#'if it's difficult for you follow the voice' ?????

[avatar-anna]

please please pleeeeeease more of assistant×harry!! 🥺

Assistant! Reader x Harry Styles Masterlist

August 2013

In just a year of being Harry Styles’ assistant, Y/n had seen a lot, experienced a lot, and learned to expect just about anything, which was why her head began to throb before they even touched down in Las Vegas.

“Here,” a voice said from above her. Y/n was supposed to be answering emails and prepping for all the appearances Harry was supposed to make before the jet landed, but she decided to close her eyes. Just for a few minutes. Not that anyone would’ve noticed, anyway. The boys were all hanging out in the back of the plane, and Natalie, Zayn’s assistant, was watching the boys to make sure they didn’t get into too much trouble. All the assistants took turns when the boys of One Direction were in a confined space together; tag teaming just seemed the fairest deal.

When she peeked an eye open, though, she was surprised to see Harry standing beside her seat, a mug in his outstretched hand. Smiling, she took it, watching through tired eyes as he sat down across from her. He was in a red flannel shirt, though it was hardly buttoned, and the black skinny jeans he’d taken to wearing almost the entire tour. He had multiple pairs, all the same exact brand and style, just in case one ripped. Y/n would know. She had to race all over Manhattan when that very nightmare happened and Harry didn’t have any backups. Now there were at least four in his suitcase at all times. And an extra one in her backpack just to be safe. Harry swore the bag that followed her everywhere was made of magic because her whole life—and his—was nearly placed in there. But Y/n knew it wasn’t magic, she was just prepared for everything.

“I told the boys we’d be on our best behavior while we’re here. Just for you,” Harry said, giving Y/n his most innocent grin.

She’d seen that grin too many times to believe him, but the sentiment was nice. He and the boys were never menaces to her or the other assistants per day, but their antics did make her life more difficult depending on what they got up to. “That’s sweet of you.”

“I’m a sweet guy,” Harry said with a grin. Then with a nod toward Y/n’s phone, he asked, “Who’re you texting over there?”

“I’m not texting anyone. I’m sending emails,” she said.

“What? Even while we’re in the air?” he asked incredulously. “Do you ever not work?”

Y/n grinned. “Of course.”

“Well then put the phone down and talk to me. I feel like I've known you forever but I don't actually know you” Harry said, and it sounded like he was almost whining.

Y/n looked up from her phone. Harry’s eyes were pleading as he leaned forward in his seat. She was honestly a little surprised that he was so insistent that she talk to him. He was always nice of course, and they’d had brief conversations that didn’t involve work here and there, but Harry didn’t know much about Y/n personally. She kept her personal life private for the most part, for no other reason than she liked to keep things professional while she was working.

Setting her phone down, Y/n crossed her leg over the other and looked at Harry expectantly. "Alright. What would you like to know?"

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

Y/n choked on the tea Harry had given her. "That's the question you want to start with?"

Harry shrugged before leaning in playfully. "Are you avoiding the question?"

"No. To both questions," she answered honestly.

"Hm."

"Hm? What's that supposed to mean?" Y/n asked. She thought they were having a lighthearted conversation but Harry looked contemplative.

"Why not?" he asked, not answering her question.

Y/n ran a tired hand over her face. "This is starting to feel like an interrogation, Mr. Styles."

"Sorry, sorry, I don't mean to pry," he said, leaning back in his seat. The playful gleam in his green eyes told Y/n differently, though. "I just feel like you know a lot of intimate details about my life, and all I know is that you like cinnamon bagels and have an affinity for wearing black. And you always manage to wake up before I do, which just seems outrageous to me sometimes."

Y/n pondered what he said and supposed he had a point. She did know a lot about Harry's relationships, or the intimate details of his life he referred to based on his line of questioning. But it was her job to know. She made sure he was up and ready each day, she ensured that no one night stands overstayed their welcome or helped themselves to his clothes after he was gone; she was privy to his PR dates and the ones he wanted no one else to know about. Their... relationship was one sided, and Y/n didn't fault him for his curiosity.

"You know how I take my tea, and that I drink tea at all," she finally said, her voice light.

Harry smiled, as if he'd been waiting to engage in whatever game he'd been trying to play with her since he sat down across from her. "I noticed you reach for the tea packets whenever we fly."

"It relaxes me," Y/n admitted.

"Do you not like flying?"

Y/n shrugged, trying to act more casual than she felt. "It's mostly the takeoff and landing. I don't know it just...freaks me out a little. All the jostling and pressure and whatnot."

"You picked a strange job if you don't like to fly, I'm afraid," Harry said.

"Hence the herbal tea. I'd take something a little stronger if I didn't think you boys would do something the minute my eyes were closed."

"We wouldn't—I would never—You can take a nap around us, Y/n," Harry said, frowning as if he were truly offended by what she said. "I know we like to pull pranks or whatever, but we wouldn't. I wouldn't let them do that to you."

His sincerity was sweet, his gaze hard and imploring. Y/n didn't mean for their conversation to turn down this route but somehow it did, and she couldn't help but notice how angular Harry's features were when he looked at her like that. Protective.

Something light and airy unfurled in her belly that she pointedly ignored.

"I was mostly kidding, but thank you."

And just like that, the hard look was gone, the tense fog lifted. Harry grinned and reached in his back pocket, pulling out a deck of cards. “Play with me?”

“You don’t want to play with the boys?” Y/n asked, genuinely curious.

“I need to practice for this weekend, and they’re not good enough competition.”

“Oh, and I am?” she said. Y/n knew how to play cards, but she wasn’t any kind of pro.

"We're about to find out."

Harry set the cards on the table between them and split the deck to shuffle them. Y/n watched his hands as the cards shuffled between his long, nimble fingers. There were calluses on them now from learning to play the guitar. He was a couple months in, and he was already pretty good. Harry often played the new songs or chords he learned for her, eager to show his progress and knowing she wouldn’t judge him when his fingers slipped from time to time.

When he finally stopped, Y/n realized she’d been openly staring at his hands for a little too long. She snapped her head up, thankful that Harry hadn’t caught her staring. Shuffling around in her seat, she asked, “What are we playing?”

*.*

Later that night, Y/n was alone in her hotel room. One Direction’s performance in Las Vegas went off without a hitch, and the boys had hit the Strip to celebrate. Harry insisted she join them, promising a night she would never forget, but she declined. She had plans of her own tonight.

Finishing the last touches on her hair and giving herself one last check in the mirror, Y/n grabbed her keys and her purse. A knock on the door sounded, and thinking it was Natalie, Y/n rushed to open it. When she did, her eyes widened.

“Mr. Styles? What are you doing here?”

Harry was in fact standing on the other side of her door, a bottle of champagne in one hand and the same deck of cards they’d played with on the plane in the other. They'd played until it was time for landing. Y/n had a large pile of candy by the end of it—Harry had wanted to play with real money but Y/n joked she couldn't afford to play real poker with him. And as the plane started to descend, Harry switched seats so that he was beside her, offered his hand for her to squeeze until the plane finally touched down. It had been the most tension-free landing of the tour for Y/n, and though neither of them said anything about it, Harry knew she was grateful for him being there.

He looked sheepish now as he took her in, the realization that she was on her way out striking him as he saw her clothes—a pair of jeans and a black button down top that was only buttoned in the middle, and black boots to match.

“Sorry, I wasn’t feeling up for going out tonight, so I came down here to—but of course you have plans. It’s your night off, you’re allowed to—”

“Is everything okay, Mr. Styles?” you asked with a furrowed brow. “Did you need me to call a doctor? Run down to the pharmacy? I can—”

“No, I…I came here to—to play cards again, but if you already have plans I won’t get in your way.”

Y/n’s head tilted to the side, partly confused and partly endeared. Harry was a kind boss, but he’d never come to her hotel room to hang out before, especially when parties and liquor were guaranteed elsewhere. The time she spent with him was strictly professional.

“Natalie and I had planned to go out tonight,” she said, looking down at her purse.

Y/n didn’t often go out while on tour, but Natalie knew someone that could get them into some exclusive rooftop bar with discounted drinks. She hadn’t had a night off in a while and thought it would be a fun and responsible way to spend her time in Vegas. But now that Harry was here…

“I can cancel—”

“Don’t you dare,” Harry said, stepping away from the door. His eyes trailing up and down her body in a way that didn’t feel entirely professional. A look Y/n chose to ignore. “I should’ve asked you earlier.”

“Are you sure? I mean, you could always come with us,” Y/n said.

She wasn’t sure how Natalie would feel about that. Her friend had made it clear that she wanted a night away from the boys of One Direction so she could let loose a little. But she didn’t want to just leave Harry on her doorstep.

“No, no, you go. I’m not in a partying mood tonight,” Harry said, waving Y/n off.

“If you’re sure,” she said.

“I’m sure.”

“Next time, then,” she offered.

Harry smiled. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Then, before she could say anything else, Harry fished his wallet out of his back pocket. He pulled out a couple bills and handed them to her. Y/n tried to protest, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer, making sure he watched her put the money in her purse. “And take my driver too. There’s a lot of creeps out there. Dominic will take good care of you.”

“Thank you, Mr. Styles,” Y/n said graciously.

“No problem, Y/n, and for the last time, it’s Harry.”

Y/n grinned as she let the door shut behind her. “Whatever you say, Mr. Styles.”

*.*

Y/n trudged through the halls of the lavish hotel, her boots shuffling tiredly across the carpet. She’d had a good night, but when Natalie and a group they’d met at the bar wanted to move onto a club, Y/n decided it was time to go. She had her fun, but she wasn’t the clubbing type, and she had to be up early the next morning.

And she couldn’t help but think about Harry sitting around in his hotel room all alone. She spent nearly every waking moment with him, and yet on her night off, she felt the need to go see him, be with him. Y/n enjoyed hanging out with Harry on the plane to Vegas. It had been the first time they’d interacted with each other in a non-professional way. He told her goofy jokes and playfully tried to peek at her cards, a look of genuine surprise when she beat him on more than one occasion.

For a moment, Y/n had actually forgotten that he wasn’t her boss and that she wasn’t his assistant. For a moment, they were just two friends going on a trip somewhere.

And for whatever reason, Y/n wanted to revisit that moment. She bypassed her floor’s button on the elevator, opting to press the one a few levels up from hers. The hall was quiet, which made sense if the other boys were still out. Harry told Y/n earlier that he wanted a quiet night in, but as she approached his door, she heard music and muffled voices from the other side. She had his extra key and would’ve been able to enter no problem, but when she made it to the double doors of Harry’s suite, she elected to knock. Maybe she should’ve left when she realized he had company, but she stayed, eager to see him for some reason.

It took a minute or two for someone to answer. With the music so loud, Y/n wasn’t surprised no one could hear her knock. She nearly gave up after knocking a third time, the door finally opened.

“Can I help you?”

It was a young man. A handsome young man with short brown hair and freckles over his nose and a deep skin tone. His eyes looked droopy, like he’d woken up just to answer the door. Or had recently smoked a joint. The latter was more likely.

“I’m Mr. Styles’ assistant. I just thought I would check in. He has an early morning tomorrow.”

“Oh. Um…He’s…busy?” the man said, clearly not wanting the fun to stop. “Should I get him for you?”

Y/n had never been in this predicament before. Sure, she knew Harry occasionally liked to invite someone into his hotel room for a night of fun, and this wasn’t the first time she’d found another boy keeping him company in this way. The first time that happened, Harry wouldn’t meet her eye for a whole day, but she never judged him for it, and she never said a word of it to him or anyone else. That was his personal business, not hers.

So the boy wasn’t what caught her off guard. It was that he was awake. Y/n always interacted with Harry’s one, sometimes two, night stands the morning after, equipped with a pen and an NDA, and possibly a sharp wit, depending on how reluctant the individual was to leave. But she’d never been in this position before, in the middle of it. She felt embarrassed, at a loss for words.

“N—No,” she finally said. “He just told me he wasn’t feeling well earlier. I thought I’d check on him before heading to bed, but…it seems like he’s feeling better.”

That’s and understatement, Y/n thought. She felt disappointed for some reason. She knew she shouldn’t have, but she really thought Harry would want to hang out, that he would somehow be waiting for her to come back, which was stupid. He had no reason to.

Y/n finally started to shuffle away, leaving Harry and his companion to his own devices. The door shut after the young man gave her a small smile and a wave, leaving her alone in an all too quiet hallway, the sounds of their voices muffled by the thin walls.

Sleep was in order. She knew that she was probably having an off day. Too much traveling, no doubt. Harry wasn’t her friend. She was his assistant, hired by his management team to make sure his every need and whim was met and sought to. Tomorrow she would wake up and remember that.

*.*

The next morning when Y/n stepped onto the plane, Harry was already seated in her little corner of the jet, a deck of cards, two steaming mugs, a multitude of snacks, and a big blanket were waiting. He didn't say anything about last night, so she didn't either. Not a word was said at all during takeoff, Harry merely offered his hand again, and when the plane was leveled in the air, he took out the deck of cards.

"Up for another round? This time Oreos are on the line so I'm less inclined to lose."

After that, plane rides weren't so bad anymore.

[sweemmy]

“Remember, dear, the key to being an excellent broadcaster isn’t just having a pleasant voice, but knowing how to use it to capture and hold your audience’s attention. Speak to them as if you’re sharing an intimate secret, something only they should know. Make every word feel as though it’s meant solely for their ears.”

Alastor's voice flowed smoothly, weaving through the air like a hypnotic melody, and it took hold of you in a way that felt almost suffocating. His red eyes glimmered with a dark amusement, a twisted joy in watching your reaction. There had always been something unsettling about him, a danger lurking just beneath his charismatic exterior. But tonight, that danger felt closer, more present than ever before.

“Do you understand what I’m saying?” His voice dropped lower, no longer just instructive but now filled with an edge of menace, as if testing how much you could handle. His gaze bore into you, evaluating, judging.

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his words press into you, constricting your breath. “Yes, Professor. I understand,” you managed to say, though your voice came out more fragile than you intended.

Alastor’s smile deepened, predatory, as he closed the distance between you with slow, measured steps. Each one made your heart beat a little faster, the tension building as his shadow loomed larger. Though he stood only inches away, it felt as though his very presence consumed the room, suffocating any sense of control you thought you had.

“Good,” he purred, his voice a whisper laced with satisfaction. “Then let’s test that understanding, shall we?” He handed you a script, his fingers brushing against yours for a fleeting moment, leaving a trail of warmth that lingered far too long. “But this time, I want you to read it as though you’re speaking directly to me, as if every word is a whisper meant only for my ears.”

You took the script with trembling hands, the paper feeling heavier than it should, as if it carried the weight of the moment. Your eyes skimmed the words, but focusing was difficult with him so close. His proximity was overwhelming, the heat radiating off his body like an invisible force that seemed to pull you in. You could feel the breath of his words still clinging to your skin, each syllable echoing in your mind like a spell.

“Slower,” he murmured, leaning in just enough that his lips brushed the shell of your ear. The sensation sent a shiver down your spine, making it hard to concentrate on the script in your hands. “Take your time. Control the rhythm of your words, just as you would control an audience. Let them hang on every syllable, every pause.”

You tried to follow his instructions, your voice faltering as you read. But it wasn’t just the words that were slipping from your grasp—it was your own control. You could feel his presence everywhere, an invisible hand guiding you, pushing you further into the depths of something you couldn’t fully understand.

Alastor’s hand slid down your arm, so light it was almost imperceptible, yet it sent a spark through you. His touch was both comforting and threatening, a duality that left you frozen in place. You knew you should resist, should step back, but instead, you found yourself leaning into him, letting his energy consume you.

“Better,” he said softly, though his tone was still thick with dominance. “But you’re holding back. I want more.” His fingers trailed down your spine, and every inch he touched ignited a fire under your skin. “You’re trying to control your voice, but you need to let go. Surrender yourself to the moment, to the power of your words.”

Your breath hitched as his hand came to rest on your waist, a subtle but unmistakable claim. He was testing you, not just your voice, but your will. And the worst part was that you could feel your own resolve crumbling, your body betraying you as it leaned further into his control.

“I... I don’t think I can,” you whispered, barely able to get the words out.

His laugh was low, almost sinister, as he tilted his head, his lips ghosting over your neck. “Oh, but you can, darling. You just don’t realize it yet.” His voice wrapped around you like a noose, tightening with every breath you took. “You’re not here to think. You’re here to feel, to experience the raw power of your own voice... and mine.”

Without warning, he plucked the script from your hands and tossed it aside, his actions deliberate and dismissive. “Enough of the formalities,” he said, his tone dropping to something far more intimate, more dangerous. “Now, I want you to speak from here.” His fingers brushed over your chest, just above your heart, and then moved downward, tracing a path that left your skin burning in their wake. “From your soul.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, the room growing hotter, more oppressive. His hand rested on your hip, pulling you gently but firmly toward him, and despite the alarm bells ringing in your head, you couldn’t resist. You didn’t want to. Alastor’s gaze was magnetic, a dark promise of pleasure and pain that made your knees weak.

“Control isn’t about restraint, my dear,” he whispered, his lips so close to your ear that his breath sent shivers down your spine. “It’s about knowing when to let go. To let someone else take the reins.”

Before you could react, his lips met yours, and the world seemed to stop. It wasn’t a gentle kiss. It was consuming, filled with a hunger that felt centuries old, as though he was devouring a part of you. And you... you gave it willingly. His hands moved with expert precision, tracing the curve of your body, igniting a fire that burned hotter with every touch.

Your mind screamed that you should stop, that this was wrong, that he was playing you like a puppet on a string. But your body, traitorous as it was, responded to his every command, melting under his touch.

“Alastor...” you gasped between kisses, but he silenced you with a look, his eyes burning with that same dangerous glint you had seen earlier.

“Shhh,” he whispered, his voice dark and velvety. “Now is not the time for words. It’s the time for surrender.”

His hands slid under your shirt, the cool air meeting your heated skin as he pushed the fabric away. Every movement was deliberate, calculated, as though he was savoring the moment. His fingers danced across your skin, making you arch against him, seeking more of his touch.

“You see?” he purred, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “This is what true control feels like. You think you’re helpless, but in reality, you’re exactly where you’re meant to be. In my hands.”

You tried to speak, to regain some sense of control, but the words died in your throat as his lips found yours again. This kiss was different—slower, more intense, as if he was drawing out the pleasure, savoring every second of your surrender.

The world around you seemed to blur, your senses overwhelmed by him—his scent, his touch, the sound of his voice in your ear, promising both salvation and damnation.

And in that moment, as his hands moved with precision, as his words wrapped around you like chains, you realized the truth: you were his. Entirely, utterly his. And there was no turning back.

[fxckadoodledoomunson]

A Heart Divided -2-

Previous

|2| Finding a new sanctuary…

Summary: You try your best to focus on your studies and training for the upcoming swimming competition, but with Eddie and your sister making it difficult for you, you’re left with no choice but to turn to Steve for help.

Warnings: swearing, Eddie and your sister being arseholes.

Tagged: @somethingvicked @ali-r3n

As soon as you heard your parents were home, you immediately went back to your place so you could ask permission to stay over at Chrissy’s.

When you stepped inside, you heard your sister ask your father in a babyish voice, “Daddy…”

“No!” Your father sternly interrupted.

“But you don’t know what I was going to say,” your sister whinged, as she followed him to the kitchen, where your mother was unpacking the groceries.

“Well whatever it is, the answer’s still no,” your father retorted.

“Come on, honey,” your mother said to your father. “Just hear what she’s got to say.”

Your father sighed, before asking your sister, “Well, what is it?”

“I need to borrow fifty bucks,” your sister replied.

You rolled your eyes at the word borrow. You knew that what she meant was, “I need fifty dollars from you for my selfish gain and will not have any intention of returning it.”

Thankfully, your father wasn’t stupid to fall for whatever your sister says. After he declined to give her any money, she started to throw a tantrum, “But Daddy, it’s not fair. I’m supposed to go out with Roxy and Diana to this new club tonight. How am I supposed to go without money?”

“Simple, get a job like the rest of us, and not lounge around all day,” your father sternly told her. “Or better yet, not drop out of college in the first place.”

Your parents started to argue about your sister. After a year at college, your sister had decided to drop out as she felt it was more tiresome to study than go out and partying all night. While your father had always gave discipline, your mother on the other hand, coddled her. As your shoes squeaked against the kitchen floor, everyone stopped arguing, noticing you.

Your father quickly smiled, as he greeted you, “Hey pumpkin, where have you been hiding?”

“I was over at the Cunningham’s,” you replied.

Your mother approached you, as she asked, “Darling, why’s your face red? Have you been crying?”

“Let me guess, over a boy?” Your sister snidely asked.

“Enough from you,” your father scolded her.

You wanted nothing more than to snitch on her for being with Eddie, knowing how your parents felt about him, despite him always being polite to them when he used to come over for the tutoring. However, you didn’t have the energy to do it. So instead, when your father asked if it really was over a boy, you lied to him, “No Dad, it’s not. I guess I’m just a little overwhelmed, with finals coming up and the final two swimming competitions…”

You deeply sighed, when your father put his arm around you, comforting you, as he said, “You just do your best. Even if you get third place in the competitions, I would still be proud of you.”

You gave him a small smile, as you thanked him, before hugging him, ignoring your sister’s sour faced expression.

As your father let go of you, you began to ask him, “Actually Dad. I was wondering if I could stay over at Chrissy’s tonight? She’s asked me to help her with her homework.”

You figured that your father would say no, but instead he replied, “Sure pumpkin.”

“Well, are you still having dinner with us?” Your mother asked. “I’m making vegetable lasagna.”

You politely shook your head, before telling her, “Chrissy said that I can have dinner with her and her family.”

You then excused yourself from the conversation, so you can gather your overnight stuff and your sleeping bag. You were about to go upstairs when you stopped and told your father, “Oh by the way, I had to leave work early today, so I need to work an extra couple of hours to make up for it.”

“Of course, pumpkin. Do what you need to do, just don’t overdo it, okay?”

You nodded, before rushing up the stairs, overhearing your sister complaining about you, “That’s not fair, why does she always get what she wants, but I can’t?”

You got the guy I wanted, you thought. Isn’t that enough for you?

Meanwhile at Gareth’s place, Eddie and the rest of Corroded Coffin were rehearsing for the next night. While everyone was in the zone, Eddie found himself distracted. He thought about Chrissy’s sudden change in her demeanour when he saw her.

After noticing that Eddie was messing up the chords, Jeff raised his hand, prompting everyone else to stop.

“Eddie,” Jeff called out, making Eddie stop and turn to him. “What’s going on with you man?”

Eddie huffed, as he took off his guitar strap, placing his guitar in its case.

“It’s Chrissy,” Eddie spoke, as he scratched his head.

“What about her?” Grant asked.

Before Eddie could answer, Gareth exclaimed as he pointed at him with his drumstick, “I knew it! You’re secretly dating her, aren’t you?”

“What?! No! Of course I’m not!” Eddie denied.

Suddenly, the other two boys chuckled when Jeff mentioned, “Well, you’ve been really friendly with each other since the end of the semester.”

No longer tolerating their teasing, Eddie stomped towards them, as he angrily said whilst showing his index finger, “First of all, we’re not dating! She’s a client and a friend. And secondly…” He showed his index and middle finger, as he blurted, “I’m already seeing a woman.”

The rest of the boys’ faces fell, hearing Eddie’s confession, which led them to ask so many questions…

“Wait what?”

“You’re seeing someone? Since when?”

“Why didn’t you tell us?”

“Is she hot?”

“Who is it?”

“How far did you get with her?”

Having enough of them bombarding him with questions, Eddie bellowed, “SHUT UP!”

The boys became silent, not wanting to piss off their leader.

Eddie took a deep sigh, before answering them, “I’ve been seeing her since spring break, and yes, she’s like super hot…”

“Super hot like Phoebe Cates?” Gareth asked.

“Way hotter than her,” Eddie pointed out.

The boys excitedly exclaimed, before Jeff asked, “So, who is it?”

Eddie smirked, as he crossed his arms, before revealing it was your sister.

The three of them stood still, as their jaws dropped, before repeating your sister’s name.

Eddie nodded gleefully.

“No way, she was like the hottest girl in the school,” Jeff commented.

“Not to mention rich,” Grant said, before asking if your sister and you were neighbours with Chrissy.

Eddie nodded, before revealing that after he went to see your sister, he went to see Chrissy and asked if she wanted to watch the band rehearse. “It’s weird,” Eddie told them. “Today at school, she was friendly with me, but when I went to visit her, she gave me the cold shoulder.”

“Did you say something that might have pissed her off earlier?” Grant asked.

“Of course I didn’t, I don’t think so anyway. Although…” Eddie then mentioned that Chrissy glared at him from her window earlier after saying goodbye to your sister.

The boys glanced at him in confusion, wondering why Chrissy changed her attitude towards their leader when Gareth exclaimed as he banged his cymbal, “Aha!”

“What?” Eddie asked.

Gareth scoffed, before asking him, “Dude! Isn’t it obvious?”

Before his confused bandmates could ask, Gareth told them, “She’s jealous.”

Jeff and Grant disagreed while an astonished Eddie furrowed his eyebrows.

“There’s no way she’s jealous,” Jeff told Gareth.

“Plus, she’s with Carver,” Grant mentioned.

“So?!” Gareth retorted. “Just because she’s with that douchebag, it’s doesn’t mean that she still wants to be in a relationship with him. Maybe,” he raised his drumstick, as he continued. “Just maybe…she’s finally come to her senses and wants to leave the dark side.”

Eddie raised one of his eyebrows at the drummer, thinking about his theory. He couldn’t lie, he did once have a small crush on Chrissy when they met at the middle school talent show, but that faded over time. Even when they reconnected during the first deal, he didn’t feel that way again about her, especially as he actually liked…

“I’ve just realised something,” Grant spoke up as he interrupted Eddie’s thoughts.

“What?” Jeff asked.

Eddie shifted his attention to the bass player, as Grant asked Eddie about you.

Eddie huffed, crossing his arms, as he asked “What about her?”

“Well, weren’t you like into her?”

Jeff and Gareth faced each other in realisation, before commenting that they remembered that Eddie did once comment how amazing you were for helping him get his grades up and how happy he was to see you watch the band at the Hideout.

“So?” Eddie retorted, as he glared at them.

“So what’s changed?” Grant asked. “I mean, you gave me a hard time earlier for acknowledging her. How did you go from her to her sister?”

Eddie rolled his eyes, as he exhaled in frustration, before telling his bandmates, “You wouldn’t believe me even if I tell you.”

“Try us,” Jeff replied.

Eddie shifted his attention between the three boys before revealing why he chose your sister over you.

Staying over at Chrissy’s house was something you definitely needed. Although you were still upset about Eddie and your sister, Chrissy did her best to cheer you up after you helped her with her homework, as you both watched both Grease movies and listening to your favourite songs to lift your spirits up.

When the next morning came, you were dreading, not only potentially bumping into your sister as she would go out to see her friends for morning coffee, but also going to school and seeing Eddie.

You clutched your backpack, feeling nauseous when Chrissy placed her hand on your shoulder, as she assured you, “It’s going to be okay.”

You nodded at her, thanking her before heading to your front yard to grab your bike when you heard a vehicle horn honking. You turned around, worried that it was Eddie’s van. Instead, you sighed with relief as you saw Jason’s jeep parked.

You heard him call out Chrissy’s name, as he greeted her, before asking her if she was ready.

Instead of answering him, Chrissy turned to you and suggested, “Come to school with us.”

“Well…” you hesitated. “I don’t-“

“Please?” Chrissy begged.

Unable to resist her puppy eyes, you accepted Chrissy’s offer, which made her smile.

As you headed to the jeep, Jason raised his hand, stopping you getting in. “Woah!” He exclaimed. “What do you think you’re doing? After what you treated my girlfriend-“

“It’s okay, Jason,” Chrissy interjected. “We’ve talked things over and we’ve made up.”

Jason turned to his girlfriend, before shifting his attention to you, as he huffed, whilst signalling you to get in.

You thanked him, as you and Chrissy got in the vehicle.

Throughout the day, you avoided any form of contact with Eddie. You even reluctantly acknowledged the rest of the Hellfire club, as you didn’t want to aggravate him any further. Whilst you avoided him and the others, you were unaware of the cold expressions on the older boys’ faces as they watched you walk past without acknowledging them.

As you headed into one of the classrooms, Jeff commented to Eddie, “You were right about her. She doesn’t even have the guts to look at us.”

Meanwhile, Jason gave Chrissy a peck on the cheek, before heading to his next class, leaving Chrissy to walk alone to the next class she shared with you.

As she walked through the hallway, Eddie called out to her, as he waved at her.

Instead of waving back, she silently glared at him, before stomping to the classroom.

“Dude, she is definitely playing hard to get with you,” Gareth told Eddie, as he patted his shoulder, while Eddie glanced at the door, wondering if Chrissy is really jealous and wanted him or if she just genuinely dislike him.

Later on before your shift ended, you were packing up and getting changed in the staff room when you heard the door bell ring.

You then heard Steve say, “Welcome to Family…Oh, hey Chrissy.”

You popped your head out of the door, seeing Chrissy dressed up in a baby pink dress with matching sneakers. You smiled, as you greeted her, “I’ll be right out.”

You went back to the staff room, to collect everything as you were listening to Steve and Robin talking to Chrissy.

After sorting yourself out, you rushed out in your black jeans and your Iron Maiden shirt, as you told Chrissy, “I’m ready. How are we getting there?”

“Well, Aimee said that she and her brother Tony can drop us off,” Chrissy replied. “But I’m not sure how we’re getting back.”

Before you could respond, Steve interjected, “I can take you two home. Robin and I going later anyway, so we can all go home together.”

Chrissy beamed, as she thanked him, earning a wink from him, which made her giggle. Suddenly, you heard a car beep from outside. You and Chrissy turned to see her fellow cheerleader, waving outside the car window. “Oh, that’s Aimee,” she exclaimed, as she grabbed your hand, and pulled you. “We better get going.”

After you said goodbye to Robin and Steve, you and Chrissy started walking out when you overheard Robin and Steve bantering.

“What?” You heard Steve ask.

“You’re gonna tell me why you winked at the head cheerleader?” Robin retorted.

“It was just a wink. You know, a friendly wink.”

“That was so not a friendly wink.”

You stifled your laughter, as you caught up with Chrissy.

A few moments later, you and Chrissy got out of Tony’s car, as you thanked him for the ride.

“I’ll see you guys tomorrow,” Aimee called out.

You and Chrissy waved as Tony drove off, before you turned around and faced the entrance. In that moments, your body froze.

“I don’t know if I can do this, Chris,” you mumbled, wanting to turn away. However, Chrissy stopped you, and held your hand, as she said, “You’ll be fine. If Eddie says or does something, we’ll just leave, okay?”

You nodded, and started walking into the building, as she placed her other hand on your back.

As always, the Hideout was filled with a crowd of five drunks. You looked over at the stage, finding Corroded Coffin performing, before swiftly turning away, trying to avoid being noticed.

You and Chrissy headed to the bar to order your drinks, as your fight-or-flight kicked in. You clutched your chest, as your breathing began to increase. Chrissy noticed this, and placed her hand on your back, as she said, “Deep breaths.”

She inhaled and then exhaled with you until you felt better.

“Thanks Chris,” you replied, as the barmaid placed your drinks on the counter. After Chrissy paid, you both grabbed your drinks and headed to one of booths, further away from the stage. As soon you two found the booth, you heard feedback from the microphone, before Eddie announced, “Are you ready to rock again, Hawkins?!”

After a few claps from a couple of drunks, Eddie announced, “The next song we’re gonna play is Fire Shroud.”

As the band started to play, you couldn’t help but bop your head to the music, realising how much you missed hearing them play.

However, you stopped enjoying yourself when you noticed your sister’s friends, Roxy and Diana, were sitting at a table close to the stage.

If they’re here, then that means… you thought when you noticed your sister coming out of the bathroom.

“I should’ve known,” you grumbled.

“What?” Chrissy asked, not hearing what you said.

You swiftly turned away, avoiding your sister and her friends. Chrissy turned to you, before shifting her attention back to the stage, realising that your sister and one of her friends were heading towards stage to dance together. Chrissy gave you a sympathetic gaze and squeezed your hand , as she asked, “Do you want to go?”

Before you could respond, the last voice you wanted to hear shouted over the music, “Well well well.”

You turned to find your sister towering over you two , as she leaned against the table, continuing to snidely ask, “What do we have here? Shouldn’t you two be at home playing My Little Pony or something like good little girls?”

You took a sip of your drink, trying to ignore her, whilst Chrissy glared at her.

However, your sister kept trying to push your buttons, as she asked you, “Why are you even here? No one wants you here.”

Before you could answer back, you realised that the band stopped playing, as you watched Eddie and the rest of the band heading towards your booth. “Hey, what’s going on, princess?” Eddie asked your sister, as he wrapped his arm around her.

“Well, I was just saying to my baby sister that no one wants her here,” your sister smugly replied.

“It’s a public place,” Chrissy retorted. “You can’t ban someone because you don’t like them.”

“True,” Eddie replied. “But like she said…”

He then glared at you, before finishing his sentence, “No one wants you here.”

You quickly stood up, as you angrily retorted, “That’s bullshit! It’s you two that don’t want me here-“

“Actually,” Gareth coldly spoke up, which caused you to turn to look at him. “Neither of us want you here.”

You gazed at him with confusion, as Jeff told you, “Eddie told us, so don’t try to deny it.”

“What are you talking about?” You asked Jeff, before asking Eddie, “What have you told them?”

“Figure it out,” Eddie coldly told you.

You shifted your gaze at everyone, before turning to Grant, who avoided eye contact with you when you asked, “So, you don’t want me here either Grant?”

Grant continued to avoid you, as you turned your attention to Eddie and your sister, with tears brimming in your eyes. Without saying another word, you grabbed your belongings and stormed out, ignoring Chrissy calling out to you.

Chrissy turned to Eddie, and angrily told him, “I don’t know what’s going on with you Eddie, but you’re being a real asshole, and as for you…”

She then turned to your sister, and scolded her, “How could you be like this to your own sister? What did she ever do to you?”

Your sister blankly looked at Chrissy, before retorting, “Exist, that’s what.”

The next thing that no one anticipated was Chrissy slapping your sister across the face. Before your sister could retaliate, Chrissy grabbed both drinks and threw it at both Eddie and your sister, which made her gasp, before whinging that her outfit was ruined.

“You two deserve each other,” Chrissy spat, before running off to find you.

While your sister ran to the bathroom with her friends following her, Eddie grabbed his handkerchief from his pocket and dried his face off, as Gareth blurted out, “I guess Chrissy’s not into you after all.”

Eddie turned to silently glare at the drummer before heading for the door, giving you and Chrissy a piece of his mind.

Meanwhile, you and Chrissy were sitting on the ground, as you sobbed while Chrissy comforted you.

“I don’t understand it, Chrissy,” you sniffled, unaware that Eddie was eavesdropping. “I mean, I’m sure that I would get over their relationship one day.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, thinking that you were pulling the poor me act when he heard you ask Chrissy. “But what did I do to make Eddie hate me so much?”

Eddie furrowed his eyebrows, confused by your question. At first, he thought it was just an act, but then he wondered if you were being genuine. But then, he shook his head, as he thought, No, I’ve seen enough to know how she actually thinks about me and everyone else.

Before he could step out, he noticed Steve’s car parking near the building.

Not long after, Robin and Steve came out and rushed over to you and Chrissy, checking if you were okay.

After Chrissy explained what happened, Steve immediately said, “We’ll take you guys home.”

As Robin and Chrissy put you in the car, Steve noticed Eddie lurking by the doorway of the bar, and shook his head at him, before getting in the car and drove off.

You silently sat in the backseat with Robin and Chrissy, as both girls comforted you.

“Everything will be okay,” Chrissy quietly told you, as she squeezed your hand.

Everything will be okay.

That was easier said than done. Although you’ve managed to avoid the Hellfire club at school, you couldn’t avoid Eddie and your sister at home. Every time you tried to do your homework, they always had loud music playing from her bedroom, drowning whatever they were doing. You wanted to go over to Chrissy’s place as it was a sanctuary to you. However, thanks to your sister snitching on you both to your parents and Chrissy’s mother, you were no longer allowed to go over, which drove you to go to the basement just so you can finish your studies in peace.

But what aggravated you the most was that you had a swimming semifinal competition coming up soon, and you needed to practice. However, you couldn’t even practice properly as Eddie and your sister decided to make out whilst lounging by the pool.

But the final straw was when the two of them decided to jump into the pool, preventing you from practicing all together.

Having enough of them splashing around, you aggressively splashed the water towards them, as you growled, “That’s it!”

You swam to the ladder and climbed up, as you heard your sister mock, “Aww, can’t handle a little competition?”

Without thinking, you grabbed your sister’s radio and threw it across the yard, smashing it to the ground.

As you stomped back inside, you heard your sister call you a bitch, which made you flip both of them off, no longer caring being called that.

As you were getting changed in your room, you were trying to decide how to practice without interruptions. You couldn’t go to Chrissy’s as you were banned from going over. And you weren’t allowed to go to the school swimming pool after hours without a teacher supervising you. Also, the community pool wasn’t great for practice if it’s crowded. The only solution was…

“Harrington,” you muttered, as you finished getting changed, you packed your spare swimsuit and goggles, before calling Steve at work, asking him if you could stay at his place for a while so you could practice.

“Sure, you know where the spare key is,” Steve immediately told you. You thanked him, before hanging up, so you could call your father to let him know that you were going to Steve’s to practice.

You thought that he would say no. But knowing that how much the competition meant to you, as well as getting the scholarship, he decided to let you go, before telling you, “But don’t stay out too late.”

As soon as you got to Steve’s house, you found the spare key under the flowerpot and let yourself in. You had managed to get a good half an hour of practice when you heard the door slide open.

You turned to find Steve coming through the door, as he greeted you. “Not interrupting you, am I?”

“No, I managed to do thirty minutes so far,” you replied, before continuing to swim up and down the pool, checking your lap time on your stopwatch.

Suddenly, Steve walked towards your stopwatch and picked it up, as he said, “I’ll time you.”

“Okay. Thanks,” you replied as you swam to one end of the pool, while Steve sat one of the lounge chairs.

After Steve started the countdown, he shouted, “Go!”

At once, you swam as fast as you could, back and forth for about five minutes, until Steve called out to you to stop, as he pressed the button on the stopwatch to stop.

You swam towards the ladder and got out of the pool, before grabbing your towel, as you asked, “How did I do?”

As you wrapped your towel around you, you sat in front of him when he showed you the lap times. You grabbed the stopwatch and sighed with relief, as you managed to break your record.

You looked up at him, as you said, “Thanks Steve. I wouldn’t have been able to practice today if it wasn’t for you.”

Steve smiled, before asking, “So, why did you ask me if you could practice here? Is because of your sister and Munson?”

You lowered your head down, facing the ground, not wanting to cry as you thought about them ruining your week.

You heard the chair creak, as Steve moved to sit to you. “I’m sorry,” Steve apologised. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

You shook your head, telling him, “Don’t worry about it.”

You lifted your head, and sighed before telling him, “I wouldn’t have minded them being together if they weren’t such arseholes. But…I don’t know what I’ve done to Eddie to make him despise me.”

“Hey, I’m sure that you’ve done nothing wrong, okay?” Steve wrapped his arm around your shoulder, as he said, “Whatever his problem is, that’s on him. The same goes with your sister.”

You leaned against his shoulder, as you said, “If only I wasn’t born in the same family as her. It would’ve made things less complicated.”

Steve had a sympathetic expression on his face, as he lightly ruffled your dampened hair, which made you smile a little bit. Suddenly, you both heard the phone ring.

“I better get that,” Steve said as he moved away from you, getting up on his feet, before heading inside to answer the phone, leaving you alone to pack your stopwatch in your bag, before taking out your diary and started writing…

No longer tolerating with the so called valour bard being seduced by the succubus, and being banished by the acrobat’s wicked mother from seeing her friend again, the mermaid swam to the other side of the island to find a new sanctuary where she found the young fallen king. Despite his former status, she got on well with the king, and he was willing to help her any way possible, even if it was to talk about her problems. There were times that the mermaid wished she was a part of the king’s family and not have a sibling like…

You stopped mid-sentence when you heard Steve call your name.

You looked up, as you closed your diary.

“It’s your dad,” Steve informed you. “He wants you home right away.”

You felt deflated, hearing the word home. With the way things were at the moment, it didn’t feel like home.

You sighed as you shoved your diary back in your bag, before grabbing your dry clothes and ran inside to get changed.

Shortly getting changed, you immediately ran for the door, as you shouted, “Thanks Steve. I’ll see you later.”

“Bye,” Steve called out, as he raided his fridge when he turned to find you left your bag behind on the lounge chair. He rushed to pick it up and ran out of the house, as he shouted, “Hey, you forgot-“

By then, you had already gone. Steve shook his head, before going back inside to get his car key.

[twinksrepository]

Who knew Librarians could be so mean? Or hot?

Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Pairing: Satan X F!Reader

CW: NSFW, angst and smut, Penis in Vagina sex, making out, embarrassment, being yelled at, safe sex, condom use, semi public sex, listen you bang in a library, modern AU

Word count: Roughly 6K

A/N: It's your first year of University. So far your lifeline has been the library on campus. You might also have a thing for a certain blond haired librarian.

Well. I did say I was having thoughts because of the new Satan and Asmodeus cards. So here's the first fic. The Asmo one is also done but I need to edit it so it might be up soon.

Images belong to Solmare.

You knew university would be hard, difficult even. You just hadn’t expected it to be this hard. From the hours upon hours sitting in lecture halls and taking notes, to the lack of sleep as you never seemed to have enough time in the day to get everything you needed to done. 

In fact, at this point, you’re certain the only reason you’re still alive is because of the library on campus. 

Or. 

More specifically the blond haired librarian with verdant eyes who wore sweater vests. 

Your first interaction with the man had been late at night sometime during your first month of classes with minutes before the library was due to close. You were moments from tearing your hair out as you looked at the note you had as you hurried along the stacks looking for the reference books you needed. Out of your list of five that you needed for your first paper you had found zero. 

Sure you were from a small town. Sure this library was the largest collection of books you had ever seen. But you weren’t an idiot. You knew the dewey decimal system and understood it! Plus the catalogue showed there were several copies and not all of them were checked out. 

So why in the universe couldn’t you find a single one?

“Miss, we’re closing in less than five minutes.” Turning towards the voice you must have looked like such a mess with the way his stern expression softened. It might have been pity, it would have made sense for it to be pity since he did work at the library and was probably used to the first month of each semester to see new students looking like lambs being led to the slaughter. 

Either way, he approached you and looked at the wrinkled note in your hand. “Do you need some assistance finding these books?” 

“Yes.” You sounded pathetic even to your own ears. You had been ready to cry in that moment of defeat. There might have been water on your lashes as you looked at him.

“Ah.” With the paper in his hand he let out a chuckle as his eyes roamed over the page. “You must be taking one of Professor Willow’s classes.” At your nod, the smallest of smiles broke out across his face. “You’re in luck, follow me.” Feeling every bit like a lost little duckling you followed behind him towards one of the tables that another of the workers was cleaning up. “Your Professor gives the same first assignment every year, I noticed a group of what I assume are other students in his classes studying earlier. Ah, here we are.” 

It was like a gift from the academic gods as he handed you three of the books on your list with a smile that made you want to cry again but this time in relief. “Thank you!” You didn’t even need to head to the checkout counter, as he pulled you towards one of the terminals and checked out the books once he had your ID in hand. 

“I’ve made a note on your file to pull the other two you were looking for, is this the right number? We can send you a text when they’re ready for pick up.” This one man was a godsend as you nodded telling him it was the right number and you didn’t realize they offered that service.

“Maybe if you had a little more sleep you might have noticed.” Chuckling with a shake of his head. “I’m certain you feel overwhelmed, just know the staff are here to help. It’s important to find a rhythm that doesn’t burn you out and you look like you’re ready to fall over in a light breeze.” 

Nodding again and starting to feel like a bit of bobblehead. “Thank you Sir! Um I mean…” Trailing off and letting your eyes fall to his nameplate and the few still aware brain cells in your head were still enough to tell you not to blurt out what you wanted to ask. 

“Yes. My name’s Satan. Don’t ask.” And you didn’t. Not when he just saved your proverbial bacon. 

Suffice to say however that interaction had been enough to make you smarten up a little bit. He made a good point, if you kept burning the midnight oil you might not have the energy to finish your degree and that would have been a waste of the scholarship you were there on. Or being burnt out and letting the grades you needed to maintain slip could cost you the scholarship as well. 

You took his advice to heart and started asking the staff for help instead of wandering the stacks and assuming they’d think it a waste of their time. You couldn’t do it alone, at least not this part and the staff were always friendly. 

Yet after that first interaction, you noticed that whenever you ran into Satan he always seemed to have that little smirk on his face as he helped you find what you were looking for. Several weeks later he even shook his head a little as he handed you a tome that looked like it could double as a murder weapon. “At least you don’t have the bags under your eyes anymore, just remember you need to eat too.” 

“Thanks, Mom.” Throwing back at him as you walked away with a playful wink. Trying to ignore the tingling along your fingers that had brushed his green painted nails. 

The more you interacted with him the more you learned about him and he in turn you. It was easier for him to start the conversations based on the books you were looking for he had been able to piece together what you were studying for your degree. 

It wasn’t long before you found you both had a shared interest in reading and not just for school. “Knowledge is power. People respect someone who’s well informed.” He’d stated during one of your conversations with his hand on his chin. It made sense, and also made sense why he was a librarian. You also learned he was only a few years older than you, having finished his degrees in a time span that made your eyes widen in surprise. Knowledge is power indeed. 

The downside you saw as you got to know him better was a simple one. 

You had a crush on him. 

Something you very much kept to yourself and didn’t tell and of the few friends you had made, certain you’d be made fun of for finding the blond attractive. It might have been more being worried it was because he was a librarian because you believed with the way some of the female students fawned over him he was attractive to more than just you. It wasn’t just his looks though, he seemed so earnest in his statements, and in the brief time you’d known him it seemed like he always knew the outcome of events before they happened. He explained it away as being the logical outcome after shrugging his shoulders and going back to work. Add in his tall lean frame, blond hair that fell just over the rim on his glasses with the way he parted it. Those soft little smiles and that slightly arrogant chuckle when he was right. 

Well. 

You were smitten. At least you were also smart enough to know nothing could ever come of it. Besides you didn’t want to risk your friendship with one of the few people that loved books as much as you did. They had been your escape as a child in your small rural town and you’d never stop being grateful for the worlds they allowed you to see in those printed pages. 

At least. That was before the incident. 

You’d been walking along in a corner of the library under an overhang when you felt it. 

A single drop of water hitting the back of your neck as you perused the shelve. Lifting your fingers to the hair along the nap of your neck and feeling the wet spot. Tilting your head a little confused you looked up and felt your stomach drop. The tiles along the ceiling clearly had water stains and they looked new. 

Fearful your eyes fell to the wooden shelves that held so many of the precious printed works you swallowed. Tentatively reaching out to press a finger to one of the spines, wincing at the spongy resistance that should have been solid. “Shit.” Grabbing one of the smaller books that was drenched you hurried back towards the main area of the library to find one of the staff to let them know what you found. 

Grinning at a familiar sweater vest clad figure that had their back to you. 

“Satan!” Calling out to him and glad you’d run into him, he’d understand the problem right away. “There’s a problem under the non-fic-” The smile on his face fading at your appearance.

“Why.” Cutting you off as his eyes landed on the sodden mess in your hand, his voice frigid and his eyes seemed almost dark compared to the usual mirth they shone with. “Is that book wet?” 

You stopped for a moment looking at him in surprise. “Because there’s an entire stack that’s soake-” 

“You ruined an entire stack of books!” You flinch at the way his normally even voice seemed to boom out across the space. There’s a fury on his face that has your stomach dropping down to the floor. 

“What. No. I think there’s been a-” In a span of moments he’s right in front of you and you could have sworn it was the devil who’s name he shared instead of the sweet librarian you had a crush on.

“A mistake? There is. Letting someone like you into these hallowed halls.” His eyes seething as he stares at you while your heart hammers inside your chest and sweat starts to drip down your neck. 

“I didn’t.” You whimper the words before he cuts you off again. 

“Didn’t what?” You can’t take this sudden change in his demeanor, your vision blurry with the fluid forming along your lashes. Your stomach is nothing but knots as you shake your head, feeling your cheeks warm as you're mentally torn between being embarrassed and terrified. As well as something you refuse to name in that moment. 

“Hey, Satan!” Another worker comes to your rescue. “It looks like we’ve got a water pipe burst down in the non-fiction five hundred to six hundred. We need someone to call maintenance and shut it off before more of the books get wet.” 

It’s like watching the wraith that overtook his face wash away as he turned to you with a whisper of your name. His outburst has a crowd watching the two of you and the entire altercation. You can’t take that look on his face, not with the way you feel and the fact there’s been an audience to see and hear him treating you like dirt. “That’s what I was trying to tell you.” Slapping the ruined book against his chest as the tears finally start to fall. “Asshole.” Hissing the last word just loud enough for him to hear before you take off running out of the library. 

You’ve had enough drama today. And the worst part? When he was yelling at you your body had responded, feeling your muscles tighten and your core throb. You did not have it in you to face that you might have a kink for being yelled at. Or degraded like that. 

Back in your dorm, you curl in a ball and pass out. You just don’t have the energy to deal with what the hell just happened and the way your heart beats in your chest like it’s been broken. 

When you come to the next morning you find an email from the student board, apparently, someone, or a few someones based on the detailed account, reported the incident. 

Great. 

You just wanted to put yesterday behind you and avoid the library for the rest of the year. So much for that. With the wording of the email you have no choice but to answer as they want to know how you want to deal with the incident and wondering if you wanted to have the employee face any potential job repercussions. That leaves a weight in your gut that makes you want to throw up at the way it’s worded.

Are you upset because of it? Yes. 

Do you want Satan to lose his job because of it? No. 

Dragging a hand down your face as you draft a response of how while you are upset at the situation and thankful that other students and faculty members reported the issue, you don’t want to take any more action than an apology. 

In truth, you want more than that because his reaction made you wonder if Satan had some anger issues he needed to sort out. Something like that in the email could still end up with him facing job loss. 

Finally checking your phone you see a message from an unknown contact. Clicking it you want to bang your head against the table. 

I had no right to say that to you. 

I understand if you never wish to speak to me again but I owe you an apology. 

I won’t make excuses for my behavior. 

However I made you feel in that moment I am deeply apologetic it wasn’t right to treat you that way. 

The date timestamp show the messages were sent a few hours after the incident, and you have one more from this morning. 

I’ve been placed on suspension. You don’t have to worry about running into me at the library for a few weeks. 

 Sighing you roll your shoulders as you start to type out a response. 

Satan

Did you seriously take my number from the student system to text me after what happened yesterday? 

That’s a bit unprofessional 

Sighing again you look at the device in your hand. You’re still upset but you don’t want to leave things hanging with neither of you knowing where you stand and possibly losing what might be a friend. 

I’m not going to say I accept your apology

You didn’t even let me answer yesterday and made me feel so small like I didn’t matter. It felt so different compared to the person that helped me out so often and reminded me when I needed to take breaks. You did a lot for me without even realizing it. 

So this time let me say it. 

I think you need a break.

Maybe once you’re back I’ll have my thoughts more in order on how I want to proceed with our friendship. 

Rubbing your face as you dropped your phone beside you before flopping back in bed, glad you had a few hours before you needed to be in class anywhere. 

As the weeks went by you found a difference in the library when you were there. It wasn’t that anyone treated you differently compared to any other student. It was more that you realized Satan did a lot of things for you that the staff didn’t do for students. 

When you couldn’t find a book or a certain reference the staff just pointed you in the right direction or check in the system to see the status of it. Compared to Satan who wouldn’t just tell you, he’d lead you to the right stack and help you find it. All the while asking you about the reason you wanted the resource. Or more that he was making comments in that eerie way of his that he knew exactly what you were up to. It made you realize just how much Satan seemed to know about you and how much you missed his presence. 

Stupid crush. 

You really did miss him though, and the way your heart hurt inside your chest at his absence was a sign you were in a lot deeper than you should have been. 

It was almost like a repeat of the first time you met him, minus the mad scramble on your part to try and find books. Well. 

The time was anyway. 

You’d stayed late to finish a paper, listening to your headphones while you typed away tucked in a cubical along a wall that wasn’t used very often with several books spread out across the space. Working on your closing statement to recap your thoughts when you jumped feeling a hand land on your shoulder. 

Flailing and making the worker flinch just as much, pulling one of your earbuds out to hear what the person had to say. “Sorry! It’s almost clos-ing” A hitch in a familiar voice as you turn. 

“Satan.” It tumbles from your lips and before you know it your arms are around his middle. Burying your face in one of his sweater vests. “I missed you.” 

“I um.” Feeling his hand pat your shoulder awkwardly. “I think you might be the one being unprofessional at the moment.” Realizing what you did you jumped back, missing the slightest flush on his face. 

“Sorry!” The tips of your ears feel like they’re on fire as you start to grab your things. At least until you pause remembering the series of texts after the incident. “Satan?” 

“Yes?” He’d been standing there like he was still in shock at the sudden contact. 

“I’m still not ready to forgive you for what happened.” Watching him you see him swallow and his face pale a little. Holding up your hand as his lips spread as if to interrupt you. “That doesn’t mean I’m mad, and well. I guess it’s my turn to say I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called you an asshole.” Sending him a sheepish smile as you go back to gathering your things. 

“You should have done worse, I was an asshole.” There’s a hint of dejection in his voice, but instead of still standing there he helps you grab your things since the library is closing. 

“I guess as long as we’re clear on that.” Laughing as you slip your laptop into your bag. Except when you straighten and find the two of you essentially sharing the space, this close you see the flecks of yellow in his eyes. “I um.” Stammering as you notice the slight split in his bottom lip. 

There’s a waiver in those pretty emerald eyes before he seems to make up his mind. “In for a penny.” Feeling confused by his words and your confusion only grows as his lips connect with yours for a brief kiss that has you feeling weak in the knees. It doesn’t last long before he steps back, creating distance between the two of you. “I guess I’m being unprofessional again.” Slowly blinking you notice the pink hue across his cheeks as he tries to look down at the floor.

“Maybe a little bit.” It’s hushed like you don’t want the words to carry any farther. “Doesn’t mean I didn’t like it though.” There’s a strange little flutter in your chest when his head snaps upwards. The way his eyes widen in what you can only hope is surprise is adorable. Squeezing the strap of your bag a little tighter in your hand as you swallow, hoping the material can wick away the sweat forming on your palms.  “You are a pretty nice guy, well, when you aren’t yelling at me.” Giving a small chuckle as you step closer, certain he has to be able to hear your heart pounding inside your chest like a drum. Lifting your hand and placing it in the center of his chest with a soft caress, parting your lips about to say something more when a voice calls out. 

“Satan!” Whatever courage you had mustered up after he kissed you shrivels up and fades in an instant. 

“Yea?” With reflexes you hadn’t expected he tugs you towards the edge of the wall and places a finger to his lips before turning and taking a few steps before dissappering from your sight into the short hallway that leads to the area you’re in.

“Almost done over here? We’ve got all the tables cleaned up and the books back on their shelves.” What? Glancing at your watch you realize the two of you must have spent a lot longer than you thought just staring at one another. It’s almost half an hour after the library was supposed to close. 

“Yea, just a few more books left to put away.” Satan’s voice is back to that steady tone you’re more used to hearing from him. 

“Oh need a hand then?” 

“No.” You can just picture him shaking his head at the offer of assistance. “I can finish up here myself.” 

“Alright. Why do I get the feeling you plan on sticking around to read after we’re all gone again?” The new voice laughs as if it’s something the blond does on a regular basis.

“Books are more interesting than people.” You can just picture him shrugging in that nonchalant way of his that has his shoulders rising just enough to show that he’s a little bit broader than his figure would let you to believe. 

“Well, have a good night then, and see ya in the morning.” Listening as the other person’s footsteps start to fade away until all you can hear is your breathing and the steady thump of your heart. Only to feel it miss a beat when Satan’s head pops back around. 

“Good. I thought you might have darted down the hallway to make sure you weren’t seen.” Leaning against the wall you’re still tucked against he raises a hand to reach out towards you, only to stop with his fingertips no more than a hairs breath away from the skin of your arm. “Um… I guess maybe the moments over?” That adorable hint of blush is back on his cheeks again. 

Feeling your face warm you shake your head. “I mean, it doesn’t have to be. Just… maybe this isn’t the best place?” Rubbing your thighs together nervously, while looking away from his face and biting your lip as your nerves come back. The idea of being caught making out with Satan in his place work where a few weeks ago he’d yelled at you for something that wasn’t your fault has you thinking this isn’t the right place. Another part of you, finds the thought of it tantalizing. 

“There’s only a few other workers left.” He says it so bluntly you jolt a little as you turn back towards him, finding his face inches from yours. The longer you gaze into his eyes the faster your heart starts to pound inside your chest, banging against your ribs as if wanting to escape from the confines of your bones. Your palms grow damp again as your stomach starts to clench. 

This close you can see the pulse in his neck, the shifting of his pale skin as he swallows and his adams apple moves. As steady as his voice might be, his body is reacting as if he’s as nervous as you are. The glasses on the bridge of his nose sliding down just enough that you make out the slight perspiration on his skin. 

You snap at the same time he does, your mouths connecting in a clash of teeth. Leaning into him with your hand tangling into his hair along the side of his head while he turns. His arms frame your sides as his chest presses you more against the wall, wedged between the bland painted surface and his body. The kiss is hurried and messy, but you don’t care, all you do care about is the way your heart pounds in your eardrums as you move your lips against his. Letting your bag slip from your fingers so you can run your hand along his chest, dragging the thick material of his sweater upwards as your fingers seek out the skin of his neck. 

Panting as you part your lips, wanting to deepen the kiss. It’s almost funny that he makes a similar move as your tongues slide across each other and you can taste what you think is coffee with milk. A bitter blend that's tempered by the tiniest hint of sweetness. Moaning as his body moves impossibly closer, as if trying to occupy the same space as you forcing you more against the wall. 

This close, your core throbs with need. He’s a bit taller than you, and there’s more than just his belt buckle pressing against your stomach. The thought of it has your head swimming with the idea of him being inside your body. 

Eventually, the two of you need to break for air. He’s flushed and his pupils are blown wide, almost hiding those striking irises of his as his shoulders shake in time to his deep breathing. You doubt you look much better. Neither of you moves too far away, sweeping your nose along the underside of his chin as you try to get your heart to slow down. 

“You have” His voice is strained as he speaks, laced with desperation you don’t understand. “No idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” Surprised at his admission you let out the smallest laugh that sounds more like a wheeze from your still screaming lungs. 

“Maybe. But I doubt it was before the start of the semester.” Teasing him has him letting out a chuckle as he ghosts his lips along the ridge of your cheekbone, following it to your ear before whispering lowly. 

“I’ll give you that, but it doesn’t change just how much I want you. Or how much I’ve had to control myself when talking to you instead of shoving you against the stacks and leaving you breathless.” Well, shit. If that low rasp in your ear doesn’t have your underwear starting to stick to your folds from the amount of fluid dripping from you his next words do. “Kissing you until your lungs burn while I pound my cock into you so when you cum my name is nothing but a mumbled moan that no one but me can hear. Then.” Dragging out the word with a strained breath. “I’d take you again. And Again. Until you’re a boneless incoherent mess.” 

“Damn. And here I just thought you were cute.” Trying to take away the building tension between the two of you out before your body screams to let him just do that. “Do you think that about a lot of new students?” A bad joke that doesn’t do anything to stop the thundering in your ears and the clenching of your core.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I just think those thoughts about you.” Watching his cheeks take on that cute little shade of pink that you’re starting to suspect is also partly his embarrassment makes your stomach do a strange little flip flop. 

“This is not a conversation I thought I’d be having right now.” Tilting your neck so your lips can brush along the point of his chin. “But I like it.” If how wet you feel is an indication it’s a lot more than just liking it. 

“Shit.” Hissing through his teeth you find yourself blinking in confusion. “I didn’t think you’d want me, that it was just fantasies in my head. I want you right now but I don’t have anything on me.” Letting his hands fall to his slide as he steps back, looking like he’s annoyed with himself. 

“Oh, Satan.” Chuckling you reach down to grab your bag and fish around inside one of the inner pockets. “You mean something like this?” Holding up the foil packet with a shit eating grin. 

“Do you always carry one of those around?” He has a look on his face like he isn't sure what you’re doing with a condom in your bag. 

“They say luck favors the prepared.” Teasing him a little as you lean back against the wall. “Plus, I’d rather have a condom on me and not need it, than need it and not have it. Seems like a good idea right now.” Watching that smile return to his face as he steps back into your space, kissing you again with a moan of his own as his fingers pluck the packet from your grasp. 

“Does that mean you feel like getting lucky?” Amusement in his tone as he skims his hand along your side, nipping at your lips while he waits for your answer. 

“You mean right here?” You definitely want this man, but the idea of it being against a wall doesn’t exactly keep you in the mood. 

“No. At one of those little desks, you were at earlier. No one would be able to see the middle one.” Nodding you place your weight against his body and away from the wall, trailing your hand down to the bulge in his pants and rubbing him through the material. Groaning he lets you keep palming at his cock as his hands land on your shoulders to guide you to the space, sitting down on one of the chairs and patting his lap for you to crawl on top of him. “Next time I’ll do you in the stacks, but for now I’d rather we both enjoy it sitting.” If it’s possible he seems nervous, not that you aren’t as you lick your lips before letting your weight settle. 

An experimental roll of your hips has both of you making some choked noises. The fire in your core is starting to make you sweat, and you just wanna feel him inside of you. “Satan?” Whispering against the shell of his ear with your hands resting on his shoulders, liking the feel of his lean form under your palms. 

“Yes?” A catch in his voice as he says your name with a longing you hadn’t expected. 

“I don’t want a build up, I just wanna feel you inside me. Please.” Whining low in your throat as you admit exactly what you want. 

“Asking like that just makes me wanna give into you.” Agreeing as he uses his hands to lift your hips upwards. “We’ll save that for next time.” Next time. It makes your core clench tighter as you step back and work the button on your jeans open and slide the zipper down before shimming the material of your bottoms and underwear down to your ankles. 

Glancing back to Satan and swallowing. His belt is undone along with his pants, pushed down to his knees with his cock in his hand as he strokes himself slowly from base to tip. It’s not the first dick you’ve seen, you’re not a virgin but you’ve only been with two other people as you tried things. Curious about how sex felt. But looking at him and the curve of his shaft already wrapped in the condom and how long he is you feel your walls clench and a dribble of liquid along the skin of your pussy. 

“We can stop if you want.” He must have taken you not moving as hesitation. Shaking your head before you shuffle closer and sit on his lap with your legs straddling his. 

“No. I want this.” Licking your lips as you place your hand over his chest and above his heart. “I want you.” Leaning in with a gentle kiss that’s more feeling than movement. Sliding your hands upwards to his shoulders you lift your hips up just enough so he can guide the head of his cock to your slick core. “Do you wanna stop?” 

“No.” That edge of certainly is back and once you feel the tip breach your sex you start to lower your body down, letting more of his length disappear inside your walls. 

“Sa-tan” Gasping as you tilt your head back, the burn from the slight stretch adding to your pleasure as his shaft reaches into the deepest part of you. Your butt cheeks clenching as you try to tighten even more around him, like your pussy wants to drag out that sensation of your walls being pushed to the point of pain as long as possible. 

“Fuck you feel good.” Hissing through his teeth as his hands settle on your hips to help you ease more of your weight down on him. A single drop of sweat trails down the side of his face as he watches you, savoring your expressions and storing them away in his memory for when he needs release and he only has his hand to work with. “Such a tight cunt.” Clenching around him like a vice while lightning races along your spine. Making a small noise of discomfort when his tip hits what you think is your cervix. “Easy, don’t hurt yourself.” His voice is soft through his clenched teeth as one of his hands sweeps across the skin of your hip before climbing a little higher under your shirt.

Nodding as you try to breathe through your nose, shit, you’re almost ready to cum just from having his cock in your pussy. Throbbing inside of you to the time of his heartbeat, the stretch making you pant as sweat has your shirt clinging to your back. “Kiss me.” It’s more like a command than a request, but Satan complies none the less. Lifting the hand that had been tracing patterns into the skin of your stomach to the back of your head to pull you closer. Letting him have control of your mouth and distracting you so your body relaxes, because you want to ride him instead of just coming undone from him being in your cunt. 

It’s like he can sense it, sliding his tongue around the inside of your mouth as is mapping it for memory. Keeping his fingers tangled in your hair and doing his best not to cum himself. As much as Satan might have fantasized about this moment, he never thought it would happen, having you here right now stuff to the brim with him was making him want to throw you on top of the desk and buck into you like a wild animal trying to breed. No. He needs you to feel safe around him again before snapping his hips into you like he wants to break you, so make it so your body craves his the way he craves you. Humming when he feels that tight channel wrapped around his shaft loosen. 

As the burning in your core starts to subside you lean back to break the kiss, placing your hands more firmly on his shoulders to steady yourself. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this close to cuming just from being penetrated.” Whispering the words as if sharing a secret before you start to gently ride him, focusing on the way his cock slides in and out of your walls. The way some of the veins along the underside brush against bundles of nerves that has you breathing deeper and freezing from the sensation. 

“If it helps” his voice is strained and the blush on his cheeks has spread to his neck and ears. “The last time I was this close so quickly was my first time.” Its so earnest you can’t help but slide your fingers along the nap of his neck as you close the distance for another kiss, starting to ride him a little faster now. 

Sliding your tongues together and breathing through your nose as you keep increasing the pace, moaning as his both of his hands are back on your hips. Helping guide you and keep you in place as you slide up and down his shaft from tip to base, feeling that coil in your belly growing tighter and tighter. All you can hear is the sound of wet slapping, moaning more into his mouth as he starts to buck up into you from the chair. 

Mewling against his face when you break the kiss, barely any space between your lips as you pant and whine hovering at that edge. “Satan.” It’s a breathless call of his name as you let out another whine, you’re so close. 

“I’ve got you.” Whispered against your face you feel his rapid exhales wash against your sweat slicked skin before you let out a strangled cry as you cum. All thanks to his fingers pinching your clit when his cock was balls deep inside you, moments later a grunt that might have been your name before Satan slams his mouth against yours. 

Slumping into his body as your core keeps spasms around him, his balls pumping more and more of his seed into the thin barrier of the condom that serves as a divider between your sexes. 

When you come down from your high you let out a soft little laugh as you lean your forehead against his. “That was fun.” 

“It was. I’d like to do it again.” Licking his lips as he gives one of your asscheeks a squeeze, liking the way it feels in his hand. “But I’d rather us both fully naked and on a bed.” 

“I live in the dorms.” Lifting your head with a smirk. “And didn’t you say next time would be in the stacks?” 

“I don’t consider this time over yet.” Catching your mouth in another quick kiss. “My place it is then.” Helping you off him before his cock softens too much as you swallow at the amount of cum inside the condom. Shit. You can already feel your body warming at the thought of another round. “Oh, and I’ve got condoms at my apartment.” 

“Then lead the way, Mr. Librarian.” Pulling your pants on and discreetly licking your lips. You like the idea of sucking him off and swallowing a massive load like that down your throat. “Does that mean I’m better than your books?” 

The answer is a laugh that makes you grin from ear to ear. It’s the start of an interesting relationship with the man that’s for sure. 

Obey me Masterlist

[schemmentigfs]

Req/idea: Melissa wanting to pleasure the reader, but she’s inexperienced with women? (Talking her through it, reassurance, building trust, etc)

Her First Woman’s Touch.

Summary: Melissa goes through a difficult process of self-discovery and acceptance to learn more about intimacy between women, so she can give you pleasure during sex.

Warnings: ANGST, mentions of religious trauma, internalized homophobia, a single slur, body insecurities, smoking, smut. melissa might be out of character sometimes? joe hate club

Notes: This is long, but it’s worth it. 🤍 i wrote it with so much love, so enjoy babies.

Melissa Ann Caterina Schemmenti wasn’t insecure and vulnerable. She always was the rock of her social circle, the unstoppable woman who could handle anything thrown at her with a steady, unflinching resolve. Her demeanor was tough, marked by a confidence that rarely wavered. But lately, a huge doubt consumed her.

After years of feeling trapped by a label that didn’t define and fit her, she finally came out as a bisexual woman. However, this new freedom came with its own uncertainties. Now, being in a stable four months relationship with you, a more younger, captivating and more experienced soul. Her heart was racing as she thought about how she wanted to please you and be sexually intimate, but her lack of experience with women made her hesitant.

The painful memories of her college years flooded her mind again and again, a time when she had yearned to explore her bisexuality but felt shackled by her upbringing. Her parents, deeply religious, had instilled in her a profound sense of guilt about any feelings that strayed from their beliefs. Melissa always watched with envy as others embraced their identities, while she remained in silence, suppressing who she was. This inner conflict persisted long after graduation, but now, as an adult, it felt heavier than ever.

The memory of her father’s harsh words cut through her like a knife. “You’re going to burn in hell, Melissa Ann!” he shouted, his voice thick with anger and disappointment. “You’re gonna be the black sheep of the Schemmentis. If you don’t stop with those stupid thoughts.” Those horrendous words, once echoing through their small, cluttered kitchen, now reverberated in her mind, haunting her even years later. “Someone corrupted you, that’s not the daughter I raised to make me and your mother proud. Non sei un fottuto frocio!”

A knot tightened in her stomach, a familiar feeling of dread and nausea creeping in as she recalled her traumatic childhood. She remembered the confusion and shame she felt, struggling to understand why she was drawn to both boys and girls. It was a realization she had kept hidden for so long, fearing the wrath and rejection of her family. Every stolen glance, every fleeting crush on a girl, had been tainted with guilt and self–recrimination.

For decades she blamed herself for not being straight. For not fitting into the strict normal mold her family expected her to follow. The fear of condemnation had forced her to hide her true self, living in a constant state of doubt. The burden of carrying her secret had made her feel isolated and alone, as if she were the only one in the world grappling with these feelings.

In her teenage years growing up in a strict devout Catholic household, Melissa would often lock herself in her bedroom, her sanctuary from the outside world, and pray. The room was small, with a crucifix hanging on the wall above her bed, and a small statue of the Virgin Mary on her simple nightstand. The faint scent of incense from morning Mass still lingered in the air. On the days when the weight of her feelings became too much, she would kneel by her bed, clasping her hands tightly together, her knuckles white with tension.

But her prayers often turned into desperate arguments with God. She’d rail against the silence that seemed to mock her suffering. In fits of anger and confusion, she would scream at the crucifix, questioning why she was cursed with desires that didn’t align with the life she had been taught to lead. Melissa was supposed to marry a good healthy man and start a family of her own, wasn’t she?

“Dear Lord, why have you condemned me to this torment?” she cried out, her voice cracking with desperation. “Why have you made me this way? Why can’t you accept me for who I am? Am I so abhorrent in your sight that I must suffer endlessly? Tell me—am I so wrong, so irredeemable in your eyes?”

She paused. “And what about my feelings for both boys and girls? Is it a sin to love them both? Am I to be punished because my heart refuses to choose between them? Why must my own nature be a source of such unending pain? Why can’t you understand that my love for them is just as real, just as genuine, as any other?”

One evening, overwhelmed by the unbearable weight of her internal conflict, Melissa’s deepest frustration reached a boiling point. She hurled a wooden chair across the room, its legs scraping loudly against the floor as it crashed into the wall. The violent act seemed to punctuate her desperation, the chair’s splintering echo a stark contrast to her deep-seated pain.

“Why do you let Pa call me a dyke? Why do you let him say I’m an abomination? You know the pain it causes me! Why do you let him tear me apart inside while Ma pretends nothing’s wrong?”

Her knees buckled as she collapsed to the floor. The coldness of the tiles was a stark contrast to the feverish heat of her anger. One of the holy saints statues, a symbol of her faith, tumbled from its pedestal and shattered, its fragments scattering across the room.

The once serene face was now a mosaic of broken pieces. The porcelain, once pure and whole, now lay in shards, mirroring her own fragmented sense of self. The saint’s broken visage was a stark reminder of the purity that had been tainted by the harsh reality of her suffering.

“No! Not Saint Maria! Nonna’s favorite saint!”

The exhaustion was overwhelming. She felt her limbs growing numb and her head growing heavy. Her vision blurred, and the room spun around her. Despite her attempts to fight it, her body succumbed to the fatigue. Her breaths grew shallower as she drifted closer to unconsciousness.

As she began to lose consciousness, her lips parted, and a whisper escaped her mouth. “I’m just… a failure,” she murmured, voice barely audible. Her depressive words were a final, fragile admission of her internal turmoil. The words were soaked in the weight of her self-loathing and the pain of feeling misunderstood and rejected.

The door creaked open slightly, and Kristin Marie peeked into the old bedroom, her wide eyes searching for her older sister. She saw Melissa sprawled on the floor, her form partially obscured by the scattered shards and a amount of blood. Her innocent curiosity was momentarily replaced by concern, but the sight of her stillness made her stop.

“Sister Mel is sleepy,” she giggled, her words full of poor miscomprehension. The toddler turned to leave, deciding to give her sister the rest she seemed to need. “Play later!”

Hours later, Melissa slowly stirred, her head throbbing with a dull ache. As she tried to sit up, she felt a sticky warmth on her forehead. She reached up, her fingers coming away covered in a faint crimson. Groaning softly, she touched the spot gingerly and winced as the pain intensified.

“Son of a bitch...”

Gazing at the mess and determined to salvage what was left, she carefully gathered the shards of the broken statue, her hands shaking slightly. She meticulously cleaned the pieces, placing them in a small box as though they were precious remnants of something sacred. And pretended that nothing happened. It was now her dirty little secret.

One that Melissa would keep with her until her death.

Every family gathering, every holiday, was a reminder of how different she felt, how she didn't belong. The Schemmentis prided themselves on their strong values, and she felt like an outlier, a blemish on their perfect image. The weight of her father's words and her mother’s neglecting was a constant reminder of the expectations she could never meet the acceptance Melissa feared she would never find. The poor woman’s siblings, although supportive of their sister, stood in silence, afraid of going against their beloved ma and pa.

In the midst of this stifling environment as life continued, the older woman remained in complete denial. At work, she kept her personal life carefully hidden. Even though her closest colleagues sensed her discomfort and unease, they never pried. She wore her public mask of professionalism and cheerfulness, but beneath it, she was struggling with her own truths.

Becoming a tough woman and pretending to just be heterosexual, a role she embraced, took a significant toll on her mental being. This strength she presented to the world was both a shield and a cage. The weight to maintain this image meant suppressing her vulnerabilities and emotions, leading to a constant internal battle. Her moments of solitude were marked by a deep, unspoken sadness as she grappled with isolation.

The persona she projected often felt like a lie, one that she had to uphold despite the emotional exhaustion it caused. Her mental health suffered as she became increasingly disconnected from her true self. Not recognizing herself anymore.

Melissa’s failed marriage with Joe was a constant reminder of the life she had tried to conform to but never truly belonged to.

That seemed to change when Ava hired you as the new teacher to take third-grade class. You brought a warmth and openness that cut through the fiery redhead’s worst barriers, sparking a connection she had not anticipated. As your friendship deepened into something more, she found herself struggling with feelings she had long suppressed. Despite her growing affection for you, she hesitated to cross the line into physical intimacy.

This vulnerability and insecurity consumed her every single second. As she lay in her king-sized bed on a Friday night after a busy day at school, she couldn’t help but replay every moment of your relationship in her mind. She worried constantly about whether she was good enough for you, fearing she might be making you impatient due to her reluctance to have sex. The fear of disappointing you gnawed at her, and she found herself staring at the ceiling, lost in thought. She ached with the desire to connect with you on a deeper level, to show you just how much she cared, but the uncertainty held her back.

Each night, as she lay next to you in your complex apartment, the older woman would often find herself tracing the gentle curves of your sleeping body with her fingertips, memorizing the softness of your skin under her touch. You were a source of warmth and safety, still every time she opened her mouth to voice her fears, the words lodged in her throat. It was a silent battle, one that filled her with shame and frustration. Melissa felt as if she was a stranger in her own body, struggling to reconcile her desires with her reality.

You had been nothing but patient, reassuring her multiple times that there was no rush at all, that love was about connection and trust. Even amidst your understanding, a humiliation consumed her. How could she be almost fifty four and still feel so unprepared for something natural like that? The shame burned fiercely in her chest, a constant reminder of her late blooming, leaving her wondering if she could ever truly satisfy you in the ways you deserved.

“Santo cielo. I can’t do this I fuckin’ can’t.” Melissa cursed, tears threatening to fall into her green eyes. Why was this so damn complicated? The internal struggle felt unbearable, as if a storm was about to explode inside her. It consumed her, and even surrounded by understanding, the pressure of everything was overwhelming.

Turning her head toward the mirror, she stared at her reflection. The image staring back at her was a woman trapped between two worlds. On one side was the freedom she had found in accepting her sexuality, a liberation she had long yearned for. On the other hand, the harsh reality of her insecurities loomed large, amplified by her constant comparisons to others who seemed so much more experienced and confident. The weight of her inexperience made her feel small and inadequate.

She sat up in bed, wiping at her eyes angrily. “Fuck this, Schemmenti,” she muttered. The words came out as a broken whisper, a desperate plea to herself, but the self-reproach did little to ease the turmoil inside her. The tears came anyway, hot and unchecked, as she let out a shuddering breath. She needed to find a way to talk to you, to bridge the gap that her disquiet had created. But the question remained—could she overcome her past and embrace the love she had found with you? She wanted to explore, to learn, to share everything with you, but the fear of failing paralyzed her.

“There are so many things I still don’t understand,” the redhead continued, her voice choking, as if she was waiting for someone to answer her. “So many things that I need to explore. And I keep getting lost in doubts. It’s not fair to you, baby. It’s not fair to me either.”

Melissa let out a long, weary sigh as she sank into the soft embrace of the sheets once again, curling up into a tight ball of self–deprecation. The emptiness of the bedroom started to swallow her figure, a stark contrast to the comfort and safety she used to feel. She stared at the empty space beside her, her gaze tracing the outlines of the pillow and the indentations where you lain on weekends. The walls of the room, once so familiar, now seemed cold and distant, offering little solace from the storm of emotions inside her.

Memories of happy times with you surfaced, fleeting but powerful, when she would catch you looking at her with tenderness, and such understanding, that it felt like the world stopped spinning. In those moments, her apprehension would momentarily dissipate, replaced by the warmth of your company and gaze. She remembered how you would gently reassure her, your voice a soothing balm to her restless state.

I know I’m your first woman; that means everything to me.

I’ll be gentle, just take your time. You’re safe with me.

Your reassurances helped—sometimes. When you’d say things like those, a part of her believed you, trusted in your kindness. But another part of her couldn’t stop the flood of negativity, couldn’t shut out the fear that she would disappoint you, that she was fumbling through something too precious to ruin.

You’ll never be enough for her, Melissa. You’ve never done this before. She’ll get tired of waiting for you to figure it out. You’ll embarrass yourself.

You’re fumbling, and she’s just being nice. She’s just waiting for the moment she can walk away.

You’re too old for this. You’re too slow, too clumsy. She can do better. She will do better.

“Mi dispiace amore mio, sono un codardo,” she yelled punching the mattress with her fist.

That Friday, she cried until she fell asleep. Exhausted, her salty tears wet the pillow, and silent sobs shook her body as she tried, in vain, to calm the storm of emotions built up inside her. The deep need to feel confident and equal to the love you gave her. And as a troubled sleep finally embraced her, Melissa felt a small relief. The crying, in a way, had been a step towards releasing the feelings that tormented her.

Was she really a coward that would never face her fears?

What were you doing with an old lady like her who didn’t know anything?

Wouldn’t it just be better if you left her?

Over the weekend, the older woman was relaxing on the plastic couch in her living room, a glass of red wine resting in her right hand as she puffed away at a cigarette. The soft lights created a welcoming atmosphere, and the sound of the television, playing Celebrity Jeopardy, filled the space with a comfortable familiar distraction. She was distracted, but her mind was away from the entertainment, deep in thoughts about what she had just watched and what she still needed to do. Melissa watched the show's contestants, her eyes scanning the confident faces on the screen.

She looked at her cigarette, which was almost finished, and let it go out in the ashtray. Her old cigarette addiction had become a metaphor for her deepest insecurities — a habit that was difficult to break, but one that constantly reminded her of her challenges and rage. Each ember that dimmed seemed to echo the older woman's own struggles, a poignant reminder of the destructive patterns she fought to escape. The acrid smell lingered, an olfactory ghost of her past, stubbornly clinging to her clothes and her very soul. With a heavy sigh, she flicked the ash and resolved to confront the parts of herself she had long tried to ignore.

She leaned back into the couch, closing her eyes and taking another sip of wine. The warmth of the alcohol spread through her chest, loosening some of the tension. She knew she needed to do something, to find a way to overcome her fears and insecurities. But where to start? And how to reach information? The idea of opening up about her feelings, of admitting her lack of experience, felt terrifying since she hated to show any sign of weakness.

“Maybe I should do some research?” Melissa thought aloud, the idea dawning on her slowly. It sounded ridiculous at first, but the more she considered it, the more it made sense. She had always been someone who liked to be prepared, to have all the information before making a decision. This situation was no different. If she wanted to feel more confident, she needed to educate herself.

As the edition of Celebrity Jeopardy on the TV ended, replaced by a late-night talk show, Melissa stood up and stretched, feeling the tension ease from her muscles. She walked over to the windows, looking out at the night sky. The stars twinkled brightly, a reminder that the world was vast and full of possibilities. She smiled softly to herself, feeling a renewed sense of purpose.

The redhead raised another cigarette to the empty room, striking a match with a soft scratch. As the flame illuminated the dark space for a moment, she took a deep drag, letting the smoke curl up around her. “To new beginnings, for me, for Y/n. To us,” she whispered, voice barely above a murmur. The words hung in the air, resonating in the quiet of the room. It wasn’t a perfect solution, and she knew doubts and fears would still linger. But it was a step in the right direction. As the TV continued to hum, Melissa felt a small flicker of hope. She might not have all the answers, but at least she was ready to start looking for them.

Over the next few days and weeks, on several sleepless nights, the teacher searched on Google. How to navigate a same-sex relationship when you’re inexperienced? she typed, pressing enter before she could second-guess herself. As the results loaded, she skimmed through the titles. There were so many women who had been in her shoes, who had felt the same insecurities and fears at one moment of their lives. With each click, she felt more intrigued and amazed as she noticed the many different options for how she could give and receive pleasure. Articles, videos, forums—an entire world unfolded before her, revealing nuances she had never considered or imagined. She read article after article, watched educational videos, and even ventured into The Womanizer and Quinn blogs where women shared their intimate experiences and advice. The sheer variety of ways to connect and pleasure each other was both overwhelming and fascinating to her.

As she read through personal stories and advice columns, Melissa felt a mixture of excitement and trepidation. She took notes, bookmarked pages, and even found herself blushing at some of the more detailed descriptions. It was a strange, exhilarating education that left her feeling more informed but still uncertain. The more she learned, the more she realized how much she didn't know. And as she delved deeper into this research, she began to realize that the key was not just in techniques, but in communication and emotional connection. The Sicilian woman recalled how your soft touches and kind words made her feel safe and wanted. Perhaps the most important thing would be to bring that same security and desire to both of you.

After weeks of diving into intense research, Melissa found herself at a crossroad. Each day spent pouring over books, articles, and seeking advice had only heightened her awareness of her inexperience. The redhead made a heartfelt promise to herself, one that resonated deeply within her. She resolved that rather than allowing her fears and uncertainties to overshadow her, she would harness the insights she had gained to fortify the bond between you. This wasn’t just about confronting her own apprehensions; it was about opening her heart fully and trusting you in ways she had never allowed herself before.

She envisioned a future where both of you could explore and embrace the full spectrum of love and connection. Melissa understood that the path ahead would not be without its challenges. It would require patience, understanding, and a willingness to be vulnerable. Although, she was committed to embarking on this journey with you. She was prepared to face her worst fears head-on and let the promise of love and trust guide her.

—

“C’mon. It shouldn’t be that hard, stop being a pussy.” The redhead huffed, walking through the busy streets and holding a small pamphlet with an address on it. Pushing herself forward. The words were meant to be a pep talk, but they came out more as a grumble. Dressed in a black leather jacket, her left hand buried deep in her pocket gripping her keys so tightly that the cold metal dug into her palm. While the right clutched the paper, she cut a confident figure. But inside, she felt like a terrified kid again.

On this afternoon, Melissa found herself standing outside a cozy queer café in Philadelphia. The establishment’s large windows framed a warm, inviting interior filled with plush armchairs, bookshelves, vases of plants and soft lighting. A sign with an impeccable handwriting on the door read Sapphic Women’s Discussion Group. All Welcome! The vibrant façade, adorned with rainbow flags and welcoming posters promoting LGBTQ+ events, felt inviting and intimidating.

She was resting on the door handle. The intrusive thought of turning around, retreating to the safety of her car, and forgetting this whole idea crossed her mind. For years, Melissa had thought about walking into a place like this, spaces that welcomed women like her, women who loved other women—but she never imagined she’d actually do it. Not at her age, not after a life of silence and denial.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed the door open and stepped inside, the smell of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods enveloping her.

“Here goes nothin’,” The Italian redhead said with a hint of sarcasm, her South Philly accent wry and unmistakable. “I swear if anyone makes funny of me, I’ll fucking ran away–”

Inside, the atmosphere was lively but casual. Women of various ages and backgrounds were seated at tables, engaged in conversations. Laughter and the hum of voices filled the air, creating a sense of community and belonging. The older woman spotted a table in the corner with a small group of women and made her way over, hoping to blend in while still taking in the atmosphere and aura. The table she chose was adorned with a simple centerpiece of fresh flowers, next to a hand-drawn menu filled with witty drink names like Sappho’s Latte and Audre’s Espresso.

“Mind if I sit here?” she asked, her voice betraying just a hint of nervousness.

They nodded, murmuring polite welcomes, and she sat down, smoothing her jacket out of habit. Just as she was settling in, a woman in her mid-thirties approached, a friendly smile lighting up her face. She had short, dark hair that fell naturally across her forehead, and her denim jacket was covered with pins advocating for various causes—pride flags, feminist slogans, and more. There was something about her presence that radiated both strength and warmth, an unspoken understanding in her eyes that seemed to invite openness.

“Hey, you’re new here, right? I’m Jules. Can I join you?”

She managed a small, nervous smile and shifted her gaze downward, politely giving her a clumsy handshake. “Sure, it’s my first time being here. I’m Melissa.”

Jules took a seat and leaned back, her presence somehow instantly putting her at ease. “So, what brings you here today?”

Melissa took a deep breath. It wasn’t easy to open up about something so personal, especially to a place full of strangers, but something about the atmosphere in the shop made her feel safe enough to try.

“Recently, I came out as bisexual,” the older woman began, trembling. “It took me years to figure it out...or maybe I knew all along, but I was just too scared to accept it because of, you know... religious guilt and family trauma.”

“That’s a huge step, Mel. Coming out, especially after carrying something like that for so long... It’s not easy. You’re brave for even being here.”

Encouraged by understanding, she continued, though her words still came out haltingly. “I.. I’m in a relationship now, with a younger woman. She’s amazing, and I really care about her. But I’ve never been intimate with a woman before, and I... I’m so scared. I want to pleasure her, make her feel good, but I don’t know where to start. I was afraid to come here and open up about this. I thought... I thought people might laugh at me or think I’m not ‘really’ bi because I’ve never done it before.”

Jules reached across the table and placed her hand on Melissa’s shoulder, giving it a reassuring pat. “You’re definitely not alone in feeling that way. A lot of us have been where you are now. It’s completely normal to feel nervous, especially when it’s all so new. But what’s important is that you’re here, willing to learn and grow.”

The green eyed woman felt a lump forming in her throat.

“I was married too," she confessed, tinged with bitterness and pain. “My ex-husband, Joe… he was a dickhead. He was always drunk, and he cheated on me more times than I can count. I stayed with him ‘cause I thought it was the ‘right’ thing to do, you know? Because of my family, because of my faith… But it was killing me inside. I was miserable, and it took me a long time to realize that I deserved better.”

“I’m sorry you went through that,” the youngest said sincerely. "No one deserves to be treated that way. But you’re here now, and that’s what matters.”

As they spoke, Jules gave a subtle signal to a few women seated nearby. One by one, they began to gather around, their expressions a mixture of curiosity and encouragement. They formed a small semicircle, their presence a quiet testament to the power of community. Each woman seemed to carry her own story, her own struggles and triumphs, but there was no judgment here—only acceptance.

One of the women, a young woman with thoughtful eyes, spoke up first. “You know, sometimes the most important thing is to listen and learn without rushing. Every relationship is different. What works for one couple might not work for another.”

Another woman, slightly older, nodded in agreement. “And balancing personal space with intimacy is key. You have to be able to communicate openly about your needs and boundaries.”

Melissa nodded, absorbing their words like a sponge. The advice was practical, yes, but it was the honesty and openness in their voices that struck her most. They weren’t just talking at her—they were sharing pieces of themselves.

The conversation continued, flowing naturally between experiences of first loves, heartbreaks, and everything in between. They discussed how vital it was to take things slow, to be attuned to each other’s needs, to ask questions, and most of all, to approach intimacy with openness and care. Each woman offered something unique, from personal tips to deeply felt wisdom, and by the time the gathering wound down, Melissa felt an overwhelming sense of relief and empowerment.

As the women began to disperse, exchanging hugs and goodbyes, Melissa stood up from the table, feeling lighter than when she had walked in. Jules caught her eye one last time, giving her a reassuring nod.

“You’ve got this, Mel. Just remember to trust yourself, okay?”

She smiled, a genuine warmth spreading across her face for the first time that evening. “Thank you… really.”

As she stepped outside, the sun still hung low in the sky, casting everything in a warm, golden glow. For the first time in a long while, she felt hopeful. She wasn’t just carrying the weight of her past anymore—she was moving forward, armed with the knowledge, support, and confidence she’d gained from this little café and the women who had opened their hearts to her.

Melissa was ready to take the next steps in your relationship.

—

Wednesday was different for Melissa. From the moment she woke up, she could feel the weight of anticipation pressing down on her chest. After dropping her second graders—whom she affectionately called her “little eagles”—off at the gym for physical education, her day should have felt like any other. But instead, her mind raced, a nervous buzz thrumming beneath her skin. She spent the rest of the morning mentally rehearsing what she planned to say, her palms growing sweaty each time she replayed the words in her head.

By the time the lunch bell rang, her resolve had formed, but her body still trembled as she made her way to the cafeteria. She spotted you immediately, seated at a table with Jacob and Janine. The three of you were deep in discussion, laughing about the success of the recent library program project. The sound of your laughter, bright and carefree, made Melissa’s heart flutter. It grounded her, reminding her of why she wanted to do this in the first place.

But as she approached, her heart raced, and the familiar anxiety crept back in. What if she said the wrong thing? What if you didn’t want the same things she did? She had planned something special for the two of you tonight, something that would show you just how much she cared. She just hoped she wouldn’t trip over now that she was so close to making it real.

You were in the middle of recounting a funny story about one of your students when your gaze shifted, and you saw her walking toward the table. Instantly, your surroundings blurred; the laughter and conversation between Jacob and Janine faded into a distant hum as your focus zeroed in on her. Melissa wasn’t often nervous, but there was something in the way she carried herself now—vulnerable yet brave—that made your heart swell with affection.

She hesitated for a moment, standing a few feet away. Her green eyes flicked to the floor as though she was searching for the right words. Her hands, you noticed, were fidgeting at the hem of her blouse, tracing the fabric as if seeking comfort. She drew in a breath before speaking, her voice soft but laced with determination.

“I, um… I planned a romantic dinner for us tonight.” She was cautious, almost tentative. “Would you be able to come over to my place at seven, hon?”

Your heart warmed at her nervousness, and you gave her a soft, reassuring smile. “Of course, babe. I’d love to.” The tenderness in your tone seemed to ease her tension, and you couldn’t help but add. “Do you want me to bring anything? A bottle of your favorite white wine or—”

“No, just you and your beautiful body,” The second the words left her lips, her face flushed a deep, fiery red, the color climbing up her neck and spreading across her cheeks. Her hand flew up to cover her mouth as her eyes went wide in shock at her own boldness. It was as if she couldn’t believe what she’d just said, and the mortification was clear in the way her shoulders tensed. “Oh?”

Jacob and Janine, who had been standing just far enough away to give you both some privacy, exchanged a quick glance. Janine, ever the romantic, stifled a squeal of excitement, biting her hand to keep from bursting into giddy laughter. Jacob, always the supportive friend, gave Melissa a discreet thumbs-up, mouthing.“You’ve got this. Just breathe, Mel Mel.” Their silent gestures of support didn’t go unnoticed by Melissa, and despite the fiery embarrassment burning in her cheeks, she felt a rush of warmth and gratitude.

You, too, caught the brief exchange between your friends and chuckled, though your gaze quickly returned to Melissa. There was no mistaking the anxiety in her posture, but beyond that, you could see the flicker of something else—determination, excitement, maybe even hope. She was putting herself out there, more than she usually allowed herself to, and that touched you deeply.

Just me and my body, huh?” you teased gently. “That’s quite the invitation, Schemmenti. What’s the occasion?”

Melissa’s face, already flushed, deepened into an even darker shade of red, but there was a spark in her eyes now, a glimmer of resolve. She was nervous, yes, but she had made her decision. “I just thought it was time to switch things up a bit,” she replied, her voice steadier than before, though still laced with vulnerability. “You know, take a leap and maybe… celebrate us.”

Her words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. This wasn’t just about a dinner; this was about moving forward, about her desire to deepen your relationship. You could see how much this moment mattered to her—the courage it took to say those words, to open herself up to the possibility of rejection, even if that fear was unfounded. You stood up and closed the distance between you. Without hesitation, you wrapped her in a tender hug, your arms encircling her in a protective embrace.

She stiffened for a moment, caught off guard by the sudden display of affection, especially in such a public setting. But as soon as she felt your warmth enveloping her, she relaxed, melting into your arms as if this was exactly where she was meant to be. The proximity, the way you held her so tightly yet so gently, made her realize how deeply she needed this, needed you.

“Baby, that sounds perfect,” you whispered softly, your breath warm against her ear. “I can’t wait for tonight.”

Melissa’s hold on you tightened as she buried her face in the crook of your neck, the anxiety that had gnawed at her all day slowly ebbing away. She pressed a soft kiss to your hair, the gesture filled with such tenderness it made your heart ache. With your bodies pressed together, she could feel the steady rhythm of your heartbeat against hers, the calming syncopation reminding her that she was exactly where she belonged.

As you held her, you caught a glimpse of Janine and Jacob, who were watching from a distance with proud smiles. Janine gave Jacob a giddy nudge, her spirit high and full of excitement for you both. Even Mr. Johnson, who was still sweeping the cafeteria floor nearby, muttered something about “first love making messes,” though there was a small, almost imperceptible grin on his face.

Eventually, you pulled back just enough to look at her, your hands resting on her arms. “So, what’s on the menu tonight?” you asked, with playful curiosity. “I’m guessing it’s not just spaghetti and meatballs.”

Melissa’s lips twitched, the nervousness in her eyes slowly giving way to something warmer, more confident. “You’ll just have to wait and see,” she said, her voice teasing now. “But I can promise you, it’s going to be unforgettable.”

You grinned at her, the excitement for tonight bubbling up in your chest. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

As you stepped back and returned to your spot, Melissa lingered for a moment, watching you with a cute, almost dreamy expression on her face. The weight of the day’s nerves had finally lifted, replaced by a sense of joy and anticipation. With one last glance at you, she turned and headed back to her classroom, her heart feeling lighter than it had in months.

“You two are seriously the cutest couple ever,” Janine gushed, nudging you with her elbow as she sat back down.

Jacob nodded in agreement, a small, knowing smirk on his face. “She’s a lucky woman.”

You felt your face flush with warmth as you beamed softly, your thoughts already drifting to the evening ahead. “I’m the lucky one,” you murmured, more to yourself than to them.

—

The soft glow of candles flickered across the kitchen, casting gentle shadows that danced on the walls. Melissa had taken great care to set the table just right. The white linen tablecloth was smooth and immaculate, the polished silverware gleamed under the dim light, and delicate crystal glasses sparkled like tiny stars. A simple yet elegant centerpiece—a vase filled with fresh roses—added a touch of romance, their soft petals a gentle reminder of the evening’s purpose.

After a quick shower, Melissa stood in front of her bathroom mirror, wrapped in a thick towel as her reflection stared back at her. She untangled her hair with her fingers, letting the soft waves settle naturally around her shoulders. The evening felt charged with meaning, and as she pulled on a deep green dress that highlighted the rich color of her eyes, she couldn’t shake a sense of anticipation that made her fingers tremble. But before she slipped into the dress, Melissa lingered in her reflection, standing there in her bra and underwear.

Her fingers brushed lightly over the delicate lace of her bra before trailing up to her cross necklace. The small, familiar weight of it rested against her skin, a reminder of her faith and the strength she often sought from it. She gently kissed the cross, her lips touching the cool metal, as if grounding herself. Closing her eyes for a moment, she whispered, “I’ll be okay.” Her voice was steady, a quiet promise to herself. When she opened her eyes again, a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips. She was ready—nervous, yes, but there was an undeniable sense of purpose in the evening that outweighed her fears.

The act of kissing her necklace and reminding herself that she would be okay brought a small but real sense of calm. She unclenched her jaw, letting herself breathe before stepping away from the mirror to pull on the deep green dress she had picked out.

Slipping into the dress, Melissa took one last look at herself, smoothing down the fabric and adjusting the straps. It wasn’t an extravagant gown—just a simple dress that made her feel beautiful in a way that mattered most to her. It hugged her curves in all the right places, the fabric complementing her fiery red hair and highlighting the vibrancy of her eyes. She added a light touch of makeup, just enough to enhance her natural features, before stepping back to admire the final result. A moment of calm settled over her, the flicker of nerves tempered by the reassurance she had given herself.

The house was filled with the mouthwatering aroma of lasagna, garlic, tomatoes, and bubbling cheese coming together in the oven. The familiar, comforting smells filled every corner of the room, making it feel warm, welcoming. Melissa stepped into the kitchen, checking on the lasagna and adjusting the heat, ensuring everything was perfect. The faint sound of the record player drifted in from the living room, where a playlist of your favorite songs played softly, romantic melodies filling the air with warmth and intimacy. Everything was set, and now, all she needed was for you to arrive.

The doorbell rang, cutting through the quiet with a soft chime, and Melissa’s heart skipped a beat. She stood still for a moment, gathering her courage. This evening wasn’t just about the food or the setting—it was about the leap she was taking, the love she wanted to show you. Taking a deep breath, she smoothed her dress once more and made her way to the door. As her hand reached for the doorknob, she murmured to herself, “I’ll be okay,” one last time, her fingers briefly touching the cross around her neck.

When she opened the door and saw you standing there, her nerves melted away at the sight of your smile. You looked at her, taking in the beautiful green dress, her soft waves of hair, and the way her eyes shone with a mixture of happiness and vulnerability. There was a beat of silence, the world falling away for a moment as you exchanged a quiet, meaningful look.

“Hey, babe,” you said warmly, stepping forward and pulling her into a gentle hug. You could feel the slight tremble in her body as she relaxed into your embrace, her arms wrapping around you as if she had been waiting for this all day.

“Hey, mia principessa,” she whispered back softly, but there was a strength in it. You could sense how much this night meant to her, how much she wanted it to be special. “Come in. I’ve got everything ready.”

The smell of lasagna welcomed you as you stepped into the cozy warmth of her home. You glanced around, admiring the thoughtful touches—the candlelit table, the vase of roses, the soft music filling the space. It was intimate, and it spoke volumes about the care she had put into this night.

“Lissa, this is beautiful,” you said, turning back to her. “You did all of this?”

Melissa smiled, the nervous energy that had been building inside her easing just a little at your reaction. “Yeah, I wanted to do something special for us.”

You reached out, taking her hand and giving it a gentle peck. “It’s perfect.”

For the first time that evening, your girlfriend felt a deep sense of calm.

You followed Melissa to the dining table, where the soft glow of the candles illuminated the spread before you. The lasagna sat perfectly golden in its dish, steam rising from the surface, and the fresh roses at the center of the table filled the air with their delicate scent. She pulled out a chair for you, her hand brushing against your shoulder as you sat down.

The older woman served the lasagna with careful hands, the utensils clinking against the plates as she handed you your portion. As you took your first bite, the rich flavors of garlic, tomato, and cheese filled your mouth, and you couldn’t help but close your eyes for a second to savor it.

“This is delicious, Mel,” you said, smiling up at her as you set your fork down.

“I’m glad you like it,” she replied sweetly, still carrying that undercurrent of vulnerability that made your heart swell with affection. You could see how much she wanted tonight to be perfect, and it already was. The evening felt like a beautiful, slow unfolding of something deeper, something you both had been moving toward for a long time.

For a while, you ate in companionable silence, the music playing in the background as the evening settled into a comfortable rhythm. Melissa stole glances at you as you ate, and each time your eyes met, she smiled a little more freely. But there was something else too—an sexual tension hanging in the air between you, unspoken but unmistakable. It made every touch and every shared look feel heavier, more charged.

After a while, Melissa set her fork down, her fingers lightly tracing the edge of her wine glass as she spoke, quieter now. “There’s something I’ve been thinking about for a while…” Her eyes lifted to meet yours, and you could see the seriousness in them.

You frowned, sensing the shift in the conversation. “What is it?”

“I’ve been… I’ve been wanting to take the next step with us. I’m ready. For sex.”

The weight of her confession settled between you, and for a second, it felt like the world outside this moment ceased to exist. Your heart skipped a beat, the meaning behind her words sinking in. You knew how much this meant to her, how deeply she felt things, and how careful she was with every step in your relationship. And now, here she was, opening herself up, offering all of her to you in the most vulnerable way possible.

You reached across the table, your fingers finding hers, and she held onto you like she’d been waiting for this connection all night. “Mel,” you began. “I’ve been waiting for you to be ready. I’m here. I’ll always wait for you.”

A soft laugh touched her lips, her thumb brushing over your knuckles as she held your gaze. “I know,” she whispered, and then, as if the moment couldn’t hold itself back any longer, she leaned across the table and kissed you. Her lips were soft, warm, and full of promise. The kiss started gentle, but there was a sense of urgency behind it, a need she had been holding back for too long.

You stood up, gently pulling her with you, and without breaking the kiss, she wrapped her arms around your waist. The closeness felt intoxicating, the room spinning with the scent of roses, the warmth of the candlelight, and the taste of wine still on her lips.

Melissa pulled back slightly. “Come upstairs with me.”

You nodded, unable to speak, the weight of the moment settling in your chest. With her hand in yours, she led you out of the dining room and up the stairs, her grip firm but trembling ever so slightly. The steps felt endless, each one echoing the rapid beating of your heart, but when you reached the bedroom door, everything else faded away. It was just you and her, the world quiet and still, as if this moment had been waiting for you both for a long time.

After going upstairs hand in hand, you enter her bedroom. The environment is spacious and welcoming, with a palette of neutral tones that creates a soft and intimate atmosphere. The walls are painted a light, almost sandy beige, and there are several old photo frames hanging in an elegant pattern. The floor is covered in a large, shaggy rug in a soft brown tone that provides a pleasant contrast to the dark wooden floor.

The center of the room is dominated by a king size bed, covered with sheets and bedding set in beige tones. The pillows and duvet combine in different textures and subtle patterns, creating a feeling of comfort and simplicity.

You lay down on the bed, messing up the bedding set and pillowcases that were still fresh and spotless. Melissa sat on top of you, with her knees on either side of your hips, and began to unbutton the elegant blouse you were wearing. Her movement was careful, almost reverent, as if each blossoming bud revealed not just your skin, but also the vulnerability and trust you were building together.

“I’ve never looked like that,” she leaned in closer, her lips brushing against your own in a long kiss that was both hesitant and eager. As her mouth lingered on yours, she noticed the way you slightly shudder beneath her touch, a clear sign of your nervousness. And how anxious you seemed, more so than she felt herself. “You’re trembling.”

Melissa reaches for the lamp, her digits brushing against its switch as she considers dimming the light to make the room more comfortable and less intimidating. But before she can, you reach out to stop her, grabbing her wrist feeling the subtle pulse of her beat beneath your touch.

“No, I want to see you too,” you peel off your blouse, followed by your pants and underwear, letting them fall to the floor in a silent haze.

The older woman gulps and bobs her throat and starts to undress too. Her long green dress fell away in soft folds to the edge of the king size bed, followed by the delicate unfastening of her bra, revealing her full, supple and delicious boobs. Their natural weight makes them sway slightly and her nipples, a dusky rose, stood erect in the cool air. Her panties followed, slipping down her legs to reveal her glistening, damp center with some reddish, slightly trimmed pubic hair above her mound that was a stark contrast to the smooth milky white of her thighs.

For a fleeting second, doubt and insecurity crept in. She wondered if you saw her as beautiful or if the passage of time, with its subtle marks on her skin—fine lines around her eyes and mouth, the gentle curve of age. Arms flaccid and a little droopy, and the fact that she is not completely shaved underneath—might be off-putting. The decades that had shaped her were etched into her form, a testament to experiences and moments lived, but she questioned if they would overshadow the intimacy of the present.

She hesitated, her gaze dropping to the side, overwhelmed by the thought of you finding her less than desirable, maybe even disgusting like Joe did when they used to have sex in their marriage years. The idea of her imperfections being too much to bear made her shiver with apprehension, and unexpected tears dropped into her cheeks as those thoughts almost brought her to the brink of crying.

In that vulnerable instant, Melissa searched for any sign of disapproval, any hint that the years might have dimmed her allure. But as your gaze locked with hers, she saw something entirely different—an intense, unspoken admiration, a hunger that seemed to pierce through her insecurities. This recognition of her allure gave her the courage to continue.

“You’re so beautiful, bambina.” She tilted her head, her swollen lips meeting yours again in a passionate kiss that deepened as she felt your response. Your hands roamed over her back, feeling the heat of her skin and the subtle firmness of her muscles. Her auburn hair fell around her shoulders, cascading like a dark waterfall that framed her face and partially covered her chest. The sight of her, disheveled and beautiful, made you catch your oxygen.

Melissa lets her thumbs glide down your abdomen, feeling the softness of your flesh beneath her fingertips while she trails imaginary patterns. That only she can see. She squeezes your breasts gently before she leans in to nip at your earlobe. There’s a hunger in the way she worships you, a need to feel you, to taste you.

She begins to kiss her way down your neck, her lips leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. When she reaches your boobs, she pauses for a moment, her breath ghosting over your nipples before she takes one into her mouth slowly. The feeling sends a shiver down your body, and you can’t help the loud whimper that escapes your lips.

“That feels so good. Don’t stop. Suck harder,” you gasped, unable to contain the fervent need building inside you.

The redhead hums in response, her gaze locked onto yours as she continues to suckle on your hardened peak. There’s something almost reverent in the way she’s looking at you, as though she’s in awe of the effect she’s having on you. Her hair, now tousled and wild, brushed against your skin like a silken curtain. You closed your eyes, savoring the feeling of her lips on your sensitive areas, and opened your mouth to draw in deep, steady breaths, trying to ground yourself amidst the swirling sensations.

She traces a slow, deliberate path down your body, her lips grazing the curve of your waist, until she’s almost between your legs. Her hands rest on your thighs, gently urging them apart, and you feel the smirk ghosting over your most intimate area. When she parted your legs, her eyes widened slightly at the sight of your wetness dripping down and the intoxicating smell that made her drool.

“Can I put my mouth on you?”

“Please.”

Melissa’s hands move to your hips, and with a deliberate, almost possessive grip, she pushes you down against the mattress, pinning you in place. The bed creaks softly beneath you, but all you can focus on is the way her mouth hovers just above your aching pussy.

She lowers herself between your thighs, her breath hot against your skin as she leans in, her mouth finally making contact. The first contact of her tongue against your wet folds is electrifying, a shiver running down your spine. She’s never felt anything like this—so raw, so intimate. The sensation of your taste, warm and sweet on her tongue, ignites something deep within her.

The older woman begins to lick through your wetness, her movements grow more confident, more assured. Her face becomes slick with your arousal, but she doesn’t care—if anything, it only drives her to delve deeper, to explore every inch of you with her warm mouth. The soft slurping and suckling sounds she makes while she eats you out, along with guttural groans of satisfaction vibrating against your most sensitive spots muffled against your folds, tell you everything; how much Melissa is enjoying this. Amplifying the pleasure coursing through you. And you can’t help but moan, your fingers tangling in her hair, urging her closer.

“Oh, Lissa…go faster,” you murmur breathy, trying to guide her with gentle encouragement. “Just like that, baby. I’m so proud of you.”

She’s teasing your clit now, her tongue flicking over it teasing it with featherlight strokes that makes your hips buck involuntarily. She seems to be memorizing, learning and responding to your every movement, every sound. You can feel her fingers hovering at your entrance, the pads of her tips brushing teasingly against your folds. The need for more—more of her, more of everything—builds inside you like a tidal wave.

“Fingers. Use them to fill me up.”

Two fingers slide inside you easily, the heat and slickness enveloping her in a way that makes her gasp. The knowledge that she’s the one making you feel this way, that she’s the cause of your pleasure, is almost overwhelming for her. She starts to pump her fingers, slow and deep, crooking them just right to hit that spot that makes you see stars.

“Fuck, hon,” Melissa groans. “You’re so tight… so fucking good.”

“Mhhm.”

The older woman intensifies her pace, her fingers moving faster, deeper, her thumb circling your clit in slow, lazy circles. Her brow furrows in concentration as she continues.

The pressure builds rapidly, and your hips buck against her hand, your need growing more urgent with every passing second. Her eyes stay locked on your face, absorbing each scream and tremor that escapes you, her lips parting slightly as she watches your pleasure build.

“You feel so good,” she murmurs, never letting up the pace. “Are you close?”

Your breath catches, the coil tightening inside you. “I’m so so close, please let me come,” you beg, your voice trembling as you ride the edge.

A flicker of confidence crosses her face as she leans closer, her thumb pressing harder against your clit, her fingers driving deeper. “Cum for me,” she whispers, laced with longing. “I want to feel you, pretty girl.”

That command, spoken so softly but filled with intent, sends you spiraling. With a final, perfect stroke, you fall over the edge, your body arching as the pleasure crashes through you, wave after wave. Your whines grow louder, desperate, as Melissa guides you through the bliss.

She keeps going, drawing out every shudder and whimper until you’re completely undone beneath her. Only then does she slowly withdraw her fingers, leaving you trembling and breathless.

Collapsing against you, her face finds the crook of your neck, her figure trembling with emotion. It takes a moment to realize she’s crying, low sobs muffled against you.

“I did it?” she breaks in disbelief. “I made you feel good… I can’t believe I did it.”

You wrap your arms around her, pulling her close. “You did, baby,” you murmur, pressing a kiss to her hair. “You were perfect.”

Melissa shakes her head slightly, still clinging to you. “I was so scared I’d mess it up… but I did it.”

You gently lift her chin, forcing her to look at you. Her emerald eyes are red and glistening with tears, but the satisfaction you see there only makes your love for her grow stronger. You cup her face in your hands, brushing your thumbs over her cheeks to wipe away the tears.

She lets out a shaky breath, her curvaceous body leaning into yours as if seeking reassurance. Her pink lips brush over yours in a tender, almost desperate kiss. Between soft pecks, you speak against her lips, “You’re safe. I love you. You're safe with me.”

She gives you a small, tearful smile before pressing kisses to your chest, resting her head there as if she never wants to let go.

And you don’t want her to. Not ever.

[miyasturniolo]

MULLET | nick sturniolo

pairing: bsf!nick x f!reader

summary: nick needed a haircut but he was impatient and decided to cut it himself, though when you noticed, you offered to help, even though you weren't a professional hairdresser.

warning: fluff (??), stress, use of y/n

a/n: not my photos, on pinterest. no joke but this happened to me before, my friend cut his hair so I had to give him a buzz cut because there was no saving it

WORDS: 1.0k

miyasturniolo on wattpad

you - pink | nick- purple

-

Not long ago, Nick called you in a panic, his voice filled with distress. He said he looked like a failed science experiment, making it difficult for you to understand what he was saying.

Despite thinking he might be overreacting, you agreed to help to whatever he was asking. However, upon arriving, you were still confused about what was going on.

Nick greeted you at the door with his hood up, avoiding eye contact. His demeanour only added to your bewilderment.

As you followed him upstairs to the lounge, he finally confided in you. "Y/n, I've made a massive mistake," Nick admitted as you took off your shoes.

"What have you done?" you asked, meeting his troubled gaze.

With his brothers in their room, unaware of your presence, Nick led you to the bathroom and locked the door so they couldn't come in.

Upon seeing hair scattered around the sink, you raised an eyebrow, studying the mess before turning your attention to Nick.

He pulled back his hood, revealing the haircut he had given himself, which was absolutely terrible. "Oh, shit," you whispered to yourself.

He shot you a glare and ran his hand through his hair, but some pieces of hair he had cut were still stuck in his hair and ended up on his hand.

"Nick... how did this even happen?" you whispered as he let out a frustrated sigh and replied, not too loudly.

"The hairstylist wasn't available for two weeks. I couldn't walk around looking like I had a bird's nest on my head for that long," he said, his eyes on you as he wiped away a tear of frustration.

You gazed at his hair, fighting the urge to laugh. It wasn't the right moment for that.

"Why don't you wash your hair to get rid of the cut pieces and then I can help you fix it properly?" you suggested quietly, making sure he could hear you.

He glares at you for a moment before grabbing the shower head, as you both stand in the bathroom.

You were cleaning hair from the sink, flushing it down the toilet, while Nick leaned over the bathtub to wash his hair.

"You know, you look like such an idiot with your haircutting skills," you tease, a slight smirk playing on your lips. In response, he sprays water at you, then back at his own hair.

Your eyes widen as the lukewarm water soaks into your clothes, feeling colder than expected. He chuckles slightly at his own antics before continuing to wash his hair.

There is a moment of silence as you sit on the counter, and he stands, annoyed at the sight of his hair falling out with the water.

After he finishes, he dries his hair with a towel, clearly frustrated with himself.

He looks at you and says, "I might as well shave my fucking head like I used to, I don't think we can fix this shit haircut." He gestures towards his hair in exasperation.

Even though his hair was wet, you were contemplating how to fix it, but he had already trimmed the sides and snipped randomly around the top of his head.

"Let me give it a shot first, maybe you can pull off a mullet?" you suggest, not fully confident in your skills as a hairstylist, but willing to give it a go.

"You can't even cut a straight line on paper, let alone my hair," he quips, causing you to roll your eyes. "I bet I can do a better job than you," you counter.

He gives you a defiant look and gestures with his hand before handing you the scissors.

You sit on the counter while he stands next to you, leaning in slightly so you can reach his hair more easily.

As you examine his hair, you try to stifle a laugh at how messy it is, especially with it being wet, which only seems to make it worse.

You begin cutting his hair, unsure of where to start, but determined to make some progress despite the initial mess.

"I'm going to record a YouTube video with a bald look. What should I say about it? Oh, I'm back as Eleven?" he says with attitude as you continue cutting his hair into a mullet.

"Nick, maybe trust me on this?" you say, making him stay silent, still annoyed by his actions.

You stay quiet while drying his hair, then grab the shaver and continue working on the sides, piquing his curiosity and prompting him to ask what you're trying to achieve.

"The only real option is a mullet," you say, causing him to raise an eyebrow. "Are you kidding me?" he mutters.

You hum in agreement and turn him around so he's facing you as you continue. "I don't know if I should thank you or not," he says quietly.

You just smile at him before resuming the cutting. Eventually, you finish his hair, and he looks in the mirror.

It definitely looks better than before, but you're not a professional hairstylist, so while your cutting skills are good, you're just unsure about styling it.

He simply smiled and gave you a small hug before tousling your hair a bit to style it into a mullet.

"You did resemble a failed science experiment earlier," you jest, causing him to glance at you in the mirror before playfully tapping the back of your head, though not forcefully.

"I might just trim your hair while you're sleeping and see who ends up looking like the failed science experiment with my haircutting skills," he teases with a smirk.

masterlist! guidelines & information! wattpad! socials!

[lumosinlove]

Write Me In

Part Five

~

His office felt weird. New York felt weird. Even being with Cassie felt weird. Leo was so groggy in his real life that sometimes, when he was washing his face or sitting in a meeting or grabbing a bagel for lunch, he wondered if he had just been sleeping that whole time with Finn and Logan. He wouldn’t put it past himself to dream up something like that. Leave it to him to think making dinner for two of the biggest names in the music industry was a daydream. And the kissing, of course, but he spent far more time thinking about salt water in Finn’s hair and the way Logan looked walking around the markets. It was all smeared gold in his mind. And then there were the dirty dreams which he kept accidentally thinking about in meetings.

The article was going to lead this month’s issue, which meant it would come out right as Finn and Logan started up their tour again. A crew was being sent out to Nice for the cover shoot and Leo had been so jealous when he found out that he’d had to excuse himself from the meeting for a moment. He missed them. He probably scrolled through their messages too much.

The thread started when Leo had settled into a cab and opened the app to text them that he’d landed, only to find an incoming FaceTime call interrupting him. Leo had saved their numbers under their initials—as if that would really fool anyone. So, when Finn’s first FaceTime had popped up, he’d been more than surprised to find difficult little rock star calling him instead, complete with a photo that Finn seemed to have taken himself—him and Logan basking in the sun, hair wet from the ocean and cheeks smushed together.

Leo had answered with, “and what’s Logan saved under then?”

Finn had just grinned and ran off screen—presumably to grab Logan’s phone because a second later, Leo got a text of !! from grumpy<3

Leo figured that was subtle enough to keep. He’d pushed his headphones into his ears and let Finn’s voice fill his head as the city rose up and greeted him in its sunset.

Somehow, without so much as a ripple, talking to them had started feeling like talking to old friends. Once a day. Twice a day. Photographs of their lunches and messy work spaces in between. When Leo received his fist voice memo, he’d had to lock himself in the bathroom at work and breathe a few times before hitting play.

“Hi, Le,” Finn’s voice said. “Okay—we’re writing today. Lo, hello, say hi.”

“Hi, hey,” Logan said, then let out a wicked cough. “Sorry, Finn made me do one of those ginger shots and I’m in hell.”

Leo covered his laugh with his hand.

“Shut up, it’s good for you,” Finn replied. “Okay, anyway. So, this is called—oh, I’m gonna be on the piano. But this is—and I’m gonna try to play it straight through.”

“Stop interrupting yourself,” Logan said, then it sounded like he got closer to Finn’s phone. “It’s called Neon Signs and it’s off of the new album, and we know your editor wanted you to hear one more song for the piece so—ouais. Go, Finn.”

“I was going to say I’m on the piano and on the album it’s also piano. So. There.” He laughed and played a few chords. “Okay. It’s about one of the times when we almost got together, but we didn’t. We were at a bar that we weren’t old enough for.”

“And Finn got us stuck outside because they wouldn’t let us back in,” Logan said.

“Fool them once, and all that,” Finn cut in.

“It was freezing.” Logan’s voice, then a pause. “And I kissed him.”

“Again,” Finn said, laughing. “Anyway, spoilers. Here we go.”

There were a few seconds of dead air. Just Finn breathing. Leo pressed his headphones against his ears and kicked up his volume in time to hear Logan whisper something in French and Finn hush him.

I wanted you to meet me outside.

We’re not old enough to drink, no, not quite.

And leaving this bar means risking getting stuck out in the cold.

But I said ‘follow me’ you said ‘all right.’

Pulling up your hood against the frost bite.

And now that we’re here, there are too many things I want you to know.

But somehow I can tell tonight is not when you’ll be told

That just the look of you beneath that neon sign

Sure is something to behold…

It’s soft and blue…

Like me and you…

Maybe I’ll do this forever,

Only kiss me when it’s snowing.

Cause at least it isn’t never,

Though I can’t see where we’re going.

If only that light from that neon sign

Made you see me

Just as brightly

Oh God

Where’s my,

Neon,

Bar sign?

One that you can read.

Put it over me.

Bathe me in signals and the arrows pointing where I want to lead.

“Oh,” Leo said softly to himself—reacting to the lyrics, but also to Finn’s piano. It was a meandering, sad tune. As if even the music wasn’t sure what its next note would be. The song took them out of winter next and through to summer. Into humidity, and strings lights and patios and dorm rooms, sweltering with the door closed and no AC. A goodbye—was this them going to college? And it was Logan singing. Fall and desperate for something to last. Finn fumbled a little on the piano, cursed softly, and despite the next sad lyric, Leo could hear Logan smiling. Instead walked into my own past. You’re sitting on the bed and I’ve never felt less or more alone.

Leo listened to it four times. It was hypnotizing. Yes, he knew the story. He’d been given the precious task of telling the story—but they were telling it, too.

Meanwhile, the article was going through drafts and drafts. He’d fought hard to keep the section about Logan’s market in. His editor hadn’t seen the relevance, and maybe Leo’s relevance wasn’t entirely music-based, but those markets were in the songs. Maybe not in so many words, but Logan was as gentle as his voice could be when he was there. He stood still in that space, listening to the rhythm and thrum of the people around him.

Sending cover shoot to you without me :/ Leo typed out.

Finn replied almost instantly: I’ll refuse to pose until you arrive.

Then Logan: I will lock them out.

Ha, Leo wrote.

No Ha. It’s my house.

I’m at the office—in the final meeting for the article. He thought for a second, then smiled as he typed out. Everyone’s so happy for you.

You are coming to our first show, Logan typed out, and then a few seconds later, ? accompanied it, as if Finn had forced it out of him.

I’m coming to a show. Not sure when yet, Leo said. I’m on another project and have to finish it up before—

His eye caught on his phone’s clock. Jesus. He’d been in here for ten minutes texting like a teenager between classes. Before what? Before I can come back to you. Before I can come home, before I can come back because I miss you.

The thrill that came from being able to know he missed them because he knew them was strong.

—before I can make it, he finished. Have to go back to meeting now

Finn sent him five rows or pink hearts, Logan said, we miss you, and Leo sat back down in his meeting with a smile on his face that earned him weird looks. Cassie stared at him until someone asked her a question.

~

“Okay, so you’re gonna spill all your beans now.” Cassie jabbed him gently with her fork at lunch. “Like. Right now.”

“I don’t have beans.” Leo tilted his bowl to her. “This is my mama’s chicken salad recipe. Want some?”

Cassie groaned. “Just tell me why you’re grinning at your phone like an idiot every chance you get!”

“I’m not.”

“You are, you are.”

“I’m not, I’m not.”

“Yes, yeah, yeah, yeah.” Cassie grabbed onto his arm. “Tell me.”

“I’m excited for them,” Leo said. “That’s all. I’ve always looked up to them, and this is a big deal.

“So we are talking about Finn and Logan?”

Leo froze, caught. “Oh.”

It wasn’t his fault. They filled every little space of his mind. And if there was somewhere they couldn’t reach, they pressed up against that part, all warm and insistent.

Cassie threw her head back and squealed. “Leo. Tell me, tell me—”

“Oh-ho my God, they kissed me.”

Cassie stared at him, voice cutting off. Leo slapped his hands over his own mouth.

“You don’t know that,” Leo said quickly, just as Cassie made a soft, breathy sort of screeching sound.

“Wh-at?” she set her fork down with exaggerated precision. “What did you just say?”

Leo glanced around the courtyard they were in, but they were alone. In the shade, sun dappling down on them, and alone.

“They?” Cassie’s hand on his sleeve twisted the fabric. “They kissed you?”

He hadn’t meant to say a word, but the knowledge was like a fire inside of him. Being wanted like this. Being wanted by them.

Cassie started laughing, surprised and delighted. “Leo.”

“Yeah, they—apparently, um.” Leo shook his head. He didn’t even know how to say this. “They’ve been tracking my career since I just had the blog, and we were out by the fire pit and we almost—but we didn’t. And then we talked and I told them about Jack—sort of.”

Cassie’s blue eyes went wide at that, but she stayed quiet.

“And they sort of got why I was saying no.”

“You said no?”

“At first, at first.” Leo pushed his lunch away and dropped his voice. “Okay, okay, okay, sworn to secrecy.”

She squealed again through a shut mouth and hit him repeatedly in the arm.

“So, Nice,” Leo said. “Logan’s house.”

“Yeah, fuck you, by the way, meant nicely but with jealousy.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know. But, so that night happened where they made the move a bit—”

“What does that even mean?”

“Mm, hard to explain. They were actually—” Leo’s laugh interrupted his words. “They were so bad at it.”

“Finn O’Hara is bad at making the moves?”

“Only when he means it, apparently.”

Cassie’s waved him on. “Okay, more, I need more.”

“So, we talked it out at the markets.”

“Ah. That’s why you like those sections so much. It’s all coming together.”

“Shut up.”

“And they kissed you there?”

“No,” Leo said. “Logan kissed me, just once, and um…” Leo bit back a grin. “And then later, Finn. Mostly because—I mean we said we’d take it slow and Logan was just keeping that promise, but I may have lost some resolve with Finn because—fuck, because.”

“He’s Finn O’Hara,” Cassie said. “I think ‘fuck, because’ is a fine reason.”

“And that’s when he said they want me to come back once I’m off their project. I mean, I know I have the follow up piece but…then I’ll be done.”

Cassie had her chin in her palm, the way she sometimes did when she was thinking. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

She sat up straight. “Both…of them?”

Leo opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again. “Honestly, I haven’t been even…feeling strange about that. Is that weird?”

“No,” Cassie said, shaking her head. “I mean, not if it’s working. You’re not, like…jealous?”

“No,” Leo answered. It was the truth. “I know I probably should be.”

“They are basically high school sweethearts,” Cassie said. “Like, this article, the way you describe them…That’s soulmate shit right there. I don’t mean you don’t fit with them, I’m just…”

“I know where you’re coming from, but…” Leo sighed, smiling. “And I went there, too, but it’s just not like that. I like the way they are together. The way they treat each other. I like it as much as I like the way the are with me.”

“Holy shit,” Cassie said, then laughed. “Oh man.” She pushed her lunch aside in favor of pulling her laptop out of her bag. “Holy shit, holy shit, which show do you want? Which show, Le, I want to book that all out right fucking now.”

“It’s one night.”

“Yeah, well, it’s gonna be a hell of a night.”

Leo reached forward and grasped her hand. “Don’t even joke about that with me, I’m a wreck.”

“Yeah, well, you need all the help you can get. You were there for, what, three weeks, and you just kissed?”

“I am—”

“No, I commend you, cowboy, you just have eons more willpower than I do.” She raised her eyebrows at him. “Now, which show?”

Leo had been thinking about it. Of course he’d been thinking about it. He pictured them in different cities. Walking different streets. But, in the end, there was no question. Leo wanted to be where they had figured everything out. Maybe they’d figure out each other, too.

“Italy,” Leo said. “I want Italy.”

~

He was nervous to see them, that was for sure. Cassie always followed through on her work quickly, but Leo felt like he had blinked through being home before he was staring down at an empty suitcase again. Italy. Milan. It would be warm. He’d be there for a week. Something casual for the shows. Something nice for press events. Something comfortable for…mornings? He stared in his underwear drawer for too long. When was the last time he’d had to care what he looked like in his underwear, much less what his underwear looked like. That turned into staring at his t-shirts for too long, only to pick up his Heartthrob O’Hara t-shirtand fold it into his suitcase. Then he sat on the edge of his bed and googled Logan Tremblay t-shirt. They weren’t that good. Grainy photos just plastered on fabric. He typed in Night Swimming lyric t-shirt. There were hundreds, but Leo had fun scrolling. He’d probably added too many things to his cart when he finally found what he was looking for. The shirt was white with four words in forest green on it.

OH MY

GREEN EYES

Leo bit back a smile and ordered it to be delivered tomorrow.

The next night, he was cooking dinner and squinting at his iPad, when the recipe webpage disappeared in favor of an incoming call.

“Milan?” Logan asked when Leo answered.

“Yep,” Leo said. He leaned his elbows on the counter. “Is that okay?”

“That’s longer,” Logan said.

“I know,” Leo sighed. “But it’s when I’m in between projects and can write your follow up.”

Finn mirrored his position, squeezing into the frame beside Logan. “Why don’t you come here right now? I’ll write you a note, get you out of school. Photoshoot tomorrow, you can watch us kiss on camera.” Finn snuck a hand out to grab Logan’s chin when he wasn’t looking and turned his face to kiss him, even if Logan was smiling too much to make it last.

Leo leaned forward. “I…As tempting as that is...”

“I liked it when we were your job,” Finn shot back. “You were around all the time.”

“Oh yeah? Not me,” Leo said. Finn blinked, and Leo fought a smile because he’d got him. “Kissing subjects is…”

“Fun?” Finn said. “A right we may exclusively reserve?”

Logan looked over at him with a smile and Leo was tempted to take a screenshot. He didn’t know how that would go over. He’d never taken a photograph of them himself. He knew that spooked some celebrities. In the beginning, he’d thought he’d die if he offended them. He still felt like that a bit.

“Shut up,” Logan said to Finn. “We don’t want to be Leo’s subjects.”

“I was kidding.”

“Listen,” Leo said. “It’s a right you can reserve, I’d just prefer you do it as you and not as Night Swimming.”

“Deal,” Finn said. He put his palm over the camera briefly, as if they had shaken on it. “What are you doing?”

“I’m cooking dinner.” Leo said, mimicking Finn’s sing-song—and then realized he’d basically just sung in front of Finn and tried to forget about it. “What are you doing?”

“Waiting for you to come back,” Logan said.

Leo arched a brow. “To cook you dinner?”

“Non,” Logan laughed. He rested his chin on a palm, and Leo got basically an entire screen full of those green eyes looking over—him, he realized. Logan’s gaze darted over his face like he could do it for hours. “Other things.”

Heat washed over him, and Leo bit his lip. “Hmm…Play me more songs?”

“Can do, Sunshine,” Finn said.

They kept him company while he finished cleaning up, taking him through the packet they’d been sent concerning their photoshoot tomorrow.

“We’re doing it down by the sea,” Finn said. He was lounging on the couch, Logan at his feet holding a cup of tea. “And some house shots.” He tapped the leather couch. “Probably right here. Or the kitchen…Well, if it’s the kitchen, I know what I’ll be thinking about.”

Leo laughed as he shut his dishwasher. “Yeah, that kitchen gets a lot of action when I’m there.”

“Not when I’m there,” Logan said.

“Don’t worry, baby,” Finn said, running his fingers through Logan’s hair. “We’ve got a pretty good track record in Italy, don’t we?”

~

Leo didn’t sleep much that night. He usually didn’t before a flight. Something about the anticipation. Not that this was bad anticipation. He let himself drift and think, rather than fall and worry. Still awake, but lighter. The story was out of his hands now, gone to turn into paper and ink. He would write his follow up, but then…

Just three people, Finn had said. Just three people.

On his nightstand, his phone lit up his dark ceiling. Leo turned his head. There weren’t many people who could get through his Do Not Disturb. Part of him got nervous, wondering if something was wrong, and he propped himself up on an elbow quickly, pulling the phone off its charger.

you’re awake

Three words, soft as a whisper. From Logan. Just Logan.

A moment later came the ?

Leo rolled onto his back, grinning.

are you spying on me somehow?

Finn said you have trouble sleeping, came the reply.

I do sometimes, Leo sent. And then, do you not like question marks or something?

I just thought I was right

Leo laughed out loud, all to himself.

well, I am awake.

are you okay? Logan asked.

Yeah. Just thinking.

A bit of a pause, just long enough to make Leo bite his lip.

about what?

Leo typed his reply out slowly, carefully. Savoring getting to say these words. Getting more than one kiss from you.

An immediate reply. maybe I won’t ruin it this time

Leo smiled. I think the last thing you did was ruin it.

:)

God. Smiley faces from Logan Tremblay.

go to sleep so you get here faster, Logan wrote. or just get here now.

Job—remember?

:(

Leo laughed again. I do have a surprise for you when I get there.

what is it? Logan asked immediately.

“Classic,” Leo whispered to himself, but just sent a smiley in return. Then, after a moment’s thought—

goodnight, green eyes

~

The article, when it came out, was hot as lightning. The photographs were gorgeous. Natural. They turned into each other like puzzle pieces, dressed in the muted, gentle browns of the house, and then the bright jewels of green and blue. But it was the opening show that came after it that caused the storm.

Leo didn’t get a single bit of work done—but neither did Cassie, so it was fine. He had never watched a grainy live stream closer and made Cassie go out and get him lunch so he didn’t have to get up. He brought his phone to the bathroom with him. He’d never refreshed Twitter so many times to find new photographs and videos. Finn, getting a pride flag thrown up to him at one point. The moments when they shared the microphone now sometimes ended in a kiss. A kiss. Leo was laughing and choked up all at once. Logan’s hat said rouge.

“Is there a reason you didn’t choose that show?” Cassie asked.

He’d thought about it. Being there. He could have gotten out of work—not in a I’m sort of kind of dating them and suddenly I miss them every second please let me go way but in a…this is important for the follow up way. But. He hadn’t. Somehow, he couldn’t bring himself to.

“This is a long time coming for them,” Leo said carefully, and found it true. “This is something they thought they’d never have. It’s theirs. And I wanted them to have it more than anything.”

Cassie’s eyes softened. She’d wrapped her arms around him and squeezed. “They better know how lucky they are if they’re getting you.”

Leo smiled and tilted their heads together, turning back to the show.

“Well, fuck,” Finn’s voice echoed through the stadium as he sat down at the piano. “You guys know what song’s coming by now, I guess.”

Rooftop, Leo thought, and shushed Cassie so harshly that she rolled her eyes and knocked him lightly on the shoulder.

Logan was still on stage, though, and getting up from behind his set. Leo’s heart leapt right into his throat.

“Something’s happening,” Leo said. “Something’s happening.”

“You shush,” Cassie said.

“Or at least you thought you did,” Finn said, then leaned back and laughed, the microphone barely catching it over the answering cheers. Logan crossed the stage, taking his time. Finn made room for him on the piano bench seat and Logan slotted perfectly against his side.

“No, look,” Finn played a few chords. “Rooftop has a special place in my heart, but it’s no part of tonight. Tonight…” He looked at Logan. “Tonight how about a little duet, Tremblay?”

Leo knew these chords. He loved these chords. And now, he could think of the lyrics that were about to come. They were probably some of the first words written about both of them letting themselves have each other…It was perfect. The crowd knew the song, too, and they were manic when Logan started playing the piano’s lower register, almost like a bass to Finn’s higher, softer melody.

A crew member brought out a second microphone and fixed it over the piano. Logan thanked him with a nod, and leaned in.

“You should have seen Finn trying to teach me piano,” his voice echoed.

Leo leaned closer to the screen. “Oh my God.”

Cassie sorted. “You’re so smitten.”

“They’re playing Keep.” 

“Yes, I know, I am a fan, too!”

I see you in the morning staring out over the waves.

I find I don’t need my instincts, never thought I’d see the day.

I could just roll over, yeah, I could close my eyes,

Cause I don’t have to grasp at glimpses, no, I’ve got my whole life.

I’ll tell anyone who asks, 

“Harmony, harmony,” Cassie said, imitating Leo’s accent.

Leo wrapped an arm around her shoulders and put his palm over her mouth. But she was right. The harmony, Logan joining in on the chorus, was exquisite.

I’ll show anyone who wants to see.

Like sea glass, or pebbles found on the beach.

Oh God, look at what I get to keep.

I’ll hold it as long as my breath lasts.

I’ll say it in all the languages they speak.

Like histories or songs sung while out at sea,

Hey Sunshine, what do you say you keep me?

Cassie made a strangled noise before Leo could. She pulled Leo’s hand away from her mouth.

“Sunshine? He just—They just changed the lyrics,” Cassie said. She got her arms around Leo’s waist and shrieked, making everyone in the office look at them. “He changed the lyrics.”

Leo was going to melt into his keyboard. Or cry? No. He was going to love them.

“I see you in the kitchen just before we go to sleep—” Finn gave his head a little, sharp shake, smiling, and when he looked up, Leo saw that he was crying, unable to sing through it. The crowd filled in. I find I don’t need my instincts, you are mine to keep.

Leo touched his lips lightly. Leo wouldn’t forget that sound, the stadium singing for them like that, even through a video. Not ever. He wouldn’t forget the feeling of knowing how much Finn and Logan deserved it. And how much he wanted them to have this. And how sweet is was when Logan played the last note, Finn wrapping an arm around him and pressing a lingering kiss to his temple, and Logan catching Finn’s tears with a gentle hand.

Finn found one of the stadium cameras, touched a hand to his mouth, and held it out.

Oh God, Leo was going to really love them.

~

Leo could feel the change in the air the moment he stepped of his airplane. Humid, but light. He rolled up the sleeves of his button-down and put his sunglasses on as he stepped into the warm afternoon. He was a little groggy from his flight, but not too bad. He was hungry, though, and in desperate need of a coffee—which he was most certainly in the right place for.

“Mr. Knut?”

Leo turned, pulling his suitcase up to his side. A man was standing there, sleek in a light gray suit and a driver’s cap. He had a neatly tripped gray beard, kind eyes, and a light British accent.

“Yes?” Leo said. “Oh, are you—”

“Mr. Tremblay’s driver, yes. Ralph, it’s a pleasure.” Ralph motioned towards his suitcase. “Might I take care of that for you, sir, on the way to the car?”

“Oh, no, that’s all right,” Leo said. “But thank you. It’s nice enough of him to send you to get me. Very kind.”

“Yes, he was very keen. This way, sir.”

Leo followed him the short distance to the car park, remarking on the weather just because he wasn’t used to being called sir. Ralph was kind about it, offering small talk right back. The car was shiny and black, the windows so dark and opaque that Leo guessed that was why Logan used it. He stored his suitcase and laptop bag and stuttered around Ralph opening his door for him.

“Oh, wow—thanks so much.”

“Of course, sir.”

Leo slid into the smooth, leather seat. The whole car smelled new. There was a water bottle waiting for him in the door side pocket, nestled into a tortoise shell cup holder. Leo took his sunglasses off just as the door shut—

And then someone was grabbing onto his shirt and tugging. An insistent, warm mouth covered his, swallowing Leo’s sound of surprise.

Logan. The warm, pine scent of him. The feeling of canvas when Leo made to touch his hair. The weight of him swinging a leg over Leo’s lap. Callouses on his hands where they smoothed up Leo’s neck.

“Hello,” Leo gasped. “Fuck.”

“Hi.” Logan barely said the word before he was kissing him again. Leo had to let his head rest back against the seat he was so dizzy with it. His mouth probably tasted sour, he was probably sweaty, maybe he even smelled from the plane, but Logan didn’t seem to care.

“Where’s—”

“Sound check,” Logan gasped, and then he had Leo’s bottom lip gently between his teeth, pulling and letting go. “He’ll be at the hotel by the time we get there.”

“You don’t need—your sound checked?”

“I need this.”

From his place on Leo’s lap, Logan put a hand on the ceiling. For a moment, Leo wondered what the hell he was in for in the back of this car, but Logan’s fingers found a button that he pushed and up a partition between them and Ralph began to rise.

“Hotel, sir?” Ralph asked as the sheet rose.

“Merci,” Logan confirmed, and then the partition cut them off in a muffled, tinted-window bubble of their own making and Logan’s hungry green eyes were all Leo was left with.

Their breathing sounded loud to Leo’s ears. He got his first good look at Logan. White t-shirt, black cotton shorts. Green hat, backwards. Tan, gorgeous, just like Leo remembered him, but even more real. A small scratch on his cheek from somewhere. He’d cut himself shaving on his chin, a little red dot. Leo reached up and took off his hat, letting his bangs fall forward in their gentle waves. They were pretty light from all the sunshine.

“Can he…” Leo whispered. “Can Ralph hear us?”

Slowly, Logan shook his head.

Leo reached up and tucked his fingers through Logan’s hair. He could have lived off of the way Logan’s eyes slipped closed. “How long is the drive?”

“Thirty minutes.”

“Hm.”

Logan’s smile looked like one of his soft, lulling songs. “What does that mean?”

Leo didn’t answer. He’d been taken by surprise, but that was fading now. All it left behind was want and relief. For now, he was done with the distance and the florescent lights of his office. He was back in Logan’s arms.

Thirty minutes felt like five. Logan’s soft sounds filled him right up as Leo kissed his neck—that was when Ralph’s gentle knock from the driver’s seat came. Leo broke off, startled. His mouth felt puffy—and good. Logan’s warm weight felt like the only thing holding him together.

“Ouais,” Logan called. “One moment.”

As Logan leaned their foreheads together, the world filtered back in. Leo became aware of the sound of a crowd outside, and had to laugh.

“Are we about to be photographed?”

“Probably a little,” Logan said. “It’s okay. You wouldn’t believe how many times Finn and I have had this happen.”

“What, got a little heavy in the car?”

Logan grinned, ducking to kiss Leo again. “Mhm.”

“That’s…” Really hot.

Logan slid off his lap, back to his side. They both spent a moment trying to pull themselves together. Logan would have to get out first, which made Leo feel a little better.

“They’ll bring your bags to the room,” Logan said. He slipped on a pair of sunglasses. “Ready?”

Hands banged against the windows, making Leo jump. There were some chants of Finn’s name, along with Logan’s, and Leo realized they didn’t know who was in the car. “I—yeah.” The room. “I think so.”

Logan considered him for a moment, then took off his own hat and placed it, bill forward, on Leo’s head.

“Oh,” Leo said. “Do I look—”

“You look how I want you to look. Merde, I want Finn to see you.” Logan grinned. “But it may be a bit much for a photo.”

Leo reached up and touched the hat. It was green and had said the word LOVE on it. That was a story Leo wanted to write. Logan could say a lot with his hats. There were whole twitter accounts dedicated to the way he hinted at future songs or albums with what was on his hat.

LOVE. Leo was wearing the word love.

“I know I shouldn’t hold your hand quite yet,” Logan began, trailing off.

Leo laughed. “That would spark some wild rumors.”

Logan looked at him over the rim of his glasses, the shadow making his green eyes bright. “Stay close to me, okay?” He popped the car door and the sound of the crowd doubled, frenzied, screaming, yearning. “Stay close.”

Leo could hear his own heartbeat. He could feel it in his throat. He did want to hold Logan’s hand. “I will.”

And Leo experienced the cameras and fans from an entirely different view. He’d followed Finn and Logan around. He’d never walked with them, not like this. Not side by side in a way that signaled to everyone he was with them.

He stuck close to Logan’s back, as promised. He caught some curious looks, felt phone cameras trained on him. The sun was bright and he was very glad for Logan’s hat. He tried to take it in, if for nothing further than that this was the biggest crowd he’d ever followed a star through from this close, but it was over in a flash. They were in a cool hotel lobby, marble and stone, and a smiling woman, motioning them to the elevator. Logan’s two security guards got in with them.

The sudden silence was loud. Logan took his sunglasses off, casually folding them into his shirt and leaning back against the wall as they rose.

“Here we go, Tremz,” one of the guards said, fist bumping Logan as he passed him through the open doors. “See you tonight. Remind Finn the dinner res he asked for is at eight-thirty.”

“Thanks, Paul.” Logan looked back from the hallway. “Leo?”

“Sorry,” Leo said and strode forward. “Thanks—Thanks, Paul.”

Paul was a massive guy, but when he smiled he looked like a teddy bear. “You got it, man.”

There was only one door on this hallway, right in front of them with a large brass knocker, and no sooner had the elevator shut than did it swing open to reveal Finn—sweaty, in a soft looking gray t-shirt and running shorts, and grinning.

“Jesus,” Logan said. “You scared me.”

“I heard the ding,” Finn said cheerfully.

He was looking right at Leo. Leo drew Logan’s hat off, trying to catch his breath.

“There were crowds,” Logan said, as if explaining.

“Yeah,” Leo said. “Are you guys famous or something?”

Finn ignored the joke. He walked right up to Leo, wrapped him up in his arms, and held on tight. Leo had maybe been expecting a kiss—probably something a tad more obvious than Logan’s sneak-attack. But the hug was better. Finn was warm. He smelled like sweat and sunscreen from being on stage.

“Hi,” Finn whispered in his ear. He pulled back, holding Leo’s cheek briefly, then gently tweaked a curl of Leo’s blond hair. “Hi, Sunshine.”

Leo covered Finn’s hand, turning his mouth against it. “Hi.”

“Come here,” Finn said, laughing. “Come in.”

“Ouais.” Logan put a hand low on Leo’s back, guiding him through the suite door. “Where’s my surprise?”

“What surprise?” Finn asked as the door shut behind them. Sure enough, Leo’s bags were waiting there, neatly side-by-side near the small kitchen.

“Not till later,” Leo said.

Logan narrowed his eyes. “How later?”

“Tomorrow later.”

Logan huffed.

Finn came up behind him, pressing a small cup into his hand. Espresso.

“Oh, how did you know?” Leo sipped it down easily. Hot and slightly sweet with sugar.

“You’re in Italy,” Finn said. Next he was wrapping an arm around Leo’s waist. “You understand that if it’s a physical surprise, he’s going to dig through your luggage?”

Leo toyed with his delicate espresso cup.“Not if I say not to.”

Finn’s chin hooked over his shoulder. Leo could feel his laugh against his skin. His strong chest against his back. His hips— “You think he’ll listen to you?”

They both regarded Logan, who was still glaring at them—and glancing at Leo’s suitcase.

“I think he will.”

“Hm,” Finn said, and Leo felt a kiss land on his neck. “I think you’re right.” Another kiss to the exact same spot. Over a mark Logan had made? “I see someone has already gotten to you.”

“I was accosted in the car,” Leo said.

“Classic.”

Logan just rolled his eyes and began dragging Leo’s suitcase into another room.

By that night, the fans who didn’t read up on their music stories had already figured out who he was. Leo Knut—last seen on the road writing the coming out piece on Night Swimming. Sure enough, Twitter was full of wearing Lo’s hat wearing Lo’s hat???

“Ooh, you’re so undercover,” Finn commented when he glimpsed Leo’s phone once they were back in the car, speeding through the night on the way to dinner. “They don’t know what’s coming for them.”

Leo clicked his phone off even as Cassie texted nice hat. He looked at Logan, at a purplish bruise Leo had left on his neck. “No, they really don’t.”

Logan covered the mark with his palm and grinned out the window. Leo laughed, looking, too, then paused.

“Hey, are we leaving the city?”

“Yep,” Finn said.

“Where?” Logan asked.

Finn shrugged exaggeratedly. He’d changed into a dark blue button down, light slacks, and pretty brown leather shoes that Leo badly wanted a pair of. He’d pushed a dark green button down towards Logan, dark trousers, and white, pristine sneakers. He’d taken one look at Leo and told him he was perfect, but Leo had showered and changed anyway. Dusty red shirt. He’d followed Finn’s lead and left the collar loose.

Logan kicked at Finn from his seat across from the both of them. Finn just stuck his tongue out and took Leo’s hand across the console between them. Leo stared at it for a moment. Finn’s pale fingers that would be playing a guitar to thousands of people tomorrow were right there wrapped up in his own.

“Where?” Logan insisted.

“Jesus, Lo, can neither of us try and surprise you? I know you found all your presents as a kid, but you’re not finding the ones I give you.” Finn dropped a wink. “I’ll give it to you when I decide.”

Apparently where was a castle. Literally a castle. Soft lights flooded up the old stones to reveal turrets and archways. A man in a tuxedo was waiting for them at the entrance. They were given champagne in thin, airy glasses and leave to roam the lit gardens before their dinner was served. The air was mild, but the feeling of Finn and Logan at his shoulders was better. Finn had something to say about every flower, every piece of architecture, as if he had studied up for this night. They ate dinner under the stars, watching fireflies dart through the greenery.

It wasn’t until they had been served an array of desserts and left truly alone that Leo thought to bring up the article and how they were doing—it was different to ask without a screen between them.

“We’re so good,” Finn said. He looked at Logan, who nodded. Finn wrapped an arm around Logan’s chair, scooting it closer to his. Leo watched him lean into him. His brown eyes flickered to Leo even as his lips brushed Logan’s skin. “Lo?”

“Ouais, I…” Logan gave up on words and tucked his face into Finn’s neck, laughing.

Leo leaned back in his chair, glad the table let him stretch his still plane-cramped legs out under the table. “It’s so nice to see you up there. Really. I can’t wait for tomorrow. You just look so…free.”

“We feel free,” Finn said. “And it’s thanks to you.” He held out a hand across the linen tablecloth and, after a moment, Leo took it. “How are you, Le?”

Leo let out a slow breath, watching the way Finn’s thumb tracked across his knuckles. “I’m…” He laughed a little. “That’s quite a question. Really quite a question.”

Logan laughed, and when Leo realized he was laughing at him, he threw a sugar coated almond at him in a neat arc across the table—which lost all its effect when Logan caught it in his mouth.

“Non, seriously.” Logan leaned more into Finn’s side. “Leo?”

Leo looked around them. They both had a knack for finding these slices of paradise. Though, lately it had been feeling like any where they were was heaven, even his own kitchen.

“Being on tour with you was wonderful,” Leo answered. “And Nice was, of course, perfect. So beautiful…God, this is beautiful.”

“Why am I sensing a but?” Finn asked, brows drawn together. Logan looked downright nervous.

Leo shook his head, bringing his other hand to hold Finn’s as well. “No. Well, yes, but not like that.”

They both looked at him expectantly. Patiently.

“You’ve been sweet in waiting for me. And honest about wanting me.”

“We fumbled and recovered,” Finn said.

“We do want you,” Logan said earnestly.

“Well, I…I hope so,” Leo said softly. Finn’s hand tightened around his.

“Yeah?” Finn whispered.

Leo nodded. Logan couldn’t quite reach with the angle, but he reached for Leo, too, hand on Finn’s wrist.

“It’s been—what? A week and a half of video calls? You know all these glorious places are amazing, but when we’re just sitting around…I mean, when we’re just talking… Or you’re watching me wash dishes, do laundry. And I start to feel like…”

He felt the words well in his throat like tears as he looked between them. He understood Cassie’s hesitation. He understood his own hesitation. He’d been nervous that he’d come back and something would have changed. Like adrenaline leaving the system. But it hadn’t.

“I’ve never not known how to be without someone before,” Leo said. “But you make me feel like I don’t remember how to be alone.”

Finn’s smile was tearful and Leo realized he felt a little like that, too, even as Finn leaned forward and kissed him. It dissolved into a laugh, into kiss to his cheek. A piece of silverware clattered to the ground as Finn tugged Leo’s chair closer and hugged him as best he could.

“Rouge, you’re pulling the table cloth, the table—” Logan’s voice came, laughing. Leo heard his chair scoot back and then there was another pair of arms around Leo’s neck, Logan leaning over the back of his chair. He managed a sloppy kiss to Leo’s mouth, despite the angle.

Leo closed his eyes and held on. He waited for Finn to make him laugh. Or Logan to say something in French. But they stayed quiet, surprising him. He peeked one eye open, only to see that Finn, whose forehead was pressed against Leo’s temple, had his eyes closed, too. Leo didn’t dare move him to try and get at Logan, but the content sigh he felt against his neck was enough to go on for him. Wind whistled through the trees around them, bring the smell of some sweet flower. Leo closed his eyes again and leaned back into Logan’s shoulder and Finn’s arm. It was like a blanket, their quiet. They’d been more serene than he’d expected from the beginning—puzzles, dinner, reading, morning runs. This was something deeper. It was as if something unhappy had finally been able to settle for them, too. The questions were still there. How will this work? What will people think? But they were muted and far off.

They looked up at footsteps on the patio, only to find a surprised waiter holding a pitcher of water.

“Ah,” the waiter said. “Pardon me. Uh…”

“Hi,” Finn said, only lifting his head. “Yeah, we’ll take the check.”

~

They laughed about it on the car ride home, the waiter’s face. Speeding through dark hills, and then streets still filled with chatter and light. Leo watched out the window as they slowed in narrower streets. It gave him a glimpses of passing faces. Laughing, eating, kissing.

Finn’s hand pressed to his thigh. “Are you composing sentences right now? I think you are.”

Leo looked over at him. “Maybe. And you?”

“I’ve been watching you two write in your heads for the last ten minutes,” Logan said. He’d stretched his legs out so their feet slotted together in the car space between them.

“Well, no one got on my lap, I had to do something to pass the time,” Leo said, squeezing one of Logan’s ankles between his own.

Logan just looked at him with bright eyes. “I don’t want to have to stop.”

Leo let his head fall back against the seat and he put his hand over Finn’s. “You just deal with that every day?”

“All day,” Finn said. “You don’t even want to know the things he says to me before we go on stage.” Finn laughed and scooted over in his seat, pressing right up against Leo’s side. “Actually, you probably do.”

No one was waiting at the hotel this time. There were no bright flashes to catch what Leo was sure was an intense flush on his cheeks. They stayed close in the elevator, their security shaking their heads at how giddy they probably sounded—all that content silence had bubbled into talking over each other and far too loud laughter. Finn fumbled a little with the hotel key, but then they were inside the suite and met with a blast of AC. Finn went to turn it down, but Logan got his hands on Leo’s waist and pulled until Leo had him pinned right up against the side of the entrance hall.

“This is how I first met you,” Leo said, staring down at him. He traced a hand under Logan’s jaw and watched the way he bared his neck for more. “I was so surprised. And you were so beautiful. And also you literally did not stop making out with Finn which was, like, okay then.”

Finn’s laugh reached them. “I asked him that after you left. I was like, how long was he standing there actually? And he wouldn’t tell me.”

“What’d you want, Lo?” Leo whispered, leaning down to kiss him softly. “Me to walk in ready to go right then?”

“Non, I wanted to see if you thought I was hot,” Logan said, then laughed as Leo pulled back to follow Finn’s voice into the living room. He called after him, “And you do!”

Finn had his dress shirt half unbuttoned and his belt in one hand, frowning at something on his phone.

“You okay there difficult rock star?” Leo asked, trying not to stare at his pale chest against the blush color.

Finn looked up, all big brown eyes suddenly—how did he do that? Switch between unbearably hot to unbearably sweet in two seconds—and smiled. “Oh. This isn’t what it looks like.” He gestured to himself with his belt. “I just wanted to change. And yeah, just tomorrow’s call times.”

Call times. Show tomorrow. Leo took a breath. Right. What time was it? Midnight? One? Leo knew they should sleep. He’d seen them on the nights before shows many times now. Logan drank mint tea. Finn read. Unless they had friends at the shows, or family, they tried to get as much sleep as they could. Logan slept in as much as he could. Finn seemed incapable of sleeping in, but he went for a run and he ordered up a big breakfast. God, Leo wanted to make them breakfast again. He wanted the way they sat with him, looked at him, made him coffee.

Leo nodded. He emptied his pockets, setting his phone and wallet on a side table. “I hope it’s not too early? I know your routines the night before a show and this isn’t it. It’s early for me, technically. But it’s late for you.”

Leo’s eyes drew down Finn’s body again. The half-untucked shirt. He was pretty sure those socks he was wearing were the ones advertised on TV offering arch support. Why, why was that hot right now? It was. And maybe Leo wanted the way Finn looked right now to be exactly what it looked like. What then?

Finn was quiet, glancing at Logan as he came into the room and sat on the back of the couch to look at Leo. Finn drew in a slow breath, stretching his arms up and behind his head, so that when he spoke his voice came out tensed like his muscles—which Leo could see more of now, the sharp cut just above his waistline. “I mean, you could…” He grinned, dropping his arms and relaxing. “We could get you on the right time zone.”

Leo bit at the inside of his cheek. That wasn’t exactly the line he’d heard in Finn’s voice during all of his laundry-folding day dreams, but it was so very Finn that it was better.

“What did your team think when you said I’d be staying with you?” Leo glanced up around the room. “I mean, in the same…” Bedroom? “Suite.”

“They’re our team for a reason,” Finn said. “They know what’s their business, and what’s ours.”

Leo raised an eyebrow. “And my being a reporter isn’t their business? I bet at least a few people would disagree with that.”

“You’re not the kind of reporter they worry about,” Logan said. “Unless you suddenly revealed a long-range camera in your suitcase.” He tilted his head teasingly. “That’s not the surprise, is it?”

“No,” Leo laughed. “Definitely not the surprise.”

“And just to be clear,” Finn said. “Because looks like we’re not great on being clear—”

“Room, not suite,” Logan cut in.

“Jeez, way to grab my punchline and yank it out from beneath my feet.” Finn strode closer and put his hand on Logan’s shoulder. “But yes. We were hoping…I mean, there is another room. Two other, in fact, for you to choose from.” He tilted his head. “But I was hoping just your suitcase would be staying there.”

“We,” Logan said, rising from his seat.

“We were hoping.”

Logan stood in front of Leo. He held out his hands palm up, and Leo put his palms into them. Logan gave a gentle tug. When Leo hesitated, worrying the inside of his cheek, it took about half a second for concern to flicker over Logan’s face.

“Le?” he asked gently. “What…What did I do?”

“No, no, no,” Leo said. “Nothing. I want that. I really, really want that. I just…” Leo sighed, cursing himself. The nerves he’d felt while packing sprung back at him. Look at them. Look at them.

“It’s been a while for me,” Leo said softly. “I mean—I mean a while. And you two know each other—so well. I just don’t want…to, like, disappoint, or…”

“Non,” Logan said.

“You couldn’t,” Finn added. “Leo, you couldn’t disappoint us. Like, ever.”

Leo knew that. He did. He even believed it. It didn’t stop the idea that he would from making him want to crawl under the covers and hide.

“I’m looking at two people who know each other inside and out,” Leo said. “And I love that about you two. But—yeah. That’s all.”

Finn and Logan looked at each other. Leo didn’t mind the silent communication ability. He even liked it. It was sweet. In his dreams, he got that ability with them, too. One day.

Finn stepped forward. It wasn’t the stage walk. It was just him. Even in the button-down that Leo now knew to be the softest linen, it was just him. Not all the photos Leo had seen of fans catching him on the street—sunglasses, t-shirt, notebook or coffee…smiling, talking with them, and uncapping Sharpies with his teeth. Leo had looked at the photos from that particular day a lot. A lot. Summer in New York, headed to the recording studio, stooping so a girl could slip a necklace she had made him over his head.

“Okay.” Finn smiled softly. “There’s one thing we can do no matter what. It’s late. We can just get ready for bed and…and then whatever you want.”

Logan nodded. “Whatever you want.”

“We do know each other through and through,” Finn said. He tucked a stray curl behind Leo’s ear, but Leo felt it spring back into place. “Which is why we know how much we want you here.”

Leo shook his head, putting a hand against Finn’s chest. “You don’t have to convince me. I’m just…” Leo looked to Logan. “I…This is like a dream? A really good dream.”

“Leo.” Finn’s voice was overly serious, but Leo caught the spark in his eye. “Were we your celebrity crushes or something?” 

Leo’s laugh surprised him, head falling back. “Finn.”

“Aw,” Finn wrapped his arms around Leo’s waist. “I embarrassed him. Look, Lo, we were his celebrity crush.”

“First, I meant because you’re so sweet. And second, I’m pretty sure you could attempt world domination with the number of people who would name you if asked who their crush is,” Leo said.

“Maybe,” Finn replied. “But I only care about one.”

It was the little things, first. Logan left small pools of water all around the sink when he washed his face. He went to Leo’s luggage, and Leo only had time to call out a warning don’t before Logan was pulling out a t-shirt with a delighted laugh. Thankfully, it wasn’t his surprise one…But it was Finn’s.

Leo was brushing his teeth next to Finn O’Hara in Italy, and Logan Tremblay was holding up his HEARTTHROB O’HARA t-shirt with a grin on his face that said it all.

“That was also a surprise,” Leo said around his toothpaste. He groaned, and put a hand over Finn’s delighted eyes as passed him to go rinse his mouth.

When he leaned up from the faucet, Finn was there, rinsing beside him. Leo cleared his throat, laughing a little under the feeling of Finn’s gaze. He tried to escape, honestly he had no idea what to say, but two hands caught his hips and a hard, warm chest met Leo’s back.

They looked at each other in the mirror. The lights were soft and dim, bringing out each of Finn’s freckles. Leo put his hand over where Finn’s rested low on his stomach.

“I’m embarrassed,” Leo said, smiling down at the sink. “It’s stupid, right?”

With a slight pressure to his hip, Finn turned Leo around. Leo rested back against the counter’s edge, and Finn nudged his way to stand between his thighs. He carded Leo’s hair back from his face, the ends damp from washing his face.

“Nothing about you could ever be stupid,” Finn said.

Leo traced the N of his NASA t-shirt, then one of the trails on a shooting star. “You probably see people in that shirt all the time. Probably have signed that shirt a million times.” Leo closed his eyes. “Shit. I’d say I’m not some crazy fan, but younger me was definitely a crazy fan.” He looked up at Finn. “But you know all about crazy fans.”

Finn smiled a little. He barely had to tilt his chin forward at all to brush their mouths together. “I do know a little about that.”

“So maybe the shirt doesn’t even matter?” Leo asked hopefully. Finn’s brown eyes were staring at his mouth—that still had toothpaste on it maybe?

“Everything about you matters,” Finn said, and kissed him.

It brought back the rush of the ocean. The heat of the sun, sitting against those cliffs when Leo had been so confused, so in want. He knew how to hold himself together. God, if there was one thing he was so very good at in this world, it was holding himself together.

“Maybe I’m your crazy fan,” Finn whispered. “I’ve been stalking your writing for long enough.”

Leo laughed. “Mm, that’s true.” He reached up for Finn’s shoulders, pulling him closer.

He didn’t want to hold himself together anymore. He didn’t want to hold back. Nothing he knew even compared to this. Not the fame, not the novelty. This. Worn out t-shirts and getting to have a perfect fit in a legendary love like theirs. These were new muscles, letting himself go, and he’d been straining them with these two. They felt stronger now.

The band of his pajama pants was wet from being pressed back into Logan’s puddles. Finn tasted minty, and with him standing between Leo’s thighs like this, Leo got to tilt his head up into the kiss.

“How do I look?”

They broke apart to see Logan standing in the bathroom doorway. He wore a soft looking pair of gray boxers, and his chest and arms filled out Leo’s t-shirt in a way Leo had never, would never have even thought, to imagine.

While Leo sat there staring, Finn laughed. “That thing looks like it’s about to fall to pieces.”

He wasn’t wrong. There was a hole near the collar, the letters were faded at the edges. But it was so damn soft from years of being washed that Leo couldn’t bare to part with it. He reached up and pushed his fingers through Finn’s hair. That gorgeous red hair. Maybe there was so much more he couldn’t part with now.

“Ouais, me too,” Logan said. Leo didn’t know what he was talking about until he walked forward and reached up for Finn’s hair, completely messing it up. “Everyone’s obsessed with it, but how can you not be?”

Leo laughed as Finn squinted one eye shut but let them have their fun. It was soft and thick, the sorter strands at the sides feathering through Leo’s fingers like velvet.

Finn put a hand on Logan’s chest, tapping over the letters of Leo’s t-shirt. “I always guessed that was why everything they put my name in is red, too.”

“Marketing?” Leo said.

“Yeah.” Finn sighed, shrugged, then smiled. “Le, that shirt really is about to fall apart.”

“I…wear it a lot.”

“Oh yeah? All around the city with my name on your heart?”

Leo bit his lip. It was more than that. It was what he wore when he was sad, or had had a bad day. When he was sick, or exhausted, or angry.

And then, over the past month, that comfort had shifted to them. A bad day at work ended with four hour FaceTimes until Leo was too sleepy to talk anymore and Finn’s soft voice. Goodnight, Sunshine. And when he couldn’t sleep, somehow Logan always knew. The soft light of his phone lighting up his bedroom from his nightstand and never letting him feel alone or sinking or like he would never sleep again.

“Le?” Finn asked softly. His hair was a mess from their hands. His eyes were pure syrup again, asking, checking, worried—loving?

“Hi,” Leo said. “Sorry, hi.” He put a hand on Finn’s cheek and looked at Logan.

Logan tilted his head. “What are you writing right now, Soleil?”

Leo closed his eyes briefly at the nickname, leaning his head back to bask in it. “Dialogue, I guess.”

“Ouais,” Logan said, wrapping an arm around Leo’s waist. It completed the circle of the three of them. “Of?”

“How to ask you to take me to bed,” Leo whispered.

“Yes,” Finn breathed, and then Leo was being kissed.

He’d written a lot of words in his life. It was almost funny to be asked what he was writing right then. He wasn’t even sure this was something that could be written. What did kiss have on what Finn gave him? It was just what Leo remembered. The heated energy from that middle of the night kiss in Nice, only tripled.

“Hey.” Logan’s voice was low. Leo felt fingers tighten in his hair and he gasped, breaking Finn’s kiss long enough to be pulled to another mouth. The ocean and the shade. The shade and the ocean. Finn’s laugh echoed against the bathroom tiles. He was watching them. He had a hand on Leo’s back, and probably Logan’s, and let them kiss.

No, Leo couldn’t have written this down. Logan, pulling him towards the bedroom. Finn flicking off the bathroom light and leaving them in the yellow-pink glow of a reading lamp and the moon.

“I’d raise the sun if I could,” he said. He caught Leo up around the waist again. “Just because it’s dark in here doesn’t mean I want it to be.”

“Finn.” It sounded pleading, but Leo hadn’t meant it that way. Not stop. Not more. Just… “Have some compassion for how full my heart can be right now, O’Hara.”

And then Leo took that famous NASA t-shirt right off of him. The stars and the comet trails, they were still there. Finn’s torso was its own sky map and Leo, wondering what Finn liked, bent to kiss a trail of his own along one thin collarbone.

What words existed for the feeling of Finn chest rising and falling against his mouth.

What words could Leo have used to describe the smile Logan gave him as he let Leo pull his t-shirt off of him next? All Leo could comprehend was the sheer strength of his arms and the dark trail of hair that led down into his boxers.

There were no hesitations, like Leo had thought there would be. The pauses were woven in, just turns and folds and lifts like pages. Yes? This? Grins and breaths and—Logan’s sounds. Logan. Logan knew what he wanted. Finn knew what Logan wanted. Leo, very quickly, knew what Logan wanted and shared a slightly dazed grin with Finn about it. He got to watch Finn’s practiced fingers, and see how much Finn enjoyed giving Logan everything he could possibly desire. It was as sweet as it was unbearably hot. Finn looked so pale against Logan’s tanned skin. Marble. That was a word Leo had used before, but it applied. Jesus Christ, it applied.

What did grip have on the way Logan clutched at Leo’s shoulders when they were at last as close as anything could be, his thighs shaking against Leo’s. Bliss, certainly, was nothing compared to the look on Logan’s face when Finn’s hand pressed over the strong curve of his adam’s apple and asked him how he liked it, told him they looked gorgeous. Throbbing held nothing to the way Leo’s heart pounded, and more than nothing to how close those words brought him to the edge. Rhythm. That’s what Logan had. Leo set his hands against the small of his back—two dimples there, made for Leo’s thumbs—and held on.

“Mm—” Logan’s breath came out short and he froze, mouth open against Leo’s neck. His back was slick with sweat now. Finn sat back on his heels just beside them, working himself slowly.

“What you waiting for, baby?” Finn breathed. He’d not been moving much, but there was a sheen over his nose and temples, too. Just from watching. Now, he shifted behind Leo and wrapped his arms around his waist, nuzzling under his jaw.

Leo reached between them and Logan muffled his sound in Leo’s neck. Logan hadn’t been warm from the second he met him, but oh, he was warm now. Burning in Leo’s hands, against Leo’s body.

“I just want it to last,” Logan said shakily, but he was moving again, like he couldn’t help it. “You’re leaving in two days.” Logan wrapped his arms fully around Leo’s shoulders. “Don’t.”

“Don’t even know how—” Leo’s eyes slipped shut and he tried to breathe through the mix of white hot pleasure and blue tenderness pulsing through him. “How to think about leaving.” He smoothed his hands up Logan’s back, feeling the way it flexed as Logan moved against him.

“Ouais,” Logan said, a smile slipping across his face. He pulled back, his breathing jumping as their hips shifted. He kissed Leo hard, then cursed softly and let his head fall back. “Fuck…Leo…”

With his hair falling back and out of his eyes like that, Leo’s language left him entirely. He’d seen him like this on stage, lost in the music. He’d watched from the VIP booth, from the wings. Logan was closer to him than Finn was, always staying in one place. He’d seen the lights catch his every angle as he threw his head back, sweat dampening his dark hair, and played with everything he had. Tonight, Leo felt like theirs in that same way.

The sheets were kicked towards the end of the bed, or pooled on the floor. Leo’s head was on Finn’s chest, Logan’s forehead pressed to the top of his spine. Leo couldn’t stop touching them. He trailed his fingertips down Finn’s chest and watched goosebumps follow in their wake. Logan had a thigh thrown over his hip and Leo stroked the unbearably soft skin behind his knee. He dipped his thumb in the divot below Finn’s bottom lip.

Finn smiled sleepily, his eyes closed. His eyelashes were dark just now. In certain lights they tinged lighter, like his hair. “You’re ticklish.”

“You’re soft,” Leo replied.

“Is he asleep?” Finn whispered.

“Non,” came Logan’s voice, though he sounded part of the way there.

“I’m not kidding.” Leo reached back to hold Logan’s hip. “I’m getting up if I start keeping you awake with my tossing around.”

That was a lie. There was nothing that could haul Leo out of where he was right now.

“Nu-uh.” Finn kissed Leo’s temple. “No tossing. Not with the weighted blanket I have.”

“You travel with a weighted blanket?” Leo asked skeptically.

Finn reached out and picked up Logan’s hand, kissing his knuckles. “Sure do.”

“Oh,” Leo laughed.

“One-hundred percent effective, I promise.”

When Finn turned the lights off, it sent the room into near complete darkness and so Leo could do nothing but feel, in every nerve, and expanse of exposed skin, the way Logan nudged his nose into the soft hair at his nape, and the way Finn rolled onto his side to hold them both.

“Show tomorrow,” Finn whispered. “You ready?”

Leo smiled. “Do I have to be ready? I think that’s supposed my question to you two.”

“You have to be ready,” Finn placed a kiss to his neck. “It’s a Leo show.”

[starstrucklilypad]

Simon Riley

Warning: Angsty, Mentions of death

Your boyfriend, Simon Riley’s face hardened at the news of your pregnancy. His eyebrows furrowed, and a frown tugged at the corners of his mouth. He took a deep breath, his shoulders tensing slightly. “You’re pregnant,” he repeated, his voice flat and emotionless.

He stood there silently for a moment, absorbing the information. It was clear that this was not the news he had been expecting to hear. His eyes darted around the room, avoiding your gaze. You could see the gears turning in his mind, processing the implications of your pregnancy. After a few moments, he finally spoke. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice cautious. He stepped closer to you, studying your face and searching your eyes for any sign of doubt.

“I… I confirmed with my OB earlier” you spoke softly.

 Simon’s expression remained stoic, but you could see the subtle changes in his body language. His shoulders tensed further, and his jaw clenched tightly. He was clearly struggling to process the news.

“And you’re… you’re keeping it?” he asked, his voice quieter now. 

“Of course, I am keeping the baby.” Your voice stern with finality.

Simon’s jaw clenched tighter at your response. He ran a hand through his hair, a habit he had whenever he was frustrated or stressed. “I don’t know if I can be a father,” he said quietly, his eyes flicking up to meet yours for a moment before looking away again. There was a hint of vulnerability in his voice that you hadn’t heard before. It seemed like he was struggling with his own doubts and fears about this unexpected situation. He leaned against the wall; his arms crossed over his chest. “I’ve never even thought about being a father before. I don’t know if I’m cut out for it.”

“Aren’t you going to at least try?”

His expression darkened at your question. He pushed off the wall and began pacing the room restlessly. “You know my background,” he said harshly. “I’m a soldier, not a father. I don’t know how to be someone’s dad. I don’t even know if I want to be.” He stopped in front of you, his eyes meeting yours for a moment before looking away again. There was a mixture of pain and anger in his voice, and you could see the internal struggle he was going through. “I’m trained to fight and kill, not to care for a baby.”

There was a long silence between you as he looked away, lost in his own thoughts. It was as if he was wrestling with demons of his own, trying to reconcile with the man he had always been with the man he was now being asked to become. “I’m not ready for this,” he said quietly, more to himself than to you.

You nodded, “I guess that’s my answer.”

Simon’s head snapped up at your words, his eyes meeting yours once again. There was a flicker of confusion in his gaze for a moment, but it was quickly replaced by a look of resignation. “Is that what you want?” he asked, his voice low and gruff.

“No! this isn’t what I want! I want you to be a part of this but I can’t force you!” you snapped.

His shoulders slumped at your words. He let out a deep sigh, his eyes dropping to the floor between you. It was clear that he was conflicted, torn between his own fears and doubts and his love for you. “I don’t know if I can be the man that you need me to be,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Thanks for being honest.” You gathered your stuff and walked out.

Simon watched you leave, his eyes following you until you were out the door. Something inside of him shifted, a flicker of regret and guilt in his gaze. He wanted to say something to stop you from walking out, but the words caught in his throat. As the door shut behind you, he let out a deep breath, a look of pain etched across his face.

You quit the force soon after, with your savings, you moved to a smaller place.

The days since you left had been difficult for Simon. He missed you, more than he cared to admit even to himself. He had spent several sleepless nights pacing in his house, regretting his words and actions. But he couldn’t bring himself to reach out to you, paralyzed by his own fears and doubts. Weeks passed, and there was no word from you. Simon tried to distract himself with work, throwing himself into his missions and training with even more intensity than usual. He thought about you often, wondering how you were doing, how the pregnancy was going. He wanted to reach out, to apologize and say the words he should have said when you told him about the baby. But the thought of facing you and admitting his fears made him feel weak and vulnerable, feelings he had spent his life avoiding.

Time skip. After almost three months, you’re currently working as a waitress at a night club to add more money to your savings. The tips from your customers helped ease your financial problems.

It was well after midnight and the nightclub was in full swing. The place was lively, with the sounds of music, laughter, and drunken voices filling the air. The room was dimly lit, with the only source of light coming from the small tables and the neon signs on the walls, casting a soft glow over everything. As you moved among the tables, taking orders and delivering drinks, you caught a glimpse of a familiar face in the crowd.

It was Simon, his figure almost blending into the shadows. But you could recognize him instantly, even in the dimmed lights. He was sitting at a small table in the corner, nursing a beer and seemingly lost in his thoughts. He hadn’t noticed you yet, his eyes fixed on the glass in front of him. You felt your heart skip a beat as you saw him, a mixture of surprise and apprehension washing over you. You hadn’t seen him in months, and you had half-expected never to see him again. Taking a deep breath, you continued to work, trying to keep your focus on your job and not on the man sitting in the corner.

As the night wore on, you occasionally found yourself stealing glances in Simon’s direction. He was still sitting by himself, deep in thought. It was strange to see him in this environment, so far removed from the military and the chaos of his usual life. Finally, the club closed and the last patrons began to leave. As you were finishing up your cleaning duties, you felt a presence behind you. You turned around and found Simon standing there, watching you silently. His gaze was intense, his eyes studying you for a moment before he spoke. “Can we talk?” he asked, his voice low and rough. You motioned to a nearby chair. Simon followed your gesture and sat down in the chair facing you. He was tense, his muscles taut as if he was preparing for a fight. He stared at you for a moment, his eyes lingering on your face and the dropping to your stomach.

“You’re showing already,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. There was a hint of surprise in his tone, as if he hadn’t expected the evidence of your pregnancy to be visible so soon.

“Twins…” you muttered.

Simon’s eyes widened at your words, his gaze flickering up to meet yours. There was a mixture of shock and disbelief in his expression. “You’re carrying twins?”

You nodded. “I’m shocked too, there’s no twins in my family.”

Simon remained silent for a few moments, his mind still processing the information. “How far along are you?” he asked finally, his eyes watching you intently.

“I’m turning four months.”

Simon’s gaze lingered on your stomach for a moment before he looked up at your face. There was a hint of something in his eyes- a mixture of worry and wonder. “How are you feeling?” his voice softer now.

“I’m always tired and grumpy, the morning sickness doesn’t help either.”

He nods, then his demeanor changed. There was a flicker of protective instincts in his eyes but he managed to keep his voice steady as he spoke. “You know, working in a place like this… it’s not exactly safe.”

“It pays my bills.” You countered.

His expression darkened at your response. He knew you were being stubborn, and he knew arguing with you would be pointless. “You shouldn’t have to risk your safety just to make ends meet,” he said gruffly.

“Well right now, I don’t have a choice, do I?!” your voice raised.

He let out a sigh, his frustration evident in the tension in his shoulders. He knew you were right, but he couldn’t help feeling concerned for your well-being. “You could have come to me, asked for help.”

“I told you I don’t want to force you on this!”

Simon’s eyes widened at your words, a mixture of guilt and regret flashing across his face. He knew he had hurt you, and the reminder stung.

“I never knew you’d end up working in a place like this,” he muttered, his voice low.

“Well, here I am!”

He didn’t respond for a moment. He just sat there; his eyes fixed on the floor between you and him. There was a mix of emotions on his face – guilt, regret, and something else that you couldn’t quite place. After a few moments, he looked up at you, his gaze meeting yours directly. “I don’t like seeing you here.”

“Then don’t comeback here.” You spoke with a dismissed tone.

His jaw clenched at your words, his eyes narrowing. “Is that what you want? For me to just disappear from your life?”

“We haven’t seen each other for three months. I don’t think that will be an issue for you.”

Simon fell silent at your words, stung by the truth in them. It was a harsh reminder of the distance that had grown between you in the past three months. He leaned back in his chair; his gaze dropped to the floor. After a few moments, he spoke again, “It hasn’t been easy, you know,” he said, his eyes flickering to meet yours.

“Oh I know! It’s not easy to handle pregnancy on your own, for the first time and all alone!” I snapped.

He grimaced at your words, a flicker of guilt in his eyes. He knew that he hadn’t been there for you when you needed him most. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have let my fears get the best of me.”

“I guess it’s a bit late for apologies now.” You sighed. “You need to go, we’re closing up now.”

Simon nodded in understanding. He pushed himself up from the chair, his gaze lingering on you for a moment before he spoke. “C…can I see you again?”

“What for?”

He flinched at your response. Your words cut deep, a reminder of how much the distance between you had grown. But he couldn’t blame you for your coldness, not after what he had walked out on you when you needed him most. He took a step closer to you, his eyes searching your face. “To talk… to try and make things right.”

“I want actions Si, I don’t want to trust mere words.”

He knew you were right; he had done nothing but disappoint you, and words alone wouldn’t be enough to make up for that. He took a step towards you, his eyes fixed on yours. “I won’t let you down again,” he said firmly. “I’ll prove it to you. Give me a chance.”

There was a moment of silence between you as you met his gaze, searching his eyes for any sign of deception. But all you could see was sincerity, a determined flicker in his eyes. Finally, you let out a sigh, your shoulders slumping slightly. “One chance” you said quietly.

He let out a sigh of relief, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He hadn’t expected you to give him a chance, but he was grateful that you had. “I won’t screw up this time… I promise.”

Then he continued, “I’ll start by paying for everything, expenses, medications and you’re going to live with me. You’re carrying my kids, and I have a responsibility to take care of you. I’m not going to let you struggle on your own, not anymore.”

Days and weeks passed, you’re currently seven months along. Living with Simon made everything easier, he’d proven himself ever since you gave him a chance and it made you love him more. He had been by your side through the entire pregnancy, attending doctor appointments, helping you with any small task, and just generally making sure you were comfortable and safe.

One evening, as you were sitting on the couch, he came over and sat down beside you. He wrapped an arm around your shoulder and pulled you closer, his touch soothing around your belly. “How’re the little ones doing today sweetheart?”

“They’re super active. I think one kicked my bladder.” You laughed.

Simon chuckled at your words, “sounds like they’re getting restless in there,” he leaned down, pressing a kiss on your stomach. “Hey, you two, take it easy on your mom alright? Give her a break,” he spoke to the babies.

You smiled affectionately, “Got a name for them yet?”

“I’ve been thinking about it… for our boy, I’ve always like the name s/n and for our baby girl, maybe something softer, like d/n.”

“I love it Si!” you beamed widely.

“S/n and D/n Riley” he repeated, his voice filled with pride. “Sounds perfect.”

He leaned over to you and gave you a soft, chaste kiss. After a few moments, he pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours as he gazed into your eyes. “I love you, you know,” he murmured.

“And I love you too” you smiled back.

After a week, you gave birth to your little bundle of joys. Simon was by your side the entire time, holding your hand, wiping your forehead and doing everything he could to support you.

“You did it sweetheart! I’m so proud of you!”

That was the last thing you heard before you slip out of consciousness.

Another week passed. After the twins were born, Simon held them tightly in his arms as he watched your casket being lowered to the ground. He stood there stoically, his eyes red and weary from a week of grief and little sleep. He held your son and daughter in his arms, the babies oblivious to the somber occasion.

Simon tried to be strong, tried to be the rock that your family needed, but deep inside, his heart was shattered. He had lost the love of his life, the mother of his children, and it felt like a part of him had died along with you. All he could do was hold your children close, trying to find strength to raise them alone.

“We ain’t angry at you love… You’re the greatest thing we’ve lost”

[iwasntstable]

𝗡.𝗦. | 𝗡𝗢𝗪𝗛𝗘𝗥𝗘 𝗧𝗢 𝗚𝗢 | 𝗣𝗥𝗢𝗟𝗢𝗚𝗨𝗘_𝗢𝗡𝗘

🗀 C:/PROJECTS/MYWORK/SERIES/NOWHERETOGO [projects] ﹂ [my-work] | in-progress | favourites 　﹂ all | [series] | one-shot | blurb | head-cannons 　　﹂ [nowhere-to-go]

Series Summary: You knew the decision to follow your father into the so-called 'most dangerous Ward' was a dangerous one, but you had to do anything and everything possible to keep him alive. He's the only family you have left. Growing evermore reckless after the death of your mother and blinded by his lust for retribution, this decision is one that will alter the course of your life forever. And the life of a half-ghoul half-human who never thought he'd find himself entangled with the daughter of a former CCG Investigator.

NOWHERE TO GO is a multi-chapter story set in the Tokyo Ghoul universe, centring around Half-Ghoul!Noah and Human!Reader.

Chapter Content Tags: depictions of violence and gore, victims of fire, brief mentions of death.

Word Count: 1k.

Note: Please be aware this story is set in the universe of Tokyo Ghoul, before the events of the manga and anime. It will, however, contain references to content found in the source material. specific content warnings will always be applied at the beginning of each chapter.

✶ [join the NOWHERE TO GO taglist.]

➔read on AO3➔➔ ——　/　NEXT

CREDIT › image — 'Tokyo Ghoul:re - Chapter 54' - 石田 スイ (Sui Ishida). › image edit — @iwasntstable (me). › star divider — @saradika-graphics. › short grey divider — @saradika-graphics. › Tokyo Ghoul — created by 石田 スイ (Sui Ishida).

Scenes of violence were not rare in the 13th Ward. Disputes over territories were as commonplace as the fires that consumed whole buildings, occurring almost every night. Outsiders knew better than to move into the chaos, and residents often found it difficult to leave—the reputation of their Ward preceding them. As an area with an exceptionally high ghoul population, the CCG routinely ran operations in attempts to reduce these numbers and regain control. To take back the 13th Ward. To cull entire families and end bloodlines on the utterance of a single order from a single Senior Investigator.

Many knew not to get involved when the screams could be heard. If they were far enough away, it wasn’t worth risking your own life by getting involved. But for those that were nearby, those with friends and loved ones in the flames, it was worth any risk to save them. Charred bodies lined the pavement. Once recognisable faces were reduced to discoloured, anonymous forms, identifiable only by their personal effects.

“That’s my daughter!” Someone cried. “My girl, that’s my girl!”

“No! No, please! Tell me he’s alive!”

“Where is she?! My girlfriend, she went back inside to get her coat. Where is she?!”

“He’s breathing! This one’s still breathing, over here!” A woman waves her arms in a signal for help, soot staining her skin. “Hurry! He’s just a kid!” The flames light the way for the medics, flickering shadows performing a macabre dance across the small body on the concrete.

“Move back, please,” they order. Checking for signs of life; breathing shallow, noisy, and irregular; pulse weak and thready; pupils responsive; extensive burns across the entire body. Weak signs, but signs nonetheless. “We need a parent to provide consent for treatment. Where are his parents?” the medic asks. 

The woman kneeling by his side shakes her head solemnly, turning to face the flames.

The first thing he sees is the light, blindingly bright overhead, and the sound of a voice speaking to him softly. He felt no pain, nor did he feel fear.

“Can you hear me?”

He tries to speak, but his voice doesn’t come. Only then does he realise how desperately thirsty he is.

“Here son. Here, drink this,” the kind voice holds a plastic cup to his lips, the cool water soothing the burn in his throat. “Now, how are you feeling?”

“What happened?” The boy rasps, eyes squeezed tight against the light.

“There was a fire. You’re lucky to have survived. It was close for a while, but we pulled it off,” he sounded proud, almost smug. “Can you open your eyes for me, son?”

Through his eyelids, he sees the light overhead disappear, and when he cracks his eyes open, he’s met with the smiling face of a man. A smile that only gets wider as he looks from one eye to the other. 

“Oh,” he whispers. “Fascinating… Truly remarkable.” The man pulls a slender, pen-like object from his pocket, clicking the button on the top and holding it over the boy’s face. “Can you look to the right for me, please... and the left...” Following obediently as he shines the light in his eyes, seeing now that he’s looking around the room, a bouquet of flowers sitting on the side table, and the bundled-up form of someone sleeping in a plastic chair.

The man retrieves a notebook from his breast pocket, pulls the pen from the spine, and furiously scribbles some notes. “And you feel- How do you feel?” 

“I feel a little tired,” his voice still hoarse. “And hungry.”

“Hungry?” The man’s interest piqued, jotting it down. “Hungry for what, exactly?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “Just, really hungry.”

“I’ll ask a nurse to bring you something. We’ll need to monitor your appetite and fluid intake…” He trailed off as he flipped through the pages of his book. 

The voice of the boy broke the man from his thoughts, “where are my parents?”

“Oh. Oh, son I’m sorry, but you’re the only one who survived the fire. Forty-nine bodies were recovered. The coroner is still working on identifying everyone-”

“Hey!” A voice from the corner of the room yelled. “Stop it! Get out, leave him alone!”

“Now listen, I am his physician. I’m only trying to help.”

“You’ve done enough.” The boy that was sleeping in the chair stands now between the doctor and the boy, his tone venomous.

“Alright,” the man holds his hands up, any trace of that kind smile now gone. Without another word, he flips his notebook closed, pockets his little flashlight, and exits the hospital room.

“Nick? What’s going on?”

“It’s okay. It’s okay, Noah, it’s going to be okay,” he tucks his hair behind his ear to keep it out of his face, taking Noah’s hand in his.

“Is that true?” He was panicking now. "Nick, what did he mean I’m the only one that survived?”

Tears filled Nick’s eyes. This was something he never wanted to have to say to anyone, let alone his best friend. “I’m sorry, Noah. I’m so sorry.”

He can feel the dread rising in his chest, crawling up his throat and threatening to choke him. The green line on the heart rate monitor screen to his left jolted up and down rapidly.

“That’s not all,” his friend’s voice is quiet, face downcast.

“What do you mean?” Noah’s voice hitches when he asks, wondering how much worse things could get. All Nick does is hand him a mirror.

He swallows down the lump in his throat, hands shaking as they take it. He’s expecting the worst. To look upon his reflection and see a charred monster staring back at him, but as he raises it to his face, everything seems normal. His skin is still smooth and intact, if a little pale. But when he meets his own eyes, he feels like he’s lost the ability to breathe. Because the reflection staring back at him has one perfectly normal, brown eye but the other, pitch black, surrounding a blazing red iris.

One eye of a human. The other eye of a ghoul.

　——　/　NEXT

[mynahx3]

Your Own Prison 7K

Hellooo lovelies!~~~ I bring a Yandere! Illumi x Reader. I hope you enjoy!!! Warning!!!! 18 and up!!!! This DARK story contains DARK subjects of kidnapping/ implied past noncon/ dubcon/ forced relationships/ forced pregnancy Please proceed with caution!! If you don't like, don't read. Not proofread yet.

~~~~~~~~

The day Illumi met you, he was out on a normal mission to gather information for his client.

The rain was merciless and came down hard on your town. It was something he would have to endure. Illumi would normally not care, being used to the harsh weather where he grew up, but today he had a job to do.

It was a simple one that paid surprisingly well.

The wife had discovered her husband having an affair with the secretary, so she launched a hit against the small-town banker. He followed the target until he went into a building, easily keeping track of him in the windows. 

Normally, he would just slip in and finish the job with an easy in-and-out stab of the knife when the target was least expecting it, but the client requested to get the job done in a more discreet manner. One that resembled an accident or natural cause of death. He decided to wait for the perfect opportunity to make it look like the banker's death was simply a tragic accident.

With his years of experience, he was confident he could adapt and complete the job with precision.

For now, Illumi decided he would wait for an opening. He was content with the view he had while also remaining inconspicuous. He just looked like another passenger waiting for the bus in the busy streets.

A few more minutes passed, and a bus arrived at the stop. Illumi almost didn’t notice you standing next to him; the crowd of people walking off the bus didn’t help. It was only when you two were alone did he notice you, looking at you with a calculating gaze. He quickly assessed you, trying to determine if you were a potential threat or just another innocent bystander.

You appeared to be around his age, maybe a little older or younger; it was hard to tell. Dressed in mainly black attire with a worn gray coat. The rain boots you had on were a dark red. Your lips moved; you seemed to be trying to tell him something.

The stoic assassin's face became annoyed as he raised his eyebrow and lifted his hand to his ear, indicating that he couldn't hear you.

The busy city streets drowned out your voice, making conversation difficult. The rain didn't help either, hammering hard against the metal roof above you both. You approached him with a concerned expression on your face. Brows furrowed, and lips parted.

When he got a closer look at you, he realized you weren't horrible looking. It was a thought that vanished as swiftly as it appeared, still irritated by being interrupted.

"That was the last bus for awhile." You said, wincing a little as you pointed to the schedule next to him.

He glanced at the schedule to you, then back to his target, who appeared to be going down the elevator. The stoic expression back on his face.

"I am aware."

The tension between you both was awkward; you shuffled on your feet, looking around sheepishly. He didn't bother looking back at you, thinking the conversation was over.

"If you're cold, my store is over there. You're welcome to wait until the next bus arrives," you offered, trying to diffuse the tension.

Your finger pointed to a corner store not too far from here. The lights flashed in the rain, illuminating the wet pavement as you waited for his response. It looked a bit older than the other establishments in the area. Faded signs were taped on the windows, advertising discounts on various items.

Illumi simply remained silent, unwilling to speak with you any further. His gaze shifted ahead, resuming what he was doing before you interrupted. The rain continued to fall, making the situation more uncomfortable.

You would shortly leave, he assumed.

Proving him wrong, he heard you open one of your bags; the shuffling of wrappers and the sound of you pulling out a small package piqued his ears. Curious, Illumi finally glanced down at what you held; it was a small rectangle, no bigger than the palm of your hand. Looking at him with a tense smile, you held it out towards him, nudging it closer to him when he didn't take it.

"It's a hand warmer!" You informed him with a wider smile. "If you don't want to come in, take this."

Illumi's expression softened slightly as he reached out to accept the hand warmer, a rare gesture of gratitude for him. He titled his head as he picked it up with the tips of his fingers, examining the item with a hint of interest.

"Thank you," he murmured with a questioning tone, holding it in his hand. He wasn't expecting that.

You nod, looking happy that he took it from you, pulling out an umbrella from your bag now.

"I hope it helps keep you warm," you replied before turning to leave him. "If you need more, we sell a few items that could help in this weather, including hand warmers and umbrellas. On sale this week!" you added with a cheeky smile over your shoulder.

With that, you left, stepping into the rain with your umbrella up. Not thinking anything of the interaction with the stranger. His eyes followed you as you walked away; a small feeling stirred inside of him that he had never felt before. The small act of kindness left a lasting impact on him.

It was something you'd live to regret.

~~~~~~~~

Arguing was heard around you as you lay on the floor. You didn't recognize the voices; one was a woman and two other men. You didn't know why this was happening.

You just wanted to go home.

A blindfold was tied tightly over your eyes, now wet from your tears. Wrists tied together behind you as well as your ankles, leaving you no hope for escape. Mouth gagged with your own scarf, not helping the panic rising in your chest. You were roughly dropped onto the floor after being taken from a car, the tile pressing into your cheek as you tried to make sense of the situation. The cries you made were not bothering the people in the room who continued arguing.

"Why on Earth would you pick this girl?" The woman asked angrily; the shrillness of her voice made your ears hurt. "You have so many offers to pick from, why her?"

"It is none of your concern who I pick, Mother. Father said it was fine as long as I didn't forsake my responsibilities." The man's response was cold and dismissive, causing the woman to huff in frustration. Footsteps were heard coming closer to you, making you tense up in fear.

Gentle hands helped you to sit on your knees, making you jolt in surprise. You could feel the weight of their gaze on you, making your skin crawl with unease. You felt goosebumps grow along your arms, and your shaking intensified. It didn't help you had been taken in your sleep, so you only had on an old t shirt and shorts.

Suddenly, there was an overwhelming brightness as someone took off the blindfold. You squinted your eyes in response, adjusting to being able to see for the first time in a few hours.

In front of you was a man with pale skin, dark eyes, and short, black hair. You could only stare at him in shock and confusion. His piercing gaze seemed to burrow into your soul, sending shivers down your spine. The man's expression was inscrutable, heightening your sensation of dread.

"Welcome home, dear wife."

That would be the start of your new life.

~~~~~~~~

“This is something my little brother can withstand; no problem. We need to build your resilience, dear."

Illumi stood over you in the basement. His monotone voice grated your ears as he demeaned you. Empty eyes looking at your weak form crying on the stone floors. His pale hands soaked with your blood as he wiped them clean with a towel.

He acted so casual, as if it were just something as simple as dirt, not human blood. 

Shaking in pain from what he did to you, you lay in a fetal position. For hours on end, he hurt you as you were chained to the ceiling by your wrists. Hard red welts on your wrists were proof of the cuffs digging into your flesh. Your body was covered in bruises and cuts, blood soaked into your clothes. 

Another punishment for trying to escape but it was always futile.

Kukuroo Mountain was vast with unforgiving terrain. Littered with traps to keep anyone out, which also worked perfectly in keeping people in. To your credit, you did manage to evade the highly trained butlers and Illumi for two days. It was the farthest you had ever gotten in your attempts to escape. But now, as you lay broken and defeated, the reality of your situation set in: there was no way out.

These sessions with Illumi only brought you pain and suffering. He was determined to get you to give in. For you to become his sweet wife and meld into his family—like he didn’t kidnap you from your home months prior.

Forcing his way into your life despite only having just met him. Taking anything he wanted from you with no remorse.

With weak arms, you tried to pick yourself off the ground, vision filled with black dots. Stubbornly, you glared up at him. He loved the fire in your eyes; he simply didn't like it when it was aimed at the wrong things. He didn't understand why you were fighting so hard against him. Your determination could have been utilized for more important things, like helping the family, but you had to oppose him.

A blank expression was on his face as he looked at you sit up; a part of him was surprised by that. You had cuts along your arms and legs with a few broken ribs, yet you still had that look of defiance. Seeing you this way only affirmed his feelings.

He knew you were simply meant to be. Yes, your body was weak, but your mind was strong.

Crouching to your level, he looked at you; his cold hand caressed your tangled hair with a gentleness that always shocked you. Illumi was a surprisingly doting man. After your punishments, he made sure to coddle you as you healed.

Kissing your wounds, whispering into your ear, treating you softer than ever before. Over the last few months, you felt your resolve dwindling. You let yourself lean into his touch as it cupped your throbbing cheek, eyes closed as you tried to block out the pain. For just a moment, you felt his touch bring you comfort.

Snapping out of it, you turned away from him, wretching yourself from his hold. You spat in his face, with some of your blood mingled in. He wiped the wetness from his face calmly before saying in a low, frightening tone.

"You will regret that."

His eyes darkened with rage as he looked at the mess on his fingers, and his short, dark hair fell around his face, giving him a more terrifying appearance. Knowing your disobedience would only make matters worse, you prepared yourself for what was about to happen.

"Go to fucking hell."

~~~~~~~~

You awake with a start, jolting up from the plush, silken sheets. Illumi clung to your side like always, his eyes opening immediately at your movement. The nightmare, more like a memory, had made your skin clammy, and sweat dripped down your forehead. As you tried to calm your racing heart, you couldn't shake the feeling of fear that was felt in your bones. Illumi's head tilted at the sight of your distress, prompting him to sit up.

"You're shaking." His voice was soft, a stark contrast to the harshness of your nightmare. "Another dream?"

You nodded, looking at your lap, not replying much to him as he hummed. Moving your gaze to his with a firm grip on your chin, he brushed a strand of hair away from your face, his gaze devoid of emotion. His eyes lingered on yours for a moment before looking away, a flicker of concern crossing his face before he masked it with his usual stoicism.

"The doctor said you needed to rest. You're not doing that, and it's starting to show." He sighed, reaching out to gently tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

"I know, I know." You dismissed him, leaning into his touch as he caressed your cheekbone.

His touch was both comforting and unsettling, a reminder of his dual nature. Despite the concern in his eyes, you couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to his motives than he let on.

"I'm here for you." He leaned in, kissing you gently before it went further. You closed your eyes, trying to calm your heart, but his words only seemed to worsen your anxiety.

"Illumi." You tried to protest, hands going to his chest, but you put no strength in them. You stopped fighting him a long time ago, now trying to barter instead. "It's late."

"I know you're worried," he whispered, his voice soft and soothing. "But I only want to help you through this."

The kiss continued for a while longer; he didn't seem to mind your slow movements. He pushed you back onto the bed, squeezing your shoulders. His lips sealed with yours, hard and demanding. Pressing his body against yours and wrapping your legs around him, he caged you in with arms on both sides of your head. The intensity of his look conveyed that he was entirely focused on you at that moment.

"I'm here." He repeated. A hand moves to caress your face again. You felt a rush of emotions in your heart as he added, "I'll always be here for you."

It didn't seem to convey the message he wanted; he was never one to be good with words. His hand moved down to clasp around your throat, not putting any pressure on you. It was a hold that conveyed his possession and control over you.

Tears silently went down your face as you looked up at him, feeling overwhelmed. Your heart was conflicted by the mix of fear and comfort that his touch brought. You wanted to fight back, to run, but you were rooted in place. Knowing what would happen if you fought back.

You have been realizing, too, that there was a tiny, tiny part of you that craved his touch.

Regardless of how much you denied it, you could feel yourself starting to care for him. The defeat in your eyes seemed to make him happy, clear from the small smirk on his lips.

"You're never leaving me, and I know you're starting to accept that," he whispered, his grip tightening, making your breath halt.

Leaning down again, he captures your lips, furthering the passion he felt. He wanted to show the extent of his love for you in more than just words. His hands begin to trail along your body in possession. Feeling and gripping at your soft flesh. It was different from the hardened, trained muscles of his. A good difference to him.

The kisses became more frenzied and hungry, his teeth knashing against your bottom lip. You didn't know whose blood you tasted on your tongue. He always seemed to lose control in moments like this, leaving you breathless and spiraling. His touch was both gentle and possessive, sending shivers down your spine.

As he deepened the kiss, you couldn't help but reciprocate with equal fervor, completely surrendering to the moment. He seemed pleased as you wrapped your arms around his neck, and his movements slowed. His lips lingered on yours, savoring the sensation of heat between you and the feeling of your tongue move against his.

Everything happened so fast; he was always the eager man when it came to you.

Without further warning, you felt him hike your nightgown up, pulling his boxers down shortly after. His hand spread your thighs more apart with ease, the head of his cock rubbing up against your wet entrance a couple times before he pushed in. As he entered you, you had to arch your back against him. You were pressed chest to chest as he pushed deeper and deeper until he was fully inside you, filling you completely.

Even though it was only a sting, the pain that followed was nonetheless unpleasant.

A whimper escaped your lips as he peppered kisses down your neck in an attempt to distract you. Your nails dug into the skin on his back, legs locking around his slim waist, pulling him closer as you tried to focus on the pleasure mingling in.

The release between your legs from earlier did help, but it wasn't enough to completely mask the pain. No matter how many times he took you, it was always on the edge of discomfort, a fine line between pleasure and pain that you both danced along.

"Breathe." He reminded, his voice low and soothing. His touch was gentle, reassuring, and soon the pain was nothing more than a distant memory.

Opening your eyes, you saw him over you, his inky hair falling in disarray around him. If it wasn't for the slight flush on his cheeks and mused hair, you would never think he felt anything other than calm control. His eyes, however, betrayed a hint of desire that mirrored your own growing need for more of his touch.

He stayed in place as you adjusted to him. Passing the time by tracing circles on your hip, the other moving up and down your spine in a soothing motion. Short gasps emerged from your mouth as your face contorted in a mixture of pleasure and discomfort. Your breathing began to steady, the initial pain fading as you relaxed into the moment. Your body became more plaint under him, your insides clenched around him in a delicious ache of anticipation.

Illumi began to slowly rock into you, his hips meeting yours with a steady rhythm. His movements were deliberate and controlled, his touch both soothing and intense. As the initial sting began to fade, a wave of pleasure started to build within you, blending with the lingering pain in a bittersweet symphony.

Your body responded eagerly to his touch, surrendering to the conflicting sensations that he expertly knew how to bring. Seeing this, Illumi began to move faster. Eager to push you to the brink of ecstasy and beyond, his movements are becoming more urgent and intense.

Grunts escaped his lips so quietly that you would have missed them if he hadn't been so close. The room filled with the sound of your combined breaths, and the feeling of his body pressed against yours intensified. Each movement brought you closer to the edge, aching for release as you both lost yourselves in the moment.

"Illumi!" You cried into his ear, hand pulling at his soft hair. Hips moving against his in sync. "Illumi, please don't stop."

This only furthered his own desire, and he responded by increasing the pace and pressure of his movements, pushing you both towards the peak of ecstasy. The tension is building up within the both of you with each movement, the sensations overwhelming your senses as you reached the brink of pleasure.

Moaning loudly, you felt yourself close to unraveling but not quite there.

Continuing his thrusts, Illumi moved his hand between you, flicking at your clit roughly with his thumb. The added stimulation sent you over the edge, your body shuddering as you finally reached that peak of pleasure. Gasping for breath, you clung to him. He followed shortly after with a stuttering of his hips, his release painting your insides as he groaned in satisfaction. In the aftermath, the both of you panted for air. Sweat coated both of your bodies as you lay tangled together, basking in the afterglow.

Making sure to keep his seed plugged inside, he leaned back from you. His hand that gripped at your thigh traveled up to your stomach, where it rested. Dark eyes looked at you, filled with a mix of satisfaction and longing.

"You will never be without me," he whispered, his voice husky. "I will always be a part of you, in every way possible."

~~~~~~~~

"Caladen, Illyrio. Explain yourselves."

You sat in your usual chair at the table, with your daughter on your lap and your two boys in front of you. Each looking guilty, never being one to hide from the judgment of their mother. Your daughter, Sylvia, was unconcerned, knawing on the fabric of your dress despite your efforts to persuade her to stop.

At just five years old, the two boys bore a striking resemblance to their father, and as they grew older, they undoubtedly continued to do so. Dark eyes that stared into the soul and pale skin that seemed to glow in the moonlight. The only semblance of you in them was how they acted. One, stubborn as all hell that rebeled all chances he had, and the other, more obedient, an observer with a silver tongue.

Illyrio spoke first, his voice steady and confident, while Caladen remained silent, a slight frown on his face. The broken pot was behind them, proof of their misdeeds, and was being cleaned up by a butler. It was only on the ground for a couple seconds before it was swept away. Looking like nothing had happened at all.

"We were just practicing, mama."

Seeing the looks on their faces, you almost felt yourself give in to their innocent facade, but you knew better than to be fooled by their charm. It was only a matter of time before they were up to no good again. That mischievous streak was all their own.

"What it looks like you were doing," you start, staying stern with a frown. "Was messing around despite being told to stop playing so roughly in the house, especially our dining room. I expect you both to behave, you know better."

The children exchanged guilty glances, realizing they had been caught red-handed once again.

"Yes, mama."

Their heads hung low as they mumbled their response, knowing that their mischievous behavior had consequences. You couldn't help but feel a mix of frustration and affection for your children. They were only children, but being a child of the Zoldyck family was no easy feat.

In your thoughts, you don't notice the arrival of your husband until he lays a hand on your shoulder. The action made you look up at him, smiling softly at him.

"Go train with your grandmother today." He said, not bothering to look their way as he leaned over you, a blank expression on his face. Voice is still plain as always. "You will need to be punished, so do tell her what you did."

This made your frown deepen; you didn't want them to be punished so harshly. The boys left the dining room without another word. They had always respected and obeyed their father.

As you watched them go, you couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt for what they were about to endure. Kikyo's training was notoriously brutal. They were unforgiving and left lasting scars, you knew from experience. For a moment, they looked like normal kids, laughing together as they ran down the hall. Their assigned butlers were following right behind them.

Your focus was drawn back to Illumi, who had taken your daughter from you. The baby giggled in his arms; chubby fingers immediately began pulling at his long hair. Her blue eyes looked at her father with interest, white hair framing her face in short curls.

She was an innocent, pure child, but you knew that Illumi would raise her to be just as ruthless as he was. The thought made your heart ache, but you had no choice but to watch from afar.

All of your children were Zoldycks; it was their birthright and destiny to be trained as assassins.

"How is little Sylvia this morning?" Illumi asked, sitting next to you at the dining table. She bore a striking resemblance to her grandfather, which her family valued. You knew that Sylvia's future was already set in stone from that alone, and there was nothing you could do to change it.

You couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness as you replied, "She's doing well, as always."

He nodded, a glimmer of pride in his eyes, and returned his attention to his food. Sylvia proceeded to play with the pins on his vest as he fed her.

Illumi began to talk about the typical topics. How he had dealt with his most recent target, upcoming missions, the training regiment that the boys would follow, and the time you were permitted to spend with them.

Every week, you were given an entire day to spend with your children. It was a time you were thankful for. Considering the demands of their training and missions, every hour you could spend with them was valuable.

He had noticed you weren't exactly paying attention to him, only humming in response to his words with no real engagement. Saying your name fixed the problem; your shoulders straightened, and you made eye contact.

"Your mind seems to be elsewhere, dear."

"Just thinking about the boys. Their training is getting more intense." You answered honestly, your hand reaching out to wipe your daughter's mouth of drool with your napkin.

You were often concerned about your boys. They carried a lot of responsibility being the oldest of your children and the first grandchildren.

After you cleaned up your daughter, you gave him that same soft smile you have grown accustomed to giving him. Though it seemed forced at times, he thought he'd never see those loving eyes staring at him. Still, Illumi could tell that wasn't the only thing occupying your mind.

His frigid fingers reached out and moved some hair from your face, catching you by surprise. He wasn't one to be affectionate outside of the bedroom.

The fatigue on your face was more visible in the light.

He had kept you on a strict schedule and diet since your arrival years ago, but he couldn't ignore the signs of weariness sneaking in. You hadn't been sleeping well lately, your appetite had diminished, and you weren't as positive. With the recent birth of your daughter only a few months prior, he knew it was time for a change. Something to cheer you up from the mood you were in.

"I plan to take you and the children to the village soon." He said suddenly, not reacting to the shocked look on your face, busy getting his slobber covered pin from the strong hands of his daughter.

It had been years since you left the mountain; it had been your home—prison—for the last few years. As evidenced by how much his hair had grown, now reaching his lower back from the short style he had when you two first met. Illumi had been adamant to keep your contact to only himself, his family, and the help of the mansion.

"Is it for a mission?" You asked, trying to gauge his intentions, an eyebrow raised in suspicion, sipping on the teacup in hand.

"No, it's not for a mission," he replied smoothly, handing Sylvia over to you once your hands were free. "There is a festival happening that I think the twins will enjoy. I will inform the butlers to pack."

Without saying anything else, he leaned down to kiss your daughter's head and gave you a quick peck on the lips before heading towards the door, leaving you to wonder about his sudden change of heart.

Watching him go, you still had the frown on your face. You couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to his decision than he let on. While you watched him disappear down the hallway, a sinking feeling formed in your gut. You couldn't help but wonder what prompted this surprising act.

It was a thought that left quickly as your lovely daughter spit up all over the front of your dress to your dismay.

~~~~~~~~

The festival was a celebration that was known for its lively atmosphere and colorful decorations.

Ahead of you, the boys looked at the passing floats with an awestruck expression. They had run off without a care in the world, eager to explore all the festivities the festival had to offer.

You were tempted to yell after them, your heart thrumming at the sight of them so far. At first, the crowd didn't help your anxiety. But as you saw the smiles on your children's faces, you began to relax and enjoy the festivities. The music, food, and laughter surrounding you made it easy to forget about your worries for a while.

Still, you were not completely at ease.

It was something you weren't hiding well, gripping the stroller so tightly, your knuckles turning white. You took a deep breath, reminding yourself to trust that your children were safe and having a great time. Their butlers were sure to stay by them, and they had their parents.

Illumi was walking next to you, idly looking at the different stalls with disinterest. It was admittedly weird to see him in public with civilians. As you continued to navigate through the bustling crowd, you couldn't shake off the feeling of unease that lingered in the back of your mind. Despite the festive atmosphere, a sense of apprehension still gnawed at you. It was a struggle to stay present and enjoy the moment after being kept in the mountain for so long. Seeing your thoughts racing, Illumi's hand reaches out for yours, his eyes communicating his thoughts well enough.

"Just a lot of people." You said, squeezing his hand back as you both walked.

"We can go somewhere for a moment." He suggested, waving a butler over to the both of you.

Without asking your opinion, he took you by the hand to a bench not too far but far enough to offer some privacy from the bustling crowd. The butler had taken Sylvia with no objections, leaving you and Illumi alone to finally have a moment of peace. Sitting down, you immediately felt relieved.

Awkwardly, he kept his eyes on you the entire time, unblinking.

He often likes to just watch, not saying anything. Countless times you woke up to the sight of him standing over you in your shared room. His gaze was intense, almost unsettling, but you found comfort in his presence nonetheless after the years. Illumi's silent companionship was something you had grown accustomed to, even if it still sent shivers down your spine at times.

"You know, it's nice to see them like this." You said, breaking the silence. "So… normal."

The boys were both leaning over the stroller, showing their softer sides as they cooed and made faces at the baby. They both turned to you, smiling, their eyes filled with genuine affection for the little one. Much like the rest of the family, that little girl had them wrapped around her finger. Illumi studied them alongside you, his hand now resting on your thigh as he scooted closer.

"Do not get attached to the sight. It will not last. We will only be in town for a couple nights."

His words served as a reminder of the impermanence of the moment, but you chose to savor it nonetheless. Illumi's gaze flickered to you briefly before returning to the children, his expression unreadable as always.

"Enjoy it while it lasts," he replied, standing up as he looked down at you, hand extended.

You simply took his hand, walking with him without another word.

~~~~~~~~

The night went by faster than you wanted. It was nice to see your family together.

A flicker of shock went through you at the thought, your hand faltered as you burped your daughter. The butler beside you wanted to, but you refused. You preferred to take care of them yourself.

You glanced over at Illumi across the park table, who was in conversation with the twins about types of assassinations. The night had been surprisingly pleasant, and you were grateful for the rare moment of peace. In your arms, Sylvia yawned, her tiny hands rubbing her eyes as a grumpy look was on her face. It was about time for bed.

"Lumi, I think we should head out. Sylvia is sleepy."

Instantly, the boys both looked disappointed, but Illumi nodded in agreement, standing up and motioning for the twins to follow.

"Can't we stay a little longer?" One boy asked, leaning forward to you.

"We haven't even ridden the carousel yet," the other twin chimed in, a hopeful look in his eyes. You smiled at their enthusiasm, thinking it over a bit as you gathered everything.

"Gotta see what your dad says."

With a sigh, you glanced at Illumi, who didn't seem too thrilled about the idea of staying longer. A moment of silence went by as he thought it over.

You stood next to him, tilting your head slightly in anticipation of his response. Finally, he nodded in agreement, surprising you and the twins.

"A hotel has been booked in preparation. You can head over with the butlers. I'll take them on a ride or two, but you both have to accompany me to the next mission."

Illumi looked at them as they cheered before at you. Leaning up, you kissed him on the cheek, a rare display of affection from you.

"Have fun!" You smiled at him with such glee, a look of pure happiness that made his heart swell with warmth.

Illumi looked surprised at that, his eyes slightly wider, and he held the cheek you had kissed.

~~~~~~~~

Checking into the hotel was an easy process. The butlers came with you, unpacking everything with ease and swiftness.

The suite was filled with everything you'd need for a weekend retreat. Two separate rooms, one for the kids and the other for you two, a living room connected to the kitchen, and a balcony with the view of the town.

Sylvia slept peacefully in her bassinet after being fed one more time and a bath.

Leaning over the railing, you watched the rise and fall of her chest.

Your children had become your whole world, their innocence and vulnerability a constant reminder of the love and responsibility you held in your heart. The first time you were pregnant, you hated the changes in your body and the loss of control. You had vowed to him you would hate them and that you didn't want them. They would be a daily reminder of what Illumi did to you, after all.

But the day you held them for the first time, all the resentment melted away, replaced with an overwhelming sense of protectiveness.

Feeling sleepy yourself, you rose from the uncomfortable position you were in. It had been time for you to get some much needed rest as well. Going into the master bedroom, you quickly stripped and showered. The butlers that guided you to the hotel had been in the living room, telling you to call for them if needed.

Oddly, they hadn't come to check on you like they usually did.

Sighing in relief, you stepped out of the bathroom. Now you were dressed in a simple nightgown that reached your midthigh. It was made of soft cotton with a delicate lace trim. You would prefer something more casual, but Illumi liked to see you in the finer things.

Idly, you had gone to the dresser, picking up the snack you had brought into the room with you. It was just a fresh abaripe, a blue fruit similar to an apple found in the area, with a small knife nearby for cutting it up. Humming in contentment at the taste of it, you continued to slice it up in your hand, deciding to watch a show before bed.

The sight you walked into made you freeze in shock, the fruit dropping from your hand. A man stood in the middle of the room, the light from the fireworks blazing behind him. You'd never seen him before, hence all the alarms set off in your head. You nearly screamed when you opened your mouth, hand gripping the knife harder, but the man instantly raised his hands, shushing you with urgency.

"I'm here to help." The man urged, taking a step forward as you took one back. "Your family hired me to find you."

You felt a mix of relief and confusion, unsure of whether to trust this stranger. Your eyes are keeping watch of him for any signs of deception or danger. After a few moments of tense silence, you finally lowered the knife and allowed him to speak more.

He explained the situation to you in a fast manner, clearly nervous at the same time. How your family had hired him to find you, how they had spent most of their money in this almost endless pursuit. He had even said he began to help out of the goodness of his heart after seeing them so desparate.

It had taken him years, but he finally found you.

Your heart only beat more, thoughts racing with the realization that your family had been searching for you for so long. You couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions—relief, guilt, and gratitude all at once.

Then, it was all overshadowed by one thing—fear.

Blood rushed into your ears, your chest moving to take panicked breaths. The very room seemed to shrink around you, walls closing in fast.

What would Illumi do to you if he found out?

No, no, no, no, no, you couldn't take more punishments. More bleeding. More torment. More pain.

It had taken years to get this point. The very thought of going back to their basement made you feel queasy, the food you had eaten earlier threatening to come back up. More anxiety filled you as you thought of the worst of things.

What about your children? You can't leave them.

His touch on your arm jolted you, bringing you back to reality. You could see he was sweating, scared in his own right. If he got caught, he was worse than dead.

You weren't much better, looking like a deer in headlights, as he began to pull you towards the balcony. Your feet only planted in place, trying to slow him down if not stop him completely. Your hand is trying to wretch his from around you. His grip is stronger than you would have expected, especially considering the amount of training the Zoldycks have made you endure to be one of them.

"N-no, what about my kids?" You pleaded; you felt your heart beat frantically in your chest. The urgency in his eyes was unmistakable, and you knew he was not going to wait for anyone. Your stomach turned with fear at the thought of leaving your children behind.

"We don't have time. The butlers are knocked out, but we have to move now."

"Let me at least get my girl!" You yelled, desparation in your voice as you panicked more and more. Your vision began to blur from the tears going down your eyes. Nails digging into his hand.

You can't leave them. You can't leave them. You can't leave them. You can't leave them. You can't leave them.

YOU CAN'T LEAVE THEM.

He didn't listen to you, pulling you harder across the room. It was only once his hand touched the doorknob to the balcony did you react.

You put the small but sharp knife into him faster than you could have imagined. You had done it mindlessly and, by chance, got him in the throat; you had almost forgotten it was in your hand.

He let go of you, looking at you in shock as you pulled the blade out. Blood spurted from the wound like a fountain.

It almost seemed as if time slowed down. His hand slowly went to hold his bleeding throat; his other hand weakly reached towards you. The shock and horror in his eyes were quickly replaced by a look of betrayal as he realized the extent of your actions. Without saying a word, you only reacted.

Again and again, and again and again.

You continued to stab him, even as he crumpled against the glass door. The knife may have been small, but it was sharp and deadly, each stab punctuating the air with a sickening sound. Adrenaline coursing through your veins dulled the screams that echoed in the room, leaving only the metallic scent of blood lingering in the air.

Blood coated everything by the time you were done. The moon shone a red glow into the room from the amount of blood on the window. It was now silent, other than blood dripping from the knife onto the floor, a haunting reminder of the gruesome act that had just taken place.

Soaked into the carpet below you, it began to pool around you both. The body of the man was long still, looking into nothing with dull eyes. His skin now has a gray hue to it, and his lips are a shade of blue.

The only movement in the room was the slow rise and fall of your chest as you sat there, staring at what you had done.

~~~~~~~~

Illumi should have noticed something was off sooner when he didn't see the butlers that were supposed to be with you.

He was a bit distracted as he walked into the suite, holding both of the sleeping boys with ease. The three of them had spent longer out, racking up stuffies they won at the scam games.

One in particular, Illumi had won for you. He had caught you staring at it for a bit earlier. It was an ugly, cheap thing with bug eyes, but something told him to get it for you.

The butler put the bag of goodies on the counter before taking the twins from Illumi to get them into bed.

Illumi silently began to walk towards the master bedroom, the stuffie in hand from the bag.

Normally, you would have greeted him by now. Even if you were tired, you always heard him come home. Sleepily getting out of bed to greet him once he entered was a routine you never broke. But tonight, you remained silent. He figured you must have been in a deep sleep; you have been tired as of late.

Once he was closer to the door, his nose picked up on the scent of rust. It was a thick scent that he knew all too well. For the very first time in his life, Illumi felt scared. The worst scenarios ran through his mind as he stepped faster, pins in hand, stuffie dropped to the floor.

Maybe you had hurt yourself? Had he really missed the signs?

Imagine his surprise and relief when he rushed to open the door to find his wife sitting in front of a body.

You didn't respond when he called out to you, still shaken and shocked by what you had done. The man's body had already become cold. He completely ignored it, cradling your face and looking at him. He was just concerned about you.

"What happened?" He demanded to know, looking over you for any injuries.

He was relieved to find you were unscathed, physically at least. Your eyes didn't look at him until he repeated your name again. Finally, you met his gaze, tears streaming down your face, mixing with the blood dried on your face.

"He tried to take me from you." You whispered, almost falling into his arms. Your hands gripped his shirt as you looked at him, your voice barely above a whisper.

He cupped your face, admiring the work of art you were, thumb smearing the bloodstains on your cheeks.

"Oh, dear. I'm so proud of you."

A twisted smile appeared on Illumi's face as he kissed you gently. You had killed someone.

His sweet wife. HIS. To stay with HIM.

With your family.

It was where you belonged. 

[idontknowreallywhy]

Resurface 35 - Reappraise

Story to date in order (Tumblr / AO3)

ART!VIRGIL KLAXON

Perhaps if you hadn’t read them before these two chapters (here and here) may make more sense of what Virgil has been drawing.

And if you missed the wee!Earth&Sky flying machine adventure, that is contained in this one and this one.

But now, onwards! Virgy-boy still has some demons to exorcise and needs Scooter to help him. Points to whoever spots the cameo from an old friend 😈

💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚

The view from Virgil’s balcony was very similar, but subtly different. They weren’t adjacent - both John’s often-empty and Dad’s always-empty room lay between - and the shift of a few metres to the left meant the light reflected off different facets of the damp rocks of Mateo and the shadows changed shape. The sea met the shore at a marginally different angle, the light refracting through the shallows and hitting the greener end of blue. Two of the trees visible from Scott’s were hidden by the curve of Roundhouse Peak.

Scott hadn’t noticed any of this before Virgil pointed it out. What he did know was that on his own the breeze was stronger and there was fractionally more sky. On a hot day he’d always advocate for the cooler, more exposed position. Where he could see as far as possible. Where he could breathe.

But on a cooler evening, there was something comforting about how the sun’s residual heat radiated from the stone and bathed Virgil’s preferred haven in a warm glow.

Virgil had added to the warmth that evening by opening a bottle of Scott’s favourite scotch which he’d clearly stashed away at some point. Had it been one of the others who produced such a thing, Scott would be waiting for ‘The Favour’ or ‘The Difficult Question’. In Gordon’s case, quite frequently ‘The Confession’.

Virgil, however, often just did it to be nice. And Virgil knew that, unlike Dad and himself, Scott preferred his liquor without rocks. He took another sip and rested his head back with a contented sigh, allowing the liquid to rest on his tongue.

“Scott?”

“Mmmmhmm?” The heat spread through his sinuses as he breathed over it.

“Can I ask you a favour?”

Oh!

The whiskey hit the back of Scott’s throat and his eyeballs burned. Virgil seemed hesitant which mean this was going to be important! He coughed and croaked out a hurried confirmation:

“Always.”

Virgil, staring out to sea, appeared not to notice his brother’s nasal passages vaporising which, again, indicated something was Up. Scott scrubbed at his eyes with a sleeve and with an iron will, forced himself to get a grip of his respiratory system. He was about to say something else encouraging when Virgil suddenly spun to face him and in a voice of utmost seriousness stated:

“It’s a weird one.”

Scott raised an amused eyebrow.

“I can do weird.”

“Would you wear it again?”

The other eyebrow joined it with vigour.

“Wear what? If you’re asking about Halloween and that cursed Superman costume, Alan beat you to it and it’s a hard no. I might be persuaded to consider Batman but only if you’re Robin.”

Virgil snorted and swirled the ice in his glass. The not ungenerous measure he’d poured himself having already disappeared.

“As you very well know I don’t do tights. Not after the Christmas debacle.”

“I think you made a lovely elf.”

“You’re deranged.”

“Yeah but you love me.”

Virgil threw an ice cube at his head before conceding: “I do. Yes.”

He then frowned.

“Scooter, are you CRYING?”

“Nope. No no I’m just… enjoying this with ALL my senses.” He raised the glass and winked.

Virgil narrowed his eyes as if invisibly scanning his brother, then with a quirk of an eyebrow seemed to conclude there was no sudden emotional devastation and released him from scrutiny. He looked back out towards Mateo and tracked the petrels swooping to and from their rocky nests.

Scott followed his line of sight and started a little. There was a small cave at the base of Mateo which was invisible from Scott’s balcony. How had he never seen that before? He was about to point it out when he realised he’d distracted Virgil from his question.

“If you didn’t mean Halloween… what are you asking?”

“Your uniform. The, uh, air force one.”

“Hell no. I’m planning to burn it. That’s not part of my life anymore.”

“That doesn’t sound very environmentally friendly…”

“Alright bury it then. Shred it and bury it. No… shred it, dissolve it in acid then bury it.”

Virgil blinked. “Have you been watching murder mystery reruns again?”

“They’re relaxing.”

“Riiiiiiight.” Despite the feigned disbelief, Scott knew that Virgil had been the one to add three hundred and thirty-six hours worth of ‘A Century of Detective Classics’ to the family server and he knew Virgil knew that he knew that he’d done it as a cunning way to tempt Scott into some downtime. Devious little brothers… who… needed reassuring, immediately.

“It hurt you so it’s got to die. Don’t worry. I don’t even want to touch it again. If Grandma hadn’t spirited it away somewhere to clean it would be gone already.”

“Oh.” Perhaps imbibing scotch straight into his brain had slowed him down, but Virgil didn’t seem as reassured as Scott had intended.

“Don’t you need it for Ash’s dinner? You should go to that, it’s important.”

“I’ll work something out.”

“Oh, ok.” Virgil went quiet again and Scott realised he’d given the wrong answer somehow but wasn’t quite sure how to change it.

“What’s on your mind, Virgil?”

He sighed and cracked his knuckles one by one, making Scott cringe.

“Would you… um, would you wear it once more if… I… for me to… uh…”

“For you?! But… I don’t understand! It made you so unwell? I thought you hated it?”

“I did. I do. But… I don’t want to carry that fear anymore, I can’t be scared of CLOTHES. It’s… I just can’t. It’s ridiculous. And, well… and I was thinking perhaps if I was prepared… if it wasn’t a surprise… it might… I might not react quite so badly? My last memory of it wouldn’t be… uh… so heavy? And maybe I could finish my book.”

“Your book?” Now Scott was really bewildered.

Virgil put down his glass and disappeared into his suite, returning swiftly with one of the large black ring-bound pads of thick art paper the like of which Scott had seen many times. This one was more battered than most and his little brother clutched it to his chest for a moment then cleared his throat awkwardly as he sat down.

“I found it when I was hunting for a sketch I wanted to work up for the exhibition next month. Some of them aren’t… very nice. I was going to just throw it away but Gordon thinks I should complete it… finish the story.”

“Gordon’s seen it?” Scott wasn’t actually jealous, he was relieved to discover - the little snakelike green monster’s appearance seemed to have been limited to the ‘other’ version of himself. But he found himself kind of intrigued that their fish brother was apparently giving art advice these days.

Virgil rolled his eyes and growled quietly. “You know what he’s like… I foolishly tried to hide it when he burst into the room and of course he noticed and he wouldn’t let up until I showed him.”

“May I see?”

Virgil chewed his lip and nodded. Scott shuffled his lounger closer such that they were shoulder to shoulder and felt his jaw drop as Virgil opened to the first page and he saw a vivid recreation in pastel of his toddler self proudly holding a tiny baby Virgil, Mom and Dad hovering in the background. The baby’s fingers were wrapped tightly around his thumb and Virgil had sketched several enlarged views of their chubby hands in pencil along the bottom.

He turned the pages slowly and Scott saw several scenes he definitely recognised from childhood photographs and some he thought must have come from Virgil’s memory. They paddled in a watercolour sea together, rode their bikes in oils, Scott dangled upside down from a charcoal tree with chalky Virgil underneath, arms stretched upwards. There was a cartoon school bus with a dimpled stickman waving from the window.

He smiled as he recognised the two of them with the flying machine on the roof, although he remembered it as much sturdier than the painting suggested. The faded but detailed cross-section taped in to the next double page disabused him of that impression. This one was covered in his own scrawly handwriting. Scott chuckled and raised a hand to the scar on his jaw.

“Oh DEAR, I’d thought it was a much better design than that!”

“Hmmmm.” Virgil rumbled “The basic concept was sound but the materials and our duct tape-biased construction methods left something to be desired and yeah… your “math” was a touch… shaky…”

Virgil smiled and turned over to another cross-section, only this time of a much more elegant design which was surrounded by small sketches of joints and diagrams showing balanced forces, each with the appropriate calculations painstakingly recorded in Virgil’s neat handwriting.

Scott gasped as he realised that this… this could work. Who was he kidding - it was Virgil’s design - of course it would work.

“You fixed it!”

“I did. I felt… bad that we never tried again and you didn’t get your moment.”

“My moment?! Virgil! I nearly killed us both!”

“You were only eleven.”

“Even so…” Scott tried very hard not to think of all the occasions since then when he hadn’t had ‘being only eleven’ as an excuse but the more he tried the more of them bubbled up in his memory like some kind of noxious gas polluting his only fresh water source. No. They were past this now… it was better. Things were changing. He was changing.

“I guess I had this idea that I could build it and if… if you ever came back…” he shook his head “it was just a silly…”

“No.” Scott interrupted, grabbing his arm and pressing his forehead into the side of Virgil’s head. “Not silly. Thoughtful. Ingenious. Seeing the potential in an idea and making it work? Very… YOU.”

Virgil gave a small smile and turned back to the book. Scott felt himself blush at page after page of sketches, all of himself - as a wide eyed child, a cocky teenager winking, a laughing adult flipping pancakes… even a few where he had apparently sprouted falcon wings, one where Virgil had them too.

Scott couldn’t imagine how many hours these must have taken to create

“When did you do all this?”

As soon as the words had left his mouth he knew it was a stupid question. Virgil shrugged and turned the page.

“When you were gone.”

Scott put his arm around Virgil’s shoulders and squeezed as he turned again, seemingly keen not to linger on any one image.

A blazing sun burned out of the page, the wall of colour marred only by a silhouette of the falcon-winged man, clearly falling, curled in on himself as the wings trailed limply behind, the dark shapes of lost feathers becoming larger and more detailed towards the top. No prizes for spotting the reference there. The real sun, heading swiftly towards the horizon seemed to lose most of its heat and a modern day Icarus-but-for-Many-Miraculous-Escapes wondered yet again how he could have been so blind.

If that one gave him a chill, the next made him shiver, the warmth from the whiskey had now entirely dissipated - a faint pencil outline Scott holding a heavily shadowed Virgil in his arms. Then… there was that same Air Force Grad photo, reproduced in a dozen different styles. The last one almost photo-realistic but crossed through in heavy red pen.

Virgil tried to skip several pages but Scott gently took his hand and turned back. He recognised the image of the crashing jet, over and over… pencil drawn, painted, scratched with a blade into a thick black layer of wax crayon. There followed a page solely of fire. Skeletal outlines of fighter jets. Storms. Crowds of agonised faces. An incredibly detailed map of Bereznik decorated with vicious-looking black insects.

The last few pages shocked Scott the most - all the pictures were drawn on scraps of paper, and then glued in. The largest was a drawing in black ballpoint pen of an almost unrecognisable bearded stranger in a hospital bed, covered in bandages and tubes. There were smaller pencil studies of bruised hands, a foot, an ear, eyebrows over sunken eye sockets, a nearly skeletal chin with a scar… his scar. Scott swallowed hard - he’d looked that bad?

One smaller image stood out as it had clearly been screwed into a ball before being flattened out to stick on to the page. Scott’s younger self winked and laughed up at him from behind the creases, one arm wrapped around a huge box of popcorn, the other hand reaching out of the page towards him. Virgil had clearly got hold of a blue ballpoint pen for this one and had skilfully used it to produce a rainbow’s worth of blue shades. The picture somehow gleamed at him and Scott felt the green serpent stir in his gut. He bit the side of his tongue and motioned for Virgil to turn over to the next.

The very last page contained only the sky in vivid shades of blue with light wisps of cloud: Virgil’s starting place.

Scott swallowed hard as he realised Gordon hadn’t been giving art advice at all.

“I put it away when dad brought you home.”

“It’s… Wow…”

“It was an outlet.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Scotty.”

“Not all of it. Some things though.”

He pulled his brother close again and planted a kiss in his hair.

“So how do you want to finish it?”

[ivomartins]

i have SO many fucking questions about the diamond scene with cain like ??? why was he burning the books. was he really influencing lane with his powers and outright seducing her. why the fuck did he seduce her by talking about murderous rituals of all things. could it be that he can sense lane's darker nature and was using it to draw her in. who is he. what is he. what is happening.

[toytulini]

me, stupidly and weirdly resistant to listening to audio books vs reading a physical book for no real reason: man i wish there was a way to like, read a book while i crochet like i do with tv shows and movies and podcasts

[eorzeashan]

It's really ironic that Eight was made as a direct contrast to the feeling of helplessness and powerlessness that Ciphers (particularly Nine with having their free will stolen unable to even ask for help) experience but his character has grown so much in that protector role that he misses that helplessness-- especially that of being an infant. Misses being weak and small an half-blind and relying on his parents for warmth and safety. He can't cry for his mother, or be surrounded on all sides by someone or something that would fight for him, tooth and nail. When you grow your fangs, you can never return to being so young-- you are the protector now and it is your duty to fight.

[daydreamerdrew]

The Incredible Hulk (1968) #246

[powdermelonkeg]

Will Cirinel be romancable?

Planning on it! She’s a little picky with how she likes to be courted, though, so have more than an amulet of Mara ready. ;)