached before. It was a kiss that guaranteed to Brooke that this wasn’t a convenient fuck, or make out, or just Vanessa feeling lonely.

“I have a flight tonight,” Brooke broke between their kiss and their gasping for breath. “God, I’d give anything to stay here. You know that, right?” She studied Vanjie’s eyes, needed to know that Vanessa understood her intentions. She’d rather do anything than have to look at the pout she looked at now on Vanessa’s face.

“You could stay. What’s one flight?” Vanessa whined, pressing kisses along Brooke’s jaw, her knee pushing between the other’s legs. “I miss you,” she breathed against Brooke’s ear, arms enveloping the taller man.

“You know it’s not that easy. This isn’t stuff we can put off, not like we put off each other. I wish I didn’t have to leave you.”

Vanessa sighed and slumped back against the wall, a hand coming up to run through her hair after the other had lifted her hat off. The broken connection between Vanessa’s flushed face and body, and her disappointed expression, broke Brooke’s heart more than she thought it would.

“That’s cool. I said what I said, and I know now that you’re not so innocent yourself, Miss Brooke Lynn, just like I said so,” Vanessa pointed a finger into Brooke’s chest accusingly, her eyes sparkling with warmth. “Who’s right again? Miss Vanessa Vanjie Isabella Mateo Hytes. Bam!” With a snap of her fingers, Vanessa pulled away from Brooke’s grasp, sliding against the wall she had been held against and back towards the door. Brooke watched her gather her things – her phone, only.

“Where are you going?”

Vanessa turned back around, puzzled. “You said you got a flight tonight. I can’t come with you.”

Brooke mimicked Vanjie’s pout from before, sitting herself down on the side of the bed and extending her arms. “You said you missed me. You made it very clear. My flight’s not until later tonight. You can stay. Until then, I mean. I want you to.”

And who was Vanessa to refuse that invitation.