#I do not regret keeping a brand new day as my alarm

[oneknightlight]

Facepaint cosplay makeup tips from someone who’s been doing it for 7 years because fuck it why not:

(Keep in mind I work with primarily water based facepaints because they operate best with my skin type)

You will be blowing out (whatever color) facepaint snot out of your nose for 48 hours after wearing the facepaint. Do not be alarmed, happens to all of us, don’t ask me how.

Please do not do more then 2-3 layers the facepaint will begin cracking (far more then usual!) Depending on what brand, that number may vary slightly but not by much. Better a thin and patchy layer then a thick and crackly one. I usually do 2 coats max

If by the time you’ve done two layers there’s still a mistake, just leave it. Leave it alone. You will regret trying to add more paint to fix it, just trust me on that one.(If you really can’t help but fix the error then let the rest of the paint on your face dry before you do it, it’ll still result in a cracky finish but it’ll be less severe.)

Mehron paradise paints are excellent once you learn how to use them, but they’re a bit finicky and not as beginner friendly as people say they are imo. Try snazzaroo if it’s your first time working with facepaint ever! I’ve heard oil based facepaints work excellent on the right skin types, unfortunately mine is not, I have very oily skin, and the paint melted right off me within 30 minutes. It was great when it was first applied though! If you have average-to-dry skin, oil based paint might be an excellent option for you! Check it out, I can’t speak on it.

Facial hair, regardless how thick or thin it is, might make your facepaint do weird things in your jaw area. It reaaaallly varies person to person, for me its something I have to/want to shave.

Setting powder is a MUST after you’ve applied your even base layer before you start contouring. My life changed when I figured that out, and my facepaint started looking “professional” and actually lasting more then 2 hours. I can’t express how much I recommend mehron setting powder.

When you’re contouring or using any powder do not expect it to blend on water-based facepaint like it would on skin. The powder sticks very quickly to the paint and doesn’t want to budge, so it’s better to do thin layers until you’re satisfied, and blend quickly.

Expect it to be uncomfortable, especially your first time wearing it. Your entire face, neck, and maybe more are covered in paint, it’s gonna suck lmao. The good news is, once you’re used to it, you’re USED to it. I wore facepaint for 3 days straight 11 hours a day the other weekend, and forgot it was there almost immediately. However, if it burns or hurts, remove it immediately, that’s not the facepaint for you!

Don’t be afraid to make expressions! If your facepaint isn’t applied too thickly, it should move with you for a good amount of time before expressions begin to crack into it. (And even when it begins to inevitably wear down, your fun is more important then your facepaint.)

Your teeth might look yellow as fuck! Like gold yellow! It’s ok! First and foremost, yellow teeth are natural, secondly, the contrast between tooth color and the different colors of facepaint tend to make your tooth color appear differently then you’re used to.!

Put your contacts in BEFORE you paint your face and thank me later. :)

If you get paint stuck in your eyelashes, dampen your finger tips and gently strain it out of the lash between your thumb and index finger.

To avoid chapped lips, either find a lipstick in a color you can use, or mix a bit of eyeshadow and chapstick.

There’s no easy way to eat in facepaint, but the best advice I got for you is do not be afraid of eating weird. If you have to unhinge your jaw and clamp into a sandwhich to avoid fucking up your paint, just do it. I stopped caring what people thought of my facepaint eating ritual a long time ago. However, if you can opt for it, popcorn, m&ms, grapes, walnuts, and stuff like that are good to just throw in your mouth. (And of course, touch up paint is never bad to have on hand.)

Drink stuff through a straw! I repeat! If you can! Drink stuff through a straw!

And to conclude: Facepaint. Looks. Bad. Inherently. Facepaint will never look like skin up close. It will look like skin to someone over 5 feet away, and on a camera, but it will never look like actual skin. Expect small cracks even if you did your damndest with the base coat, expect your sweat to create a ring around your nose and eyelid. ESPECIALLY if you plan on wearing the paint for more then a couple hours. It’s inevitable, and it’s perfectly ok!! Even those of us who have been facepainting for years still have our sweat stain and forehead cracking days, it’s just in the business. Don’t let the internet fool you with filters!

Facepaint unfortunately takes a good couple attempts to get the hang of. Your first couple attempts might suck! They might! But please don’t let that stop you from filming videos or going to a convention. It’s a part of the learning curve, and before perfection, cosplay is SUPPOSED to be about fun, and any facepaint is good enough to have fun in.❤️

And ahhh don’t forget to take it off before bed!

Happy cosplaying!

[goldenblade17]

This week's run episode was so much fun! I definitely do not regret starting to watch it again. They're adorable.

I'm glad I'm finally starting to leave behind all the doubts I had about my relationship with bts. Now no matter what the others say, I know the truth, and that is a great comfort. I love them, and I am secure in that. Sometimes it feels like that is the only thing I am secure in.

I was planning on switching schools for my A Levels, but then since online classes started I was having some fun with my "school friends" and decided against it. Now I'm questioning yet another impulsive decision. Sometimes I feel like they just talk over me and don't care because I'm the clown of the group. That's a habit that has been in me since birth so it's kind of a natural instinct when I'm feeling uncomfortable, especially in front of a camera. They keep on teasing me about my hair that they're seeing for the first time, and it's really hard to bear. Sometimes I feel left out, sometimes I feel like I'm always being made fun of, and this is the exact reason I wanted to switch schools and stay alone. I'm not sure anymore. I've stopped telling my mother about this stuff because I feel I am not very good with self expression and I often make her misunderstand things. It's fine. These are only online classes, and it's great because I can leave the situation whenver I feel comfortable, which is a great luxury. I am thankful for that.

[erodasfishtacos]

HSLOT PHILLY

Like, comment, share, and come talk if you enjoyed the fic.

I write for free - so if you would like to support my work, you can donate here.

-

Harry is predictable.

He falls into the same patterns during every tour since he was on the Up All Night with One Direction.

The excitement that comes with the first couple of shows begins to fade as he starts his world wide tour that doesn’t end for nearly eight months.

His constant adrenaline wears off and his exhaustion from not having toured in two years settles deep in his bones.

YN senses it from a mile away, has nearly eleven years experience dealing with her jet-lagged, exhausted, and stubborn husband.

It hits the day of the Philadelphia show, they got in late the night before, and YN always set her alarm for seven thirty in the morning to workout.

Ninety-five percent of the time, Harry got up with her and they either did a jog around the new city or they took advantage of the in-hotel gym.

Four percent of the time, he would whine and tug the comforter over his head, whimpering, “M’too tired, baby. Stay in bed w’me.”

And then the one percent, which was today.

The alarm emits a low, constant beep that rouses YN, in the time she takes to rub her eye and come back into reality - Harry hisses with a sharp edge, “Turn tha’ fuckin’ thing off.”

She bites her tongue at his tone, reaching to turn it off but she can already tell what day they’re going to have.

YN slips out from under the covers and automatically gets a comment from her husband, it another whiney demand, “Cover m’feet, y’too the blanket off them.”

“Yes, your majesty,” YN replies reproachfully, rearranging the blankets before quietly moving around the room to change.

“Stop makin’ so much noise.”

“Turn off tha’ light.”

“S’too early f’this, d’you not care that m’tired?”

She chooses to ignore the remarks, hoping that he can sleep off the attitude.

When YN is about to leave, he grumbles, “Y’need to kiss me goodbye.”

Harry purses his lips for a soft kiss, not moving a muscle, and after that - she leaves to head down to the gym.

YN is required a body guard, definitely when she isn’t with Harry or a group of people, and she decided not to follow those rules today.

She had her TPWK water bottle in hand, a cute workout set on ***, and her AirPods tucked in her ear with some Spice Girls playing.

It’s only about twenty minutes into her exercise, a light jog on the treadmill, that a young girl slips up beside the machine.

YN is kind, stopping the belt to smile for a selfie before the girl scampers off and she resumes her run - music blasting.

However, what YN didn’t know, is that fans had found out early in the morning which hotel they where at and a hoard was rushing towards the small gym.

It’s not even ten minutes later when a swarm of fans in rushing into the work area, lining up around her machine with their phones flashing and recording.

She tries to be nice, “Hey! Uh, I’m just trying to workout. I’m sorry, but no pictures please.”

Then there is loud protest and people shoving each other, begging and pleading for a selfie or for her to sign something - all because she was Harry’s wife.

There is literally no exit to escape to, so she relents and anxiously calls Frank - one of the body guards - to come retrieve her.

-

The whole way back up to her hotel room, Frank is lecturing her about safety and how she could have gotten hurt.

And when he scans the keycard for her hotel room, she feels her stomach drop because Harry is sat against the kitchen counter.

His brown locks are rumpled and going every which way, just in his briefs that are low on his narrow hips, and absolutely irate expression on his face.

“Are y’fuckin’ kiddin’ me?” Harry snaps, brow furrowed and jaw clenched - his arms were crossed tightly against his chest.

“Good morning to you, sunshine,” YN mutters, shutting the door and kicking off her tennis shoes to the side.

“Don’t,” Harry replies sourly, “Please explain t’me why I get woken up by Frank to be told y’getting mobbed in the gym? And y’didn’t to call him.”

YN bristles at his tone, giving him a pointed look as she steps further into the room, “It’s not a big deal. I just wasn’t thinking.”

“Y’right about that, y’weren’t thinkin’. It is a big deal, y’could have gotten hurt - shouldn’t have t’babysit m’own wife,” Harry huffs, stomping back over to the bed and sliding back under the covers.

“You better watch your tone-“

They’re interrupted with a knock to their door, Harry throws the covers over his head and leaves YN to open the door.

It’s Jeff, who barges in with a coffee in one hand, “Come on, H. Did you forget? You have soundcheck early today and then you have to meet with FullStop to review the details of that new merchandise contract.”

“No, move it,” The popstar groans, muffled from the heavy blankets over him, and his manager and wife give each other a knowing look.

“We can’t. Get up, we need to leave in fifteen,” Jeff replies casually, unbothered as he sips from his to-go mug.

It has Harry dramatically ripping off the covers and getting out of bed, as he charges off towards the bathroom, he shouts backwards, “Wish someone would have fuckin’ told me! Like m’manager or m’wife!”

“Oh my god, here we go,” YN groans quietly to Jeff, snatching up the few things she needs for the venue as well as Harry’s and shoving them in his duffle.

He comes out a few moments later, dressed in running shorts and a vintage Queen shirt - going to tug on his Nikes without a word to either.

But in true Harry fashion, even when he’s mad, he’s still a gentleman. He slips the duffle off his wife’s shoulder so she doesn’t have to carry it.

“Thank you,” She murmurs but he avoids eye contact, being the first to open the hotel room and trudge towards the awaiting car.

It’s a quiet ride, Harry looks out the window with a deep frown and puffy eyes - eyes heavy from the lack of sleep.

Usually, he’d be curled into YN - snuggling as close as possible and asking for her to pet his hair to soothe him.

Not today. But he does have his hand on her thigh.

There’s already fans at the arena and Harry doesn’t acknowledge them - keeps his head down and walks quickly into the private entrance past the barricades.

When a irritated fan screams, “Asshole! We waited all night here for you!”

YN watches as Harry goes to turn, to say something but she pushes him forward through the door to prevent him from doing something he’d regret when wasn’t in a foul mood.

They manage through the long hallways, filled with bustling tour crew, and everybody there to make the show happen.

Sound check isn’t as fun as it usually is, the band stays low-key when Harry does exactly what he needs to do and nothing more.

And after the merch meeting, Harry has reached his limit apparently.

He was so tired, so fucking moody that he couldn’t deal with anymore human interaction.

YN has to step in when she gets a text from Harry Lambert.

Come get your husband. Sarah’s Kitchen.

She sighs, excusing herself from hanging out with Jeff and Glenne - she can hear him from the hallway and now she’s finally get irritated.

“I asked for that specific brand. It’s literally one of the only things I’ve asked for on this tour.”

YN takes a deep breathe before stepping in, there are crew trying not to stare as Harry complains to Sarah about something unimportant.

“Harry,” She says flatly, “Come on.”

He snatches his water bottle and follows his wife out without another word, trailing behind until they end up in his dressing room.

“You need to stop. You’re being a literal nightmare today,” YN tells him, watching him as he digs in the duffle.

“Where is m’charger? Did y’not pack it?” He ignores her words.

“I must have forgot. Harry, I know you’re tired but you can’t be treating everyone like-“

Harry pushes back the bag, seething for no reason, “I’ll treat people however the fuck I want!”

“You’re acting like a spoiled popstar right now,” YN replies, attempting to stay level-headed and calm with him.

“S’my show! M’tour!”

“Yes and everyone is here to support you and you’re treating them like shit. Including me, I’m your wife - the one person in the world that’s here for you no matter what and you’re being downright mean.”

“Y’so fuckin’ sensitive,” Harry mutters angrily, digging around to try to find a charger in a different bag.

And…that stung a bit.

When he doesn’t get a response, he looks up and notices how her demeanor had changed - it brings him back to reality for a little bit.

“I’m not going to stay here and be talked to like that because you don’t feel good. I’ll leave you alone because you are being insufferable.”

“Bab-“

YN is already out the door, storming back to Sarah’s kitchen to apologize for her husband’s diva behavior and everyone shrugs her off - knowing it’s not her fault.

She is sat down with the band and a few others when her husband saunters in, he doesn’t look at anyone else as he walks up to his wife.

“Baby, can I talk to you?” He mumbles, his warm hand coming to cup her shoulder.

“Harry,” YN says back, they’ve been together for so long that those words are all she needs to say for him to formulate a response.

“Come nap w’me please, need you. I’ll apologize t’you,” Harry says, his palm encompassing and big on her.

“Harry,” She repeats.

The crew looks on in amusement as Harry huffs, he lifts his head and speaks loudly to the room at once, “I apologize for my behavior. I have no excuse for getting upset like I have been today. I hope you guys can forgive me.”

Everyone assures him that they forgive him, most of them have dealt with actual spoiled celebrities and Harry was just having a bad day (which still really wasn’t that bad.)

“Okay, come on, bunny,” YN agrees, satisfied and can’t help but smile a bit when she stands up and Harry automatically intertwines their fingers to hold her hand.

The sofa in his dressing room folds out to be a bed and they still had hours before the show.

Once they’ve locked the doo and settled down on the mattress - they’re both laying on their sides, facing each other.

“M’sorry, darlin’,” Harry whispers, “I haven’t been very nice t’you today. I was just upset about the gym thing and just being so tired.”

YN hums, combing throwing his fluffy curls with her fingers as his hands explore over her hips and belly like always.

“You always get like this every once in a while on tour, like a little spoiled popstar,” YN says softly, no sharpness in her tone, “You also need to be nice to your wife.”

“M’always nice t’my wife,” He mumbles childishly, leaning forward to nip at her chin, “I am sorry, know tha’ when I act like that it embarrasses you.”

“You’re better than acting like that,” YN reminds him, allowing him to tug her into his warm, now bare chest, “I’m never gonna let you turn into some fame monster. You’re gonna stay the kind, funny, compassionate person I met when I was young.”

And when YN doesn’t get a reply, she glances to see Harry’s eyes shut, mouth slightly parted as he breathes rhythmically and his entire face relaxes as he sleeps.

“Still my boy,” YN murmurs lovingly, nuzzling before letting sleep overtake her.

-

[foxgloveprincess]

A Love To Call My Own

Pairing: Stucky (Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes) x Female Reader [First Person Narrator]

Word Count: 8K

Summary: Nothing is better than your life with Steve and Bucky. Through all the little obstacles that come your way, you always end up in the same spot—together.

Warnings: Monster AU (Naga Bucky and Minotaur Steve, Monsters x Human Romance), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Crying, Bad Parental Relationships (with Father), Skin Shedding (snake skin), Mild Sexual Content (Making Out, Light Petting, Light Biting), Cursing, Idiots in Love, Clubbing, Jealousy, Mild Possessiveness, POV Shifts (fourth section in Bucky’s and fifth section in Steve’s), Marriage, Traditions/Rituals, so much Romantic Fluff. Minors do not interact (18+).

A/N: Part 3 for It’s A Game of Give and Take and You Just Have To Wait cause I just needed some more of my monster boys. This is my own little monster universe that I’ve created and I hope you enjoy it.

Follow @foxglovefics​​ if you want to turn on notifications for when I post new fanfics.

I love feedback, so go ahead and reblog if you want. No permission given to copy, translate, rewrite or post my work, at all. I cross-post to my own AO3 account.

Title from “Can’t Hurry Love” by The Supremes

This is not Beta’d, so all mistakes are my own.

Enjoy!

Please DO NOT click ‘Keep Reading’ if you are not 18+ years of age, thank you!

It starts with Bucky turning away, walking through the doors and boarding a plane. Steve leaves the next morning. And I’m left alone. An empty apartment. Too quiet and too big.

They call me when they get a chance, between panels at Steve’s conference and Bucky’s pitch meetings. And I trudge along, going to work and returning back home, sleeping on the couch wrapped up in a bundle of blankets.

“Wish you coulda come with me, li’l one,” Steve mutters over the line, hand running over his glamour and a beige hotel wall in the background. His head tips back and hits it with a dull thud.

“Yeah,” I whisper with a reluctant grin, finger tracing over the line of his jaw, “but there’s not much need for HR at a marketing and branding conference.”

“Not much need for me here, either,” Steve grumbles, glancing off screen with a furrowed brow. He huffs an aggravated breath through his nostrils, turning back to cast an apologetic smile my way. “I gotta go, li’l star. I love you.”

“Love you,” I murmur back, a watery smile stretching my lips as the call ends and the silence descends once again.

Pushing up from the couch, my pile of blankets fall toward my feet, unsatisfactory for what I need. Despite the weight and the textures, they still can’t replace Steve’s soft warmth or Bucky’s wrapping embrace.

The TV flickers on with a touch of a button, Netflix a welcome distraction in the early morning hours. I don’t even glance at the time on my phone, knowing I’m awake far too early to get ready for work. Exhaustion tugs at my eyelids, but even if I try, sleep will not take me under again. And I can’t regret the moment of comfort Steve’s call bestowed.

An hour passes, maybe two, and my alarm blares from the arm of the couch. I tap the screen and stand, stretching my sore back muscles and traipsing into our nesting room with a jaw-cracking yawn.

My morning routine passes in monotony, mechanical and lackluster without morning kisses and playful pets as I try to concentrate. I dress, pack my lunch, grab a quick breakfast to-go, and take out my travel mug.

The ping of my phone catches my attention, a sweet “Good morning, sugar plum!” greeting me from Bucky. My tea brews on the counter as I scroll through loving gifs to send back, far too tired to formulate a legitimate response.

If either have noticed my overabundant use of reaction images in the past few days, they’ve said nothing. Probably happy to receive an abbreviated response they can check between their work duties. But I know. Each day spiraling the drain until they get back.

I sigh, head tilting on my neck, craning from one side to the other, eyes closed for a brief moment. I inhale deeply, filling my lungs with a cleansing breath before blowing out through my parted lips.

Another day.

Walking to the door, I hype myself up, ready to face the challenges work is sure to throw at me. Yearning can wait until I’m safely tucked into my makeshift bed again before it comes back out to play.

Halfway through the day, my phone pings again. My spirits brighten for just a brief second before I catch a glimpse of the text preview.

In an instant, everything crumbles beneath me. Every ounce of reserved energy sapped in the blink of an eye. My heart plummets toward my toes.

Hey sweetheart! It’s been a long time. I’m in town and would love to take you out to dinner and catch up. :-)

So simple. So ordinary. But it torpedoes any semblance of productivity or emotional well-being. As if a text from my father could do anything less.

My teeth grit, swallowing down my frustration and upset. Work is not the place for an outburst. Just keep it together, keep it together, keep it together. A mantra that scrapes me through the day by the skin of my teeth.

“So they were saying that our blue prints could go into production within the month if we’re willing to negotiate,” Bucky preens, gushing about his superb meeting with the head of a huge tech conglomerate.

Steve makes a noise of approval, his lips spread in a proud smile. But I can’t even manage a twitch of my lips, mind lost to rumination over the unanswered text sitting on my phone. Not even when both of them found a sweet little nugget of time to have a joined face call. Even then, I can’t stop thinking about how to respond to my father. If I even want to.

“Sugar?” Bucky asks, voice low and concerned.

“Hm?” My lips buzz with the noise, eyes unbroken in their focus on my phone sitting on the couch arm. My teeth pick at the dead skin on my lips, pulling and tugging even when it stings.

“Is everything okay?” Steve asks, just as soft and dripping with worry.

I blink and turn my attention to my tablet screen. A grimace pulls at my lips, but I bite it back.

“I’m fine.”

From the way Steve’s brow furrows and Bucky’s jaw ticks, I know they don’t believe it.

I clear my throat and shift in my seat. “My dad texted me, ya know? I was just thinking about how I should respond.” The words stick in my throat, falling out meeker than I intend.

Silence settles between us, Steve’s shoulders rolling, a scowl etched onto his face. Bucky grits his teeth, biting back a hiss I still hear. Their eyes flick toward the corner of their screens, appeasing the instinct to exchange a glance with each other before returning their attentions to me.

My hand waves in front of my face, a vain attempt to waylay their worry and bat away the tears pooling in my eyes. I sniff, shoulders shrugging before I mutter, “It’s no big deal—”

“You asked him not to contact you again,” Bucky interrupts, enunciating each syllable with venom.

“He doesn’t listen,” I scoff, looking away from their penetrating eyes. “I’ll just delete it. It’s fine.” My lips press together, regret churning my stomach. With a sigh and shake of my head, I turn back to my boyfriends. “I’m sorry. I think I just need to get some sleep.”

A smile struggles to pull up the corners of my lips. They wobble and fall. My eyes focus on the patterned wallpaper behind Bucky’s head, trying my hardest to downplay my pain, heart raw and blistered in my chest.

Steve’s lips part, words left unspoken when he changes his mind. Instead, he says, “I love you, li’l one.”

“Please take care of yourself,” Bucky adds, leaning forward in his seat, looking as though he’s prepared to reach straight through the screen and wrap around me.

A small grin spreads across my lips. “Of course,” I agree with a nod. “I love you both so much and I’ll talk to you later.”

They echo my loving sentiments before my finger finds the button to end the call, hand raised in a wave before the screen goes black.

I sigh, head falling to rest against the back of the couch. My eyes close, body slumping on the cushions, curling up and wrapping my blankets around me until they block out everything.

Sleep falls heavy and deep and fraught.

A rustle awakens me. My head pokes out from beneath the blankets to catch sight of my phone and illuminate the time. 3:07 AM. I groan—a quiet, grumpy grumble. Shifting my hips, I attempt to turn over and find sleep once again.

But. I can’t.

Confusion chases sleep far away. Peeking further from my cocoon of blankets, I glance around. Dim light from the entryway illuminates part of the room, enough to make out the lumpy figure situating himself atop me.

“Bucky?” I question with a croak, reaching out and expecting the figment of my imagination to vanish.

Instead, my hand finds the coolness of his scales.

“Sugar plum,” he whispers, voice tight and pained.

Startled by his tone, I push up under his weight—or at least attempt to—eyes scanning him for injury before they glance around the room, looking for his luggage.  

“What’s wrong?”

“Have you been sleeping out here since we left?”

The deep voice startles me, heart leaping in my chest. Gaze jumping to the hallway, Steve stands, arms crossed, backlit by the light of our bedroom.

My lips part, ready to defend myself, but the only statement that leaves me is, “The nest was too big without you both.”

The minotaur strides over, burly arms open wide, scooping me up from the couch as Bucky follows, gathering the blankets in his arms to redistribute in the nest.

“But your meetings and conference,” I protest, glancing between the two of them as they walk back toward our room.

“You needed us.” Bucky shrugs.

My mouth shuts, silenced by the sincerity and rigidity of his statement. Heart full, near to bursting in my chest, I wrap my arms around Steve’s neck. Even as he descends to place me in the nest and release me, my grip remains firm.

“Will you both just hold me for a little while?”

There’s no response, but later in the day, when the sun sits high in the sky, I wake again, still ensconced between them. Spirits brighter, cherished and safe.

The ping on my phone alerts me to the time of the year. So I watch. Looking for the signs—the itching, the discomfort, the stretching. All pointing to one thing. And then I find Bucky on the couch one morning, body writhing and face scrunching in discomfort.

Before taking one step further into the room, I spin on my heel to grab the small basket sitting at the top of the linen closet which holds all the supplies I will need. When I return, his eyes flash toward me, wide and pleading with a quiet desperation. An understanding smile spreads my lips.

“You know I’ve always got you, B,” I coo, setting the basket on the table and sitting close.

His arms wrap around my waist, clinging to me while I unfold a towel and lay out a special bottle of lotion, a box of gloves, and tweezers. He hums, a sibilant murmur against my skin. I bite back a giggle. The gloves slip on, snapping into place.

My fingers brush over his forehead. Careful, comforting strokes to calm his mind. I press a kiss to his cheek and turn back to pump a small bit of lotion on the latex of the gloves.

“Spread out for me, Buck,” I instruct, voice low and gentle.

He sighs, stretching his long body over the sofa. His tail dangles over the arm, pooling on the floor and stretching across the rug. His eyes close, a shuddering sigh spilling over his lips as I reposition, finding the patches of dried skin peeling at his waist where skin meets scales.

“Are you ready?” I ask, glancing up to catch his eye.

He nods. I press one more kiss to his hip and begin.

It’s a slow process, peeling away the dead layer of snakeskin to reveal the new underneath. A little tedious. But, oh, so rewarding.

Bucky struggles to remain still, rolling beneath my touch and mewling as each new sensitive sliver is exposed. It’s soothing, for both of us. Rolling away the dead skin in a long swath toward the end of his tail. The intimacy of the act binding us together. His vulnerability and my tenderness.

I remember the first time he asked for my help, three months after we met, a study session interrupted by his discomfort. It was the first time he’d shed away from home without his family to help him. It took all my patience and concentration, terrified of hurting him. But he’d thanked me so profusely, it had struck my heart and left us tied together—cementing our blossoming friendship.

By now I’m a seasoned professional. Only a handful of times since that first where I’ve been unavailable for his shedding.

It dawns on me, a quarter of the way past his hips. “I should call Steve so he can hurry back from his run,” I propose with an encouraging quirk of my brow, “He might wanna be here for this—help out.”

“I like when you do it,” Bucky retorts, almost before I finish my thought.

I hum, head tilting, looking to the naga for elucidation.

“He—” Bucky pauses and shifts, hissing in delight as my hands stop to rest on newly exposed scales for a moment to prevent ripping while I’m distracted. “This makes him nervous. Nearly passed out when I asked for his help when we first started dating.”

“Oh,” I mutter, recalling my recusal once Steve moved in—for all of three months before Bucky begged me and I was powerless to deny him. “I didn’t realize that.”

“You’re always gentle and I don’t want to make Steve uncomfortable.” Bucky’s chin dips toward his chest, cheeks tinting with the slightest pink blush.

“And you know I’m always happy to help,” I reply, loving hands skimming up toward his hips. I scoot forward, close enough to brush our lips together. “And, now, there are so many perks to the job.” My eyebrows waggle in playful innuendo.

Bucky smiles, his hands reaching to cradle my cheeks, claws tickling my skin. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this. Just this.”

He slants his lips over mine, deepening the kiss with a flick of his tongue. I smile against his mouth and return his ardor, letting him bask in my affection. Only pulling away when my lungs scream for air. His teeth nip at my jaw, chuckling while I giggle and draw away, returning to my task.

“How long?” I inquire, voice dropped to a shy whisper. My eyes flick up, darting away again when they catch Bucky’s gaze.

He stays silent for an elongated moment, groaning when my hands pull away a particularly sensitive section of dead skin along his belly scales, “Probably since the first time I talked to you.”

My hands freeze. “Really?” The word bursts past my lips, cheeks heating at the realization. My gaze drifts toward his scars, tears pricking at the back of my eyes. “You were still dating Ophelia then, weren’t you?”

“Yeah,” he sighs with a sad shake of his head. “You made me realize I wanted more. That I deserved more—better than whatever she gave me.”

A response refuses to form in my mind or on my tongue, struck speechless by his declaration. I had never realized—never would have guessed. I work in silence, mind perseverating on his statement.

His head tilts back as I come to the end, the tip of his tail sensitive and quivering. Delicate fingers strip away the last of the dead skin, the whole coil of his tail removed in one pass.

The cool slide of lotion over his scales allows my thoughts to solidify with each caress of my hands. And the sounds Bucky makes, titillating and tantalizing tumbling off his tongue—I’m a goner. My eyes flick to his lips, parted on heavy breaths.

Discarding my gloves in haste, snapping the latex until it rips, I surge forward, capturing his lips with mine. My fingers weave into his hair, scratching at his scalp and clinging to him. He gasps into my mouth in surprise, melting into my kiss and moaning. I swallow each delicious sound, satiated by the heady thrum of each against my lips.

When our closeness proves insufficient, I move, straddling his tail and sighing as it wraps up in the couch behind and around me.

Bucky’s palms find my cheeks, warm and tender. He pulls away, keeping me still when I try to follow the retreat of his lips. His thumbs brush across my skin, swiping away the tears spilling from my eyes.

“I love you,” I warble, voice thick in my throat.

“I love you too, my sweet sugar plum.” Bucky leans forward, pressing a kiss to each of my eyelids as they close for him. A kiss to my cheeks, my forehead, my chin—until I laugh at his antics and wipe away the rest of my tears.

His hands fall to my waist and my shoulders, cradling me close for a while, ensnaring me entirely in the warm weight of his body.

“Steve,” I ask, elongating the syllable of his name in my curiosity, “what’re you doing?”

The minotaur huffs a breath, tongue clicking in dissatisfaction at the bowl in his hands. He doesn’t even glance over his shoulder, grumbling something explicit before glancing over at the tablet resting on the recipe stand. A slimy finger reaches over, illuminating the screen, a recipe staring back at him.

Approaching from behind, I glance at the instructions, brows raising toward my hairline as I see the decadent confection and the accompanying directions. Looking a little advanced, even for me. My hands brush up his shoulder blades, wrapping gently over his chest and pressing my face into his fur.

“Stevie, I love you, but you know you’re not supposed to use the kitchen unsupervised after the Christmas cookie kerfuffle,” I coo, stroking my hands over the fur under his apron.

Steve puffs an agitated noise, surely rolling his eyes at my comment before glancing over his shoulder at me. Finally. My head tilts up, a cheeky smile spreading over my lips.

“I can help you, if you want?”

His brow furrows, thoughts flashing across his gaze, a debate over accepting my offer. He sighs and shakes his head.

“I want to do it myself,” he mutters, glancing at the recipe before looking at me from the corner of his eye. “Make something special for you and Bucky for our first anniversary all together.”

My heart melts in my chest, warmth and affection flooding my veins. I nod, pecking a kiss to his back and smoothing my hand down over his stomach.

“Li’l one,” he lows, hand clenching tight on the bowl in his hand before it sets on the counter with a clatter, “you’re gonna distract me if you keep that up.”

A noise squeaks out from between my lips. Fingers freezing in their place, resting over his lower abdomen. “Sorry,” I blurt, retracting my hand.

“Sorry, my ass,” Steve grits, twisting around and grabbing my face in his sticky hands.

He bends, stealing my breath with his fervent kiss. I hum and surrender, basking in his devotion. A saccharine taste sits on his thick tongue as it plunges past my lips. I hum, a pleased sound disappearing into his mouth. He grunts and moans, pushing deeper, demanding more. My fingers weave into the fur on his arms, holding myself steady. My knees wobble beneath me, sinking into the decadence of his kiss.

Steve steps forward, his hands snaking down to my waist, cradling me in his firm grip. And I can’t bring myself to care about possible stains on my clothes or the sticky mess that’ll become of us. He lifts me, swallowing my gasp, and spins.

My rear finds the counter, just beside his workspace, his body caging me in until he surrounds me. I whine, hands dancing across his flesh feeling the softness of his fur and legs wrapping around his narrow waist. I drag him closer, eliminating the very thought of space between us.

“Steve,” I sigh into his mouth, dragging a needed breath into my lungs.

“Yes?” he murmurs, lips traveling along the length of my throat, sucking and nibbling at the skin.

My mind blanks, struggling to find the words which had just moments ago sat on my tongue. My chest heaves, brushing against his. Blinking, I try to recapture my thought, drifting away as the seconds tick by. With my silence, Steve pauses. He straightens, leveling our gazes and cupping my neck in his warm palms.

“What do you need, li’l star?” His words, soft and deep tingle in the back of my mind. A delightful itch scratched by his timbre.

I inhale once, twice. Pounding pulse calming to a stable cadence, I smile and brush my nose against his in an affectionate caress.

“I love you.”

His eyes soften, a slow smile spreading across his lips before he leans close and presses a sweet kiss to my cheek. My heart flutters in my chest.

“I love you, too.”

His grip loosens on my body, though he stays close. We breathe each other in—touching, tasting—drowning ourselves in the intimacy until we’re satisfied.

“You should probably get back to your dessert,” I suggest with a laugh, glancing at the half made batter.

He grunts, lips seeking one last delightful kiss, before returning to his bowl. I remain with him—seated on the counter, wrapped around his side while he follows the recipe. If a suggestion leaves my lips to improve his form or prevent a mistake, he only smirks and follows the direction, stealing a peek at me from the corner of his eye or perhaps another peck from my lips.

The dessert makes it way into the oven, the time it takes baking spent exchanging kisses and caresses, ears half listening for the timer, but lost in our own little world. And that night, when the three of us sit around the table, feeding each other bites of sweetness and grinning at each other like idiots in love, it’s the best thing we’ve ever tasted.

Watching her enjoy herself is the best way to pass time. The lights flicker overhead, music thumping through the air. And she’s in the center, glowing like a beacon and dancing to the beat.

Steve sits beside me, his thick arm wrapped around my waist, my tail wrapped around his leg. Head resting on his shoulder, his voice thrums through me, a vibration that soothes when others agitate. The song changes, a softer, sensual beat. My muscles relax. Steve presses a kiss to my crown.

Sam returns to our large cushioned seating area, a smug smile on his face. “You know, they said you forgot to register when you came in tonight.”

“That’s not possible, of course I did.” My brows pinch, ire building in my chest. The glare darkening my features doesn’t faze the man in the slightest, his body leaning back on a cushioned chair and smile secure on his lips.

“Or you were too caught up in love,” Sam posits, a suggestive wink sent my way while he points over his shoulder toward her—my girl, Steve’s girl, our girl.

She catches us watching her. She waves. My heart flutters.

“It is possible, Buck,” Steve murmurs in my ear, squeezing me close and nuzzling against my neck.

I grumble in response, eyes scanning the club and the creatures enjoying their night—avoiding Sam’s chortling and Steve’s amused gaze.

And she keeps dancing, Natasha close by, brushing aside—or sometimes downright scaring off—unwanted intruders on her fun. Our girl wraps her hands around Natasha’s narrow waist, exchanging secrets while their bodies sway. My lips twitch toward a smile, admiring every glimpse of my sugar plum, even from far away.

“There he goes,” Sam teases.

But it doesn’t matter because she’s leading Natasha back to our spot and draping herself across our laps. Like magnets, my arms find her, drawing her closer while Steve keeps her steady. She giggles, the sweetest sound tinkling in my ear, and presses a kiss a breath away from my lips.  

“What’ve you boys been up to?” Natasha asks, taking her own seat beside Sam and crossing her legs. He wraps his arm over her shoulder and she relaxes in his embrace, tucked against his chest.

“Probably talking about the two of you,” Clint remarks with a huff, placing a tray of drinks on the low table and rolling his eyes.

Natasha’s brow quirks, a comment whispered into Sam’s ear while she takes a sip. Elation sweeps over the man’s face, his toothy smile lighting up his features while he nods to her suggestion.

“Did you enjoy yourself out there, li’l star?” Steve asks, his voice low, captivating both of our attentions.

She nods, a happy sigh billowing past her lips. A sparkling sheen of sweat coats her body, her temperature higher than normal from her exertion—but still perfect, always perfect.  

Steve leans forward, bringing a glass of water to her lips. She swallows greedily, fingers playing with the fur on his forearm. My own stroke over her sides, relaxed in the moment with them both.

But then a familiar face in the crowd catches her notice. She pushes the water away and scrambles to stand. Our special guest tonight finally making her appearance.

My stomach sinks like a leaden weight, a wave of emotions dousing the sweet bliss of our evening.

“Wanda!” she calls, rushing to embrace the dragon, wrapping her arms around her waist—avoiding both wings and tail—joyous exclamations bubbling past both their lips.

A familiar pain blooms in my chest—pulsing, hollow. The light that sparkles in my girl’s eyes when she’s with her friend, the soft affection staring back at her. A slow kiss presses to her cheek. And I have to look away.

“So,” she says turning to us, “Everyone, this is Wanda.”

Sam waves, Clint nods, Natasha welcomes her, and Steve clutches me tighter before introducing himself. I swallow down the reawakened emotions threatening to pull me under, forcing a smile and small wave.

“Bucky!” Wanda cries, noticing my presence and coming over to embrace me.

I stand and accept it, letting the dragon wrap her arms around me, catching a glimpse of my girl over her shoulder and the joy radiating from her pores. She reaches out her hand to me. I grip it like a lifeline before she pulls away.

“Long time, no see, Wanda,” I greet, fingers tingling with just a touch from my sugar plum. I press them together, trying to keep that hint of warmth alive. “How’s your business doing? And your brother, Pietro?”

Wanda’s smile brightens and she takes a seat. I follow her lead, only half focusing on the rundown of her life after college. My eyes instead flick to my girl, seeing her beside her old roommate, images of the past flashing before my mind’s eye.

It’s fine. It’ll all be fine. It’s not like back then. Not at all. Our girl loves me, loves us. I’m not hiding from it anymore. There’s no threat. It’s fine.

But my pulse thunders in my veins, drowning out the noise of the club. My temperature drops, too much exertion without the reciprocal heat. I wrap myself around Steve—making half-hearted comments when necessary—and observe.

“Are you alright?” Steve whispers in my ear, holding me tighter against his chest.

They’ve all gone to dance, Wanda wrapped up in our girl, giggling and smiling just like they used to. Clint and Sam prance around them, dragged along by Natasha, who spins the men ever closer to her. Only vaguely does it pique my interest that Sam and Nat seem to be luring Clint into their web. An amused smirk quirks at the corner of my lips before disappearing. About time.

“Hey. Buck.”

A warm palm rests on my cheek, fuzzy and familiar. Steve averts my gaze from the floor, though my eyes can’t help but peek back and back and back.

“Talk to me, sweetheart.” His lips press to my forehead, unlocking the gates that allow the truth to burble out of me, babbling like a brook.

“I always thought she should end up with Wanda.”

The confession hangs heavy in the air, sitting between us. Steve’s eyes soften. His lips purse.

I swallow against the lump in my throat and continue, “They were always so happy around each other, so perfect. All through college, I figured they’d get together.” My gaze falls to my hands, claws scraping against Steve chest, trying to find a tether. “Wanda even asked me to put in a good word for her once.” The dry smile strains my lips. “And she never knew. Never even noticed either of us.”

“Our oblivious girl,” Steve sighs, the words tinged by pain—one we both recognize.

“Bucky? Steve?” Our girl stands before us, hand outstretched. Her skin glistens with sweat under the lights, her breaths heavy. She needs a break from dancing, but it’s more than that. Her eyes shine with it. “Is everything alright?” Her brow pinches with concern. She steps forward, cupping our cheeks in her hand. I relish in the touch, clasping my hand over hers, refusing to let it be taken away. “Tell me what’s wrong?” she pleads in a whisper.

My eyes flash from Steve to our girl and over her shoulder where Wanda waits on the outskirts of our lounge area. The dragon’s head cocks to the side, eyes analytical, examining every movement we make.

Our girl just waits.

The words to explain myself don’t form, caught up in my head with no way out. My lips part and nothing follows except an unsteady huff of air. Bright eyes soften, thumb sweeping over my cheek. She turns to Steve.

“Will you be alright?” she asks, leaning to press her forehead to his.

His hand cradles her neck, a small nod of his head and a calm smile. “I’ll be fine, li’l star.”

Her head bobs and turns back to me. She stands at her full height, hand held out in offering. The way she looks at me. My heart stutters.

“Come here, noodle.”

My claws wrap around her hand—knowing I’ll never let go and finally realizing she doesn’t want me to.

I sigh, a weight lifting from my chest. Watching them weave through writhing bodies, they find a dark corner away from the lounges and dance floor. Perfect for a hint of privacy, yet still in my line of sight.

Bucky wastes no time, wrapping around our girl. Their bodies press close while she comforts him, whispering sweet nothings in his ear and stroking his hair away from his face. Sipping my beer, I glance at the bottle, picking at the label and shaking my head in shocked relief. Guess our girl isn’t so oblivious anymore.

“You know, I never thought she’d end up like this.” Wanda stands across from me, her arms folded over her chest and tail swishing behind her. She leans on her left leg, glancing over her shoulder at the scene the two loves of my life make in their little corner.

“Why’s that?” I ask, reaching up to push my hair back, still not used to the new length. My knuckles bump into my horn and rattle the beads in my braid.

The dragon just shrugs, lips pursed around some thought she refuses to share. She sits on the cushion adjacent to me and leans back, perusing my figure with a slow appraisal.

“Where did you come from?” she inquires, eyes igniting with curiosity.

“What do you mean?” I place my empty bottle on the low table and lean my elbows on my knees. Bracing for an inquisition.

“I know Bucky,” Wanda explains with a wave of her hand, stare unwavering, “they met through an undergrad general ed class. But you?” She smiles, the expression not reaching her eyes. “How did you meet our little treasure?”

I swallow the unease that spikes at her tone and blatant term of endearment, taking another glimpse of the two still lost in their little world together. Ensuring their safety and seclusion. A breath huffs from my nose when I turn back to the dragon.

“We both work at Stark Industries,” I explain. Her brow quirks, smugness painting her features. She must know she’s goading me—taunting the bull, as it were. I fight back the seed of jealousy and possessiveness that blooms at the back of my skull and threatens to overwhelm. Red tints the edges of my vision, but fades with a few blinks and a deep breath. “We struck up a friendship before I started dating Bucky and then it became the three of us. And that’s all she wrote.”

Wanda hums, picking up an unclaimed glass of water from Clint’s tray and sipping. Her gaze rakes over me—that analytical scrutiny granted so liberally tonight. Yet it doesn’t threaten me, doesn’t shake my confidence. Even if it does piss me off.

I clear my throat, a friendly smile forcing its way across my lips. “So, how long will you be in town this time?”

“Indefinitely,” she replies, not a blink or shred of tension in her body. The muscles of my jaw tick, but I keep my calm, pleasant veneer shining and steady. “I have a few contacts here that are helping me extend my business into the city. It’s why my visits have been more frequent as of late.”

“Congratulations,” I intone, rolling my shoulders to release the tension building up my spine.

Wanda doesn’t reply. A trait to which I’ve grown accustomed with my exposure to Natasha—seems my little star really enjoys the strong, silent types for friends. But something is different with the dragon. An intrusion I can’t quite place. My teeth clench tight, unsure of how to proceed. Wary of alienating one of my girl’s best friends. Yet unable to shirk the growing strain between us.

Wanda levels me with her gaze, a deep breath expanding her lungs. She sits forward, advancing as she does the conversation by asking, “Do you love her?”

“Unconditionally,” I respond, the word immediate on my tongue. My eyes stray again toward the two in the corner, still wrapped up in each other—quite literally. “I love both of them with all my soul.”

She follows my line of sight, glancing between us. Her head tilts and her tongue clicks before a sweet smile illuminates her features. “Good.”

My brow quirks, confused by the change in her demeanor, the softening of her shoulders as she relaxes. A sheepish blush tints her cheeks as she shrugs.

“I’ve known Bucky’s adored her since college,” she confesses, scooting closer to lower her voice, though still audible even with the reverberation of the music. “But she called me crying on more than one occasion when the two of you got together. I thought for sure she’d never recover.” A flash of sorrow glints in her eyes, a soft sigh spilling past her lips.

My heart jumps to my throat, muscles screaming at me to rush over and sweep them both into my arms. But I stay still, knowing she has more to say by the way she plays with the cup in her hands.

“When she told me about the three of you, I couldn’t believe it.” Her head shakes and her eyes dart away. “I wanted to make sure it was real, for her sake.”

“And now you’re satisfied?” I inquire, dipping my chin in an effort to catch her gaze.

“Honestly, I knew the moment I walked in and caught sight of her.” Her lips tilt in a small smile, taking a sip of her drink. She chuckles. “I’ve never seen her so happy. Don’t need dragon intuition for that.”

I hum and nod my head in agreement, glancing once more toward the corner. Where the scene has turned unpleasant. The “excuse me,” has barely left my lips before my feet find their path. Cutting through the dance floor, the people and other beings parting like the Red Sea, deterred by the threatening glare fixed on my face.

“Come on, we could have so much fun together,” a very drunk harpy insists, their talons shining around both of my loves’ wrists. They sway on their feet, but no refusal seems to penetrate their inebriation. “I got this great bed back at my place.” They hiccup. “Suspended by bungee cords. We could rock the treetops all night long.”

“Get lost,” Bucky hisses, his eyes narrowing at the pushy creature. Our girl hisses for quite another reason, talons tearing at her delicate, human skin.

And I see red.

An angry, feral sound rips from my chest, drowning out the music around us. My hand clamps on the harpy’s wing, wrenching them back until they chirp in pain.

“You get away from them, so help me gods.” The words pierce through my lips past gritted teeth. My overwhelming outrage the focus of my world.

The harpy sputters, hands waving through the air once they release their grip. Their shouts of protest draw attention. A bouncer saunters over, assessing the situation. But I’m still seething. All I see is my little star’s wrist, dotted with her blood. I huff and turn, blocked by Bucky—our naga explaining the situation to security.

“I’m alright,” she says, cradling her arm to her chest, reaching out gentle fingers to scratch through the fur at my cheeks.

I press my face into her caress, breathing her in and taking her hand in mine. She steps closer, pecking a kiss to my other cheek and catching my eye. Bucky’s hand smooths up my back and over my shoulder, turning me toward him. His hands cradle my neck, tongue flicking through the air.

“There’s our tough guy, right when we need him,” Bucky praises, his kiss finding my lips.

I breathe deeply, wrapping my arms around them both and tucking them as close as possible to my chest. “Time to go home,” I grunt.

“Pass me that bead, li’l one,” Steve murmurs, concentrating, fingers tangled in soft brown tresses.

“Course,” I reply, reaching back over the edge of the bed and plucking it from its resting place. The grooves of the carvings stimulate my fingertips. Curiosity piques and I turn toward the minotaur as I hand it over. “What do the markings mean anyway?”

“Yeah,” Bucky echoes, turning his head despite our boyfriend’s protests. He hisses when Steve tugs on his hair, directing him back to look forward. “You said you would tell us.”

The corners of Steve’s lips lift in a smile. “Patience,” he counsels, slipping the bead into the braid at the back of Bucky’s head.

With a displeased hum, I reach up, fingering the beads already adorning my own hair, woven in by the same caring hands. Different grooves, each bead with its own symbol—runes carved by elder minotaurs and their apprentices, bestowed upon Steve for this purpose.

“Are you almost done?” the naga whines, shifting to find a more comfortable position. His tail reaching out to wrap around my ankle.

I chuckle, moving carefully from my place beside him to straddle his lap and keep him still. My lips press to his cheeks, his temples, his eyelids, his chin. A self-indulgent desire perfect for my purpose in the moment.

“When’s it my turn?” Bucky asks, winding his arms around my waist and keeping me close. His tongue darts out, scenting the air and flicking against my cheek.

A giggle bursts from my chest, hands batting him away. He chases, giving in to predatory instincts, nuzzling against my neck and lavishing my skin with sloppy kisses. Steve’s hands pause, close to the ends of Bucky’s braid, a soft, adoring look shining bright in his eyes.

“I love you two.”

We both turn. My heart spreads warmth through my chest. I lean up, meeting Steve’s kiss before letting Bucky do the same.

“I love you two, too,” I sigh, fingers skimming along Bucky’s chest and up Steve’s furry leg.

Bucky hums happily, giving Steve just enough time to tie off the braid and lay it gently over his shoulder. The naga plucks at the strand, iridescent beads glinting under the lights and scattering rainbows over our walls.

“My turn?” he asks, gaze darting between Steve and I until we agree. The sound that twitters in his throat compels an answering giggle from me. Joy lighting up his eyes.

My back hits the blankets situated at the bottom of our guest bed as he slithers out from beneath me and rushes toward the door.

“Come here,” Steve murmurs, hand grasping at my arms and hauling me up beside him.

I hum and yield to his strength, allowing him to place me where he chooses, across his thighs and tucked against his chest. His lips trace over my skin, even the ticklish parts. I squirm. And he keeps lavishing me with affection.

“My li’l wifey,” he croons, fingers playing with the sparkling beads in my hair.

“We haven’t finished yet, you goof,” I reply, chuckling at the incandescent happy daze clouding his gaze. A pot clatters in the kitchen, my focus diverting toward the door. “Bucky’s still gotta share his surprise with us.”

Fingers tilt my chin back toward the minotaur, his lips pecking mine. “You have no idea how happy the two of you are making me.”

“Not half as happy as the two of you are making me,” I reply, pressing my forehead to his. Our beads clack together, the sound the most glorious thing I’ve yet to hear. Tears well along my waterline and I sniff them away, pushing against Steve’s chest for some air and the illusion of space. “Gods, we’re sappy. I can’t handle all of this. You’re just determined to make me cry, aren’t you?” A smile spreads across my face, hands wiping at my eyes.

“I got it!” Bucky cries, returning with a bowl and spoon in hand. He pauses in the doorway, face dropping into concern. “Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s perfect.” I sniff, hand held out to bid him forward. “Come here and get in on this loving.”

Bucky’s smile shines bright and eager. He pounces on us, careful not to spill the contents of his bowl and snuggles close. His tail wraps and wraps and wraps, eliminating any hint of space between our three bodies.

Steve and I look to him, full of expectation and ready for the significance of the moment. A blush creeps up the naga’s neck toward his cheeks.

“I don’t know if I did this right,” he confesses. His teeth sink into his bottom lip, bowl clutched in nervous hands. “But I called my mom and she said that this is—”

My finger presses to Bucky’s lips, stopping his nervous chatter with a gentle shush. My lips meet his cheek, peeking down at the contents of the bowl.

“What did you make for us, B?” I ask.

“It’s just a trifle recipe that I thought we all would like,” he replies, brow furrowing in thought. “But that’s not the important bit.” His hand raises, waving the small, intricately designed wooden spoon in front of our eyes. “It’s, uh, this. I carved it and now I’m supposed to feed you.” His voice drops, a quiet hesitation, words lilting like a question.

“We’re ready whenever you are, bubba,” Steve coos, running a soothing hand along Bucky’s spine.

A trembling hand dips the spoon into the bowl, scraping up a mouthful of cream and cake and custard and confection. Steve’s lips part, accepting the bite into his mouth, a sinful moan praising the flavors. The spoon escapes his pursuing tongue to dip again into the dessert. Bucky raises the spoon for me. Staring into his eyes at the glimmering hopefulness in his gaze, my lips quiver as they part. Emotions, overwhelming and complex, rush through me—relief, euphoria, serenity.

Glancing between both of them, realizing the weight of the traditions performed for me, tears prick once again at the backs of my eyes. Reaching out to touch their arms, for a little bit more connection, I confess, “I wish I had something like this to share with both of you.” Fingers trace over their limbs, waiting for a response, unable to meet their gazes.

Claws tickle my jaw, tilting my face up. A sentimental smile sits on Bucky’s lips. Steve’s head rests gently on my shoulder, his warm breath brushing against my neck.

“All we need is you.” Bucky leans closer, kissing my face, returning the favor from my earlier affection. Unable to resist, I huff a laugh at his antics and grasp his wrists.

“But if you really want one, we’ll make one. Just the three of us,” Steve offers, his cheek nudging against mine.

Breathing deeply, I lean back against him, dragging our naga with me. We sit in silence for a moment, both of them letting me contemplate my decision and how I would like to proceed.

“I think,” I start, pausing while my thoughts gather into coherence, “I would like you to tell us what these runes mean.” Steve chuckles. “And I want Bucky to keep feeding us.” My tongue sneaks out to lick my lips, Bucky’s eyes following the movement with rapt attention. “And I want to stay wrapped up in the both of you for the rest of the night.”

Bucky’s sibilant hum of agreement merges with the deep timbre of Steve voice.

“We can do that.”

“Good.” Reaching over to pat Steve’s chest, I prompt, “Now tell us all about these beads.”

Steve’s arms wrap around my waist as Bucky releases me to grab his bowl again. Their warmth envelops me. And I know it’s as close to heaven as I can get on earth.

“It’s a rather simple process, really,” Steve explains. “Minotaurs petition for an interview with the elders. It’s held to prove their devotion to their betrothed before granting sacred beads, especially to outsiders.”

“Wish I coulda been there,” I murmur around a bite of dessert, cheeks puffing up with my smile.

“He probably had a speech,” Bucky says, a smirk sitting pretty on his lips.

“Oh, he definitely had a speech,” I crow with a laugh. My head shakes with mirth, sighing. “That’s our hubby.”

A beat of silence passes, all of us relishing in our new relation to each other—decreed by ancient minotaur rites and naga traditions. As official as any gaudy ceremony.

“Thank you for doing this for me,” I say, breaking the tender stillness.

“You only asked me for something I already wanted, li’l star.”

I turn my head, pressing a kiss to Steve’s cheek. Bucky holds out another bite for us to eat and we continue.

“They asked all about both of you,” Steve reveals. “I told them everything. And they gave me these.” His fingers reach out, finding the beads in my hair and then Bucky’s, touching each with a reverence I don’t completely comprehend. “Love, light, life,” he says, reading the runes strung into our naga’s hair. He returns to mine, voice heavy with emotion. “Darling, dream, destiny.”

My breath hitches in my lungs. “You think I’m your destiny?”

Conviction, devotion stare back at me, brilliant on Steve’s face. “We were written in the stars, li’l one. You brought us together. Everything we are is because of you.”

Bucky nods his agreement, spooning the last bite past my lips. I chew and swallow, thankful for the moment to collect myself and my thoughts.

“How long’ve you had that prepared, huh?” I ask, sniffing away the far too easily formed tears from my eyes. Tears of joy, brushed away with little effort.

Steve smirks but doesn’t reply, a cheeky glint in his eyes. The bowl and spoon are set aside. Strong arms adjust our place on the bed, the frame creaking under our weight.

“I’m thinking we might want to move to our nest now,” Bucky suggests, wary eyes glancing toward the headboard and baseboard.

With swift agreements from Steve and I, we all move. My husbands refuse to let me go for even a minute—truly committing to my request.

And I can only smile, so blessed to have found this sweet nugget of happiness. These two monsters loving and cherishing me, committing to me for all our days.

We snuggle together in our nest, the comforting, warm, familiar blankets wrapping around us until we’re lost to the world. Steve and Bucky hold me tight, a promise to never let me go—past the morning light, past the next day, all the way to the end of the line and then some.

[kpop-sports-books-series-fangirl]

I’m sorry (Hunger Games)

Masterlist

Request form and prompt list

(Y/N) - Your name

Plot - (Y/N) was captured by the capitol and somehow manages to escape, but their former best friend, Finnick, and the Mockingjay are mad at them because they couldn’t save Peeta and Annie. (Y/N) volunteers to go on the mission to save Peeta, Annie, and Johanna from the capitol.

Warning - Super angsty, mentions of blood, torture, violence and gun shots

“...So, any volunteers?” President Coin asks everyone around the table. Gale Hawthorne is the first to raise his hand. “I’ll go,” he says.

The gloomy atmosphere of the room shifts to one of caution when I speak for the first time in two weeks. “I’ll go too,”

I can’t bear any more of the cold looks of my former best friend. And the glares from the Mockingjay. Was it really my fault that I managed to escape from the capitol? I saw my chance and took it. Being tortured for months was not a good experience and I got out as soon as I could.

I thought my ex-best friend would be happy to see me, but the only thing I see when I look in his eyes is pure hatred for me, pure hatred at the fact that I couldn’t save the love of his life, Annie. Not me, Annie.

Everyone looks at me, shocked at the fact that I’d volunteered to go back to the place that I was imprisoned and tortured. Everyone but Finnick. I looked at him. He avoided my gaze. Surprise.

Sighing, I exited the room, not even waiting for the meeting to be finished. I head back to my room, and look through my things once again, in case I won’t make it back.

I take out the box of my belongings from my district. I picked up the fishing hook that my father gave me the day before he was killed by Snow. I clutched it in my hand and continued looking through the box. The next thing was a necklace, my older sister’s necklace.

I tied it around my neck and observed it through the mirror my mother had bought for my 15th birthday. The last thing that lay in the box was a picture. The picture of me and Finnick back when we were kids.

I had just jumped on Finnick’s back and he ran around like crazy. My sister had taken a picture with her brand new camera which was gifted to her by our parents for her 13th birthday. She lost the camera and I remember looking for it for days and when it didn’t turn up, she cried a lot, feeling like she had betrayed our parents by losing the camera.

One evening, I couldn’t bear to see my sister crying anymore, so I had stomped over to Finnick’s house, dragged him out and made him help me search for it. We had decided to split up and cover more ground, but I got lost.

I tried finding my way back, but I couldn't, eventually, the sun started setting and I found a huge oak tree under which I took shade. My stomach grumbled out of hunger, and me being the 7-year-old I was, had started crying and drifted off into an uncomfortable slumber.

A few hours later, I was shaken awake by Finnick. “Hey, (Y/N), wake up,” He then noticed the tear stains on my face and pulled me into a hug. “Why were you crying?” He asked me. “I got lost, and I was so alone and I got scared,” I admitted to him.

He pulled out of the hug, keeping his hands on my shoulders, and said, “I’m sorry. I won’t ever let you get lost again. If you somehow do still manage to get lost, come to this tree, okay? And I will find you, I promise,”

“Promise?” I asked again. “I promise to always be there for you no matter what!” He says and goes to hold my hand. “I promise to always hold this hand,”

I smiled at him, and he led the way home.

He broke the promise. He broke the promise when he let me be taken by the capitol. Blinking the tears away, I set everything back in the box.

I felt a sudden urge to throw up and ran to the bathroom in my room and coughed out blood. This had been happening for a while now. I thought it was because of the torture that was inflicted upon me, but now, I’m not too sure.

I wash myself up and go to sit on my bed, trying to calm down.

I hear a knock on my door, and I stand up and open the door a crack so no one could even look in. It was Gale.

“We’re leaving tomorrow morning, and we’re meeting for the briefing in an hour,” He said. I simply nodded and shut the door on his face.

☽˚･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ♡ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆☽

We all are geared up and waiting for everyone in the airborne division. We board the hovercraft and take off.

Everyone looks anxious. The hovercraft feels a little more crowded than I like with 7 people aboard. The red lights flashing doesn’t help the nervous energy in the air... Some people are reviewing the plans with each other and I see Gale looking over at me.

I look away and close my eyes, trying to prepare my mind for what I’m about to witness again.

Once we reached there, we entered through a secret passageway that we were informed about through our earpiece. We took out the two guards who were standing guard to the prison area.

One of the people took out a gadget and started to press some buttons, but I wasn’t concentrating, just trying to get myself mentally ready.

The doors opened with a loud hiss, revealing the huge chamber with cells. Everything was white, reminding me of the times when I was trapped in here with nothing else to look at.

All the memories of the place came rushing back.

I was sitting on the floor, clutching my head in an attempt to stop the immense pain traveling through my veins. I hear evil laughter and when I look up, I see Snow. “So, are you ready to speak now?” He asked. “Never!” I spat at him. “Increase it to the highest level,” he said to no one, but I knew that there were people watching and listening from the CCTV cameras, and immediately, the pain intensified by 20 times. I screamed so loud, the whole of Panem probably heard me. When the pain finally died down a bit, my throat was sore by how much I had screamed.

I was snapped back into reality when Gale snapped his fingers in front of me. I noticed that the alarm was triggered and red lights were blaring. I noticed that we have Peeta, Annie, and Johanna with us now and we were heading back to the hovercraft.

I stayed at the back of the group in case a peacekeeper came to attack and followed the rest out through a different passage.

Suddenly, I heard a few shouts “This way! They’re here,” followed by some gunshots. Everyone in front of me was running now, we turned right and hid behind the wall.

I spun around, signaling the others to continue going, and shot at the peacekeepers. They were shooting back of course, but I had a much better aim. I felt pressure in my abdomen and I shot down the last person.

I looked down to see I had been shot, but I covered it with my t-shirt and turned to follow the others.

I managed to jog back to the hovercraft without fainting, although the loss of blood was making me lightheaded. They were trying to get Peeta to trust them and board the hovercraft but he wouldn’t budge.

I couldn’t stand anymore and I collapsed on a seat in the hovercraft. I put my hand on the wound and pressed down on it, hoping to slow the blood flow.

“(Y/N), would you come and help-! What happened!?” I heard someone say in the distance, but I couldn’t make out who it was. I kept drifting in and out of consciousness.

It felt like hours till we made it back to district 13 and I was rushed to an emergency room. They didn’t have any sedatives on hand so they had to take out the bullet with me awake.

The pain was building up now that the adrenaline rush was gone. I couldn’t remember much that happened, just that fact that I was blinded from the pain, I had clenched my fists, trying to somehow grab something, and I heard beeps around me before I completely went out of consciousness.

Once I woke up, the doctors told me that it had been almost a week since the mission. When I had asked them if someone came to visit, they said no. I thought Finnick would come. I thought we were best friends. I thought-

I don’t know why I thought that anymore. If me taking a bullet for his love isn’t enough, I don’t know what else I can do for him. I might as well give up.

No one cares about me. I turned my head so that the doctor couldn’t see the tears threatening to spill from my eyes. I looked down at my hand, the same one Finnick always promised to hold. If he really was my best friend, he would have been there when they were removing the bullet, holding my hand, but he was probably celebrating with Annie.

No one needs me. After my family was killed, no one loved me. No one cared about me and no one needed me.

“We need to run a few more tests on you today, then you can rest,” The doctor told me. I nodded okay. “Doctor, how many days will I have to stay here for?” I asked him.

“You have very bad injuries and it might take more than a month to heal. If the test results are showing that you have another illness, then, we can’t tell until we figure out what you are diagnosed with,”

By the end of the day, I was exhausted and all of the test results had come back. I was resting in my bed, waiting for the doctor to come back, and he came in wearing a regretful expression.

“What happened?” I asked him. “Your results show that you have lung cancer,” “Can you treat it?” I ask even though I don’t know if I want to live anymore.

“We don’t have the resources to treat a Stage 1 cancer here, and you have Stage 4 cancer,” he broke the news.

I took a moment to soak it in before I asked, “How long do I have to live?”

“You should have had 1 month, but because of the bullet, your condition worsened and you just have two weeks left, I’m sorry,” he said and he left the room.

I have two weeks left. Two weeks of my life. I didn’t have anyone to say goodbye to anyways.

After a few days of moping in the hospital room, I find out that Annie and Finnick are going to get married.

On the day of the wedding, I still couldn't get out of the wheelchair, so one of the doctors took me to the wedding.

It was an okay wedding, mostly because it wasn’t me up there, beside’s Finnick. I was sitting at the back of the hall, so no one could see me, I didn’t mind though, I could just watch everything in peace.

Annie and Finnick kiss. They’re married. At least Finnick is happy now, I can see that smile on his face that I couldn’t put there.

A fit of coughs hit me, but the music is too loud and no one cares enough to take a look at me. I start coughing so hard that I’m thrown out of the wheelchair and I can see blood slowly pooling on the floor. A minute later, I collapse, still coughing. Until my eyes close.

Finnick P.O.V

It’s been two days since Annie and I got married, and I’m sitting on the edge of my bed, clutching onto the letter, trying not to cry.

I was just told that (Y/N) died during the wedding due to lung cancer. they left me a note. It said:

Hey Finnick!

I know by the time you read this I’ll be gone. Hopefully to heaven, but with all I’ve done, I wouldn’t be surprised if I go downstairs. Anyways enough about me. I was very angry with you for breaking your promise, but I figured, what good is it to die angry? Might as well live a happy two weeks of life I have left.

I want to get a weight off of my shoulders. I’m sorry I didn’t save Annie when I came back. I should have tried harder. I’m sorry.

I know you won’t miss me when I’m gone, but I’ll miss you. Your friendship. You were there for me through a lot of my hard times, so I want to say thank you.

Thank you for finding me when I got lost. Thank you for defending me against those bullies back in school. Thank you for the happiest times of my life. Thank you for being the reason my smile became just a tiny bit bigger. Thank you for being the reason my heart opened up more. Thank you for making me a better person. Thank you for being the reason to light up my life, even though I wasn’t yours.

Thank you Finnick, thank you.

I just want to say one last thing to you.

I love you.

I always have, even though you never loved me back.

Live a happy life with Annie.

Don’t you dare cry for me.

(Y/N)

I couldn’t stop the tears from flowing anymore. I was the reason for their anger in the last few days of their life. Only if I hadn’t hated them when they came back from the capitol and been thankful, maybe they wouldn’t have gone.

I didn’t even get to apologize to them. The last thing I said to them was “How could you not have gotten Annie back?!”

And they loved me? If only I had known before I met Annie because I was in love with them too.

A/N: I know the timeline is completely messed up, but I couldn't understand the exact timeline in the book, so I went with what felt right. Hope you enjoy it! :)

-TheBlueBookworm is out~!!!

[allfattenedup]

So far, there'd mostly been silence in the van. With this road trip coming up, we hadn't bothered to catch up much in the couple of months prior. Excited texts sent back and forth of 'can't wait!!' in the days leading up to it quickly turned into a loaded, awkward quiet once you saw me.

As we drove out of the city, my new body quivered like water with the movement of the van. My clothes didn't fit. I shouldn't have worn them, but the heady, thrilling idea of you finally seeing that I'd put on so much weight had compelled me to pack only mediums and larges, when really, I was most comfortable in a 2XL these days. Big mistake. Such a huge mistake, my god. When I'd tried on the medium grey t-shirt that morning, I hadn't ever intended to keep it on, to wear it in front of you. But the time we agreed to meet kept creeping up and I didn't take it off. I found myself locking the door behind me, dragging my suitcase and walking to the elevator, plush new belly still straining against the thin fabric, hanging out the bottom, the rational part of my brain screaming 'what are you doing!?' but ultimately drowned out by a cacauphonic chorus of 'oh god, oh god, look at yourself, so much fat, you look so different, so shameful, so shocking.'

The look which came over your face when I approached the van started my heart thudding in panic. I was suddenly too aware of my thighs nudging against the bottom of my hanging belly as I walked. This had turned from hot fantasy to overwhelming reality real fucking fast. Horrible regret churned in my stomach and my face heated up to a hundred degrees. I put my suitcase in the back and heaved my body into the passenger seat. The van rocked and my half-exposed stomach jiggled in my lap, riddled with new stretchmarks and rolls. You said nothing, mouth half open in stunned paralysis. My face grew hotter.

Now, an hour out of the city, the silence was deafening. My body held so much tension that my hands were starting to shake. Should we talk about it? We had to. I couldn't get through two weeks of this. I opened my mouth and closed it several times. How to even address such an extreme change?

"... I'm sorry to be looking like this." Was, for some reason, eventually what came out.

You almost jumped, after so long of sitting in the quiet van. Furrowing your brow, you were rolling your tongue around your teeth while formulating a response.

"Don't... Don't apologize." You say. "You don't need to apologize. I'm just confused. You've always been lean. Were you... Struggling with your weight?"

"Not... struggling." I say, carefully. Not sure how much to reveal. "It just sort of, came on."

Your eyes dart over, alarmed. "For no reason? Shit, you need to get checked out, there could be something seriously wrong with you. This isn't normal, fit guy like you to blow up like this."

Oh, there's something wrong with me, alright, I think ruefully, feeling my brand new double chin quiver beneath my face. But not what you're thinking.

"I'm not sick." I assure you. "I have been eating a lot. Working out less. I know I did this to myself."

That admission just makes you look more confused. "So, what? You didn't realize what was happening?"

My silence fills the car.

"You did realize? Why didn't you stop?"

"I... couldn't." I answer, at least mostly truthful.

"I just... Aren't you embarrassed?" You asked. "Looking like that?"

You have no idea, I thought. But how to explain that embarrassment and horror over my ruined figure had become my drug? A compulsion which was transforming my body in a way that I found utterly terrifying and helplessly addictive.

“Yeah.” I commented, vaguely, and left it at that.

[realcube]

CELEBRATING YOUR BIRTHDAY 

characters ♡ bokuto, tendō, matsukawa & suna

tw ♡ gn! reader, timeskip! bokuto (all sfw tho), swearing, reader wears makeup (matsukawa), swearing, mentions of death & food 

cred ♡ thanks to anon for this request <3

KŌTARŌ BOKUTO

♡ he was literally counting down the days to your birthday, he even took the day off practise to celebrate it with you so imagine his surprise when the special day finally rolls around and he wakes up to an empty bed

♡ at first, he thought that perhaps you were just around the house somewhere but nope, the place was completely empty and even worse, all signs pointed to his theory that you had gone to work/school on your birthday 

♡ outraged. he was absolutely outraged. 

♡ firstly, he tried calling you but you wouldn’t pick up, even after his many attempts so his next resort to call your place of work/school reception 

♡ obviously he managed to get a hold of you then-

♡ he was originally gonna yell about how you lied to him about taking the day off on your birthday but there was no way he could be angry at you — almost ever — so instead, he made the quick decision of telling you to have a nice day before hanging up 

♡ you were kinda pissed that he wasted your time like that but how could you stay mad at him? he’s fkn adorable! he blew you audible kisses over the phone for good luck!

♡ you laboured your way through the day, putting in great effort yet through it all, the only thing on your mind was how much you wanted to just pass out on the couch with bokuto as soon as you got home. you weren’t even sure if you had the energy to change into your pjyamas.

♡ however, when you finally did arrive home, there was no need to put yourself through the onerous task of changing clothes as the first thing you were greeted by when you stepped foot in your own home was a chorus of cheers of ‘surprise!’ followed by people spilling out into the foyer from the kitchen and living room 

♡ then there was bokuto, the loudest of them all leading the crowd, blowing into the party horn while dashing up to, throwing his arms around your shoulders to pull you into a tight hug, ‘happy birthday, sweetie!’

♡ a light gasp escaped your lips at the sudden hoots, and the unfamiliar — and frankly uncomfortable — sight of many friends swarm towards you had you on edge but when you felt bokuto wrap you in his warm embrace, you knew you were home

♡ he held you close until you were forced apart by many guests tearing you away to personally wish you a happy birthday

♡ now that the initial shock had died down, you noticed that there wasn’t as many people present as you thought, it was a humble gathering of all your closest friends 

♡ there was a massive pile of bright-colored gifts lying on the stairs, and it was hard not to immediately acknowledge them as the sheer mass and number of the presents scattered across the steps prevented anyone from being able to go upstairs

♡ the following day, you were made aware of the fact 90% of those presents were addressed from ‘your best ace husband ;)’ which was pretty straight-forward considering you only have one husband; kiyoomi sakusa. 

♡ jokes, you married bokuto but sakusa was also at the party. he originally just wanted to drop off his gift then leave but bokuto persuaded him to stay, though he seemed to be regretting it now as almost everyone at the party now shared an unspoken goal to slam sakusa’s face into one of the cupcakes that decorated the circumference of your cake

♡ speaking of the cake, bokuto remembered what type of cake was your favorite from the wedding planning and he was so chuffed with himself. in fact, he was so confident in his cake picking ability that he ordered a massive 3-tier monster of a dessert 

♡ neither of you would be able to finish it before it goes bad so you ended up cutting it up into pieces  and sending each guest away with a little goody-bag with a slice of cake inside lmao 

♡ once you had finished your goodbyes and everyone had filed out of your home, you flopped onto the couch and let out a deep sigh of relief. well, it was only a sigh for a few moment as it became a wheeze when bokuto laid down on top of you 

♡ ‘happy birthday, (y/n). i’m sorry if i tired you out.’ he hummed, fiddling with your fingers as his lips curled into a shaky smile

♡ ‘i’m a bit sleepy but i had an amazing time. thank you so much, kō.’

♡ bokuto smiled, his heavy lid falling shut as he finally rested his neck, being able to fall asleep comfortably now that you’ve told him that you had fun

SATORI TENDŌ

♡ unlike bokuto, he’ll actually mention your birthday a few weeks prior to the celebration so he can plan the perfect date :3

♡ ‘so do you wanna go to the aquarium or the theme park? because i know we’ve went to the park before but they remodelled it apparently. plus, maybe the aquarium is a bit underwhelming for such a special day, but it’s up to yo--’

♡ ‘we won’t really get to spend much time in either. if you consider the time school finishes, the train ride and the time the aquarium and park closes so maybe we could just chill at my house instead.’

♡ tendō deadpanned for a moment, the most unamused look taking over his features until he suddenly burst out laughing, cackling as if you just told the joke of the century, ‘seriously, (y/n)? you’re gonna go to school on your birthday.’

♡ ‘yes, of course.’ you replied in all seriousness, resulting in tendō awkwardly beginning to stifle his chuckles.

♡ he frowned, slumping back into the seat beside you, ‘c’mon, it’s your birthday, though! you deserve the day off.’

♡ you shook your head, kindly declining his suggestion, ‘i have a test on that day.’

♡ ‘all the more reason to ditch!’

♡ now it was your turn to deadpan

♡ tendō tossed his head back while letting out a sigh  of defeat, draping his arm around your shoulder to lovingly pull you to his chest, ‘alright, then. whatever you want, dear.’

♡ you smiled, glad that you didn’t need to disagree with him any longer — and you were even happier on the day. even though you insisted that he keeps things small on your birthday, he still managed to find a way to make things extra asf by getting you a massive plush that was about half the size of your stature and a hamper of homemade chocolates ><

ISSEI MATSUKAWA 

♡ honestly, he’s never been the best at giving gifts but he tries extra hard for you 

♡ like if you off-handedly say that you are cold during class, he’ll buy you a bunch of new jackets, jumpers and gloves

♡ or if you say you need more mascara, he’ll buy you exact same one you usually wear 

♡ he’s observant enough to notice and remember the exact shade and brands of all your cosmetic products but he’s not observant enough to pick up on the subtle hints you drop as to what you want for your birthday 

♡ you can never guess what he’s gonna get you and that adds to your anticipation for the day 

♡ if your birthday is on a school day, he’ll bring in a batch of homemade cupcakes (which hanamaki helped him with) and stick a candle in one of them for you to blow out 

♡ he offers you one but they are all pretty stale- just smile and nod while your teeth feel like they are being shattered trying to bite down on the cupcake 

♡ it might set off the fire alarm but oh well, just count that as another present

♡ oikawa will probably get you something like a bouquet and try flirt with you so at that point, matsukawa and hanamaki begin using the cupcakes as weapons 

♡ they are a two for one deal so you’re going to be spending the day with both of them tailing you like lost puppies

platonic RINTARŌ SUNA

♡ (requester specified) your birthday is on the same day as his so ofc he’s going to be a little salty abt it 

♡ you both created a game to see who receives the most birthday wishes and whoever won gets ¥1500 from the loser’s birthday money

♡ for the past few years, he’s usually been the winner by just a few but this year, you made it a point to befriend all him teammates in order to ensure victory 

♡ having to pretend to be friendly with atsumu — who wasn’t very good at hiding his massive crush —was definitely a challenge but you powered through 

♡ in fact, you may have played the role too well as both the miya twins gave you a gift 

♡ osamu gave both you and suna a plastic bag filled with some food he made and water bottles

♡ as for atsumu, his gift to you was a massive hamper filled with an assortment of many different luxury confectionary which didn’t look cheap at all but it didn’t feel appropriate to question the price so you simply took it from him with a bright smile

♡ of course, suna was excited (and very hungry) as he expected the same gift but he was more than disappointed when all he received was a bag of chips and a slap on the back

♡ he goes out of his way to tell every teacher it’s your birthday in hopes that they’ll make the class sing happy birthday to you 

♡ but it pisses him off to no end when you add that it’s his birthday too so he ends up getting roped into your misery 

♡ also your thumbs are going to be sore at night swiping through all the various candid pics that suna took of you throughout the day (in less than flattering poses) which he uplaoded to almost all of his social media stories with stupid ass captions 

♡ but dw bc he’ll eventually post a nice photo of you with a sweet message

♡ ‘happy birthday to @(y/n) . i would die for you, bitch (even though you annoy the hell out of me every single day 🤠).’ 

[nikki-writes-stuff]

Beauty In the Blood - Part 5

Summary: One day your friend convinces you to join a dating website that matches people based on their search histories, and when you match with Loki Odinson, a handsome, intelligent coroner who’s a fan of your murder mysteries, you’re absolutely thrilled. But there’s something off about Loki, and as your relationship progresses, you discover that his dark side is even darker than you could ever have imagined…

Pairing: Serial Killer!Loki x Writer!Reader

Read part four here! 

A/N: This story is based off of this post! I hope you guys enjoy; this is my first time writing Loki, and this will probably be the darkest thing I’ve ever written. Please let me know what you think as the story progresses!

*Please read to the end for another author’s note!*

A/N: Warning, folks! Here be smut! Nothing too dark in this chapter as far as gore or violence goes, though. Which... I suppose is a plus, considering this story. I hope you guys enjoy!

Too good to be true.

That was the thought that kept plaguing you, even four months later. He’s too good to be true. This relationship is too good to be true. What happens when I figure out that this is too good to possibly be true?

And yet, day after day, Loki continued to prove you wrong. It wasn’t all just the big romantic overtures that you found out he loved to make. (Like the time he had a dozen red roses delivered to your door on your one-months anniversary. Or the brand new matching wireless keyboard and mouse he got to make writing easier for you. Or the time he took you to a quaint, tucked away speak-easy to treat you to a night of drinks and slow dancing.)

It was in the little things, too. How he would come over on days where you felt less-than-good to hold you and watch your favorite movies. Or how he would send you texts throughout the day to tell you about an interesting case at work, or to ask you what you wanted for dinner on date night, or just to tell you that he was thinking about you.

In fact, some would even say that he was too attentive, too perfect, and were it anyone else, alarm bells would be going off in your head. But there was something about him that made you keep coming back for more, and even with months now behind you, you still couldn’t get enough.

And maybe that was why you were so nervous right now. Pacing back and forth across the length of your bedroom, you stared down at your stocking-clad feet as you tried frantically to tamp down the butterflies batting around your rib cage. You knew, consciously, that even if tonight were a disaster, Loki would still care about you. He wouldn’t just up and leave, even if Thor ended up despising you.

But you still really hoped he wouldn’t.

A gasp parted your lips when the tell-tale sound of your doorbell echoed throughout your home, and after one more deep breath, you pulled your heels on and made your way down the stairs. With one last glance in the mirror and a quick, silent prayer to whoever might be listening, you threw your purse over your shoulder and opened your front door.

His smile still caught you off guard sometimes. As you stepped out into the darkness of the evening, you felt heat flood your cheeks as Loki grinned up at you. He was dressed impeccably as always, sporting a dark green suit with a crisp white shirt, and if the way his eyes raked over you was anything to go by, he was more than pleased with how you looked, as well.

“And you must be the woman I’ve heard so much about!”

A loud, booming voice took you off guard, and you watched as annoyance flashed over your boyfriend’s face at the outburst. As he turned to shoot a glare over his shoulder, you caught a flash of the other man waiting at the base of your front steps, and though you already knew that Loki was adopted, you were still briefly taken aback by just how different the two brothers were.

Thor was just as large as Loki had described, and although the two stood at about the same height, his shoulders and build were so broad that he would have been quite intimidating, were it not for the large grin on his face. His long hair was pulled up into a loose bun, showing off a pair of blue eyes that seemed to radiate genuine happiness, and despite your still-present nerves, you couldn’t help but let a matching smile come over your features.

“Hi, Thor. Loki’s told me so much about you.”

“And I’m sure all of it is incredibly flattering, right?” He sent a conspiratorial glance back to Loki, who only raised an eyebrow.

“Whatever could I tell her about you that wouldn’t be flattering, brother?”

“Nothing comes to mind, seeing whereas I’ve never done anything wrong or questionable.”

“Thor Odinson? Perish the thought.”

The man in question let out a bark of laughter before turning back to you and extending his arm for a handshake.

“Well, my brother has nothing but glowing remarks about you,” he remarked, all but crushing your hand in his grip. “And I couldn’t be more thrilled to finally meet the woman who’s stolen Loki’s heart.”

Once more, you felt heat rising in your face, and you let out a nervous chuckle as Thor dropped your hand. From your right, you felt an arm slither around your waist, and you leaned into Loki’s warmth.

“Thank you so much! It’s a pleasure to meet you, too.”

“You don’t need to lie for his sake, love,” Loki stage-whispered into your ear. Rolling your eyes, you gave him a nudge with your elbow, though Thor seemed to be used to his brother’s sass. Without a glance in his direction, Thor reached into his pocket and withdrew a set of keys, clicking a button on them until you heard a car beep close by.

“Shall we be off, then?” he asked. “We have about twenty minutes until our reservation.”

“That is if his driving doesn’t kill us along the way,” Loki snarked, guiding you towards the car with a hand on your lower back.

“I didn’t hear you offering to drive earlier, Loki,” Thor commented, sending his brother a look that elicited a scowl in response.

“Only because my car is in the shop. Remember?”

“Excuses, excuses.”

You giggled at the pained look your boyfriend sent you, pecking his cheek as Thor made his way around to the driver’s seat. Loki offered to sit in the back, but after a few moments of deliberation, you ended up sitting in the back with Loki on the passenger side next to Thor. Your seating arrangements ended up working out perfectly, though, because you had the perfect vantage point to watch the two brothers bicker over how to get to the restaurant. Loki was doing his best to navigate, but… Well. You quickly learned that it was of no use with Thor behind the wheel.

“I said take a left at Sycamore, Thor.”

“I heard you. But there’s a shortcut between Sycamore and Highland Street.”

“No, there’s not. Have you even driven through this part of New York before?”

“You forget I used to live here, too, brother. I know exactly what I’m doing.”

“Oh, just like you did when we were driving through London, yes?”

“That was your fault. If you hadn’t had tried to-“

“WATCH FOR PEDESTRIANS, FOR CHRIST’S SAKE!”

Needless to say, the twenty minute drive was eventful to say the least, and you were only mildly traumatized by the way Thor was bobbing and weaving through the thick New York traffic. Even Loki looked a bit green from it, and you’d never seen your boyfriend shaken by anything. When both of you had your feet once again on solid ground, he wrapped an arm around you once again and whispered against your hair.

“I really do apologize for all of that, darling.”

“No, please don’t. It was funny,” you assured him, pecking his cheek as Thor rounded the vehicle towards you. “Usually you’re so…unperturbed. It was nice to see you a little ruffled.”

He sent you a bemused smile, but it vanished as Thor clapped him on the back hard enough to make him stumble forward a few steps.

“Well, nothing ruffles Loki’s feathers like me. It took an entire month of convincing for him to even agree to me visiting.”

“A decision I’m regretting more and more as the minutes tick by…”

Soon enough, the three of you were sat at a table in one of the nicest restaurants you’d ever been to. Surprisingly enough, Thor had recommended the place, and after your waiter came by to take your drink orders, you rested your hand on top of Loki’s and turned towards the blonde.

“Thank you for the restaurant suggestion, Thor. How’d you hear about this place?”

“My girlfriend actually told me about it. Usually when I’m in New York on business, I just go to local food trucks or pizza parlors. But Jane said that I should take you two somewhere nice. She apologizes for not being able to make the trip, by the way. She was just as curious about you as I was, but she had an important conference to give a lecture at.”

“That sounds amazing! And no worries; I’d love to meet her next time you’re in town. What do the two of you do for a living?”

“Well, Jane is an astronomer – one of the best in the entire world, actually,” he started, his eyes lighting up at the mention of his partner. “She’s lecturing on a new design she’s invented, some sort of spectrometer. Honestly, it all goes way over my head, but that’s why she’s the genius.”

“To be fair, most things go over your head, brother.”

Thor rolled his eyes at Loki’s quip, and when you turned towards your boyfriend, you saw that he had a small smile on his face to match the mischievous glint in his eyes. You knew better than to take him seriously; anyone would be able to see how close the two were, despite their back-and-forth.

“And what about you, Thor? Loki’s never told me what you do for a living.”

“I work for Stark Industries,” he replied, taking a sip of the large pint of beer he’d ordered. “It’s not much, but it keeps me busy.”

“Not much, indeed,” Loki interjected. “You’re only in charge of the entire marketing department, after all.”

Your eyes widened at that; Stark Industries was one of the biggest, most well-known brand names in the world. From appliances to electronics to clean energy, it was right up there with Google and Disney as far as most were concerned, and to think that Thor was in such a high-ranking position, well… From the things Loki had told you about Thor, you hadn’t expected such a career for him.

“Wow. That’s…incredible. So you know Tony Stark?”

“Oh, me and Tony are great friends. But I don’t ‘run’ the marketing department by any means. Just the UK faction of it.”

“’Just’?”

After that, the waiter stopped by to take your respective orders, after which Thor settled his attention on you once more.

“So, Loki has already told me about your writing. It’s funny to think of him dating the author responsible for those books he’s obsessed over for years.”

“I’m not obse-“

“Has he asked you to sign any of his copies yet?”

He had, jokingly, at one point. But you didn’t tell Thor that.

The rest of the evening passed by without incident, and your nerves quickly evaporated as the three of you laughed and talked through the rest of the meal. Loki liked to joke at Thor’s expense, but it was clear that he held his older brother in high regard, and Thor clearly loved Loki very much. More than a few times, you caught him watching you and Loki closely, a discerning, considering look in his eyes that belayed an intelligence you hadn’t expected. He might not be as book smart or as well-spoken as his younger sibling, but Thor obviously was good when it came to reading people. Whatever he was looking at, though, it didn’t disappoint, because any time your eyes met, he would send you a small, encouraging smile that would immediately dissipate any worries you might have had.

In what felt like no time at all, the three of you were piling out of the car at your house again, and you didn’t hesitate to return Thor’s hug as he said his goodbyes.

“It was wonderful to meet you,” he assured you. “Loki’s never let me meet any of his girlfriends before, but I see now that he was just waiting for the right one to come along first.”

Taken off guard by his genuine compliment, you could only blink up at him for a few moments in surprise before your brain kicked back in.

“That’s…so kind of you to say, Thor. Thank you.”

“No, thank you.”

After clapping you on the shoulder, Thor said his goodbye and got back into his car, giving you and Loki some privacy. As soon as his blonde head disappeared into the vehicle, you felt two cold hands cup your cheeks, and before you knew it, you were being pulled into a deep, toe-curling kiss, and you let yourself melt into your boyfriend’s embrace as he held you against him.

“That went well, I would say,” he murmured as the two of you finally parted. “He likes you, if that wasn’t already obvious.”

“I like him, too,” you smiled. “Thank you for letting me meet him.”

“I should be the one thanking you, love.”

He opened his mouth to continue speaking, but you watched as uncertainty began to creep along his features, and after a few moments of considering, his mouth snapped shut once again.

“What is it?”

“Nothing,” he replied, shaking his head. “I forgot what I was going to say, is all. I think driving with Thor still has my brains slightly scrambled.”

“Hm.” You didn’t believe him, not for a second, but whatever it was left your mind as soon as his lips came down onto yours once more. This kiss was slower than before, and lingering; his hands slid up over your hips to settle on your waist, and he let out a soft sigh through his nose before pulling away to set his forehead on yours.

“I should probably head home,” he whispered. “But Thor leaves out tomorrow morning. Would you like to come over tomorrow?”

“For dinner?”

“And dessert.”

You grinned, pressing one last kiss to his lips before taking a step towards your door.

“I love you, Loki. Have a good rest of your evening.”

“I will, darling. But only because I’ll be thinking of you.”

_______________

The two men drove in silence back to Loki’s house, leaving him to think back over the evening. It couldn’t have gone better, in his opinion. Thor liked you, but Thor was a bit like a golden retriever in that way. He loved most of the people he met, whereas Loki had always been more comparable to a cat; he needed to trust someone before deciding whether or not he liked them, typically, and his trust was not easily gained. In fact, there were only two people in the world he truly trusted, and now, they’d both finally made the other’s acquaintance.

The silence was finally broken when Thor parked in front of Loki’s home. As they both sat there, illuminated by the dashboard and streetlights, his elder brother turned to face him fully.

“I like her,” he announced, as though Loki couldn’t already tell that. “Does she know?”

Loki arched an eyebrow before getting out of the car and fishing his keys out of his pocket, striding up to his door as his brother scrambled to catch up with him.

“I have no idea what you could be alluding to,” he replied, opening his front door and bending down to scoop up Lovecraft, who had a habit of swiping at Thor anytime he tried to enter the house.

“Oh, I wonder,” Thor countered, shutting the door behind him before peeling off his winter coat. “I suppose I could be talking about your allergy to dogs. Or perhaps your aversion to the color orange. Or, oh, I don’t know, your habit of murdering innocents. Who knows?”

With a roll of his eyes, Loki hung his coat up beside Thor’s and started striding towards his basement stairs, trusting Thor to follow him.

“How many times must I tell you – there’s no such thing as ‘innocent’. Not in today’s world, at least.”

“Try telling that to a jury.”

“Hopefully it’ll never come to that point,” Loki sighed. He bypassed the first room of his basement, not giving a second glance to the old, miscellaneous pieces of furniture and the stacked boxes of keepsakes from childhood. No, instead he focused on the large, dusty bookshelf that covered the far wall of the room, reaching for the thick compendium of Shakespeare’s plays and sonnets that hid the keyhole.

“I’ll never get used to being down here…” Thor’s voice was uncharacteristically small in here; usually, his baritone could be heard from several rooms away, but his mood always took a dark turn when he was reminded of Loki’s…’proclivities’.

“You can always wait upstairs, you know,” Loki uttered without a backwards glance, fitting the small key into the lock and twisting until he heard a click.

“I know,” his brother assured him. “But I promised I’d help you, so let’s just get this over with.”

Smirking, Loki pocketed his keys and pulled the hidden door open, watching a section of the bookcase separate from the rest and turn on the hinges he’d installed so long ago. The creaking shriek they elicited made him wince, and he made a mental note to grease them before his next houseguest.

Luckily for Thor, the only beings alive or dead in Loki’s house were the two of them and Lovecraft, who pattered in after them before jumping up onto the chair in the corner. He typically didn’t allow his cat entry to this room, for obvious reasons, but he decided to leave her be as he knelt next to the detached backseat from his car that was sitting in the middle of the room.

“I’ve already replaced the stuffing; you just need to help me reupholster, and then I can do the rest.”

Thor knelt beside him with a grumble, grabbing a staplegun from his wall of power tools and torture instruments as he kept his eyes stubbornly focused on the seat.

“You know, if you used plastic tarps like any self-respecting serial killer would, you wouldn’t have to reupholster anything in the first place,” he groused. Loki knew that he had a point, and he usually did use plastic when transporting his victims.

“…This one was a bit of a last minute decision,” he finally conceded. “But I’m handling it, as you can see.”

Thor’s lips turned white as he pressed them together, pausing in his struggle to roll out more fabric.

“Loki, you can’t afford to make many last minute decisions with this sort of thing,” he muttered, all joking gone from his voice. “You promised me you’d be careful if and when you get these…urges.”

“And I am,” Loki assured his brother. “Truthfully. No one has ever suspected me of anything. Not once, and you know that.”

With a huff, Thor nodded and continued his work, his movements echoing in the concrete chamber. In the back of his mind, Loki knew that his brother was right, though. Five months ago, he never would have been so careless as to get a victim’s blood on his suede car seats. But, now that he had you in his life, all of his passions seemed to be reigniting. For one, he’d never had as much sex in his previous relationships as he was having with you. He also never felt the need to talk to someone as much as he spoke with you; he hadn’t had many girlfriends or boyfriends in the past, but the ones he’d had always complained about him being too distant, too aloof, too ‘unfeeling’. Now, though, he found himself craving you and your company at all times during the day, and his alone time was less and less precious to him as he considered how much better it would be having you by his side.

However, as those passions rose, others did as well. You and your newest novel were a constant source of inspiration to him, and his lust for blood had grown considerably. If he kept up the pace that he was at right now, he knew it would only be a matter of time before he slipped up. But he pushed that thought aside, as he always had. That was a bridge he would cross when he came upon it.

“…Will you ever tell (Y/N)?”

Thor’s question was sudden, and it made his hands still as he reached for the staple gun.

“…Are you suggesting that I do?”

“Of course not.” Thor shook his head, biting back a curse as he tried stretching a length of suede over the car seat’s frame. “At least, not right now. I think both of us know that it wouldn’t end well. But this is a…mammoth secret to keep from a significant other, Loki. And if you weren’t able to hide it from me, there will come a day when you won’t be able to hide it from her, either. Not if you’re going to keep her in your life.”

“You didn’t find out until I was twenty,” he countered. “And you only found out because I got sloppy.”

“I still knew that there was something off. And, if I’m being honest with myself, I suspected the truth for years before I caught you in the act.”

Loki’s eyebrows rose, and he didn’t know what was more surprising to him – the truth, or the fact that his brother was still able to take him off guard, even after all of the years spent together.

“…Truthfully?”

“Of course, Loki. I knew you weren’t sneaking out at night to go clubbing.” He chuckled a bit at the thought, though his laughter died the second he saw the look Loki shot him. “I saw you burning your clothes once, in the field behind our house. We were 17 at the time, I think. And I knew you wouldn’t burn them unless it were to hide…well. Bloodstains. It was the only explanation for why you decided to burn them in the middle of the night, at least.

“But I told myself that I was wrong. People do that, you know; when someone you love hurts you, or when they do something wrong, you know it. But you lie to yourself anyways.”

There was a long, heavy silence before the two brothers got back to work, one that was only broken several minutes later, when they were mostly finished.

“Loki?”

“Mm?”

Loki looked up, catching a solemn expression on Thor’s face that immediately didn’t sit right with him. For all of his sociopathic tendencies towards most people, he didn’t like to see his typically jovial sibling so serious.

“I can’t pretend to know what it’s like to be you,” Thor sighed. “I’ve never fully understood how your mind works, but I know that it’s hard for you to let people in. So I’m happy for you and (Y/N). I am. But I also know that, someday, she’s going to find out. It can either be from you slipping up, or from you telling her outright. But, someday, she’s going to find out.

“I meant what I said – when you find out that someone you love is bad, and that they’ve done bad things, you lie to yourself before accepting the truth. Just…promise me that you’ll look out for when she starts lying to herself about you. Alright?”

Loki swallowed, his throat suddenly dry as he thought about you, about how your face would twist into an expression of fear, of disgust, of hatred, when you finally found out about him. And his heart sank as he pictured the fragile reality you two had been living in all of a sudden crumpling into ash. He couldn’t even bear the thought of losing you, but what other choice would he have if you found him out?

“What are you suggesting I do when she finds out?” he asked, a slight waver making its way through the syllables despite his best interest.

“I’m asking what you’re prepared to do, brother. Think it over, and please, just be careful.”

____________

You woke up the next day to find a text waiting for you from an unknown number, but as soon as you opened it, a wide smile came over your face.

Loki wouldn’t give me your number, so I had to get it out of his phone while he slept. But I wanted to tell you before I fly back to London that it was lovely meeting you, and I’m very happy my brother finally found someone he loves. -Thor

The text was sent at 6:14am, so you knew that Thor was likely already on his plane, but you still tapped out a message before getting up and starting your day.

It was great to meet you, too! Have a safe trip back.

With that, you finally dragged yourself out of bed and went about your morning routine, sending Loki a quick good morning text as you ate breakfast. You were planning on finishing up the last chapter of your coroner story, and you were excited to let him read it that evening when it was done. He’d been so supportive throughout the entire writing process that you were making record time on it; even your editor was surprised at how productive you’d been lately, and you were anxious for his thoughts on the ending.

As you sat down at your computer to type it up, though, you saw that you had an email from your publisher, and your heartrate skyrocketed as you opened it up. You’d sent them the first five edited chapters a few weeks back, and even though you already had several published books, you still got excited anytime you heard back from them.

Your heart only beat faster as you read through their email, and though you’d only just sat down, you were soon leaping out of your chair once you were done. They were going to publish it! At least, they were going to as soon as you had all of the chapters. You’d been concerned that your main character wouldn’t have as much appeal as others of yours had in the past, but as it turned out, they loved Olivia.

Before you even realized what you were doing, your phone was out of your pocket and you were dialing Loki’s number, your fingers trembling in excitement. You tapped your foot anxiously as you waited for him to pick up, and when he finally did, he barely had time to say hello before you were telling him the good news.

“Hello, darling-“

“LOKI I HEARD BACK FROM MY PUBLISHER!” you cried, grinning from ear to ear. “Also hello! Good morning, my love.”

Loki’s velvety laugh only added to your elation, and you quickly ran up to your bedroom to start getting dressed.

“Good morning to you, too. I take it the news was good?”

“It was amazing news! Fantastic news, actually. I was going to finish the final chapter today, but now I’m too excited to focus!”

“Well, love, I’m sure that if you want to just take today to celebrate, it won’t put you too far behind schedule.”

“Speaking of celebrating, can I bring lunch by today on your break? If work isn’t too busy for you, that is.”

“That should be fine, darling; work is actually quite slow.”

“Perfect! I’m going to start getting dressed, but text me which restaurant you’d like, and I’ll pick it up. My treat!”

“Alright, love,” he chuckled. “I’ll see you around noon, then.”

After you two said your goodbyes, you flew through getting ready and ran a few errands before lunch time came around. Loki, as usually, had told you that he was fine with anything and that you should pick the restaurant, so you swung by your favorite bistro before taking a cab to Bellevue Hospital, waving at the front desk staff as you passed by. They all recognized you at this point from your previous visits to see Loki on his break, and they all smiled and waved back as you made your way to the elevators.

“(Y/N)!”

You turned to see one of the receptionists calling you over, and so you shifted the food boxes in your hands and approached the desk.

“Dr. Odinson asked me to tell you that he’s in his office – it’s on the same floor as the morgue, but take a left instead of a right when you get out of the elevators. His is the third office on the left.”

After thanking her for letting you know, you headed down that way, shivering as you stepped out into the cold basement floor. His office had a bronze name placard on it that had Loki’s name on it, and so, after a quiet knock, you walked in to find him sitting behind a tidy desk, tapping away at his laptop furiously.

“I come bearing gifts!” you announced, causing his head to pop up from staring at his screen.

“Come in, love,” he smiled, standing up to help you with the food. “Thank you so much for lunch.”

“Don’t mention it! I wanted to celebrate the latest book, and I can think of no way I’d like to celebrate more than to spend time with the man I love. …And that was incredibly cheesy, wasn’t it?”

“It was,” Loki laughed, pulling the chair in front of his desk out for you. “But it was also very sweet, and I appreciate it more than you realize.”

After setting your food down on the desk, you sat down, not realizing that Loki wasn’t going back to his side of the desk until you heard the click of a lock sliding shut behind you. Turning around, you watched as Loki stepped away from the door, approaching you with a conniving glint in his eyes.

“Did…you just lock the door?” you asked, taking a sip of your drink.

“I did,” he confirmed. He didn’t elaborate further before sinking down onto his knees in front of you, and you only caught on to his intent after he gently took the to-go cup out of your hands to rest it on his desk.

“…Am I stuck in here with you, or are you stuck in here with me?” you joked, starting to squirm in your chair as Loki’s hands came down onto your knees.

The only answer you got was a wink before his lips were on yours, and all other thoughts fizzled out as his palms started creeping up your thighs, getting closer and closer to the waistband of your jeans. His tongue tasted like coffee as it glided over your own, and a small moan escaped your lips when his teeth gently nipped at your bottom lip.

“Are you sure about this?” you whispered as he started unbuttoning your pants. “I mean… What if we get caught?”

“We won’t get caught, love,” he assured you, slowly dragging your zipper down before beginning to slide your jeans off. “No one can stop us from having a little celebration. As long as you can keep quiet, that is.”

You lifted your hips as he tugged your trousers down your legs, taking your panties with them, and you shivered when you felt the cold leather chair against your exposed skin. Biting your lip, you slowly nodded your head, spreading your legs wider as Loki stooped down to place open-mouthed kisses along your inner thigh. It was wrong; you knew that there were other doctors in the offices right next to his, and you had no idea how thick or thin the walls were. Could they hear how hard you were suddenly breathing? Would someone passing by be able to hear the low, muffled groans Loki was making as he nipped and sucked hickeys into your skin?

As if sensing your thoughts, Loki glanced upwards as he spread your thighs even further apart, his lips twitching up into a smirk before he suddenly grabbed your hips and pulled, forcing your ass closer to the edge of the chair. In the same instance, he leaned down and buried his face between your legs, his nose just barely brushing against your clit as his tongue started lapping at your entrance. Your eyes rolled back he slipped it inside of you, the vibrations from his voice like bolts of lightning as he let out a guttural growl. He’d commented before on how much he loved eating you out, and you had no reason to doubt him as he thrust his tongue deeper and deeper inside of you.

“Loki…” You kept your voice at a soft whisper, gripping his hair as his tongue started alternating between thrusting into you and tracing patterns into your clit. Your hips jolted every time he swirled his tongue over your swollen bud, and it wasn’t long until they started rocking up against his face of their own accord. If you were at home, you’d already be begging for more or moaning his name over and over again, but now you were acutely conscious of every sound the two of you were making.

The panting of your breath and the obscene, slick noise of his tongue moving against you seemed to echo in the small room. With every shift of your hips, the chair you were in creaked, and you were soon fighting not to move too much for fear that it would be too loud. You were biting your lip so hard that you wouldn’t be surprised if you suddenly tasted blood, but the pleasure Loki was bringing you overshadowed any pain or discomfort.

Just as you felt the edge of your orgasm starting to approach, though, he was pulling away, licking his lips and watching your pussy clench around nothing as you tried to guide him back with the hands you had locked in his hair.

“Please,” you whimpered, “fuck, I was getting close-“

“Don’t worry, love,” he interrupted, leaning up to press a quick kiss to your lips. “I’m far from through with you.”

And that was all the warning you got before he scooped you up, setting you down onto his desk before you could do anything but let out a surprised gasp. At some point while he was eating you out, he must have taken his cock out of his pants, and now he was pushing you to lay on your back as he lined up with your entrance.

You gripped the edge of his desk so hard that your knuckles turned pale, but you still weren’t fully prepared for him to abruptly shove his cock inside of you, so hard that it pushed the air out of your lungs and pried a sharp moan from your lips. His hand came down over your mouth at its sound, and he leaned over you until your face was only inches from his.

“You have to stay quiet,” he panted, pulling out almost entirely before thrusting back into you. “You don’t want us to get caught, do you?”

You hurriedly shook your head no, and he nodded before pulling his hand away and sliding it between your bodies. You nearly moaned again once his fingertips found your clit, though, and you pressed your own hand to your mouth as he began playing with it in time with his thrusts.

“Good girl,” he purred, his own voice fighting back a moan as he started a fast rhythm. “Of course… Maybe you do want us to get caught.”

He punctuated his statement with a hard buck of his hips, and you pressed the back of your hand even harder to your lips as it startled another cry out you. The desk was beginning to creak in time with his movements, and you knew that anyone who walked by outside would be able to hear it. You just hoped that they couldn’t also hear Loki’s raspy breathing, or the way his balls were smacking against your ass with every thrust forward.

“Maybe you do want someone to hear me fucking you. Is that it?” he continued, his voice not once rising above a low growl. “Do you want them all to know that you’re mine? That you’re letting me use you, fuck you, right here in my office? Anyone with a key could get in, love. A janitor, another doctor… Anyone could come in and see what a good little slut you’re being for me. And you love that, don’t you?”

His thumb was moving faster and faster against your clit, and you were rapidly approaching your orgasm; you couldn’t remember the last time a partner had brought you so close so quickly. This was so different from how Loki usually was; typically, he was gentle with you, treating you like you would shatter if he were to grip you too tightly or kiss you too hard. But there were times, you’d found, when something else would peak through the cracks; some nights, his hand found its way around your throat, or his voice dropped into something predatory, threatening.

This was one of those times, evidently. And it always made something else rise up within you – the desire to submit, to bend to him completely, to let him have you and use you however he wanted. And so you did.

With a long, loud moan, you felt yourself cumming around his cock, so hard that it made your eyes roll back and your back arch up off of the desk, bending at an almost unnatural angle as your cunt clenched around him. Through the ringing in your ears, you heard him let out a muffled curse, and his thrusts began getting even harder, even faster, and through it all you laid back and took it. Your body was limp and pliable from your orgasm, and you watched through half-lidded eyes as he took what he wanted from it.

It wasn’t long, though, until he pulled out, stroking his cock a few more times before you felt his cum against your thighs and belly, staining your shirt with his release as he leaned heavily over you, catching his breath. After letting out a deep, heavy sigh, he leaned over, kissing you gently before resting his head on your chest.

“…Wow,” you breathed, settling one of your hands on the back of his head as your other arm drew him closer.

“I agree with that assessment,” he murmured, pressing a kiss over your heart before lazily turning towards you. “You did say you wanted to celebrate, though.”

A giggle escaped your lips at that, and he smiled softly before kissing you once again and slowly drawing himself up to full height.

“I’m…sorry, if I was too rough,” he began, but you sat up and pressed a finger to his lips, shaking your head.

“I liked it. Loki, I know you’d never hurt me,” you assured him. “And I know you don’t really mean it when you do things like call me a slut.”

“Good,” he nodded, his eyes skating over your face. “Because I don’t. And I would never, ever, hurt you.”

“Then don’t apologize for getting a little rough,” you countered, pecking his cheek before starting to stand on wobbly legs. “Because you better believe I enjoyed it.”

“Mm. I could tell.”

You swatted playfully at his arm before straightening your jeans and grabbing a tissue from his desk, dabbing at the cum he’d left on your shirt before giving up on the task entirely and deciding to just keep your coat buttoned up on the ride home.

“…(Y/N)?”

You turned to find Loki staring at you, having already smoothed his appearance back to its usual unrumpled state. The look in his eyes gave you pause, though – it was the same look that he’d had the night before, when he’d looked like he had something to tell you before deciding against it. Unbidden, fear suddenly swept over you, and you had the worst feeling that he was going to break things off, that he was going to tell you that he’d rushed into things and that he didn’t feel the same way as you.

Gulping, you stepped closer, fighting against the trembling in your hands as he took them between his, pressing a kiss to each of your palms before looking up at you once more.

“I’ve…been doing a lot of thinking, and Thor’s visit yesterday made me realize something,” he began.

“I haven’t ever felt this way about anyone before. And, if I’m being honest, sometimes it terrifies me. There are… There are things about me that I haven’t told anyone besides Thor, and even then, there are things he still doesn’t know.

“I came to the realization last night, though, that I want you to know everything about me. I want you to accept me, fully, as I’ve accepted you. And even if I’m not ready to share it all with you, I know that I want us to grow to that point together. I want you to be mine, yes, but I want to be yours, too. Wholly and completely.”

He took a deep breath, then, and your eyes grew wide as he reached into his pocket, taking out a small box and handing it to you.

“I had this made earlier today, after I dropped Thor off at the airport. And I realize that, yes, this is rushing things a bit, and I want you to know that it’s alright if you need to say no or if you need to think it over. But I’m ready to take the next step, whenever you are.”

Feeling as if time was suddenly moving in slow motion, you opened the box, tearing your eyes away from Loki just long enough to look down…

…and see a key waiting for you.

Immediately, your heart soared, and you looked up to see a tiny, hopeful smile on his lips.

“Will you move in with me, my love?”

And even though, yes, it was probably too soon, even though you’d only known Loki for four months, even though all of the logic inside of you was screaming against it, you didn’t hesitate before answering him.

“Yes!”  

____________

A/N: WOW it took forever to write this. I am so sorry! 2020 has really had its way with me, as it has with all of us, and I can’t apologize enough for letting my writing get so far behind. THANK YOU to anyone and everyone reading this, though. I hope you all are having a safe holiday season, and please don’t hesitate to contact me if you ever wanna talk! You guys are the best readers in the world, and I appreciate every single one of you! 

[witcher-and-his-bard-archive]

Change of Plans

winter prompts day 9 ❄️ snowed in/winter storm thanks to @in-love-with-writing002 for the idea! I’d like to do much more with it, but this is all my brain had time for tonight.

Everything starts with a question. One Jaskier suspects has been a long time coming.

They're sitting around the fire, Geralt sharpening his swords and Jaskier fumbling through the intro to his newest ballad. His fingers are too cold to be able to play it properly, but he's determined to get it finished so he can play it at the Solstice celebration in Oxenfurt this year. Last year Valdo had had a brand new song and Jaskier won't let himself be showed up again. So he plays through the cold and the numbness and Geralt's looks that are growing in frequency.

He hasn't said anything, so he can't be too upset about it, but the fifth time Jaskier restarts the song from the beginning, Geralt sighs and turns to him.

"It's getting cold," he says and Jaskier just looks at him. If he's only just noticing this, his Witcher senses must not be all they're cracked up to be.

"Yes," Jaskier agrees, a little sharply as he lifts his fingers to breathe some semblance of motion into them.

"I mean it's getting close to... that time of the year."

"Ah." That time of the year being when they separate for the winter. Jaskier doesn't like to think about it; he doesn't mind thinking ahead to his time in Oxenfurt and the celebrations, but the idea of leaving Geralt is rather unwelcome and he tries to avoid it as long as possible. Looking up at the sky, he sighs. He didn't think it was getting that cold.

"And I thought-"

Jaskier's eyes snap back down to Geralt's immediately and he struggles to control his heartbeat because he knows Geralt can hear it and he doesn't need him thinking he's jumping to conclusions, which he is. A little. But that's beside the point.

He doesn't dare say anything as Geralt looks straight ahead at the fire and fidgets with the rag in his hands.

"What I mean," Geralt corrects and Jaskier nearly crawls out of his skin in his impatience, "is that winter seems to be coming sooner this year and I should be heading north before the valley snows over."

"Right," Jaskier says, alarmed by his own breathlessness. But Geralt doesn't seem to be finished quite yet and when he glances up at him, Jaskier holds his breath.

"Would you- I mean- I thought it might be better if-" Geralt's fingers clench around the fabric in his hands and Jaskier wants to go to him, to assure him whatever he has to say is perfectly fine, but he can barely breathe in anticipation. He tries his best not to make assumptions, but he can't imagine what else would be this difficult for Geralt to ask. "Come with me?"

Jaskier's heart soars and it takes a lot more effort than he'd care to admit to keep from crying like a fool where he sits across from Geralt.

"Are you certain?" he asks. The last thing he wants to do is intrude on Geralt's family over the winter, especially if the invitation is somehow coerced.  Geralt gives a curt nod and his lips twitch at the corner and it's a miracle Jaskier's body doesn't just drop out from under him.

He could cry, scream, laugh, but he doesn't want Geralt to regret his decision, so he just smiles across at him.

"I would be honoured."

In the morning, they make a plan to set out a week from now. It's long enough to reach town and gather supplies and find a horse for Jaskier that's capable of making the journey through the valley. The closest city is Hagge, but travelling there would mean backtracking and wasting time they don't have to spare, so instead, they start north. Geralt promises him that there's a town north of Ard Carraigh where he and his brothers stop to stock up for the trip, and as long as they make it there, they'll be fine.

But because Jaskier's never travelled in the winter and because he's excited about going to Kaer Morhen for the first time, things, inevitably, are not fine.

They're only two days out when the blizzard hits in the middle of the day.

It starts as light snow, so neither Geralt nor Jaskier thinks much of it, but as the day progresses so does the storm until they can barely see a foot in front of their faces. Well, Jaskier can't but he suspects not even Witchers can see through snow. He pushes on as well as he can - Geralt already feels guilty for making him walk through the night - but by the time he can see light again, Jaskier's boots are soaked through and he can barely feel his toes. He doesn't complain because he doesn't want Geralt thinking he can't make the trip, but he knows he's slowing them down.

That night, Geralt finds shelter in a crumbling building that might have once been a watchtower. It's dark and it's cold and without a fire, the only thing they have to eat are the preserves at the bottom of their bags. But when  Geralt pulls him into his lap and wraps a blanket around the both of them, holding him close, Jaskier can't find much to complain about.

They reach the little town late the following night and Jaskier is dead on his feet, so he's relieved to find the innkeeper is quite friendly, if not familiar, with Geralt. For once, he takes a step back and lets Geralt organize lodgings for them while he struggles to keep his eyes open.

Eventually, Geralt leads him up to a room with a single bed and lets Jaskier drop onto it while he putters around the room, organizing their things.

"What are you doing?" Jaskier mumbles, already tugging a pillow under his head. His wet feet dangle over the edge of the bed and Geralt comes over to kneel next to him, tugging Jaskier's boots from his feet.

"We'll be here for at least a couple of days," he explains, "we might as well settle in."

"Thought we were going north? Up to the keep?"

"We are," Geralt assures him, "but we won't make it through the storm. We'll wait here until it passes and see what the valley is like then."

Jaskier doesn't like the sound of that one bit, but he's too tired to argue. Even when Geralt pulls him to his feet, he doesn't complain. He wavers slightly as he strips out of his wet clothes, but he can hardly be blamed when he's barely slept in the past few days. When he's stripped down to his braies and as dry as he's going to get, he slips back into bed, shuffling toward the wall to make space for Geralt. He falls asleep before Geralt even makes it to the bed.

In the morning, there is snow up to the windowsills and it still hasn't stopped snowing. Jaskier's spirits are dampened slightly, but he slips out of bed before Geralt wakes and orders breakfast to take back to the room in an attempt to cheer them both up. It works for a little while, but the snow picks up again in the afternoon.

By the third day, Jaskier has resigned himself to staying in this little no-name village over the winter. It's not Kaer Morhen with all its history or Oxenfurt with its lively parties, but he's here with Geralt and really that's all that matters. He is a little disappointed, but Geralt made the offer to take him north, so maybe they can revisit that next year.

That evening, Geralt goes down to discuss the room with the innkeeper and Jaskier takes the chance to look around a little. For a small town, the inn is particularly well-kept and there's even a small fireplace in their room with a stack of wood next to it. They have plenty of blankets and candles and even a few sparse decorations to brighten the place up a little. Jaskier would like to go out into the forest and make a wreath of his own, but he suspects Geralt would be against going out into the storm, so the decorations in place will have to do.

Maybe one year, he'll invite Geralt to Oxenfurt and show him a real celebration, but for this year, under the circumstances, the inn is fine.

Geralt returns after a short while, plopping down next to him on the bed.

"The innkeeper says we're welcome to stay as long as we like if you'll play for the other guests in the evenings."

"You know I'm always happy to entertain." Jaskier smiles but Geralt remains silent and his expression falls. "You'll miss them, won't you? Your brothers?"

"I don't see them every year," Geralt says but Jaskier knows he's dodging the question.

"What do you think they'll do then? Over the winter?"

"Eskel might already be up at the keep. He's sometimes early to help clear out the library. Lambert, I don't know. Last I heard he was travelling with someone, so maybe they'll spend the winter together."

Before he can think better of it, Jaskier reaches out, sliding his hand over Geralt's knee. Geralt's head jerks up to look at him, but he doesn't move.

"I'm sure they'll be fine, Geralt. I'm sure they're holed up somewhere nice and warm and nowhere near the storm." Geralt gives him a look of disbelief, but Jaskier just smiles encouragingly.

As it turns out, they're both right. His brothers are holed up somewhere nice and warm for the winter. Or they were until the farmer whose barn they were sleeping in decided he'd had quite enough of the noise. Which is how, in the middle of Jaskier's set one night, he finds himself choking on his own words as three grouchy Witchers pile into the inn.

Geralt is upstairs, but Jaskier would know them anywhere. It's fairly hard to mistake a Witcher. He knows only two of them are Geralt's brothers, but he assumes the third is the one he mentioned was travelling with Lambert. As soon as he sees them, he jumps from his makeshift stage and hurries over to them.

"Gentlemen!" He cries, "we've been worried about you. Thought you might be lost in the storm somewhere." The attention of the entire inn is on them as Jaskier beams up at the men. The bigger of the three - Eskel, he thinks, judging by the scar - gives him an odd look, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Don't tell me you're Geralt's bard?" he asks.

"I am!" Jaskier exclaims and a knowing look settles over the witchers. "Come in," he says and ushers them into the main room and down the hall.

It's not until Jaskier has all of them in the room and is looking between Geralt and the other three that he realizes he's made a very big mistake. Yes, he was looking forward to meeting the other Witchers and spending the winter with them, but he was also looking forward to having some time alone with just Geralt which is certainly not going to happen with three other Witchers sharing their room.

If nothing else, at least it will be an interesting winter.

[drabbles-of-writing]

Electric Love

This is part of my Wing AU

AO3

Masterpost

Summary: In Amity's defense, Luz would've flown into that thunderstorm if she'd agreed to it or not. The least she could do was be there to make sure nothing bad happened. Though, this was Luz she was talking about. Crazy things would happen with or without supervision.

Dry thunderstorms were nothing new to the Isles. They were among the most common storms, really. If there was lightning, then there was a relatively decent chance there’d be no boiling rain. 

Which also led to a rather popular game among the young and reckless known as Thunderdiving. A sport where one would fly into the center of the thunderstorm and spend however long they deemed necessary dodging and flying through strikes of lightning. Flying through a heavily clouded sky is already dangerous enough, what with the possibility of smacking into whatever else was flying or getting lost and crashing. But to fly among conditions such as that plus lightning? It was practically a death sentence. No wonder teenagers liked daring each other to play it.

Now, Amity had never taken interest in it. Her parents would’ve murdered her if they were to find out she tried to Thunderdive. Didn’t stop the twins, though. Amity can name three separate times the twins came back from a dry thunderstorm, shaken up but still whooping and cheering at having survived it with whatever group of equally idiot teens they went with. Only after the third time, when Emira narrowly avoided getting her wing shot like a lightning rod, did they call it quits.

And Amity was fine never knowing anything else about the sport. Even if her siblings hadn’t come back shaken up, she wouldn’t have had any interest in it. Who, pray tell, would be idiotic enough to know the dangers of Thunderdiving and still want to participate? It was absurd!

Unfortunately for her, Amity had a nasty habit of being surrounded by those kinds of people.

,

A clap of thunder roared through the air, making Amity pause. She leaned up from her bed, peering out her window. Sure enough, the ominous clouds from earlier had descended upon Bonesborough in no time. There didn’t appear to be any rain, so Amity simply shrugged and sat back in her bed, continuing with reading the Azura book that Luz had gifted her. She finished it long ago, but rereading it wouldn’t hurt.

And that would’ve been her whole day; reading as the dry thunderstorm passed overhead, with nothing but the occasional lightning out her window to distract her.

If it hadn’t been for her crystal ball to begin ringing.

Amity’s wings twitched at her sides and she sighed. She cast a glance to her bedside table, expecting someone like Boscha. It’d be on-brand for her to call in the middle of a storm when bored.

Instead, she saw the name Luz spread across the crystal ball.

Amity jerked up, wings snapping to her sides as she completely ditched her book in favor of wildly reaching for the crystal ball. She nearly knocked it off her table in her haste, but managed to secure a good hold on it before yanking it back towards her. 

She takes a moment to pause and take in a deep breath, checking her reflection in the crystal ball. She ran a hand through her hair, making sure none of it was sticking up. She hoped her wings were neat enough that, should they be seen through the clear ball, she wouldn’t look as much of a mess as she felt.

With that, and a slow inhale, Amity accepted the call.

“Hi, Amity!” Luz beamed, her face quickly overtaking the ball. She continued speaking before Amity could even think of responding. “So, out of curiosity, did the twins happen to mention anything important to you about dry thunderstorms?”

That caught Amity’s attention. Luz was known for odd questions here and there, but typically not so specific. The mention of the twins immediately put the kestrel on edge.

“Luz,” Amity said, a warning laced into her tone. “What are you doing?”

“Me? Nothing! I’m--I’m not doing anything.” Luz stuttered, her eyes darting everywhere but at Amity. “Just thought that, y’know, since we have a thunderstorm with no rain going on, might as well check to make sure there’s no like, secret about these things that could mangle me.”

“And why would the twins know this?” Amity asked patiently, despite all her internal alarms going off.

“Well, I sorta,” Luz’s hand came into frame, scratching at the back of her neck. Amity could see the faint outline of her wings twitching behind her. “I heard that they, uh, had experience with dry thunderstorms.”

“Only really with--” Amity paused, trailing off as the piece clicked in her mind. “Thunderdiving,” She said blankly. “You mean with Thunderdiving.”

“Oh, is that what they did?” Luz asked in a far-too innocent voice. “Had no idea.”

“Luz,” Amity growled, her ears flicking back as her eyes narrowed. “What,” She repeated, with an edge to her tone. “Are you doing?”

Luz stared back at her, eyes wide and guilty. She could see her wings hunch up to her shoulders, like she could shield herself subtly and avoid getting called out. She mumbled something under her breath.

“Luz,”

“It sounded fun--”

“Oh for the Titan’s sake.” Amity groaned, dragging a hand down her face. “I’m coming over, don’t you even think about flying in this.”

“Maybe I’ll be in the air by the time you get here,” Luz snorted. “Unless, of course, you flew here…” Luz trailed off, her voice taking on a hopeful tone. “But then that would make you a hypocrite, wouldn’t it?” She added teasingly.

“You know, I’m starting to regret learning to fly.” Amity muttered, swinging her legs off the side of her bed and standing up.

“No you don’t.” Luz cheerfully singsonged. 

“Debatable,” Amity shrugged, despite the smile on her face. “Point is, do not fly until I get there.”

“So I can fly after you get here then?” Luz asked excitedly.

“Absolutely no--”

“Too late! No take backs!” Luz crowed. With that, and a fast flourish of feathers through the crystal ball, the call abruptly ended.

Amity, not for the first time, was left wondering why Luz, of all people, just had to be the one she was so fond of.

,

Amity did not fly to the Owl House, thank you very much. She may have, however, simply ‘boosted’ herself along by flapping her wings. She knew Luz said she wouldn’t fly in this storm (for now), but she also knew Luz wasn’t known for patience. 

Lightning flashed, striking some part of the ocean in the distance, causing Amity to flinch for barely a moment. Thunder rolled overhead not long after, almost being mistakable for an earthquake.

She slipped through the trees that surrounded the old house, cursing quietly as he tugged her foot out of a small thicket of brambles. She stumbled, catching herself on the trunk of a tree. Grumbling, she looked around it, trying to judge how far she was from the house.

Turns out, not far at all. Because immediately upon seeing the structure, her vision was quickly enveloped by the bane of her existence.

“Hi, again!” Hooty yelled, or at least sounded as such. He always sounded like he was shouting. “Luz told me not to kick you out, so we can chat now!” He said gleefully.

“Get out of my face,” Amity hissed, her wings flaring behind her as they puffed up. “Before I rip off yours.”

“Hooty! Leave Amity alone!”

Luz’s voice had never been so divine. With great reluctance, Hooty retracted his face and looked back, up to the roof of the Owl House. Amity, with her sight no longer obstructed, could see Luz sitting on the very edge of the roof, her legs dangling off. Her wings were relaxed at her sides, almost draping as she lightly swung her feet.

“I was just saying hi!” Hooty complained.

“And you did a great job, Hooty.” Luz said patiently, if not exasperated. “Go back to the door, please.”

“Hmph! At least someone appreciates me around here.” Hooty grumbled, his weird tube body retracting back into the front door, where he continued to mutter to himself.

“Eugh,” Amity shuttered, her wings lying flat once more. She hated that thing.

“Sorry about him,” Luz said, her voice drifting and faint from the distance between them. “But you should come up here! Views great,” She added happily.

“You're going to get struck by lightning,” Amity sighed.

But even she couldn’t deny the request. Her dyed-green wings spread, creaking in protest at the movement. Even with her flight nearly back to normal, they still weren’t used to being opened completely. She figured (read: hoped) it would get better with time.

Amity stepped out of the trees with a flourish of her wings, rising to the air with minor difficulty as she soared towards the roof. Luz’s grin brightened as she approached, and Amity squandered down the little jump her heart did at the sight. Land first, panic about the cute sparrow later.

Amity folded her wings back as her feet brushed the tile of the roof, holding her arms out to keep her balance as she dropped back down via gravity.

“Personally, I think you could balance better by keeping your wings spread.” Luz said, looking over her shoulder from where she sat as Amity reoriented herself. “Tilts things around better. Though that's more a preference.”

Amity turned, huffing good-naturedly as she let her arms fall.

“I’ll keep that in mind!”

Amity’s sentence was cut off as thunder roared overhead, even managing to make the ground tremble slightly. She stumbled, her hands quickly connecting with Luz’s wing. The human had raised it up to catch Amity, blinking in concern as Amity clung to it for a few moments until the thunder faded out.

“You alright?” Luz asked, a hint of teasing in her tone.

“Fine,” Amity said curtly, quickly letting go of Luz’s wing. Even knowing that Luz wouldn’t have offered it if she didn’t feel Amity had the right to touch her wings, it still put her on edge. 

“I’m not typically out during thunderstorms.” She mumbled, rubbing the back of her neck. “Which you shouldn’t be, either.” She added right after, fixing Luz a pointed look.

“Hey, it's a storm with no boiling rain!” Luz persisted, getting to her feet as she gestured out to the sky. “You expect me to sit inside when I don’t have to?”

“Please note that there is still lightning.” Amity said, pressing the palms of her hands together. The sky flashed white for a brief second, enunciating her point.

“I mean, in the human realm, the chances of getting struck by lightning are pretty slim.” Luz shrugged, her wings mimicking the gesture. “Unless you're at a high point with metal. Which I will not be taking with me up there.” She said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“How much do I have to stress that this is a horrible idea for you to go back inside?” Amity asked, her wings squeezing tighter at her sides. “Just because the twins Thunderdived doesn’t mean that it's a good, or safe, idea. Quite the opposite, actually.”

“Too late, made up my mind.” Luz teased, her wings raising slightly over her back as she looked back to the sky as a less-destructive clap of thunder sounded overhead. “Sounds like it could be fun.”

“Your idea of fun is sitting in the maw of a hungry demon and daring it to eat you.” Amity deadpanned. “Where’s Eda, anyway? Surely she’s at least a little responsible with Thunderdiving?”

“Eda’s out stealing with King, I think.” Luz said, face scrunched up in thought. “She just said it had to do with business and left. Which either means she got a deal on something or felt like pestering the Warden again.”

“It’s a miracle you're still alive.” Amity groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“I’ll say,” Luz agreed, looking down to the ground far below. “Now, since you're here, I believe there’s some lightning that needs to be evaded.” She said, her wings arching and opening up as she crouched on the edge of the roof like a feathery gargoyle.

“Don’t you dare,” Amity growled, reaching for Luz.

In the same movement, Luz pitched over the ledge. She dove up almost instantly, but the sight still gave Amity’s stomach a sharp drop for a solid second. Luz flew just out of reach, spinning around and hovering in the air with a wide grin plastered on her face.

“Tell you what,” Luz said, mocking the impression of being deep in thought. “I won’t Thunderdive, if,” She raised a finger at that, despite Amity not even attempting to interrupt. “You can catch me.” She said, smirking like she’d made the deal of the century.

“...are you seriously gambling with your life on a game of tag?” Amity demanded incrudeously, once again questioning why this was the person she cared a stupid amount for.

“You make it sound so dramatic,” Luz whined, crossing her arms. “Plenty of people survive Thunderdiving.”

“Surviving is not the same as avoiding plummeting into the ocean.” Amity stressed, seconds away from knocking her head against something.

“Guess you’ll have to be fast then.” Luz said with a shrug, her tail flaring out. “Race you!”

With that, Luz shot off into the air, causing a breeze to ruffle Amity’s hair and wings. For a sparrow, she was remarkably quick at how she sped into the air and up towards the looming darkening clouds, thunder booming around them.

“Luz!” Amity snapped, more annoyed than anything. She leapt off the roof as well, taking half a second more to orient herself in the air before shooting off after her.

,

Now, being a kestrel, Amity obviously had the upper hand on speed. No matter how fast Luz boasted she could be, she was still a sparrow. In a straight-line flight, Amity would’ve caught up with little effort, even with her wings limited use.

However, what Luz lacked in speed, she made up for tenfold in agility and tricks. Amity blamed Eda for all of that.

So it was no surprise (albeit it still frustrating) that when Amity found herself surrounded by swaths of storm clouds, Luz was already long hidden. The dark masses providing perfect cover for her duller feathers. And while Amity could scarcely tell up from down, Luz never seemed to be bothered by it in the slightest.

“Luz!” Amity called, deciding it best to glide in a large circle. “I thought this was tag, not hide-and-seek!” She gruffed, eyes scanning the clouds.

Another point to Amity’s team. She had far sharper vision. Meaning that should Luz stray so much as a hair too far out of her cover, Amity would spot her in seconds. Hopefully. 

“But it makes it so much more fun!” Luz crowed, causing Amity to spin around.

Luz flew like a bullet, a mere few meters away, as she ducked and dove through another clump of clouds.

Thunder roared in Amity’s ears as she sighed, tucking in her wings and diving after her. Amity broke from the dark mass and came to a cleared-out section in the sky. Clouds were still all around her, but the storm seemed almost hollowed-out, leaving rolling stretches of clear sight.

And with a strike of lightning in the distance, Amity’s eyes instantly locked onto a distant shape flying right through the middle of it, closer to the lower-level clouds.

Amity took off, keeping high as she began to overtake Luz. The human appeared oblivious to where Amity had gone, her head moving back and forth as she scanned everywhere but up.

Amity squandered the impulse to call out. Instead she took a deep breath, reigning herself in before sharply yanking her wings to her sides, nearly folding them completely.

She dropped like a stone, careening straight down towards Luz. Her wings tensed, ready to flare out and stop her descent at a moment's notice. She wanted to catch Luz, not strike her out of the sky.

Perhaps it was the sound of her diving, or maybe it was simple intuition, but just as Amity was nearly upon Luz, the sparrow spun around. Her eyes widened right as lightning flashed. Amity was close enough she swore she could see it reflect in her gaze.

At a speed Amity would chalk up to magic if she weren’t human, Luz rolled out of the way, her wings whirling as she dropped for a second before darting to the side. Amity flared out her wings as she missed, almost giving herself whiplash at how quick her descent stopped.

“That’s the spirit!” Luz cheered, flying around Amity as she shook her head and steadied herself. 

“Spirit, huh?” Amity parroted, taking the moment to twist around and lunge.

Luz, completely unbothered, simply rolled out of the way again with a laugh, rising a few feet in the air. She gave a happy chirrup, now tauntingly flying in a circle around Amity.

“That's the best you got?” Luz teased, doing a cocky flip in the air.

Thunder rumbled around them. Amity was very aware that Luz was purposefully egging her on, getting both of them caught in Thunderdiving.

She couldn’t find it in her to care right then.

“You wish,” Amity huffed, bolting towards Luz in the same instance.

Luz squealed excitedly, almost getting a wing to the face as she ducked and shot up back into the clouds, Amity close behind. 

Luz twisted and dipped through the sky, trying and failing to give Amity the slip. And despite Amity’s best efforts to treat this seriously, she couldn’t help but laugh alongside her. It was fun, dare she say it. Though never in the proximity of the twins. She’d never hear the end of it.

Luz darted around Amity again before shooting into the air, diving straight up before pausing, her momentum slowing. Amity tilted her head as she watched, admittedly intrigued. 

When Luz hit the peak of her ascent she trilled, tucking in her wings and flipping backwards before diving back down again. She flew right over Amity’s head as she passed, giggling and, though Amity couldn’t be completely sure, a little nervous.

“What are--”

Amity’s amused inquiry was cut off by a roar of thunder, feeling like her brain was rattling in her skull. Luz, unbothered as ever, swung back around in her flight to cuff the tip of Amity’s wing with her own, whooping gleefully.

“Wha--unfair!” Amity shouted, fumbling in the air for a moment before shooting after her.

Luz cackled and flew up again, wings tucked close as she flipped through the air. Lightning struck in the distance, highlighting both girls for mere moments.

Once again, Luz cheerfully chirruped when she reached her peak and dove back down, ruffling Amity’s feathers as she zoomed by.

It was a pattern Amity had seen before from other birds of prey. Usually at some dinner party or get-together her parents hosted. Typically from the other snobby rich kids who wanted to impress the eye of a Blight. It had always been one of the most shoehorned spectacles Amity had the misfortune of witnessing.

And as Luz made a noise similar to a chatter and dove right by Amity, throwing taunts behind her, Amity wondered if she was aware of this. She was quick to dismiss the thought and shook her head, calling back to Luz with a jeering crow. 

Luz did things that sparrows normally never even thought about all the time. The few times anyone had pointed it out, Luz had always stared back blankly. Luz was just, well, Luz. She did whatever she felt like doing with the only reason being because it was fun and she wanted to.

She simply didn’t know.

Didn’t mean Amity was gonna stop her, though.

Amity shook out of her thoughts before beating her wings and soaring after Luz, who had flew around a spiral of clouds with a mischievous grin. 

“And you said this was a bad idea,” Luz teased, ducking to the side as Amity flew right by her.

“It is.” Amity huffed, tilting her wings to glide back around, allowing for their game to pause. Because it was hard to talk while chasing after an uncatchable human, of course, why else?

“You sure?” Luz asked, giving Amity a smug look over her shoulder that did not make her wings falter, that would be ridiculous. “Because I’d almost say you're having fun.” She teased.

“That doesn’t mean this isn’t an awful idea,” Amity reminded, the thunder rumbling around them enunciating her point. “We could go flying any day, but in a thunderstorm is the worst time.” She said, forcing herself to let her wings relax when Luz began flying at a leisurely pace, resisting the urge to chase after her again.

“Hey, we haven’t been struck yet.” Luz pointed out, turning so that she could face Amity while flying backwards (how she managed that so casually, Amity wished she knew). “The twins must’ve taught you enough then, huh?”

“The twins have taught me a total of three things in my life.” Amity said, a bitter tone not going unnoticed. “Don’t trust them with anything of importance, how to sell any absurd lie, and that Thunderdiving is a terrible, Titan-awful idea.” 

“Can really feel the familial love,” Luz said blankly. “Look on the bright side, now that you're here, we both get a learning experience.”

Lighting struck twice in the distance, catching the girls eyes for a brief second.

“How fun,” Amity sighed, slowly tearing her eyes away from where the lightning had been. “I still don’t know why you thought it would be a good idea to ask me for the twins. Even without a dry thunderstorm, that's gotta be the most suspicious thing you could ever ask.”

“Heh, yeah, well, we’re here now.” Luz said, glancing to Amity for a quick second before tilting her wings until she was flying a few feet below and to the left of Amity, her gaze pointed forwards.

Amity narrowed her eyes, positive that Luz knew she was staring at her now and was ignoring her. There was something nagging at the back of Amity’s mind, and from experience, it was probably best to follow thoughts like that.

“Hey,” Amity said, her voice slow as memories were pushed to the front of her mind. The way Luz’s entire body tensed so violently that she almost froze midair was so comical Amity almost lost her train of thought to snort at it.

“Don’t you have the twins' numbers?” She asked, raising a brow.

“Oh, do I?” Luz said, her voice a few octaves higher as she looked sideways towards Amity, her eyes notably wider. 

“Yeah, didn’t you share numbers with them when I was preparing you for Grom because they thought it’d be fun to grab you for some scheme if you survived?” Amity said, not even bothering with a suspicious tone. She could tell from the first tense she had been right.

“Huh,” Luz said, visibly swallowing as she looked away. “Weird. Must’ve forgotten.”

Amity gave Luz possibly one of her best unamused expressions to date, which she had the audacity to refuse to look at.

“You planned this, didn’t you?” Amity deadpanned, the realizations coming to her mere moments before she said them. “You,” Amity blinked, her words coming out as shocked and maybe a little impressed. “You wanted me to come here!”

Luz turned her head to Amity then, looking guiltier than Gus after being caught trying to get petty revenge on Mattholomule for the third time in a week. Her hands fiddled together as her wings looked like they wanted to hunch up, but couldn’t due to them being the only things stopping her from plummeting.

“I mean…” Luz said slowly, her eyes darting this way and that. “It worked, didn’t it?”

Amity, if anything, was far more dismayed that she’d fallen for the most basic trick in the book than the fact Luz had goaded her into doing something as recklessly stupid as Thunderdiving. And that must’ve shown on her face, because Luz looked like she didn’t know if she should laugh or be concerned. 

“You sneak!” Amity cried, taking Luz’s unsure state to tuck into a dive right for her.

Luz yelped and barely managed to dodge, her tail feathers brushing the tips of Amity’s fingers. Luz whirled around from where she escaped a few meters below Amity, fear flashing across her features for a swift moment until she saw the determined smile on Amity’s face. 

“You're just mad that it worked!” Luz laughed, with only a hint of worry in her tone.

“Just for that, I’m going to tell Willow about this.” Amity said, raising her chin defiantly before darting towards Luz once more.

“You wouldn’t!” Luz gasped in playful offense. “Willow would know that you were out here, too!”

“I’m not the one who wanted to fly in a storm!” Amity shot back. “I’m innocent by reason of trying to do the responsible thing.”

“You're still here, though.”

“Because you won’t stay still!”

They went around in circles, making themselves dizzy as they dodged and dove between darkened clouds. The only way to tell up from down was by pausing the beating of their wings and letting gravity overtake them before they went right back to doing loop-de-loops.

Luz shot up through a swath of clouds, wings arched slightly as she rose into the air with the dark, almost black, clouds at her back. Amity tilted her head up, letting her wings pause briefly in the air as she watched, maybe a little entranced. Possibly.

Luz turned, gazing down to grin at Amity as her descend paused.

And lightning lit up practically on top of her.

She swore in that moment that it looked like the lightning had cut right through Luz. She shut her eyes a moment after, the light blinding her momentarily as she jerked back and rubbed at them.

“Luz?” She called, blinking her eyes rapidly a moment later. “Luz! Where--”

The sparrow wasn’t there. Amity whirled around, wings almost failing in keeping her upright due to the speed at how fast she looked all around, not knowing if she should be relieved or not she couldn't see anything plummeting to the ground. Did the clouds swallow her up? Was she already on the ground? Were they over the ocean? She couldn’t see--

“Amity!”

She startled, feathers flaring up as Luz appeared from a cluster of clouds. Shaken, clearly, her eyes were heavily contracted and darting about. But flying, albeit wonkily, and that was the important part.

“Great Isles!” Amity breathed, not even aware of her wings moving until she was right in front of Luz, grabbing at her arms and flicking her eyes over her for any mark that wasn’t there previously. 

“I’m-I’m okay, hey,” Luz shook her head, tail twitching. “Barely even grazed me, I promise.”

“Barely is not the same as didn’t,” Amity stressed, eyes finally landing on her right wing.

Three secondary feathers were gone, instead replaced by smoldering black stumps. The ends of the feathers surrounding it were tipped with ash, too. Lucky it wasn’t any primary feathers, or Luz might have actually begun to fall.

“Oh Titan,” Amity murmured, eyes locked onto the hole through Luz’s wing. She could see now Luz was favoring her right wing.

“You weren’t kidding about lightning being nasty, huh?” Luz said, following her gaze and looking over the blackened feathers. “I mean, I knew it was, but I wasn’t expecting it to, you know, be out for blood.”

“Please don’t joke about being hit by lightning,” Amity said quietly, shoulders hunching.

“Hey, hey,” Luz pulled an arm free of Amity’s grasp, also grabbing at her and getting her to look away from the missing feathers. “I’m fine. Nothing that won’t grow back.” She assured. 

Thunder rumbled through the sky, causing both of them to flinch. Their eyes darted to the sky for a moment, antsy and waiting for the flash of lightning.

It lit up the sky further away, highlighting the two of them before it died out.

“I think I’ve had enough Thunderdiving for today.” Luz eventually said, tearing her gaze away from where the lightning had hit and back to Amity. “Besides,” She added as she rose up her arm, showing Amity was still tightly clinging to her. “You caught me.” She said, giving a small smile.

Amity blinked, staring at where she was hanging onto Luz so tightly her claws looked close to piercing the skin. She jerked her hands back, offering a nervous, apologetic smile.

“Yeah, right, course.” Amity nodded, flying a few paces back. “Gotta get that wing checked out, and...all that.”

“Think I could spin it off that Hooty was the reason for this?” Luz asked, readjusting her wings so she was flying more towards her uninjured side. 

“I’ll be your witness,” Amity agreed, glancing back as thunder rolled through the sky. 

“Cool,” Luz smiled, shaking her head and flickering her distant gaze away from the dark clouds. Amity almost asked if she was alright again before she called out; “Last one to the House has to get in through the window!” 

Luz took that same moment to tuck in her wings and plummet. 

“Wh--don’t dive on a wing with missing feathers!” Amity squawked, feathers fluffing up as she dove right after her.

Luz’s laughs answered her. Leaving Amity wondering, for possibly the fifth time in two weeks, how Luz had lasted things long to begin with.

But hey, if Luz can survive a run-in with lightning, she could probably survive anything.

[talkfastromance4]

2.) Without Me--Ashton Irwin ‘Lovers in a Song’ series

a/n: So while each ‘chapter’ is titled after a song it’s more of the mood and a few choice lyrics that really made the story. This story changed a lot as I wrote it but in the end it all flows really nicely together. I’m so excited to share this with you! Each part is 3,000 with the exception of the last part. Please don’t hesitate to send me messages, I’d love to hear your thoughts!

Word count: 3k

warnings: casual drinking, unprotected sex, fingering, slight angst 

Masterlist

LIAS masterlist

***

5 Years Ago

It’s raining cats and dogs on campus, the last night before graduation and Ashton is at one of the dive bars he frequented over his four years at school. There’s hardly anyone here and he’s staring at the bottle with his initials scrawled in golden loops with morose. After tomorrow when he walks across the stage, Ashton will take over the family whisky business. It’s been set in stone and passed on from generation to generation. It’s his namesake and his destiny.

“Go away! I don’t want to see you ever again and thank God after tomorrow I won’t have to!” A shrill voice erupts through the door. “Asshole!”

Ashton turns at the sudden outburst to see a beautiful girl drenched to the bone shaking off her coat before hanging it on the coat rack. Her hair hangs in wet strands reaching a little past her chest, her makeup is a bit smudged but damn, she’s a looker. Ashton’s seen her on campus and at parties but never knew her name.

She takes the seat one over from him.

“Rum and coke please, Teddy,” she asks the bartender setting her purse on the counter. She lets out a deep sigh and takes out a compact, snatches a napkin then dabs at her face. She closes the compact with a snap then smiles her thanks as her drink is presented before her. She drinks half of it in one go.

It hasn’t even been a minute and she’s already done so much to keep Ashton’s attention piqued. Who is this free-spirited woman?

“Can I help you?” her attention is directed at him, big eyes staring expectantly.

“Um, no, sorry you just…are you all right?” he asks.

“I am now,” she lifts her glass and takes another sip. “And now that my asshole boyfriend is an ex. I’m so glad I’m graduating tomorrow.”

“You are too? Congratulations,” Ashton grins and she smiles back.

“What’s your name? I’ve seen you around campus before.”

“I’m Ashton,” he holds out his hand making sure not to give his last name. Even if it is stamped on a bottle nearly six feet away.

“Cressida,” she returns and takes his hand.

Her hand is cold and wet from the rain, but a spark of electricity is transferred through them. They jump at the contact and laugh.

“I’ve never heard a name like that before.”

“My parents love Greek mythology. It means gold.”

“It’s also the third precious metal,” Ashton adds. Cressida raises her eyebrows and laughs. He only knows this because his family is trying a new concoction to add gold flakes in their newest whisky brand.

“What’s the first?”

“I have no idea,” he chuckles. “I should have paid more attention in science class. I remember gold because it’s beautiful, useful, and rare.”

“Are you sure you’re still talking about the gold or is this your Segway into a pick-up line?”

“No, no, I swear that’s not what I’m—”

“I mean it’s working in your favor, Ashton, so by all means,” she smiles interrupting his apology.

“Oh, it is, is it?”

Her eyes move to his empty glass.

“Let me buy you a drink, what’s your poison?”

Ashton doesn’t want to say whisky, it’s been on his mind since he was old enough to understand what it was. He’s also worried if he says it, Cressida will immediately know who he is. His family’s whisky is known all around the world.

“I’ll have what you’re having.”

An hour later they’re stools are so close together her legs have somehow found their way over his, and Ashton loves the warmth through his jeans. She notices the gold ring on his finger with a small ruby nestled inside.

“Is this real gold?” she asks tracing it with her pinky.

“Are you going to rob me?” he jokes.

“No, gold is only the third precious metal after all,” she giggles.

“It’s real. It was my great grandfather’s,” Ashton nods.

“It’s pretty.”

“You’re pretty.”

Cressida’s eyes sparkle up to his and the way he’s looking at her makes her stomach flip and her cheeks heat up. No one has ever looked at her with such intensity before, not even her asshole boyfriend.

“Are you doing anything between now and walking the stage tomorrow?” she asks taking a leap. Ashton shakes his head, and she leans forward, her lips grazing his cheek before touching his ear. “Wanna do me?”

Ashton slaps down some bills on the bar and moves towards the door as quick as he can helping her put her coat on. He notices there isn’t a hood, but he brought an umbrella.

“My apartment is only ten minutes away,” he says holding up his red umbrella.

They walk through the rain filled street, her arm looped through his as they talk about school and friends and what their next step is after graduation. Ashton tries to deter that conversation from him, he wants to forget about it if only for a night. And Cressida is the perfect distraction.

“I’m going to spend the summer in Europe,” she says, “I’ll be in charge of my family’s business soon, so I want a bit more freedom. I’m going to visit all of the museums and the historical landmarks.”

“That sounds really great, I wish I could do that.”

“Why don’t you?”

“I’m also taking over my family’s business as soon as I cross the stage it’s mine. It’s a big responsibility.”

She hums in acknowledgment then gasps when he stops at his building. It’s only slightly ostentatious with a secured door and a security guard inside. She’s staring at the gold mailbox slots when Ashton spins her into the elevator, she giggles against his chest. Then Ashton cups her cheek and slots his lips with hers.

She tastes like rum and coke and a night to remember, his last night of freedom. They’re stumbling through his door, removing clothes as quickly as possible. They roll around his sheets, laughing and moaning and exploring each other’s bodies. Ashton rocks into her and she moves easily, picking up on his pace like this is the hundredth time instead of the first.

“Wow,” she huffs when he collapses on top of her after he came in the condom.

“I’ll say,” he grins and pecks her nose before rolling off her to remove the condom. He retrieves two bottles of water and hands her one, climbing in next to her.

“So, Ashton,” she sighs staring at him with mussed up hair. “What is your family business?”

“I…I don’t know if I want to tell you.”

“What? Are you part of the mafia?” she snickers twisting her hair into a very loose braid. The ends of her hair tickle her nipple and Ashton slides his eyes to her face.

“No,” he laughs, “It’s just…people treat me differently when they know.”

“I can relate to that, that’s why I don’t go around shouting mine from the rooftops either. Tell me, I promise I will still look at you as the guy who picked me up at a bar because of a gold fact.”

Ashton rolls his eyes then takes a deep breath.

“All right. My family owns Irwin Whisky, my grandfather created it back in the prohibition days. After tomorrow, I’m in charge.”

Cressida is silent for a long time, just staring at him with a vacant expression on her face.

“What? What is it?” Ashton asks in alarm sitting up straight.

“Ashton, my last name is James. As in James Brandy.”

Ashton’s heart plummets to his stomach. While he was learning about whisky growing up he also learned that his grandfather started the business with his good friend, Walter James. After the prohibition was over, they joined all of their assets to get the company rolling.

Then there was a fallout due to unpaid expenses and a deal Walter made without consulting Ashton’s great grandfather Frank that could have upended the company before it really started. Ashton learned about distillery and grains and wheat and also to never, ever interact with a James’ family member. All they’ll do is double cross you and keep secrets.

And now he just had sex with his family’s enemy.

Ashton and Cressida meet each other’s eye before they both leap out of bed. He’s quickly pulling on some pants while she’s slipping her sweater over her head, both of them shouting nonsensical words in surprise.

“Why didn’t you tell me at the bar?!” she demands.

“I just told you I don’t go around saying my name because people treat me differently! You didn’t tell me yours either!”

“How was I supposed to know I was hitting on an Irwin!” she rages trying to find her pants. “No one can ever know about this; oh, my mother would kill me!”

“At least you’re going to Europe for three months,” Ashton seethes.

“You could go too, you know. Just because you’re taking over the business doesn’t mean you’re trapped,” she snaps.

“Then why are you going?”

She lets out an angry huff and throws her hands in the air. “My trip doesn’t matter right now! What matters is that we just had sex.”

“Yeah, I was there,” he rolls his eyes then stops his actions of frantically moving about. He’s not even sure why he was doing so, it’s not like the SWAT team was going to come bursting through his door. “Wait, wait, what are we doing?”

“I’m trying to find my pants so I can leave!”

Ashton rushes in front of her and grabs her shoulders, he shakes her slightly until she’s looking at him.

“No, I mean…why are we acting like the ceiling is going to collapse? Was it a mistake we did this? Probably, but I don’t regret it Cressida, not one bit. You’re…”

“I’m what?” her eyes are blazing and that’s when Ashton notices the small flecks of gold inside of them.

“You’re gold; precious and beautiful and the rarest girl I’ve ever met in my life. No one has to know about this except us,” he shakes his head.

“You’re saying ‘this’ as if ‘this’ is something…”

“It could be,” he shrugs, his eyes imploring her to meet him in the middle. “I thought this was going to be a one-time thing, but after being with you…and hearing you’re going to Europe. I want that, too.”

“You want to go to Europe with me? Ashton, we just met and found out our families are like the Montagues and the Capulets. Do you remember the ending to that story?”

“I’m not saying we share the same car to the airport where we can be seen together. I don’t want to let you go just yet.”

“Ash, this is crazy!”

“If it’s so crazy then why aren’t you still trying to find your clothes?”

She opens her mouth to retort something but closes it because she has nothing to say. Even though they just met, that spark they felt at the bar continued to his bed. It was as if they knew each other from a different life and were reconnecting all over again.

“Maybe I’ll make the mistake and book a trip to Europe and mistakenly run into you at an art museum,” he says tugging her sweater off her again. “And maybe I’ll mistakenly lose my hotel key and stay with you.”

He bends down pressing his lips to her neck where he sucked a mark only forty-five minutes ago. Cressida sighs into him, her hands holding onto his neck as he kisses the lobe of her ear.

“How does that sound?”

She can picture it. They’ll be in another country where their family won’t see unless photographers capture them, but they both aren’t the face of the name of their family business yet. They’re still young and free for a little while longer. She’s happy she stumbled into the bar where he as and that he found her when her heart was broke.

“Then be my mistake,” she sighs capturing his lips with hers and they fall back onto the bed a tangle of limbs and moans.

*

“What’s on your mind over there?” she asks while they have breakfast on the balcony. The sun is warm on their backs as they indulge in pancakes, waffles, and bacon.

“I’m thinking of Europe,” he squeezes her calf that is resting on his lap. When they woke up she didn’t bring up the night before of her crying and he didn’t either, but the axe is still hanging over their heads. It’s only a matter of time before it comes striking down.

“That was the longest we were together,” she smiles fondly at the memory of many late starts in the morning. “I loved those three months. And now we only have three—”

“Cressida, don’t,” Ashton shakes his head and sets his espresso cup on the saucer. He drags her onto his lap, and she hooks her arms around his neck and shoulders. “We’ve agreed that when we’re here, the outside world doesn’t exist. We have until Monday to face the music.”

“The music won’t shut up in my head,” she knocks her forehead against his.

“I think I can help with that,” he mutters slipping his hand under the hem of her robe.

Cressida gasps as his finger nudges her center, she tries to kiss him, but her attention is otherwise occupied on his finger that is now twiddling inside her. Her back arches as she rocks on top of him, the shoulder of her robe falls down exposing her breast that Ashton quickly sucks into his mouth. Cressida moans in pleasure from both stimulations, she spreads her legs wider and Ashton bites onto her nipple.

“So pretty when you moan,” he mumbles on her skin and adds another finger. He works her over, scissoring and twiddling against her walls as his thumb presses against her clit harshly.

“Ash!” she chokes out yanking on his hair.

“That’s right, I’m the only thing that should be on your mind. Come for me, baby.”

He moves his arm faster and her toes curl as her head spins in pleasure. She’s panting his name like a prayer then finally slips her tongue in his mouth. This kiss reminds her of their last morning in Europe. They were having breakfast and the finality of their time together loomed over them like a dark cloud. Neither one of them wanted to go because they didn’t know when the next time they’d see each other would be.

She kisses him more fiercely, trying to push that sad memory away and the dark cloud that’s above them now. Sensing her urgency, Ashton removes his fingers from inside her and carries her into the room. She drops to the bed untying her robe watching with hunger in her eyes as he removes his loose sweatpants. He’s already hard and throbbing for her.

Ashton pushes her knees to her chest, kissing over the initials he branded on her skin last night, over her navel and finally to her mouth. He pushes himself inside her, they both groan at him going in dry but he knows it won’t be long until she’s lubricated herself for him.

“You’re perfect for me,” Ashton sighs rocking his hips into hers. The dry rub is becoming more fluid as he thrusts shallowly in and out of her.

“You’re my gold,” her nails scrape into his 5 o’clock shadow and nips at his lips.

“No baby,” he gives her a deep thrust that has her moan loudly. “That’s you.”

When she’s slick enough, Ashton flips her over onto her stomach, her face pressed to the robe and her hair draped over her back gloriously.

“Ready for me, angel?” he asks gripping her hips tightly and presses between her folds.

“Always.”

Ashton drives himself into her, skin slapping against skin drifts outside in the morning breeze. He fucks into her desperately, wanting this moment to last forever and when she starts to rock back against him, he swears he sees stars. They’re frantic, it’s chaotic, it’s their secret of this love affair in physical form.

“Right there, Ash, yes!” she mewls tossing her head back.

Ashton fists his hand into her hair, tilting her head up so he can suck on her neck as he continues to plow into her. She’s choking on moans and his name, begging for her release.

“Give it to me, Cressida,” he breathes, and she falls apart at the sound of her name.

She squeezes on his cock and Ashton can’t hold on much longer from that as she relishes in her orgasm. Before he can comprehend what’s happening, he’s spilling inside her and they collapse onto the bed, their bodies slick with sweat. He’s never come inside her before, a rule they agreed on together because that would only complicate things more. But this weekend, all bets are off.

Her hair sticks to his chest and he trembles, rocking his hips until he’s finished. Ashton brushes her hair from her back, and he kisses sweetly onto her spine while Cressida gathers her breath. She gathers his fingers with hers, bringing them to her lips and kisses them. He breathes her in, a mixture of her own scent and his combined. It’s intoxicating.

“I’ll go get a towel,” he inhales heavily through his nose, the air whistling in her hair.

“Not yet…stay a little longer,” she tightens her hold on his fingers.

He stays until he feels her heartbeat slow against his hand on her chest. With one final kiss he pulls himself gingerly out of her. They both wince at the loss of warmth.

“I’m sorry. I know we agreed not to do that,” he apologizes cleaning her.

She rolls over scooting to the edge of the bed and wraps her arms around his waist. Ashton kisses her hair.

“I’m not sorry. It’s harder to let go now,” she sniffs.

“I know.”

Taglist: @calpalirwin @myloverboyash @loveroflrh @cxddlyash @princesslrh @spicylftv​ @notinthesameguey​ @itjustkindahappenedreally​ @calumance​ @thew0rldneedsmcreycghurt​ @sarcastically-defensive17​ @another-lonely-heart​ @devilatmydoor​ @thatscooibaby​ @suchalonelysunflower​ @dead-and-golden​ @mymindwide​ @blackbutterfliescal​ @redrattlers​ @karajaynetoday​ @quasighost​ @i-like-5sos​ @creampiecashton​ @calpops​ @littledrummeraussie​ @sexgodashton​ @f-mu​ @mystic-232

[mybg3notebook]

The Party Scene

Disclaimer Game Version: All these analyses were written up to the game version v4.1.104.3536 (Early access). As long as new content is added, and as long as I have free time for that, I will try to keep updating this information. Written in June 2021.

In these “scene posts” I will explore the scene of the title looking for the information in the dialogues. What I will be looking for is how much Gale “lies”, how much lore is provided, and any extra detail that may be of our interest to highlight. At the end of these posts there are summary points for those who don't want to read the whole post.

Additional disclaimers about meta-knowledge and interpretations in this (post) while disclaimers about Context in this (one).

The party scene, I personally think, needs plenty of polishing. The fact that many characters can have a "jealous" behaviour towards Tav no matter their approval looks suspicious to me. Gale's case is even weirder because if Tav did not romanced him at all, Gale will still share those judgemental comments that seem to come from jealousy, as well as strange dialogue options about “being a bad loser” when the context is not romantic at all. This would make some sense—to a certain extent—if Tav romanced him, but if Tav locked him as a friend, it has no purpose. Especially if Tav explores the option of suggesting him to spend the night together, which ends with Gale rejecting the situation because "they are just good companions" after such display of incoherent jealousy coming from a char who values privacy (and therefore would not meddle into Tav's personal affairs). It seems to contradict his character and therefore, it makes me suspect that the whole party scene is just very raw and unpolished in general. 

As I said, the party interaction is very confusing since it doesn't follow the relationship context created by Tav, and in Gale's case looks inconsistent with his char as well, inviting a strong misinterpretations of his character (this is probably a consequence of the decision of making Gale part of EA in the last moment). So this scene analysis may be a bit messy since the scenes are messy too (hence this post's length. I'm sorry). 

Whether Gale was locked into friendship or romance, Gale drops his famous line: 

As they say in Waterdeep: In wine there is truth. That's usually followed by: In water there is good sense. Good sense will have to wait till the morrow.

A great warning line from a narrative point of view: he is basically saying that what will be shared that day under the effect of wine is true, but it certainly won't be "good sense".

In a friendship path, he would not want to waste Tav's time any longer, and will bid them a good night while promising a bed-story the next day. In that case, the wine line could be interpreted as the final decision of a confession that will happen the next day: Gale has finally reached a degree of trust in Tav that gives him enough courage to finally speak about the details of the "orb" (and I emphasise details because in broader aspect, he already shared what's most important: the "orb" in his chest is a dangerous thing. If Tav assisted with his death protocol, this is undeniable by now, unless Tav allowed him to keep his privacy). 

In a romantic path, this wine line could be interpreted as the decision of inviting Tav to share a night, and explaining the details in the morning, the “good sense”. After the wine phrase, we have other piece of prose in which Gale describes a book that it's a bit more than a sexual book:

Gale: Allow me to make the following proposition: there is a book that circulates in Amn, detailing the first thousand nights of a newly-wed king and queen. They turned everything they did into an art. The art of conversation. The art of taste, time honoured and newly acquired. The art of the body. The exploration and acceptance of the self and the other. The art of the night itself. I say we take a page from their book. 

Considering that Gale is not only a verbose char, but also a poet and a scholar, the enumeration of the concepts in the description of the book speaks a lot in my opinion. Gale is not inviting Tav to a night of sex (let's remember he never uses that word in EA) but to a deeper degree of "intimacy", as he calls it. There is a lot more involved in what he asks for: confessions in the art of conversation, pleasures in the art of the body, and, hopefully, acceptance. For Gale, acceptance is a big deal: it’s not by chance that he left it last in the enumeration, summarising the whole concepts with the "art of the night". Gale is truly eager to access these concepts, and in doing so, I personally believe he shows a fair level of naivety on this matter. It seems (especially later with his unpolished arguments in the morning) he felt he needed this level of intimacy—of acceptance first—so he could speak the details openly. He wants to have this night before any confession because he thinks that it would allow him to acquire something that would prevent the abandonment that he viscerally fears: acceptance.

Any of the options taken by Tav keeps showing his eagerness. He wants this to happen in whatever terms Tav desires: as a brand new experience (“blank slates on blank sheets”) or with the promise of commitment (writing the prequel of a newly-wed couple). Or if Tav romanced Gale and then chose to spend the night with another companion, Gale will still insist in sleeping together, showing he was open for Tav to have casual sex as long as the "commitment" part would be established with him. This is reinforced by the fact that, if Tav never shared the Weave with Gale, there is no way to sleep with him: Gale is not a character for one-stand nights. He craves for deep connection, for commitment, in whatever fashion he can get it. Mystra taught him not to ask about exclusivity after all.

Gale is so desperate to have this deep connection that if Tav doubts about spending the night with him, he will drop a line which can trigger an alarm in the player:

Tav: I'm not sure you're the one I want. Gale: That's because you've yet to find out what you're missing. Doubt is a spoilsport. Cast it aside.

Gale, the scholar, the one who kept encouraging Tav to doubt and to think critically about everything, suggests to dismiss doubts. Once more we see he needs this to happen. Some players interpret this as manipulation as well. I personally think this also says something else in Gale: since the dev's notes show no second intentions in the only two scenes where dev's notes existed, and instead, they display how much fear Gale has for a second abandonment, Gale is showing here his inexperience with relationships as well as a constant fear for abandonment.

Gale is looking for commitment, for something that can last longer than Mystra's affair did: he wants something solid, but his inexperience in this field made him "acquire" knowledge of how things should work via romanticized means such as books and poetry. In his mind, the acceptance he needs can only be acquired due to the "art of the night", very well detailed in this book he describes. 

It's true that, all this part, if we completely ignore the narrative weight that the book has for a book-based character such as Gale, can be interpreted as Gale manipulating Tav to have sex alone; desperate to obtain it, doing everything in order to get it. We can also see the description of the book as a “bait”, as some people do. It's a valid interpretation, especially for a Tav who respected Gale's privacy during the Loss Scene and the protocol, so that Tav has no information with which to connect the dots. But I personally find it an over-magnification to see him as a "mastermind of manipulation". The few dev's notes we have about Gale seem to confirm that nothing shadier than his “orb” despair and his fear for abandonment are going on. These fears are constantly echoing in his mind, and they are, as I said in other posts, the main reasons why he becomes emotional and prone to make mistakes. 

Is this action manipulative? It can be seen as “withholding information” by any Tav who didn't push him to explain, otherwise, all the information in a general way has been offered already and there is no withholding at all. Is Gale a manipulative character? In EA we don't see a pattern of that behaviour to qualify him as such. He has been quite honest, explaining in all scenes what he can say and what he cannot, drawing his boundaries clean and clear. We saw him struggling with the explanation of what he lost. The few Dev's notes reinforce mainly his fear for abandonment, lacking any manipulative behaviour behind his actions. His pattern, in my opinion, is that he tends to make mistakes in his emotional state, which is mostly triggered by the “orb” and the concept of “abandonment”. Not so much with Mystra per ser. He seems to be nostalgic but more aware of what loving a God causes (his regret is explicit during the conversation of Karsus). He is quite done with "her love as a lover", but that doesn't mean he doesn't want to be forgiven nor he doesn't love her as the essence of Magic itself. More details in the post of "Mystra and her Chosen ones".

After the party, Tav can have a romantic conversation before the sex “intimacy” or can reject the chance. What seems incoherent in this part is when Tav is not in the mood for sex, and Gale simply cuts off the situation. He is a character who craves connection and intimacy, and pretty much like Wyll, he needs a bond before stepping into romance. To waste a night of celebration that could be used to share any other level of intimacy (let's say, talking? The man clearly LOVES to talk) seems strange. If this reaction is truly meant to be in the game, it would seem that he certainly was more desperate for sex than what all the previous scenes hinted, but in that case it would have done little sense to leave the tale of the wizard for the next night. Gale already knew Tav did not want to have sex, so no point in delaying the explanation of the details. I personally suspect these incoherences are a consequence of Gale being added into EA at the last moment, making him more “shadier” than he is meant to be. 

To justify my opinion that this seems to be an unpolished scene: if Gale is not romanced, and conditions are given, Lae'Zel will spend the night with him, talking. Why would Gale prefer to share a night of talks with a companion with whom he had not the Weave connection before, but he won't do it with a Tav who shared it? I see some incongruence here, probably as the result of being added into the EA in a rush. His scenes are less polished and much more messier than the other companions' (certainly not more than Wyll, though) and his bugs and triggering priority show it. 

This part is also seen as "coercive" by some players:

Tav: I’m sorry, but I actually don’t think I can do this. I’m just not in the mood. Gale: Not even a simple kiss would change your mind? Tav: No, it wouldn’t.

Tav: Maybe a kiss was enough Gale: Are you sure? One kiss is like one chord in an entire symphony. It begs for more.

Gale: (disapproval) What a pity. One should never be afraid to live life to the fullest. Before we part.. I know there are many things about me that remain shrouded in mystery. You’ve been very patient with me, and I appreciate that. You’ve brought me back from the grey shores of death. You know of my condition, and you know about my unfortunate efforts to win Mystra’s favour, but those are but the broad strokes. The time has come to paint you the true picture. So come find me another night, yes? No kisses, just words. (Leaves)

Asking seems to be coercive for some people just because there is a disapproval. I personally separate very clearly what Tav sees and receives as information from the NPCs and what I, the player, do. Tav should react to what they see, but the player is having a “meta-knowledge” of the situation with the info of the narrator and the approval system. The player knows Gale is disappointed in not having intimacy now, and he expresses it. Then he behaves completely natural, and continues talking (of course) about what he will explain about in the following morning (I don't understand what impedes him to say it in that moment: is it the wine? He fears his charisma checks are at a disadvantage due to the wine? Is it just a reflection of the rush in which he was added to the game? We will see in the full release. To me it looks inconsistent.)

Anyways. The scene continues in the early morning or simply the next night depending on what option Tav picked. Here, Gale presents the details of the revelation: “It is a story full of answers long overdue. It is a story of a man who fell in love with a goddess.”

Tav: You're really about to tell me about another lover? What's wrong with you? Gale :I couldn’t do it before. I couldn’t ruin the chance for us to happen. You were there. How could I say no to you? Dev's notes: Gale revealed he was in love with Mystra. He tells this the morning after. Understandably, the player can react negatively to his timing. He tries to explain himself. 

This line clearly shows that there was an intention in hiding the relationship he had with Mystra, which it's an “answer long overdue” (is it?). Now, some players consider this the proof of Gale's manipulations; the greatest betrayal, because people are entitled to know all the details of their partner's past before sleeping with them. Other players consider that it's in poor taste to disclose this exactly the morning after sharing the night with Gale. And I agree. However, I see a scene with a lot of over-magnifications and making things more problematic than they truly are. In my opinion, “the chance for us to happen” is deeply linked to the book of Amn for all the reasons explained before. It's not by chance that this book has such a weight in the scene. Gale also shows with this line that he has no experience nor idea how relationships develop. 

I also think that Gale fails so much in delivering decent lines in this scene because, 1) this is a very unpolished text in EA, or 2) this is very on purpose, emphasising that Gale is ready to speak about the two topics that turn him into an emotional disaster and his word choices could be attributed to as someone failing many charisma checks. Maybe that's the intention.

If Tav considers this the greatest of the betrayals they can tell him to leave and Gale will not resist the rejection, leaving the party immediately and facing one of his biggest fears: Abandonment. And once more, the abandonment as a consequence of his own mistake. The irony of this path. 

If Tav allows him to explain, Gale will accept any "judgement after telling his story". This is something very related to Gale's approvals: to have a complete grasp of a situation, you need to have all the evidence, hear all the details of the event, before drawing a conclusion. And curiously, no matter what aggressive option Tav picks, Gale gives no disapproval unless he is forced to leave the party. So, after some dramatic reaction, Gale will try to proceed with the telling.

Tav: It’s clear as day you are talking about yourself, you know Gale: I know, but a bit of narrative distance will make it all so much easier in the telling. Indulge me.

From here, Gale gives Tav another courtesy gesture: to pick the version in which this will be explained. He clarifies that the long version, more pompous and verbose and in third person, is the one he would prefer due to the distance. Since the first meeting on the road, or the stew scene, passing through the Loss Scene, we see this pattern again: Gale, the character who always has a lot of things to speak about, has also topics that are difficult to explain and needs to use narrative tricks to do it. Not by chance he is a reserved person: those topics he can't talk about are always personal. 

Long version

Gale: Once upon a time, not quite that long ago, there lived a wizard in a tower. The wizard was what one might call a prodigy, who from an early age could not only control the Weave, but compose it, like a musician or a poet. Such was his skill that it earned him the attention of the mother of magic herself. The Lady Of Mysteries, Mystra.

Tav: What did Mystra’s attention feel like? Gale: Love.  Dev's Notes: nostalgic, regretful, bitter, sad, lost romance–all with a bit of hesitation on the front of the line. Tav :He sounds like a very talented individual Gale: He was. Even though it was in Mystra’s affections that his true power lay. Tav: Teacher’s pet, was he? Gale: He fancied himself much more than that. He fancied himself favoured above all others. 

These three options give interesting additional information: Gale was convinced that Mystra's attention was love, because he was young and naive. He is now very aware that his talent meant little, because the true power he had was in Mystra's affections, meaning in being a loved Chosen one. He fancied himself unique, as a Chosen would do. 

Gale: Perhaps it was not quite love, Dev's Notes: A little embarrassed Gale: but you see, the wizard was but a very young man. It was most certainly love to him. Mystra showed him the secrets behind the veils. The gossamer veils first, draped across the Weave. The delicate veils next, draped across her body. ‘Chosen One’ she whispered, as she slipped them off completely.

This is another fragment with interesting, yet disturbing lines: Gale now, as a narrator, questions if that past feeling was Love. He has matured his sentiments for Mystra, they are less "teenager-like". He is convinced that in the past it was love to him, implying that now he has doubts (concept reinforced once more by the end of the scene). The disturbing line is the definition of "very young man", which I will talk about in the post of "Gale Hypotheses- Part 1", section: "Grooming". 

Tav: The veils draped across the Weave? Gale: Indeed. What most wizards perceive is but the ripple of the Weave’s surface. Untold wonders lie beyond. I enjoyed them for a while, as we enjoyed each other.

Once more, in these details, the narrative reinforces how intense is the connection of Mystra with a Chosen one. Again, this is lore information. Chosen ones have a deep connection with Mystra/the Weave/Magic, which is unique. More on this matter can be read in the post about "Mystra and her Chosen ones".

Gale: One day all too soon, the whispers stopped. The goddess spurned the mortal. The veils were drawn once more, and the wizard was left behind heartbroken.

Tav: Poor wizard Gale: Poor wizard. Silly wizard too, for he wouldn’t take no for an answer Tav: What happened next? // I hate to say it, but he really could have seen this coming Gale: He was blinded by love. Good stories are rife with lovers’ follies after all. Tav: Perhaps she, like you, had other lovers she didn’t tell him about. Gale : She might well have had, but that didn’t stop the wizard from trying to reclaim her affections.

Gale: Like so many of the heartbroken, he did something infinitely foolish. One has to think big if one seeks to win back a goddess. So the wizard thought big. [Here he explains all about Karsus who] sought to usurp the goddess of magic so that he could become a god himself. He almost managed but not quite, and his entire empire – Netheril – came crashing down around him as he turned to stone. The magic unleashed that day was phenomenal, rolling like the prime chaos that outdated creation. A fragment of it was caught and sealed away in a book. No ordinary book, mind you; a tome of gateways that contained within it a bubble of Astral Plane. It was a fragment of primal Weave locked out of time – locked away from Mystra herself. ‘What if’, the silly wizard thought. ‘What if after all this time, I could return this lost part of herself to the Goddess?”

Another part of the scene that keeps giving us a lot of information: Gale is very aware now how silly he was in his youth (at this point, one can almost remember his words during Arabella's quest: she is not innocent but that doesn't mean she is guilty) and his past young self was unable to take a no as an answer (which apparently Gale learnt very well when before this revelation or after, Tav can reject him and he simply leaves the party without putting much resistance, despite knowing that Tav only has a fragment of the big picture). The other answer reinforces his blindness by this strange concept that Gale thought it was love, and pretty much uses the word Folly for describing or making an analogy with his past, which again, it's not a casual word: Folly is a formal way to say stupidity and it's also a word that Gale uses to compare his mistake with Karsus' folly. As an extra, the last answer seems to explain very much what he does when Tav romanced him and then slept with another companion. Details of this in the post "Gale Hypotheses- Part 2", section: "Proposition to Cheat".

Short version: 

This version is shorter and more into the point without an excess of dramatic details that may end up annoying Tav more than making the process of comprehension better. The short version makes much more clear where Gale is standing: the facts are presented without his typical pattern of embellishing the story.

Gale: […] I am what one might call a wizard prodigy, who from an early age could not only control the Weave, but compose it like a virtuoso. Such was my skill that it earned me the attention of Mystra herself. I soon fell in love with her, and she returned my affections. […] Before long Mystra tired of me. What was I, after all, but a mortal plaything in sacred hands? You have to realise I was heartbroken. I was a young man, she was my first love. I thought it would last forever. 

This part reinforces once more that he is very aware that a relationship with a goddess was very unbalanced, that Mystra was his first love, he was a young man, and he thought it would last forever. 

For completion's sake, the goblin version has a different introduction:

Gale: Let's just get this over with. No doubt you've guessed by now there was something rather special about my relationship with the goddess Mystra. The thing is, we were lovers once. I am what one might call a wizard prodigy [...follows the same speech of the short version]

Three versions converge in the kneeling. The scene in this point has a different narrative value; a proud character as he is, who has a deep regret for his mistake with the “orb” (he says it explicitly in the "Loss Scene" post) kneels before Tav to humbly show the traumatic experience by placing their hand on his heart, where the “orb” resides:

Gale: Here. Place your hand over my heart. Let me show you Narrator: You feel the tadpole quiver as you realise Gale is letting you in. Into the dark. You see through Gale’s eyes, staring down the corridors of a dread memory. A book, bound, then suddenly opened. Inside there are no pages, only a swirling mass of blackest Weave that pounces. It’s teeth, it’s claws, it’s unstoppable as it digs through you and becomes part of you. And gods, is it ever hungry…

This scene speaks of opennesses in all senses, honest and without any interest of pretence: Gale is showing his greatest regret, the lowest of the lowest he reached, the despair that it inspires. For once, he is not talking, he is showing it (because the experience is the one that makes him speechless and its memory seems to cause him great pain too due to the facial gesticulation). And what Tav sees shows again that Gale has nothing extra to hide: this has been the same exact information that Tav could extract from him in earlier opportunities with successful tadpole intrusions. So, if Tav never reveals that they saw this in Gale during the stew scene, Tav will realise that Gale kept his promise: he was reserved for a while, trusting slowly in Tav, to finally open up and show that he was going to explain the “why” much more later, because it's truly difficult for Gale to speak about.

1-Yank your hand away Gale: Terrifying isn’t it? And that is only the beginning 3-Tav: Gods – why show me this? Gale: I’m sorry, but I had to. After all, that is only the beginning 4-Tav: I slept with a monster. Gale: I didn’t sleep with a monster despite the tadpole in your head. We are none of us monsters. We are merely hatcheries for monstrous things. So we fight them.

This is one of the most ominous information Gale gives us, in my opinion: The experience of how the “Black Weave” rushed into his body is grotesque and painful, and it's meant to cause despair. But that was only the beginning: Gale is everyday dealing with that feeling, but on a bigger scale as its hunger increases with each passing day. The descriptions of his emotions during the artefact scenes adds more despair and anxiety to it. Gale is living in the worst mental state that a person can, but he manages it thanks to his wizard training and the Weave he consumes (he is still alive thanks to Magic, of all things). This shows the mental power of a wizard in DnD. And if you read the post about "Well-known Characters" section: "Elminster", Gale could have been inspired in him since I can see this level of endured torture similar to the one that Elminster was exposed to when he was kidnapped and dragged to the Hells. 

Gale: This Netherese taint.. this orb, for lack of a better word, is balled up inside my chest. And it needs to be fed. As long as it absorbs Weave it remains stable – to an extent. The moment it becomes unstable, however..[...] It will erupt. I don’t know the exact magnitude of the eruption, but given my studies of Netherese magic, I’d say even a fragment as small as the one I carry…. It’d level a city the size of Waterdeep. Dev's Notes: He admits he’s a walking disaster waiting to happen. This is said very seriously. The truth is finally out and he has no idea how the player will react to such monstrous news.” 

Tav: I should godsdamned kill you Gale: Perhaps that is what I deserve, but you deserve no such thing. To kill me is to unleash the orb. I understand your anger, I do […]

Here is where we know that Gale calls it “orb”, but it's not an orb. For more details, read the post about the "Orb". Tav already knew since the Stew scene that Gale could cause a catastrophe without artefacts. In this scene we just get some extra details about it. 

Gale: It is my truth, finally revealed. It is this folly that led Mystra to abandon me completely. I can only hope you won’t abandon me as well. After all we’ve been through.. (After the night we spent together). Surely we can brave even this side by side. Dev's notes: Solemn. Full of yearning his news will not lead to him being abandoned by the player.

And there, Gale's “truth” is “revealed” (not truly, it is only more detailed in the information): We know that the Weave he consumes from the artefacts keeps this condition stable (something we already knew since the Stew Scene) and it will erupt if it doesn't consume artefacts (which is something we knew since the Stew Scene too). So the revelation scene is not so much of a revelation. The whole scene has a writing with a lot of weight in “shocking” revelations and “dramatic” reactions when the context provided shows that there is little to be shocked about, in my opinion. If anything, this whole scene needs serious polishing.

Then it follows the “coercive” part according to some players, which again... it's only Gale hoping this situation doesn't end in a second abandonment. The concept that the “intimacy” of the shared night gives more reasons to stay by his side seems pretty naïve, but maybe that was the intention (thus my suspicion that Gale has no experience at all in relationships, only what he learnt from romantic books). What it's clear is that after the detailed explanation, Gale is desperate to avoid a second abandonment, yet he knows it's unavoidable. This can be seen when Tav doesn't forgive his betrayal (?) of not saying anything about Mystra or the "orb" (he did in the Stew and following scenes, but this context is not acknowledged here), and Gale simply accepts it, showing that Mystra's experience made him learn to accept a no, leaving the party forever (in EA). 

Tav: No. This is too large a betrayal. Gale: I see. I am sorry. I am sorry that it had to come to this. All that’s left to say is farewell. Dev's Notes: A slight hesitation, hurt but understanding. He makes a polite little bow, then we see him walk away.

Really, I don't understand what happened with this scene because it's either ignoring any annoyance that the situation can cause on a Tav who didn't push Gale to talk, or it offers an over-reaction when all the information has been shared already, at least in a very generalised way during the Stew Scene. A Tav who doesn't push Gale to speak will have no more details than the ones provided during the Stew Scene at this point in the game, but one who pushed Gale will basically have the whole story covered. The Rpg-options we get here are so white-and-black, and not even coherent with the context, no wonder so many players turned Gale into a “mastermind in manipulation”. This scene is very unpolished in my opinion.

Tav: Gale, are you still in love with Mystra? Gale: I’ll be honest with you; I don’t know. She is my muse still, the embodiment of magic, but the embodiment of love? Only if we ever meet again will I know

Here we have once more confirmation that Gale questions what kind of love he has for Mystra. Considering all the context he gave us previously, it seems that his love for his Goddess as a devotee will never cease, but romantic love is a big question for him. He has given Tav all the hints to make them suspect that Gale probably never knew romantic love outside his experience with Mystra or what he could read in books.

Tav: What would permanently rid you of the orb? Gale: The orb was kept safe and inert in a pocket of Astral Plane, suspended in time. If I can somehow manage to expel it from my body while in the Astral Plane, it will be rendered inert again. Alternatively, I could learn to control it’s chaotic magic, that is; to succeed where I failed before. But without Mystra’s favour, I don’t see how that may come to pass. Of course there could be different answers as well. Faerûn brims with more magic than any one wizard could fathom, let alone comprehend. Who knows what outlandish solutions may yet present themselves?

The last bits of information are more interesting: Gale thought of two possible solutions to solve his “orb”problem. One is to expel the object out of his body in the Astral Plane where time doesn't exist so its hunger or ticking mechanism stops, so the magic will remain inert. The other option is to control Netherese magic. He informed Tav that he already tried this option, so it's clear that Gale's intention when obtaining this book was to master this strange piece of Weave and give the secrets of that control to Mystra. But he failed.

Summary of the post:

There is an important emphasis in acceptance: only through acceptance Gale can open up to share the details of his mistake. He wants to have this night before any confession because he wants to acquire this acceptance that, in his mind, would prevent the abandonment he viscerally fears.

In all the scenes there are many hints suggesting Gale is very inexperienced in relationships: the acceptance he needs can only be acquired due to the "art of the night'', which is one of the main points in this book. His notions related to relationships seem to have been acquired via romanticised means: books and poetry. He may believe that intimacy guarantees acceptance.

Gale “reveals” his truth: he was a Chosen of Mystra, he was Mystra's lover, and the “orb” problem was a mistake he made to earn Mystra's attention. All this information is now detailed here when it had been shared already. There is little “revelation” in it.

Gale's actions can be interpreted as manipulative for a Tav who respects his privacy and has little information about the “orb”. But hardly the pattern extends to his behaviour. His need for acceptance makes him make bad decisions.

A Tav who pushed Gale to speak in previous scenes finds little new information in this one: they will have a more detailed picture of the situation and they will know that Gale and Mystra were lovers.

Gale is very aware that Mystra's love was not exactly love, but it felt like that when he was young. He also knows that the true power of a Chosen is related to being loved by her. He is also aware that a relationship with a goddess is a very unbalanced one. He states that Mystra was his first love, the affair happened when he was a (very) young man, and he thought it would last forever. 

Potent narrative image: Gale, a proud character with great confidence, kneels before Tav to humbly show the traumatic experience by placing his hand on his heart, where the “orb”resides.

In general, the whole tone of the scene jumps constantly in my opinion. Tav's options are not toned to the general atmosphere of the scene: or they ignore completely the value of what Gale says, or over-react magnifying information as if it were the first time Gale says it, when a lot of it was shared during the Stew Scene and following scenes. It feels like a very unpolished scene, probably as the result of Gale being a companion added to the EA in a rush.

The Dev's notes explain the whole situation as: 

Dev's notes: synopsis: The principal portion of this dialog consists of two main parts: a romantic night intro that leads to a fade to black and implied intimacy, and a section in which Gale tells you his true story in either of two ways (chosen by the player). These are the ‘story’ variant in third person, and the slimmed down ‘story-light’ version in first person. It is the story of how he fell in love with the goddess Mystra, was spurned by her after a brief affair, and how he got himself into big trouble when trying to win her back. The dialog was originally meant to contain only the above, but for recording and cinematic purposes, the story sections of it are also used in a variety of other ways, that is to say, the dialog also contains an intro section in which the scene begins with no romantic intent. In specific cases though, Gale will still try his luck, which you’ll see in the repeat of some lines of an earlier dialog. 

This shows that, so far, the intention was always to make Gale explain the “true story” in this scene, which was the one we were told. I think that expecting more secrets would water down this intention here. In any case, the future secrets, if there are some left, may be secret even for Gale himself.

This post was written in June 2021. → For more Gale: Analysis Series Index

[idkthisisjustforfanfic]

C A L L  M E  C A T, chapter nine

January 2017

We had time off near the holidays, space for all of us was good. The rush of our record deal and newfound fame was suffocating in moments, exhilarating in others. 

Niall journeyed back to Ireland and Miles back up north to Massachusetts. Jules’ parents were only in Connecticut, and Harry had already made the trip back to the UK to see his family. 

By the time the New Year came, I was sick of being in Florida with no friends and minimal interaction from my parents. Our last night together as a band was the night of my drunken exit, something that we all knew was awkward and tense but didn’t dare to mention the next morning. 

Being around my parents made me drink less just because I feared becoming them. Which was probably good for both my liver and my mind, but bad for my emotional state. It had been a few weeks since I’d spoken to Miles or Harry. Jules would check in just to make sure I hadn’t murdered my parents yet, Niall sent pictures of his nephew and the pints he was drinking back home. 

I sat on the back patio a few days into 2017, sunglasses on to block the sun and hoping to get a bit of a glow on the unseasonably warm day. My phone buzzed beside me and pulled my attention back to the pool in front of me, my parents were both at work and I finally had a minute without them to gather my thoughts. 

Nothing about the sunshine state made me want to stay, especially not the locked door down the hall that had been untouched since 2011. The bed was likely unmade and I was sure dust had collected on the trophies that lined his shelves. 

I picked up my phone and read the message that had just come through, one that made me want to abandon my home state more than I already did. 

Harry Styles (1:03pm): Random question, are you still in Florida?

I looked around the backyard, boats buzzed by on the water and the waves glimmered in the sun.

Cat Fonder (1:04pm): Unfortunately

Harry Styles (1:04pm): Me too.

I pulled up the phone and read it twice before I pressed the phone icon near his name. It rang once before he answered. 

“Hi!”

“What are you doing in Florida?”

“Well--bit of an airline issue, so I ended up on a flight here instead of New York. I’m stuck here overnight.”

“That sucks,” I admitted, turning on my side on the pool lounge chair. “What are you going to do?”

“Well,” he took a pause, but I could tell he’d already decided. “You’re going to come get me at the airport.”

“What makes you think that?”

He laughed on the other end of the phone. “I mean, you wouldn’t let me sleep overnight in the Miami airport would you?” I let out a groan for him to hear, laughed a little when he threw in: “I know you have enough bedrooms at your parents house.”

Marta, our longtime housekeeper and an adopted member of our family, slid open the door to the living room. “Do you want lunch?”

“In a few!” I called back to her. “Harry--you can Uber here if you want.”

“Oh just come pick me up--how far do you live from the airport?”

“From Miami? Like an hour and a half!”

“Which is exactly why I’m not paying for an Uber, Catherine.”

I exhaled through my nose, licked at my lips, already regretting the decision to take one of my dad’s cars into a Miami afternoon. The air was sticky and the climb in my heartbeat made me feel stupid and childish. Harry’s chastising on the other end didn’t help. 

“Did you hang up on me? Why aren’t you saying anything?”

“Cause I’m trying to think of a plan to be in a car with you and not kill you.”

He let out a belly laugh at this, noise from the busy airport terminal was seeping through the speaker and into my ears. “I’ll make sure we don’t lay any hands on each other.”

Goosebumps rose on my skin, his voice almost melodic when he said see you soon!

I grabbed the keys and took a sandwich for the road from Marta, prayed to some type of higher power that I didn’t rear end someone or fuck up my dad’s Mercedes. He drove the Tesla to work, which was good, honestly, because I wouldn’t even know how to turn that one on. 

It took me only an hour and fifteen, which didn’t seem like a result of my timid driving but more the lack of traffic and time of day. When I rolled up to the baggage claim and saw him standing on the curb with sunglasses pushed up and a hood over his head, I rolled the window down. 

“How’s the disguise working?”

He made a face at me, stuffed his suitcase in the backseat and climbed in front. “You joke, but there were girls who literally cried when they saw me. And a few photographers, I think--which is really weird.”

“Really?” I looked over my shoulder and put on my blinker, hoping to merge effortlessly over three lanes to get out of the hellhole that was Miami International. 

“Yeah--don’t know why but people apparently like our band in Florida. Hometown pride, maybe.”

He had a point--apparently my name had been one of the most searched google phrases in the state at the end of 2016. But we weren’t really paparazzi level yet, once or twice in New York or LA when we’d do shows, but they’d yet to really follow us around.

“Okay, well you might have to be silent the rest of the ride if you want to get to Palm Beach in one piece.”

He turned towards me with an amused look. “Do you suck at driving?”

“No,” I said, looking over at him quickly, a car merged in front of me and made me swerve to the side a little bit when I took my eyes off the road. 

“Jesus fuck!” He laughed, “oh god--you would be absolutely rubbish at driving. This is actually extremely on brand for you.”

“I’m not rubbish at driving,” I twisted my face. “I’m just out of practice.”

We made it four miles away from the airport before he demanded that I get out and let him drive, arguing that even if the steering wheel was on the other side and we drove on the wrong side of the road, he’d be a safer bet. 

He got a coffee at a gas station and took a picture of me with the girl behind the register, more pleasant than I’d ever seen him be. He put the windows down and played me the songs he’d been listening to over the holidays and laughed when he pointed at my hands. “You got a manicure!”

I hid my face, embarrassed at the sellout I’d become. Thirteen whole days in town and my mother had convinced me to sit beside her, watch daytime talk shows while the spa ladies buffed and snipped our cuticles. 

She made me, I laughed. You might end up with one too before you leave.

We rolled up to Island Drive right before my parents got home from work and Harry leaned towards the window to get a better view of the house. His mouth hung open when we turned into the shrub-lined driveway. “Jesus, Cat. What do your parents do again?”

“Work too much,” I told him. “Mom’s a dentist and my dad’s a financial advisor. They’re super obnoxious so please try to interact with them at a minimum like Marta and I do.”

“Marta?”

“Housekeeper, my old nanny--she’s part of the family.”

He nodded, still taking in the fountain and manicured lawn when I pulled his suitcase from the backseat. Harry had known that my parents were wealthy--mainly from the time that Miles made me sound like an obnoxious rich kid when we wrote at their apartment. But Harry was apparently surprised by the level of wealth that was held in Palm Beach. His lips parted when I brought him in the front door, views of the water over the crest of the lawn and the pool, eyes landing on mine after a few seconds. 

“And you moved to New York, why?”

I kept my voice quiet, didn’t want Marta to hear my bluntness from the other room. “To get out of here.”

But soon she smiled and rushed over, eager to take Harry’s suitcase and bring it to the guest room. She offered him tea and coffee and all of the snacks that he joked he would have held out for if he knew she was here and waiting.

I brought him upstairs to show him the room he could sleep in, around the corner from mine, a view of the side yard and the gardens that a landscaping company tended to every Saturday morning. I laid the ground rules: no mentioning our partying, no mentioning times when I’ve been too drunk. If he wanted a free place to sleep with good food and a king-sized bed, he needed to keep his mouth shut about that stuff. 

He saluted me and stifled a laugh. “Yes ma’am.”

“I’m serious,” I told him. “Just be quiet, don’t give them a reason to ask you any questions.”

“Alright--I mean, come on, they can’t be that bad.”

As if on cue--as if Harry showing up in Florida wasn’t enough bad karma for one day--the alarm beeped downstairs letting me know one of them was home. Lorna first, she came in with big sunglasses and greeted Harry with a smile, her hand outstretched for her afternoon glass of Chardonnay before Marta could even hang her keys up by the door. 

Frank strolled in a little after six pm, dinner was almost ready when Harry excused himself to the bathroom and I took it as my opportunity to corner my mother before she was too drunk to remember it. 

I knocked on her office door twice, waited for her to look up from her computer before I took a few steps inside. “Hi, dear,” she said, a small smile before she looked back to the papers on her desk. 

“Hi--I just wanted to uh, ask you a favor, actually.” I approached her with my hands on my hips, unsure if I’d get her full attention or if I’d have to snap my fingers to get her eyes back on me. I sat down in the chair across from her, a formal chess move to let her know I was serious.

“What’s that?” She leaned back in her chair and waited for me to spit it out. Her direct eye contact made me nervous, I stammered over my words and tried to sway her by bringing my dad into it. 

“I, uh, just asked dad the same thing--he said it was fine.”

“Just spit it out, Catherine.”

“Can we not talk about Cameron in front of Harry?”

She set down her glasses at this, watched me for a second before she tilted her head to the side. “Okay.”

“Like, at all. Okay? Not even once.”

She sighed, almost as if my request was painful for her to consider. “Okay, if that’s what you want.”

Maybe she’d tone it down with a stranger in the house. Maybe not talking about Cameron for someone else’s benefit would make her respect the limit more than she had in the past. 

I had hoped for so long that one day it’d stop, one day she’d forget his name or leave it out of conversation even if just for my sake. But my mother was too selfish for that--always forgetting that while she was grieving a son, I was grieving my other half. 

I should have known she couldn’t help herself--she had to relive the moment over and over, desperate to keep herself alive in the past as if it was safer than the present. His name slipped  out of her mouth like she didn’t even realize it, I nearly choked on my asparagus at the dinner table when she said it.

Harry was busy making small talk about our upcoming album, the studio sessions we’d be heading into once we flew back to the city. “Our manager said it’ll be good timing to release an album, makes us eligible for award season the following year.”

She pretended to be interested, pretended to care for a second about our careers, but then she did it. “Reminds me of the time Cameron won that award--”

“Mom,” I said it quick, my hands falling to the table with a thud, fork and knife in my grasp when I cut her off. “Don’t.”

The noise startled Harry, but the genuine smile on his face only faltered a little. “No, I’d love to hear the story,” he didn’t even have a clue to the fire he was igniting.

“We talked about it mom,” I gave her a death glare--which I could tell threw her off. She was frozen, torn between pleasing her dinner guest and pissing off her daughter, two of her favorite past times. 

She gestured at Harry. “Well I don’t want to be rude, Catherine.”

“Dad,” I looked over to see him on his phone, my voice pleading for him to intervene. 

“Lorna, leave it alone,” he said, disinterested, phone screen still lit up like he was begging for a distraction. 

“Oh,” she sighed, sarcasm threaded in her words. “Right--we don’t go there.”

Harry was across from me, mid-bite of his steak. He looked from me and to my mom, then back, while he chewed. He had no clue what was happening but he could tell he’d said the wrong thing. 

My mom picked up her wine glass, brought it to her lips and offered a sweet smile in Harry’s direction. “Nevermind, dear--don’t want to upset Catherine.” 

I rolled my eyes and stood from the table, “Harry, do you want to go for a walk?” 

He was caught off guard, still uncomfortably in the middle when he nodded quickly, stood from the table and thanked both of my parents for letting him stay the night as I headed for the front door. He hurried out behind me, his voice barely a whisper in the hallway. “Did I do that? Did I fuck up?”

“No,” I said, calling to Marta over my shoulder. “Dinner was delicious, Marta! We’ll be back!”

“What even happened in there?” He asked, still a few steps behind me once we walked out onto the moonlit driveway. 

I stopped short and turned around, the anger in my chest was threatening to spill out and onto the concrete. “Nothing--my mother is just fucking stupid and selfish.”

“So the intimidating level of rage coming off of you is not my fault?”

“What? No.”

I spun around again and headed for the street, a left turn towards the familiar route that I’d escape to when something like this happened. He walked beside me on the tree-line street, silent and steady until the neighborhood opened up. The same empty field at the end of the road that gave access to the lagoon, the same location I’d come to so many times after storming away from dinner as a kid. Doing it at 22 felt no different than at 15.

He shoved his hands in his pockets when we stepped onto the grass. “What is this place?”

“I don’t know--an empty field at the end of my street.”

“Is this your ponder spot?”

I looked over my shoulder, his face was lit up by the glow of the streetlights. “Ponder spot?”

He nodded and offered a shrug, “you know, the place you run off to when you need space.”

I bit back a laugh, embarrassed that his words couldn’t have been more accurate. He took my silence as confirmation, followed me over to a picnic table that sat close to the end of the water.

I threw a leg over the bench and let my head rest on top, a groan escaping my lips once I felt his weight shift the structure. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

I shook my head but didn’t lift it, so he let me sit in silence for a little while. A breeze blew my hair around and after a few minutes, he sighed, like he already knew the answer but wanted to ask anyway. “Do you want to tell me who Cameron is?”

That got me to raise my head. “Definitely not.”

He smirked a little, a tiny nod as if to tell me he wouldn’t push it. He reached a hand over and patted my thigh, chin in his hand as he watched people cruise by on their boats. 

For the first time I felt comfortable with him--not pressured or panicked. He brought his eyes over to me and then fished into the pocket of his jeans. He pulled out a small joint, a dimple appeared on his cheek when he said: “I found this in the guest room.”

“Shut up,” I laughed, pulling it from him and sniffing it to inspect. “Did you really?”

He nodded, “which one of your parents is the stoner?”

“Well my mom is too high strung, so--must be Frank.”

He pulled out a lighter and held it up, watched when I placed it between my lips and then inhaled. I passed it over to him, thankful for a buffer between us now aside from the moon and the breeze. 

Smoke escaped my lips and floated towards the stars, he drummed his fingers on the table before I passed it to him. “Do you feel overwhelmed ever?”

“Ever?” He laughed at my question, licked his lips and then looked out over the water. 

“I mean by the music stuff lately.”

He shrugged. “Excited mostly. Why? Do you?”

I nodded, unafraid to admit that being home brought a different layer of complexity to life. “My parents will just never get it.”

“Doesn’t mean you’re not successful.”

I looked down at the faded wood and the fresh coat of polish on my nails. “It kind of feels that way, though--you know, if a tree falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it, did it really happen?”

He stared at me for a second, sure that I was joking. “You’re mental,” he said. “The tree is down on the ground, of course it fell. Who fucking cares if they were around to hear it or not?”

I nodded, took the joint back from him and took another inhale, reminded of the first time we did this type of thing. 

He passed it to me, watched as I let smoke dance through the chilly air before he asked: “Why do you go by Cat?”

Another shrug, how I answered most questions these days. Do you have nightmares about it? Do you think about him all the time? Do you feel easily agitated? 

“Just don’t like Catherine. Too formal.”

I didn’t want to get into it. My mother calls me that, my brother called me that, all good reasons to pack up and leave behind in the childhood bedroom that held bad memories.

“I like Catherine,” he admitted. “S’pretty.”

I let my eyes sweep over to him, the moon reflected in his eyes, curls of hair poked out from the beanie on his head. “Just--don’t call me that, please.”

He laughed, completely unaware of the way it made my chest heave in the shower or the way it sent a shiver down my spine when my mom had to cut herself off--Catherine and Cameron--no, just Catherine. 

I had to correct her now too. Catherine felt like it needed to be followed by something, another name, the one that had been linked to mine since birth, born two minutes apart. 

“I think you’re pretty fucking successful, you know.”

I glanced over at him. “Yeah?”

A single nod. His short hair was still something to get used to, it bent in the wind and blocked his eyes when he turned to look at me. “I will never admit I said this, but, we’d be nothing without you.”

“Well, we only got big once you came along.”

He smirked, “so you’re aware of that?”

I gave him a shove, shaking my head at his stupid ego. His eyes lingered on mine for a second, his knee knocked against mine when he flicked the joint and then he let out a sigh. 

I wanted to lean in and kiss him, and I probably would have if it weren’t for Lila. As far as I knew she was home in New York, maybe in Jersey with her parents or siblings, but certainly an obstacle to whatever kind of intoxicated hook up could have happened between us.

I cleared my throat and looked up at the sky. “Do you want to go write a song?”

He smiled, a soft one, nodded a few times and patted me on the thigh again before he stood up and offered me a hand. “I’d love to.”

He followed me back to the house, up the stairs to my bedroom and stared at the ceiling while I plucked at the guitar. 

I don’t know where I wanna go,

But it’s far away from here

Don’t know what I’m running from

If it’s you or me, my dear

He watched, listened, nodded along while it poured out of me, more of a witness than a participant. 

It’s good, Cat, he said, keep going.

Everybody’s talking now

But no one seems to say  a thing

I do my best to drown them out

I just wish that I could be

Somewhere far away from here

Back to myself, back where I could see clear

Somewhere far away from here

Won’t somebody take me far away from here?

Sleep was heavy on my eyelids, Harry down the hall and a rough version already sent off in an email to Niall before I realized he’d said it. Four and a half years of begging him to say it, call me Cat, hoping one day he’d just give in and go along with it. All this time I thought fighting him and pushing him away would make it happen. 

It was fitting, I guess, that it was the exact opposite that finally got me what I wanted. 

**

Niall was excited that Harry had accidentally landed himself in Miami, and he was even more excited when he learned that I told him he could stay with me an extra few days before I was due to return to Manhattan and the responsibilities of work. 

He was eager to see my town, made me drive him by the high school and the parking lot where I learned--or failed, according to him--to parallel park. He swam in the pool and spit water in my face, completely deconstructing the wall I had managed to build over the last few years with a single glance in my direction. 

He promised he stayed because he was having fun, not just because flying home with me meant a first class seat.

It was rare, these days, too, that I found myself on a boat. A few times since the accident, maybe three or four. But his excitement and delight was contagious when he learned my parents still had one--the same one--and it was down on a dock off the backyard. 

I let the motor hum to life, pinks and purples splashed over the sky on our last night when he popped a bottle of champagne. I wondered if Lila knew he was here--he seemed undisturbed by his phone and altogether disconnected and unplugged. 

I drove us out to the middle of the lagoon, dropped anchor and told him about the time I learned to swim off the back. I was three or four, always in a life vest and completely unaware of the irony that my life was accumulating. 

Cam would jump off first, his floaties on his arms as he swam over to my dad who’d be in the water already. My mom would clap and snap pictures, throw us a noodle or two and then wrap us in towels back on board the boat. 

Harry was treading water beside me, though, hair dripping wet after he’d pulled off his shirt and shorts. 

I laughed when he dared me to jump in after him, said he hoped my swimming skills were better than they were back then. He splashed enough water at me on the boat before I gave in, promised he wouldn’t watch me undress and wouldn’t tell a soul that we’d been this cliché, swimming in our underwear and conversation laced with champagne giggles. So I tossed my shirt to the side and shimmied out of my shorts before I let myself sink under the surface. 

When I came up, he was watching me. 

“What?”

“Nothing--just--s’been nice to hang out with you.”

I twisted my face at his kindness, crinkled my nose at the friendship that had suddenly blossomed in the cool Florida weather.

The laughter from another boat floated over the waves, a big splash is what did it. 

I looked over, searched for the person only a hundred yards away, desperate for their head to emerge from the water, unlike his. My heartbeat was in my ears, throat tight and shoulders tense.

“Where are they?” I asked, my head turning frantically. “Do you see them? Did they come up?”

“What?” Harry followed my gaze and the smile faded from his lips. “What are you talking about?”

A man popped back up, a group of people on the boat cheered for him and sang along the music that hummed from their speakers. Harry could tell something was wrong, I tried my best to slow my breathing when I realized what was happening.

I swam over to the boat, hands clutching the ladder as I pulled myself up. My breathing was sporadic, the images flashing through my head with no option to pause. Allie’s voice, Will’s voice, the feeling in my chest when I knew he was dead and we couldn’t do anything about it. 

But I was acutely aware of the moment around me, Harry climbed up to the boat behind me and had a terrified look on his face, green eyes searching the floor for a towel before he draped it over my shoulders. 

“You’re alright--Cat, you’re alright, it’s okay,” his arms were around me when a sob slipped out, eyes stung from a mix of salt water and tears. I couldn’t do this, it couldn’t happen here and now. 

The waves from that day couldn’t show up, drag me under until I couldn’t breathe like he couldn’t. Not in front of Harry. 

“Hey,” he said, moving my shoulders to force me to sit down, his knees across from mine when he looked me in the eyes. “You’re alright, nothing’s happening.”

I nodded, licked at my lips and wiped at my eyes with the towel when I blinked a few times. Feet on the boat, hands around the towel, I could see blue and white and the keys in the ignition. “Okay,” I said, more grounded. “Okay.”

“Okay,” he repeated, hands on my knees now to keep them from shaking. 

Silence for a minute when I looked back at the other boat. They were fine. No one was drowning. I wasn’t drowning. I was on the boat and Harry was on the boat. 

The sun had sunk lower now, almost meeting the horizon when I met his eyes again.

“When did he die?”

“What?”

“Your brother.”

I shook my head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He plucked at his lower lip, he dropped my gaze for a second and then sighed. “It’s okay, Cat.”

I felt the water in my eyes at that, let my head swivel side to side to argue his claim. “No,” I said. “It’s not okay. This is why I don’t talk about it.”

“Maybe that’s why this is happening, then. Maybe you get like this because you refuse to talk about it.”

I pulled away from him, angry at his accusation and the way he sounded like he knew me better than he did. 

“Unless the two ten-year-olds in the frame above the guest bath are just random people,” he shrugged. “That’s Cameron, right?”

I was caught--unsure where to go and stuck on a boat with him. I didn’t look at him, kept my eyes on the floor and nodded slowly. 

He repeated his original question. “When did he die?”

“The summer before senior year of high school. He drowned.”

A breath of air escaped from his lips, like he’d expected a different answer. Cancer, maybe. A terminal illness or something less violent and avoidable. 

“Were you--with him when it happened?”

I wiped at my eyes, wishing the tears would stop and the memories would, too. “In the boat--we were drunk.”

He nodded, his focus solely on me when he leaned forward. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“You weren’t there,” I said quickly, defensively. “You have no clue what happened.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t. But I know it’s not your fault.”

I cried harder at that, vision blurred when I nodded. “It was, Harry--I didn’t realize how long he’d been underwater. I was too drunk.”

“It’s called an accident for a reason.”

“You’re not supposed to know any of this,” I reminded, eyeing him skeptically when I pulled the towel up to cover myself more. “Niall doesn’t know. Miles doesn’t know. No one knows.”

“Does Jules?”

I nodded. “Cause I’m a fucking moron and got too drunk one night.”

He laughed a little. “Why’ve you been hiding it?”

“Cause college was the first time I was just me. Not Catherine and Cameron, not one of two. I was just me for the first time and it was okay--it wasn’t sad or tragic that I was just me. I wanted it to be normal.”

He nodded in understanding, offered to drive us back to the dock if I showed him how. My parents were upstairs for the night, enough space for us to sit at the counter and heat up leftovers that Marta had made while we were out. He listened when I talked about the nightmares and the flashbacks, followed me up the stairs and nodded solemnly when I made him promise to not tell the others. 

He echoed his sentiment on the boat: it’s not your fault. He brushed a piece of hair behind my ear before he leaned in and kissed me outside my bedroom door, softer than before, and most importantly, sober. 

He followed me over to the bed, his touch gentle and warm when we slipped under the sheets. It was easy--slow and careful, not like the time before. He made me feel grounded, actually in the moment for the first time in a long time. He didn’t know it, but he made me feel seen.

Something I hadn’t felt in a long time.

It felt different to wake up beside him, knowing he knew and knowing he still thought I was a decent human. I looked over to see him, eyelids fluttered against his cheek when I stirred. 

A buzzing on the nightstand grabbed my attention, though, his phone vibrating with an incoming call when the morning sun crept in. A stomach dropping worse than ever, a shiver down my spine when I saw her name, a picture of the two of them side by side. 

Incoming call: Lila DiPretto

table of contents | join the tag list + talk to me | the playlist

author’s note: wowowowowowoooooww! A doozy of a chapter I hope none of you hate me too much for all of the emotion in this one! Things are heating up and now Harry knows Cat’s secret.....shit can only get weirder from here!

taglist: @mellamolayla @meganlikesfandoms @afterstylesmadeit @sing-me-a-song-harry @harryinsweatersandbandanas @stylesfics-xx @shawnsblue @avipshamitra @a-secretyoucankeep @groovybaybee @nearbyou @blueviiolence @kiwicherryharry @thurhomish @bopbopstyles @live-at-the-forum @ajayque @mleestiles @ashbabao @anssu-amry @odetostep @bemib @caritocp @ursogoldenshan @rainbowbutterflyboy @bubblegumstyles7 @1142590m @winter-soldier-007 @beingsolonely​ @sloanferg​ @ivanacats​ @mumplans​ @wastedsweetcreature​ @harryssugarhigh​ @wanderlustiing​ @sunflowers-styles​ @g0bl1nqueen​ @stepping-into-the-light​ @kara-246 @stilljosiegrossie​ @harrys-cherrry​

[moonflower-31]

I Won’t Forget You - Spencer x Reader

Masterlist

Part 23 

Pairing: Spencer x Reader 

A/N: So... Long time no talk? Sorry guys. Depression sucks and so does life. What can ya do. But I hope this is good. My school just went on lockdown for 2 weeks so i should be able to get back into the swing of things. No guarantees btw. But please enjoy this part. I think it’s pretty good for someone who hasn’t written for two weeks. XD 

Warnings: A lot of shouting, cursing, name-calling, self-doubt (obviously), and slightly panic attack (I’ll go more into it in the next part) 

Tags: @dra-reid, @eevee0722, @ceeellewrites, @anotherr-fine-mess, @ssahoodrathotchner, @egg-boy03, @helena-way07, @l0ve-0f-my-life, @serendipity-imagines, @kaelyn-lobrutto24, @thatsonezesty13 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

A week later, and you had finally been released from the hospital. Your infection had gotten to a manageable point where you could just take antibiotics and be cured of it in a few more weeks. Spencer had spent the entire time with you, never leaving your side. Except when you had to use the restroom. Obviously. 

"Spence… you gotta shower, seriously. I'm thankful, really, that you stayed with me all week. But you need a shower. Bad." You insist, hobbling slightly as you walk out of the hospital. 

You sigh softly to yourself, closing your eyes tightly for a moment as you waited for Spencer. Trying to hide the ever growing terror that filled your heart was getting increasingly harder to hide. But you didn't have time for therapy or to feel sorry for yourself. The BAU never made your case an active one despite two agents having gone missing and being taken. Which told you well enough that you weren't worth the time. Serial killers deserved more attention than you.  

"Hey, are you okay, (Y/N)?" 

The sudden touch to your shoulder plus the speech coming from Spencer pulled a shriek from your lungs. You jumped and looked toward Spencer terrified for a few agonizingly long moments.  

You took a deep breath and refocused your breathing, hoping to ease your racing heart back to it's slightly less annoying rhythm. 

"Y-yeah…" you murmur, shaking your head in an attempt to clear your mind. You also cleared your throat for good measure. "Yeah, I uh… I'm okay. Just a little… jumpy is all." 

Spencer’s frown deepens on his face, looking towards you sadly. Was this really the time for him to tell you how he felt? No, it really wasn't. You were healing. No, you are healing. You didn't need the confusion of a brand new romantic relationship to be added to your already overflowing plate. 

"Well… I'm here if you need me." Spencer assured, flashing a gentle smile towards you. You sighed and nodded back to hin. 

"Yeah, yeah," you exhaled, looking away from Spencer and not meeting his gaze. "Thanks." 

Spencer could feel the wedge you were unknowingly making grow between you. He hoped he could help you. After Hankel, he had hardly anyone. If he could make a difference in your PTSD, he would. He would try his damndest even if it killed him. 

"Well… I can at least get you back to the apartment. I'm sure Hotch will understand why I'm a few minutes late-" Spencer began, directing you towards the parking lot. He looked back at you and saw a flash of fear run over your (E/C) eyes as you stopped. 

"N-no. No, I need to get back to work. I don't have any vacation days saved up. I gotta go with you to work." You insisted, feeling a heavy stone of fear weigh on your chest. 

Spencer narrowed his eyes and looked over at you, stopping in his tracks. "(Y/N), Hotch gave you vacation days. You don't have to go back right now-" 

"No, Spencer. I'm going back. The team needs me. If I'm alone, Peter’s gonna have a better chance at finding me so-" the tears began falling before you could even realize. You feel your voice crack in your throat and all you knew to do was cover your mouth and try to smother your sobs. 

Spencer’s arms were around you before you could say, his hand rubbing your back while his other cradled your head. He didn't say anything, he just held you. You were thankful he hadn't. It was all you could do to keep your hand over your mouth and the other fisted in Spencer's days old cardigan. 

After what felt like forever, (reality was five minutes) Spencer pulled slightly away and tilted your head up to encourage you to look at him. "W-why don't we just get in the car for now? Figure things out on the way?" Spencer asked. Maybe you could still work. But he would put his foot down personally if you did anything other than desk work. 

You nodded subtly and swallowed what remained of your sobs. Spencer smiled gently and began guiding you towards the parking lot gently, not forcing you to venture any faster than you felt comfortable. 

You found yourself wandering with your eyes across the street, having become more vigilant and observant since your capture. Everything seemed normal. Couples were walking together hand in hand, some with kids. Some business men and women walked with their phones glued to their ears while some people were carrying groceries to their car. It wasn't suspicious at all. It should have calmed you. But it didn't. The only thing you found yourself able to be calm about was the fact that Spencer had his arms around you. That was what made you feel safe.  

Spencer looked towards you, watching you for a few moments. He watched your eyes wandering frantically across the parking lot and put two and two together. Just being in the parking lot scared you. Spencer couldn’t help but relate. The crunch of leaves had been his trigger for a few weeks after his kidnapping. Spencer squeezed you closer and rubbed your shoulder to get your attention. You turn your head back towards him, finding a relieving inhale enter you at the sight of his kind eyes once again looking into yours. “I’ll go pull up the car. You think you can stay here for a few seconds?” He asks. A jolt of regret strikes him as he sees the fear fill your pupils. But you don’t verbalize these fears. Instead you nodded silently.  

Spencer gave you a gentle grin before he went to go bring the car towards you. That way you didn’t have to step foot in the parking lot. He knew he was probably risking a few things, but at least you didn’t have to be fearful of the asphalt. 

You bit your lip anxiously, the hairs on your arms raising in false alarm. You knew you were safe. Your brain knew you were safe. But your heart was in overdrive. It had stolen the control console from your brain and was currently making you an emotional and anxious mess. A part of you didn’t want to go to work. It wanted to take your time to recover. But the rest of you was adamant on going. The case hadn’t been made priority. They were just lucky that no cases were deemed important enough for the BAU to help during the week you and Morgan had been missing. 

You remained lost in your thoughts until you felt the touch of Spencer’s hand on your shoulder. You looked up and gave him a gentle smile. 

“We’re gonna be late if we don’t go now. We have 39 minutes till we are considered late.” Spencer informs, trying not to derail from his normal personality so much that you noticed. He hated being pitied. And he knew that you did as well.

You nodded and began to follow. You climbed into the passenger seat and fastened your seatbelt. Your hands flexed and moved anxiously, unable to sit still. You took a few deep breaths, hearing Spencer get into the car alongside you. 

You finally opened your eyes and felt the car roar to life underneath you. You were heading back to work. You'd get back to normal soon. You had to. 

○●♡●○ 

The both of you had found a comfortable silence in the transport to the BAU. Spencer kept a comforting hand in yours, allowing you to squeeze it when needed. 

But now, as Spencer pulled into his usual parking spot, did your chest begin to tighten somewhat. You hadn't been here for what felt like years. Peter had abducted you from this very parking lot. Anyone would understandably be anxious. 

But by some miracle, you managed to keep your anxieties covert as Spencer and you got out of the car. Of course, Spencer suspected you had a little fear from being back here, but didn't push you. Many statistics had shown in the past that forcing a PTSD victim to share their trauma without it being their terms can be destructive to their mental health. Translation: He wasn't going to ask you about it. 

The ride up the elevator was torturous. Slow, agonizing, and not to mention extremely long. You found yourself fidgeting and moving in place rather than standing still. You'd never done this before. To say it didn't worry you would be a very big lie. 

"Are you sure you're ready, (Y/N)? You can always utilize the time off Hotch gave you." 

You appreciated Spencer’s worry, you really did. It helped to have someone there who was willing to care when you weren't. But that didn't mean that you still didn't get somewhat annoyed over the continuous asking. 

"Yeah, I'm fine Spencer. I just need to get my mind off…" you stopped and pushed a heavy exhale from your chest. "Everything." 

Spencer didn't push, and soon enough the two of you were inside the BAU's glass doors, walking towards the familiar bullpen. You subconsciously fix the cuffs of your dress shirt, avoiding the eyes of everyone who was shocked to see you. 

You sighed softly as you both continued into the bullpen, meeting the eyes of two of your coworkers. 

"(Y/N), What are you doing back so early? You have like, 5 weeks of available off time. You need to rest yourself. And your mind. Trauma isn't something that should be taken lightly." Prentiss spoke, stopping in your tracks to keep you from getting to your desk. 

Spencer, unbeknownst to you, made a cut it out gesture to Emily and cleared his throat. "It's alright. She's only going to be doing reports and desk work." Spencer expressed, looking around at everyone who had decided to turn around a watch. 

Emily sighed. "Alright. But I'm not going to let you go on any cases. I'm still your supervisory agent. You're lucky we're free of the more important cases so we've been working on yours." You feel an icy stab to the chest from her comment, reminding you of how unimportant you felt. You swallowed dryly and nodded, not caring that you hadn't said a word and had let Spencer talk for you. You didn't feel like talking anyway. 

You then sat down at your desk with a sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose as you felt the familiar breeze that came with a stack of reports falling onto your desk. 

You nodded towards whoever it was that gave you the reports and then started on them. It wasn't long until you had managed to clear all of your feelings from your mind and instead hyperfocus on the reports and the details in each. 

You lost track of so much time, that when Spencer put a cup of coffee on your desk, you jumped and almost verbally cursed. 

"Jesus-" you began, holding your chest for a moment. Spencer’s eyes widened and held his hands up once the coffee was safely level on your desk. 

"S-sorry. I-I just thought you could use a little bit of a 'pick-me-up' or whatever Morgan said it was." He seemed nervous, his hand finding his neck soon after finishing his statement. 

You smile at him genuinely for what feels like the first time in weeks and nod to him. "Yeah… I needed it. Thank you, Spence." 

Spencer’s eyes almost twinkle with happiness at your reply, his cheeks growing red and his smile appearing on his face as he goes back to his desk behind yours. 

Then the moment ended. 

"(L/N)? What are you doing back so early?" 

You turn your head and find Hotch walking towards your desk. You swallow a nervous laugh and instead begin to find a way to reply for yourself. Spencer didn't need to defend you forever. 

"Hotch… I can't stay at home like that. I need to keep my mind focused on something else. I can't sit by when you all still need my help. My case wasn't made of importance. Why should I treat it like it is?" You insist, shoving down the sob that desperately wanted to escape your throat. 

Hotch sighed and began to speak "(Y/N)..." 

"No. Let me speak. I'm not going to sit on my ass at home while you all work on the case that almost got Morgan killed. I'm going to help you. Its here at home. I won't have to go anywhere." Every part of you was begging for Hotch to understand. That he would give you a chance. 

Hotch gave you a questioning look for a few moments, allowing you to finish if you chose to continue, before he spoke up. "Just because you're healed physically doesn't mean you're better mentally. You went through something noone can relate to. You need to take the time to heal." 

"But I'm needed here, Hotch. I'm not going to go home and do nothing. It's just not my style. Now if you'll let me, I have a few more reports to do from this pile." You deadpan, gritting your teeth as you sit back down at your desk to finish reports filled with information you would never forget. 

Hotch sighed, looking back at Spencer for a moment before he turned around and began to continue on his list of things to do.  

You sighed and grumbled to yourself, trying to focus your emotions yet again so that you could finish the reports on your desk. But as fate would have it, you couldn't do that. 

"(Y/N/N)... Would you like to take a walk with me? It's almost our break. Maybe you could use a bit of fresh air? Scientifically, going outside helps to clear your lungs as well as lower blood pressure and heart rate." Spencer spoke up, tapping your shoulder gently once he knew he had your attention. 

You shook your head and cleared your throat. "No… no I'm going to finish these reports first. They're more important." You start. 

Spencer shook his head, his eyes widened slightly. "No," he starts, standing up and walking over to you. "These reports aren't more important than your well-being. I haven't pushed because I want you to talk when you're ready. But you can't act like you aren't important." 

You scoff and go to reply, just as the sound of a slamming glass door echos through the bullpen, making everyone's eyes travel to the source of the noise. This also meant you. 

By the time you looked, two familiar eyes were staring coldly into yours. Two wrinkled hands clasped at your shirt collar and yanked you forward violently. 

"How dare you ungrateful-" Margaret quips, slapping you across the face before you could even react. "Selfish, and ignorant child!" 

You cough harshly, earning the feeling of Margaret's hand again across your face. "M-mother…" you murmured, the agents around you trying to separate the two of you. 

"No, you have gone too far now! I paid him to take you! You are his property! Go to him! I have lost too much for you to disobey like the brat of a child you've always been!" Margaret scrambled, trying to get out of the arms of a much stronger agent who held her back away from you. 

Someone, who you soon recognized as Garcia and Emily, helped you to your feet. Spencer had very quickly come to your aide, sending Garcia off to fetch Rossi and Hotch. 

You grumbled for a few moments, the anger you felt beginning to come to a head. "Really? You paid him? I thought he was just trying to get under my skin with that, Mother." You spat, taking a few steps forward before looking up into (e/c) eyes. 

Your mother scoffed and rolled her eyes, looking back at you coldly. "Of course I did. You need someone to finally put you in your place. To teach you the manners I had somehow missed." 

You growled at her continuance. Your fist clenched at your side. She was your mother. And this was what she chose to do? Instead of being by your side when you needed a mother most, she admitted to being a part of why you were raped in the first place. 

"So you admit to selling a human? To selling your only daughter, just because I wouldn't abide to your stupid fucking rules?" You glared, spitting out the words like venom on your tongue. 

Spencer went to stop you, but Emily pulled him back. You needed this. 

"Yes I-" Margaret began, but you quickly put a stop to her excuses. 

"No. You're going to let me share my opinion for ONCE in my life. You're going to stand there and face the monster that you created. Be the perfect housewife you insisted on creating with me." 

Your mother rolled her eyes, but surprisingly didn't speak up again. You were slightly baffled by her sudden respect. But it didn't last long. 

"You were never there for me when I needed you. When I was in the hospital, after what Peter did to me, I needed you. After Peter's threats, I needed you. After each low grade on a test, I needed you. Not the harsh yelling and lecture I received from you and father. I needed the reassurance that it wasn't the end of the world. Whenever I had nightmares from my never ending memory bank of trauma, you sent me back to bed with the flick of your hand. I remember every word, every scowl, every upturn of your nose, every single moment you've spared for me my entire life. You're lucky I don't charge you with assault and child abuse. I don't because you're my mother. I thought maybe one day…" you feel the hot, rushing tears fall from your cheeks, making you aware of your vulnerability in front of everyone. 

You sniffled and wiped your eyes before you continued. "T-that maybe one day you'd change. And I-I'd have my mom." A tearful smile formed on your face, staring at the woman who had cause so much of your misery. "But still, you choose to remind me of how unimportant I've always been. How I am just a pawn in your game of chess. Easily disposable. Well here's a reality check for you, Margaret." You snapped, pointing a finger against her chest. 

"Check. Cause I'm not going to rest until you and Peter are both sent to prison where you both so clearly belong!" You yell into her ear. "So much for motherly love." You whisper harshly afterwards, turning around so that she didn't get the satisfaction of seeing you fall apart. 

Hotch entered your vision soon after, gesturing for you to meet him in his office. You sigh shakily, squeezing your eyes shut. 

Spencer stops you for a moment, holding your arms. "H-hey… you don't have to go immediately, you know. You can stay for a minute." 

You recognize his extended olive branch and take it. He didn't need to even say another word for you to collapse into his arms, sobbing as hard as your heart had been begging to since you'd left the hospital that morning. 

Oh how the mighty have fallen. 

[personasintro]

My Tiny Secret | 13; Not Welcomed

𝑴𝒚 𝑻𝒊𝒏𝒚 𝑺𝒆𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒕 𝒅𝒓𝒂𝒃𝒃𝒍𝒆 | 13; Not Welcomed

⏤𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔; Pretty face doesn’t make it up for an ugly personality. And Kim Seokjin is the perfect proof of that.

⏤𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: seokjin x reader

⏤𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: angst, smut, mistress au, unexpected pregnancy au

⏤𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: toxic relationship, strong language

⏤> 𝒇𝒊𝒄 𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒙

buy me a coffee?♡

The packages looks exactly the same for him, the only difference is various kinds of brand and pictures decorating the same thing. He can’t even tell the difference between those sizes — just another thing that makes him frown and groan in frustration.

“How the fuck am I supposed to know which ones are right?” he asks through clenched teeth, muting his voice down when a woman with toddler attached to her hip passes by his frustrated and puzzled figure.

If Namjoon could see him right now, he would laugh his ass off. Never in a million years he thought he would be standing in this kind of aisle, completely confused and so out of place.

“I showed you the package!” you exclaim at the other side, your sigh of disbelief booming through Seokjin’s phone speakers.

“I fucking know that!” he exclaims back while a woman that’s grabbing one of the packages from the aisle gives him a glare, but he could care less. He looks away with coldness in his eyes, rubbing his eyes with his free hand that’s not holding his phone.

You specifically showed him the exact diapers package he needs to buy, even described it when he had it in front of his face. It caused him to snap at you ‘I’m not an idiot for fucks sake, I get it’, that’s what he told you. It turned out that he didn’t get it and is, an idiot after all. You would like to point that out, but you bite into your lip in amusement at his distressed tone. It kind of makes you wish you were there to witness it with your own eyes.

“I’ll send you a photo of it,” you sigh at the other side, the rustling sound can be heard before Yoojin’s soft whimpers follows right after. “I know baby, you’ll have to wait. Your daddy can’t remember a single package.”

He hears the amusement in your voice, the way you try to hide a giggle but he ignores it at the name you called him. Daddy. It’s so weird hearing that. It’s been a month since he became a father, but it still comes as shock that he can never fully recovers from. Still, the corner of his mouth twitches at the new nickname, a weird tension clenching his chest.

“You’re coming with me next time.” he grumbles before he can fully dwell on that new feeling, shifting on his spot as he stares at the baby that’s on one of the diaper packages.

Yoojin is cuter, he thinks as he hears you humming in agreement before you curse under your breath.

“Someone’s knocking, I’ve to go.” he hears you mumbling, the same rustling sound reaches his ears and he wants nothing more than to grumble in annoyance, but his eyes widen instead.

“What-- no-- what am I supposed to do? Send me that damn picture.” he stutters over his words, face red with frustration.

“Ask someone.” you quickly tell him before the line is dead, his eyes closing as he tries to calm down himself.

You were his only hope and now he’s stuck in the middle of grocery shop in front of diapers, babies on the packages looking at him. Fuck, he never felt so ridiculous. He’s starting to regret his offer of buying diapers for Yoojin once you found out there are only few left. Something he noticed is, that small babies use a lot of diapers throughout the day.

“Hello, sir. Do you need some help?” A cheerful lady with a name tag on decorating her red shirt reaches him. She must’ve seen him struggling for the past ten minutes that he’s been standing in the same spot, glaring at the various types of diapers. Ten tremendous minutes that he’s been too cocky not to call you straight away, since he thought he won’t need your help. It turned out that he did need it and well, still needs it since you declined the call.

“Err, yeah.” he says, preparing to embarrass himself in front of her as she keeps smiling at him — too much for his liking. Doesn’t her cheeks hurt from all that smiling?

“Well, what size do you need?” she asks, understanding that he’s looking for the right package and size.

How can buying a diapers be hard? Yeah, he thought. That’s what he gets for being too cocky and confident.

“Well-- I-- I’m not sure.” he mutters, scratching the back of his neck as he avoids her big eyes.

“It’s okay,” she smiles, “How old is your baby?”

He already feels annoyed by the amount of questions and her overly cheerful expression that she’s obviously faking just because it’s her job. Still, she’s his only hope.

So with that thought, he sighs and gives her an answer. “He’s newborn. Well, one month old.”

Wow, is he already one month? He wonders as she nods and already reaches for one of the packages.

“This one should be perfect.” she says, handing him the item before he takes it and examines it with curious eyes.

He looks at the price, not surprised she gave him the more expensive ones but he doesn’t care. As long as it the good size, he’s going to pay anything.

“You sure? He’s really tiny.” he says, turning it around to read the description that’s written on the backside.

The saleswoman smiles at him while he’s busy reading the back of package with a small frown settled on his thick brows. “Well, if it’s wrong you can always return it. Just don’t forget to take receipt with you.”

He barely manages to thank her before she disappears behind another aisle, leaving him alone with diapers package in his arms.

Fuck it, he thinks as he goes with the one she handed him while he makes his way to cashier.

The timing of the knock couldn't be worse, considering the unstoppable wailing that comes from the baby in your arms as you try to open the door with him in your arms.

You mumble repeated apology to your son, your lips brushing over his soft hair as you finally open the front door with a sigh of relief. The person behind the front door has a raised hand, probably ready to knock again since you took your time answering the door. But you don't have enough time to think about it for too long, surprised by the sudden visit you've never expected.

Your best friend stands in the front door, which brings a complete shock to you since his first and last visit was the day you moved it. You haven't seen him for weeks, at least in person, only through the screen of your phone.

Missing Hoseok is daily part of your life, especially during times when Seokjin goes home. Back to the times when you were living together, you never felt lonely. Not in the way you do right now.

He hasn't changed much, he looks exactly the same way he always does and you almost blurt 'what are you doing here' but stop yourself at the very last minute. It might sound rude and you're nothing than happy to see him standing in front of you.

“Hobi,” you breathe out, a large smile spreads across your chapped lips. “You're here.” you say with disbelief and happiness in your voice while he gives you a soft smile.

“Yeah, dropped by the last minute. Am I interrupting?” he asks, hiding his hands into the pockets of his jeans as he eyes Yoojin squirming in your arms.

He probably thinks he does at the sight of your bare exhausted face with baby crying while you pat his back to calm him.

“No! Of course not! Come in!” you say quickly, opening the door wider for him as you watch him cautiously cross over threshold.

He doesn't hug you, silently taking off his super clean sneakers to yours which makes you slightly frown. He's acting weird and considering he came to visit you, the lack of enthusiasm makes you feel tense. Maybe he doesn't miss you as much as you miss him, maybe he's glad he doesn't have to take care of you anymore.

Yoojin's wails turn into loud cries and you cringe at the volume, a look of distress dominating over your exhausted face when you look at Hoseok. “He's hungry. I have to feed him.” you apologize to him.

“No worries, I'll wait.” he gently says, fingers running through his lock that seemed to be longer and you wonder if he plans to grow it out.

“Thanks,” you smile at him, bouncing Yoojin as you're ready about to step into the bedroom before you turn around to look at him. His eyes are already on yours, their warmth lacking of something. “You can sit down or anything you want.” you tell him causing him to nod in appreciation before you're rushing to feed Yoojin.

It takes only ten minutes until he burps, his cries no longer existing as you step into the living room where Hoseok patiently waits and sits on the couch. He's occupied with his phone, his brows slightly furrowed in concentration before he looks up meeting your eyes.

His eyes soften at the sight of Yoojin and it makes you slightly relax, just a tiny bit. “He grew up so much.” he comments as you make your way to him to sit next to him.

“Really? Seokjin says he's tiny.” you say without realization, until the words leave a weird taste in your mouth as you look in alarm at your best friend.

He doesn't seem to react, his eyes focused on your son as he stares with look of adoration.

“Do you wanna hold him?” you ask softly and he nods with no hesitation which makes you smile.

He carefully takes him, supporting his head and back before he's pressed against his chest. It's nice to see him remembering all the important facts. Despite of his sudden visit, and mostly weird behavior, you smile at both of them finding the sight in front of you adorable and touched. But as you carefully eye Hoseok you know he doesn't came here for a simple visit, since he sort of avoids your eyes.

Over the years of knowing him, you just know there's something else that bothers him and you've no idea what that is. The only option is to ask and for couple of minutes in utter silence,  you're trying to find the guts to do it.

“I didn't know you were planning on visiting. I would've bake you your favorite cheesecake.” you nervously smile, your voice thick and complete contrast to the silence between you two.

He looks up, causing your breath to hitch at the weird look in his eyes. His throat moves each time he gulps while his face twitch in the weirdest grimace as if he was in the pain.

“I didn't plan it.” he decides to speak, his tone dry as he cringes at it.

Is he trying to be cold to you for some reason? Because he's doing an awful job at it when he seems to be regretful right after he opened his mouth.

It's unusual to see him being so distant, but it's enough to create a weird lump in your throat.

“What--”

“Open it.” he cuts you off, pulling out a folded paper that's wrinkled by the pocket of his jeans.

He throws it on the couch, the paper landing just couple of inches from your thighs as you give him a look of utter confusion. But you don't question him any further, reaching towards the paper. As you slowly unfold it with knitted brows, your eyes widen as you finally read what's written on there. Opening your mind, you're not sure what you're about to say, you just know you've to explain it.

“What the hell, Y/N?” he asks, brows furrowed so much that you've never seen him being so angry – at least not to you.

He never looked at you this way and it only makes you want to shrink and hide.

It's a printout of his bank account, coming and incoming transaction as the huge number on the paper screams at you.

You surely knew he wouldn't be happy once he finds out, but you never expected him to come here and be so angry with you. Nevertheless, you don't feel like you've done something wrong.

It was a few days back when you finally got the time to sit down and transfer the money Seokjin gave you, to Hoseok's bank account. You've wanted to do it ever since he gave you the money, to repay your best friend for everything he has done for you and Yoojin. If it weren't for him, God knows how would everything turn out.

You completely forgot that you've sent him that money in the first place and judging by Hoseok pissed off look, he probably found out just today.

“Hobi--”

“I'll transfer that money back.” he cuts you off, his jaw tightly set as he pats Yoojin's back.

“What? No!” you protest right away, scowling at your best friend which mimics your expression.

You've never really got into fight with him, there never was a reason to, and you surely believe there isn't right now.

“The money is for you. I told you I would pay you back and honestly, this is the least I can do for you. You deserve them, Hobi.”

“I don't want them. You should have them. Buy something for Yoojin, yourself or just leave them in your bank account. I don't care, I don't want any money from you.” he's determined, his eyes burning yours as he makes sure to emphasize every word.

“We don't need them.” you tell him softly, scooting closer to him as you place your hand over his knee.

It makes you realize how much you've missed his warmth and proximity. He is the only person who would embrace you in a hug, the only person that makes you feel loved and appreciated. Feeling him even through the fabric of his jeans is enough to make you emotional, because you miss your best friend. You miss having him close and cuddle to you while watching boring movies and TV shows. You miss living with him, not caring that his apartment isn't as big as yours and not fitted for three people.

Even Hoseok himself, seems to relax under your touch while his eyes stay on yours. But there's still that irritated darkness in his eyes.

“We're fine.” you assure him, his eyes leaving yours to look around.

His eyes set on the picture of you and him, that's been there from the day one. It brings a soft smile on his lips, enough to make you do the same as he sighs.

You and Yoojin are really fine. And by that you mean you're being taken care of well.

Seokjin makes sure there's nothing missing for his son. He visits more often, mostly during weekends and later in the evening after he's done in the company. You even went for a small walk in the nearby park together, which was really awkward at first. To walk side by side with Kim Seokjin while pushing Yoojin's pram, in front of neighbors who couldn't help but turn around with shocked expression every time you passed by them. It felt awkward, weird but nice at the same time.

There's nothing much you both talked about, the only topic of your conversation was Yoojin himself. It surprised you, because Seokjin took a huge interest in his son as he asked the most detailed questions. You answer all of them casually, although you were freaking out inside.

“I-- it's a lot. I can't take it.” he manages to choke out, his eyes widely open once he looks back at you.

It's a lot – but still enough for everything that he has done for you.

“You can and you will.” you smile up at him, your eyes boring to each other with so much intensity to see who will budge first but you're stubborn to do so.

“Half,” he decides to say. “I'll take.. only half of it.”

He doesn't look comfortable with his own proposition, showing discomfort on his face but you can happily agree with him. It's a progress he even agreed to take the money – at least some of it. With cheerful squeal, you hug him as much as you're allowed considering he's holding Yoojin. He shakes his head at you, a playful grin shining your way at your stubbornness while he pulls you closer to him with his free hand. You both sigh in happiness, the familiar scent of his favorite cologne is like a peaceful smell for you.

“I've missed this.” you mumble, boring your head into his chest as your nose nudges Yoojin's small hand.

“Me too, I missed you guys,” he says back immediately, hand caressing your shoulder in calming manner as you feel him snuffling your hair. “It feels lonely without you.”

He's talking about his home, causing your heart to shiver at the way he says it. It makes you sad that you've left him and although, you can't complain about how you live right now, you still miss him. That will never change. You both got so used to living together that now it feels lonely and weird. But you both always knew that time will come.

“I miss this baby pumpkin.”

As you look up, you see him admiring your son with heart-shaped eyes but you see the slightest glimpse of sadness in them. “You should visit more often.”

“Mhm, maybe I should.” he hums, kissing the top of your head as you giggle, the both of you grinning at each other. God, you missed him.

Hoseok has always been very affectionate, the both of you are to each other. It's just the way the two of you are – not anyone would truly understand it. Not everyone would get the fact that you're comfortable with each other.

“What the fuck?”

The loud booms between the walls, breaking apart the two of you as you jump away from Hoseok in shock. Seokjin stands between the living room and corridor with a huge look of disapproval and anger, his eyes deadly set on Hoseok. You can't seem to bring yourself to check on Hoseok, your eyes focused on the father of your child and his growing scowl. He looks intimidating, causing your throat to go completely dry for some goddamn reason.

“What the fuck is he doing here?” he impatiently asks, the intensity in his voice is much bigger now as he stares back at you – sending daggers your way.

It's only now when you notice the huge package of diapers in his arms and if it were under different circumstances, you'd laugh at the rare sight in front of you. But you can't find anything amusing, especially right now when Seokjin looks like he's planning Hoseok's death. This is what you wanted to never happened, the two of them meeting since you're pretty aware of the grudge they hold against each other. It completely blew out of your mind that Seokjin is supposed to come here.

“Seokjin, please--” You're not sure what you're begging him for, but you don't want him to cause a scene even if there's just the three of you. Plus Yoojin, who luckily doesn't seem to be affected by the sudden loudness.

“Why the fuck is he holding my son?” he growls, taking a few steps forward as you're quick to jump on your feet.

Before he can truly charge at your best friend who seems to be awfully quiet about the whole situation, your hand is firm against his hard chest as you stop him.

“Our son,” you remind him with a frown and stern voice as he looks down to take a glance at your irritated gaze. “And stop making a scene. Hoseok is my best friend and he came to visit us, whether you like it or not.” you speak slowly, but firm and loud enough for everyone in the room to hear you.

You really want to check on Hobi, but your eyes are set on Seokjin as he challenges you with his firm and dark eyes. His jaw clenches and unclenches, complementing with himself.

“You told me this is my home,” you speak, the darkness of his eyes shifting between yours. “If I want him here, he's going to be here. If you have something against this, I can pack my stuff and leave.”

“Are you threatening me?” he scoffs.

You've no idea what's going on in the man's head, but he probably thought of it as you taking Yoojin away from him which is ridiculous, because you don't live together. Maybe he thinks you won't allow him to see him, which is again – ridiculous. You wouldn't do that, at least not now considering how they've just started to bond together more. Yoojin brings a different side of Seokjin, unrevealed and new one.

“I'm informing you.” you correct him and it causes him to scoff again, but he holds his ground and slightly relaxes underneath your palm.

Forgetting that you never moved your hand, you cautiously do with a sigh before you turn around to glance at Hoseok who stares at your interaction with unreadable gaze. He stands up, careful not to drop Yoojin as he smiles down at him before he walks closer to the both of you. Your breath is caught in your throat while you cautiously watch him, slowly handing Yoojin to his father. He drops the packages onto the floor with a huge smack, greedily taking Yoojin from Hoseok's hands.

“Hey, kiddo. It's daddy.” he doesn't forget to emphasize, glaring at Hoseok while you glare at him for making unnecessary comment. Hoseok is more than aware of Seokjin's position in Yoojin's life, there's no need for him to remind everyone around him.

“I'm gonna go,” Hoseok speaks with soft voice, hand caressing your touch as he draped an arm over your shoulder to bring you to a faint hug. You're about to tell him he doesn't have but he only shakes his head at you, smiling at the distress and determination on your bare face.”I'll come later, yeah?” he assures you and with a weak nod, you smile at him.

He leaves, your heart dropping when you hear the front door closing as you glare at Seokjin. “Was that necessary?” you snap, irritated when he only looks at you with a pleasant look.

“Actually, I think it was.” he mutters sarcastically, hinting at something with the roll of his eyes which you're not sure what's that about.

Your blood boils inside of you, angry from what has just happened and the fact Hoseok must've left because there was no choice. He could stay but it wouldn't do any good and you know he made the right decision to leave. You just feel angry that he felt like he's not welcomed here, thanks to Seokjin.

“It wasn't. Hoseok is my best friend and he'll get to see Yoojin whenever he wants to. He was there for me during my pregnancy and after it. He has done so much for the both of us,” you glance at Yoojin before you continue. “So stop acting like a fucking prick.” you snap at him.

“If you just told me about your pregnancy in the first place, I could've been the one who would take care of you.” he snaps back, glaring at you.

“You mean, before you tried to buy my son from me or after that?” you mockingly ask him, a shame flashing in his eyes as he looks away with locked jaw.

Bingo.

“Look, it doesn't matter now. All I want for you to act decent if the two of you are going to meet in the future. It's for Yoojin's sake as well. He's too little right now but I don't want him to grow up and see the hate between you two.”

The fact that you don't scream at him and not letting your frustration to get the best of you says a lot about your patience. But you need him to understand this. He isn't stupid but he's Kim Seokjin. Nothing is ever easy with him.

He's silent, cuddling to Yoojin as his plump lips touch his soft hair. You try not to melt at the pure sight and not let your guard down as you stare at him with intense glare. His eyes shift between you and the wall behind you as the wheels are running in his mind. But you don't budge, lifting your brow in waiting manner as he rolls his eyes.

“Fine.” he doesn't say anything else, nibbling on his bottom lip to calm down himself as you sigh in relief.

You're on your way to the kitchen to cook the chicken soup, knowing Seokjin will stay for lunch before you pause and call out his name. “Oh, and stop being fucking possessive about me or Yoojin. You don't own anyone.”

And with that, you leave into the kitchen with satisfied smirk on your lips.

taglist: @kpopyandere​ @btsxarii​ @nostalgicstudyblr​ @rkivemagic​ @0minabean0​ @ughtear​ @queensavage1245​ @choppe96​ @mtgforall​ @jalexa83​ @euphoriugh​ @baekimseokjin @quirkyanya @ladyartemesia @seoulazzyy @sinstae @betysotelo18 @ephyra1230 @namjoonsslutakakoreanmanswhore @nooooooooona @starry-magicshop @rjsmochii @lilsxtan @ephyra16 @fujispacebuns (it won’t let me tag you)

(comment on the most recent chapter to be added)

[sunsetcurbed]

you showed me faith is not blind (miracles happen)

Pairing: Alex/Willie  Words: 5,686 Rating: T  Chapter Warnings: none  Chapter: 4/11  read on AO3 

Chapter Summary:  “Tell me about it, stud,” Willie grins, reaching up to brush something off of Alex’s shoulder.

Alex feels his face growing hot. Did—did Willie just call him a stud? In front of all of their friends? He looks at their friends who are all grinning wide—such a non-reaction that Alex is sure his must have imagine Willie’s words—and then back to Willie. “What?”

“What?” Luke cries. “Have you never seen Grea—has he never seen Grease?”

(*) 

Alex regrets telling his grandmother that they could start lessons on Monday.

Their gig at Drake's goes from nine until half past ten, at which point another band takes the stage. While their parents are all there (all have to be there in order for them to even be able to play the gig) to drive them home right after, all of them are too amped up to fall asleep. They stay up until nearly three texting each other, first about the gig, and then about everything and nothing. Unfortunately, this means minimal sleep, as Alex's alarm comes to life only three hours later at quarter 'til six. Then it's seven and a half hours of school, and now—now…

"Why are you wearing joggers to school? To the Beasiga consulate?" his grandmother asks, and he thinks she does a great job hiding the horror with exasperation in her voice. She gives herself away with the dramatic hand to her chest, though.

Alex sighs and lifts a hand to rub at his eyes. "I had a long night, sorry. I didn't even look at what I was putting on this morning."

His grandmother huffs. She drops her hand from her chest, shaking her head as she looks him up and down. "Dear, you've got to care about how you present yourself, tired or not. Even were you not a prince, this is an important life skill—how you present yourself influences those around you. How they treat you, how they act, and especially what they think. How you choose to dress is how you choose to portray yourself. And it influences you as well. You would feel much more confident in a pair of well-fitted trousers, wouldn't you? And on that note—your hair."

Alex frowns. "My hair?" He reaches up and runs his fingers through it. "What's wrong with my hair?"

"Well, nothing really. But do you not think you could shape it up some? Use some product?"

Alex pulls a face.

His grandmother looks at him. "I'll call in my stylist. How's Thursday? We'll get you set with a new wardrobe and new hair, all right?"

"Wait a minute—"

"If you don't like it you can go back to wearing your old clothes," she waves him off, "and your hair will grow back, won't it? Just give it a chance, will you?"

Alex isn't sure if it's because she's making fair points or if he's really, really tired, but he nods. "Yeah, okay."

Which is then how he finds himself sitting in the ballroom of the consulate three days later as Tasha—his grandmother's stylist—unclips the barber's cape from behind his neck and throws it off of him. He watches as it, and the rest of his hair that had fallen on to it, falls to the floor. He feels bad for whoever has to clean this room later. He's not given the chance to feel bad for too long though, because Tasha is spinning the chair around to face the mirror. He looks up and—

It's actually. Not that bad.

The sides are a little too short for him, and he's going to hate using product every morning to get it to stand up, but… it looks normal. It looks good.

"Wow," he says, for Tasha, Alden, and his grandmother's benefit. "I like it."

"Oh, wonderful!" his grandmother exclaims, clapping her hands together while rising to her feet. "Tasha, thank you for all your work today."

"Of course, ma'am," Tasha says, curtseying politely. "It is always my pleasure to work with you, you must know."

"I do," she smiles, and takes the hand that Tasha holds out to her in hers and nods once. "Thank you, dear. I will contact you for my hair for the dinner in a few weeks as well, is that all right with you?"

"Yes, that's fine. And it was my pleasure, ma'am," Tasha says again, and then she's gone, and Alex is alone with his grandmother while Alden escorts Tasha out.

His grandmother walks up, standing behind the chair and placing her hands on his shoulders. She makes eye contact with him through the mirror and smiles. "Do you know what I think?" she asks. He hums a question. "You look like a prince."

He holds back a grimace at those words and assesses himself in the mirror. He's wearing a pair of dark wash jeans and a pale pink henley with the sleeves of the shirt pushed up nearly to his elbow. Half of him thinks that he looks like every asshole he's ever wanted to punch for catcalling Julie and Flynn when they were out walking around LA, half of him… kind of agrees with his grandmother. Now that he knows he's technically a prince, and now that he is dressed like this, and presented like this… he can see it.

It scares him.

"Uh, yeah," he agrees. "The clothes aren't half bad, either." They're not. They're really, really not. The clothes Tasha had thrown at him this afternoon were just regular looking clothes, albeit most of them are designer brand, but they're just… picked out for him, fitted to him, and then put together for him so he doesn't have to worry about whether or not something will match.

"You like them then?" his grandmother asks.

Alex nods, lifting his arms and looking down to study his current outfit again. "I do. Not as… posh as I was expecting."

She laughs brightly, and squeezes his shoulders. "No, of course not, Alexander. I know you're still in high school. I would never want to make you stand out. No. No, the goal here was to give you more confidence in yourself, that would never work if you felt you were dressed in some rubbish outfit that stood out at your school." She takes a deep breath and releases it. "Ah! I'm so glad you like it! You must tell me what your friends think tomorrow."

(Huh.

It scared him before.

He's terrified now.)

He doesn't have to wait long to find out what his friends think. His bus gets to the school seven almost every day—today is no different. Reggie and Flynn live on the same street and take the same but which always gets there two or three minutes after Alex's. Luke drives, and since he and Julie live a block away from each other, he gives her a ride. They're almost always there five minutes after seven, sometimes earlier, sometimes later. Willie drives himself but he's a toss up as to when—or if—he'll show up each day because of his other friends. Classes don't start until 7:22, and, apart from Willie, their lockers are all in the same bay, and their first classes are all in the same two wings that are right next to each other, so they all spend their mornings together. So Alex knows that it won't be long before—

"Look at you, buddy!" Luke yells, jumping on to Alex's back, one arm wrapping around Alex's shoulder and neck to cling for dear life, while the other musses up Alex's styled hair. Shit, he should have expected that. Maybe he should have left it unstyled for the first few days. "Lookin' all fancy like, lookin' all—"

"Luke, get off of him," Julie commands, and Alex feels himself sway back. He grabs on to the inside of his locker so Julie pulling Luke off of Alex's back won't pull him over, too. A few seconds later, Luke drops off his back, and Alex stands up straight again. He turns to glare at Luke who is smiling innocently. Julie steps forward from beside her boyfriend and reaches a hand toward Alex's head. "Here, let me," she says, and then starts running her fingers through Alex's hair, tugging it until it's in place again. When she's done she wipes her hands on her jeans and steps back. "There. Back to normal before this one had to ruin it. It looks good! New clothes too?"

"Uh, yeah," Alex nods, shifting on his feet and pushing his sleeves up his arms, just to have something to do with his hands. It doesn't occupy them for long, so they drop back uselessly to his side. "My, uh. Grandma. She? She wanted to—she wanted to uh, spoil me a bit, I guess?"

"Dude, you should have asked for a new kit," Luke tells him.

Julie roles her eyes and throws a backhand into his gut. "Alex just got a new kit in March, Luke."

"Yeah, but wouldn't it be awesome if he had two? Then he could keep one at the studio and at his house."

"I, uh, don't think my mom would've let me get away with that, since she didn't even let me keep the old one," Alex makes up. "It's whatever. The clothes are cool, too, I guess."

"Hey, buddy!" Reggie's voice breaks in. "What happened to you?"

"Wow, Alex," Flynn adds, "are you getting… fancy—" she winks "—for someone?"

"Wh—? No. It—my grandma bought me stuff, took me for a haircut, she just wanted to do something nice for me."

"She did something nice for someone," Flynn grins, looking at Julie, who shares a look with her best friend. Alex wants to ask but at the same time, he really does not.

Julie mumbles something under her breath to Flynn. She then looks over Alex's shoulder and her smile widens. "Oh! Speaking of…"

Alex furrows his eyebrows together and twists around preparing for something potentially humiliating, only to relax immediately when he sees Willie. Willie's smile falters when he must see Alex's new look and his step stutters, but he recovers quickly and he offers a wide smile when he makes eye contact with Alex. Alex can feel the smile grow on his own face. "Hey," he says once Willie is close enough to hear.

"Tell me about it, stud," Willie grins, reaching up to brush something off of Alex's shoulder.

Alex feels his face growing hot. Did—did Willie just call him a stud? In front of all of their friends? He looks at their friends who are all grinning wide—such a non-reaction that Alex is sure his must have imagine Willie's words—and then back to Willie. "What?"

"What?" Luke cries. "Have you never seen Grea—has he never seen Grease?" he demands, turning to Julie. Julie sighs heavily, reaching up to pat Luke's chest, as he rambles to her something about a missed experience and movie night and she's the one that he wants. Alex gives him a look, and then turns back to Willie.

"Sorry, I guess. If that was a reference, I didn't get it."

"No worries, bro," Willie says. He looks at the rest of the group. "We should have a movie night though, if only to keep Luke from premature death."

"Thank you!" Luke shouts. "Do we want to do it tonight or tomorrow?"

"Luke's taking no prisoners on this one," Reggie leans over and says as an aside to Willie and Alex, still clearly loud enough for Luke to hear. He leans back upright and looks at Luke, "I'm good for either."

"Same," Flynn says. 

"I'll be with my grandma this evening," Alex says. "So tomorrow would probably work best."

Luke raises an eyebrow. "You'll be with her all night?"

"I go over after school and I'm there until seven. So if we do it tomorrow we'll have more time," Alex explains, hoping they won't think too much into the amount of time he's spending with her and why it's so structured. But, well. Non-princes have structured visits with their grandparents too, right? He honestly can't remember. His last grandparent passed away when he was twelve.

"Saturday it is then," Julie decides. "That work for you, Willie?"

"Yeah, I can make that work," he says. "You guys finish practice at four, right?"

"Yeah, we usually aim for somewhere around there," Julie confirms. "So you can come over any time after four."

"Right," he nods, and snaps his fingers, instantly turning them into finger guns, pointing them at Flynn. "You want a ride, then?"

"Please," Flynn says, and Willie nods, reaching forward to high five her. When their hands collide, she clasps his hand in hers. "We can make our own band in the ride over too."

"Ooh," Willie cringes, "not sure if you want me in your band. Unless you just want me to dance for you. I've got that covered no problem, but anything beyond that, I—" he makes a face and pulls his hand back from hers to drag it across his neck in a cutting motion (even though Alex knows he can sing). "No go."

"Fine," Flynn huffs. "I guess we can let them have their thing."

"Oh, that's sweet," Reggie hums, propping an arm on Flynn's shoulder—the only one who could ever dream of getting away with that. "Did you hear that guys? She's going to let us have our thing."

"How considerate," Julie coos.

Alex holds up his hands in a show of innocence. "I'm an innocent bystander if Luke murders Flynn for calling our band a thing."

"I wasn't going to murder her," Luke rolls his eyes, shoving at Alex's shoulder.

"Maiming her is also a crime," Willie adds.

The group around Alex laughs and Alex feels his chest expand, happy to be with his people. It's not that prince lessons have been horrible, but they've definitely taken a lot out of him this week, especially being added on top of his schoolwork. He barely has time to talk to his friends anymore, let alone be with them like this. Even at lunch he's been working on homework, just so it's more that he doesn't have to do later that night. They've all been great about it—offering to help with his homework, catching him between classes just to get in their four minute conversations, and staying up a few minutes later than normal to text with him when he finally finishes homework for the night. But… this. The entire presence of the entire group is just rejuvenating and Alex is angry that he's only got a few minutes of it left. But he's going to soak it up for as long as he can, because he knows that he owes his happiness to his friends and right now, he's really happy.

At lunch, he's busy doing his math assignment, even though it's Friday. With band practice and the movie night tomorrow, and prince lessons on Sunday, he's not sure how much time he'll have this weekend for his homework. He's sure his grandmother would cut back on the lessons if needed, but if he can get it done at school just as easily, he might as well. He's hunched over his book and worksheet while his friends all make noise around him, Reggie jostling him every once in a while. Willie, however, never once bumps into Alex even though Alex can see Willie stand up multiple times to reach across the table to wrestle something away that Luke has stolen from him. It's surprisingly easy to get his work done despite the chaos. His anxiety drives him, causing him to hyper fixate on his work, but that also means that, like Tuesday, he forgets to eat.

The bell rings and Alex snaps his head up looking around him, his nearly completed math assignment still under his pencil. His friends are all getting up. Reggie grabs the piece of pizza off of Alex's tray and shoves it in his mouth. He mumbles around the food in his mouth, that only years of hearing Reggie speak with food in his mouth allows Alex to make out "you snooze you lose." He is, however, at least decent enough to throw away the tray of the food that he ate, so Alex doesn't complain too much.

He closes his worksheet in his math book, bookmarking the page where he left off, and slips the book into his backpack. He moves to stand up, but as he spins on the bench, he realizes Willie is still sitting next to him. When they make eye contact, Willie flicks his eyebrows up and down and smiles. "Back with us, hot dog?"

"Yeah. Sorry for ignoring you guys, I just—"

"Hey, no, that's not—" He reaches into his backpack and pulls out a bag of trail mix. "You didn't eat Tuesday, kind of assumed it was going to happen again at some point so I came prepared. Now at least you'll have something, dude."

Alex takes the pack from him and wills his face not to burst into flames and nods. "Yeah, thanks, Willie."

They both stand up and walk out of the cafeteria, heading towards their classes. When they reach the D wing, where Willie is meant to turn and Alex is meant to continue straight, Willie grabs Alex's hand and pulls him through the group of students to the wall. Alex follows confused, but willing, and frowns at Willie when Willie turns to him and leans against the wall. "D'you think your grandma would let me pick you up today instead of having her guard dogs take you home?" Willie asks.

"Huh? Why?"

Willie shrugs, nonchalant. "Haven't gotten to talk to you outside of text all week, and even text has been pretty sparse. I know you're busy, I get it, I do. But I kinda just wanna hang."

"What about tomorrow?"

Willie scoffs. "Come on, it's gonna go like every other movie night we have after band practice—you're going to make it through the first movie, which, by the way Luke's not going to let us talk through since you've never seen Grease before, and then you're going to be asleep within the first thirty minutes of the next."

"I will not—I won't—I—whatever," Alex mutters. He wants to refute it, but he can't drudge up a memory to do so. "I'll talk to my grandma. I don't see why it should be an issue."

"Great," Willie grins. "Have a great rest of your day, yeah? Text me the answer and address." He glances at the clock. "And you might wanna hurry to class too." Alex looks at the clock and curses, turning and rushing down the hall. He makes it to class with a few seconds to spare, and the anxiety of nearly being tardy morphing into the immediate focusing on class doesn't let him think too much on his potential… hang with Willie later.

When he gets to lessons that day, he asks his grandmother later if Willie can pick him up and she tells him yes. So at seven he bids goodbye to her, Alden, and John, the head of security. Willie's car is parked in the driveway and, just like last Friday when he came to pick him up just down the street, it looks entirely out of place in this neighborhood. Alex doesn't care. He gets in the car, placing his backpack on the floor, and buckles himself in. Willie had started driving as soon as he shut the door, so when Alex looks up, they're already turned out of the driveway. "Where to, then?"

"I'm not sure," Willie shrugs. "I didn't plan that far ahead."

"You're a horrible date," Alex jokes, sinking further into his seat.

Willie casts a look at Alex. "Yeah?" he grins.

"The worst."

"Well I guess I just have to step up my game then," Willie hums, and flicks his turn signal on to switch lanes. It seems like he's made his mind up where they were going. "So how's school been—how did your midterms go? Junior year kicked my ass, and I didn't have the added pressure of learning to become a prince."

Alex laughs, but starts talking about his classes and what he got on his midterms, before asking Willie about his classes as well, and about what Alex should expect next year. About twenty minutes later, Willie is pulling into a parking lot, pulling out his wallet as he does so he can pay. Alex looks around at where they are and frowns. They're near Venice Beach but not at Venice Beach, so Alex isn't sure what Willie's plan is here. However, there's a parking lot here, so Alex figures there must be something of significance.

They get out of the car and right away Willie leads him in one direction and, well, it all makes sense then.

"Seriously?" Alex groans.

"What, hot dog?" Willie asks, turning to him, holding his arms out at his sides. "Are you not impressed with my date?"

"This is the most cliché Los Angles date," Alex tells him, taking a few longer strides so he can catch up to Willie, who's walking up on one side of the Venice Canals.

"Is it? Is it really? Because by the look on your face you didn't even know where we were until just now. I think I'm winning at this whole date thing."

All right.

They really need to stop saying 'date' before Alex starts to get his hopes up. They're already up enough as it is—adding in banter about their non-existent date is… not helping him.

"Just because I've never been here before—"

"You've never been here before?"

"No. My parents don't really do tourist-y places," he says.

A smile spreads on Willie's face. "Oh, that probably means I have more date material, doesn't it? All the tourist spots you've missed out on your entire life?"

Alex hums, and doesn't comment, because fuck, stop saying date.

"This was actually my parents first date, too," Willie says, and Alex's mind malfunctions at the 'too.' Sorry, too? Too? He runs Willie's words back in his head. Yeah, he definitely said too. "They met at Venice Beach and decided to keep their first date close to where they met since they thought maybe it was lucky or something." Too. "That's what my mom says, anyways. My dad always laughs when she says that, never agrees, but never disagrees, either. I definitely don't agree, I don't think Venice is lucky or anything." Too. "I do think it's a good spot though, cliché or not. You can't deny that it's a great place, right? So, c'mon, hot dog. You can go on and admit that I'm actually the best date."

Alex laughs. He hopes it's just him that it sounds off to. "Not a chance, puka. A date isn't just the location, you know."

Willie quirks his eyebrows and pokes his tongue in his cheek. "You're right." He reaches over, grabs Alex's hand, and tugs. They start walking the canals and Alex expects Willie to drop his hand but he doesn't. "I can't ask first date questions since we already know everything about each other—" first date. Alex is maybe panicking. "—so you gotta help me out here. What don't I know about you?"

Alex's brain is currently short-circuiting, so thinking of these things isn't easy for him at the moment. He takes a minute to really think about everything that Willie knows about him and says, "I actually like the sofritas at Chipotle more than the steak. When Julie told me it had more sugar it ruined my whole 'it's healthier' disguise."

"Dude, I know that," Willie laughs. "You devour sofritas. No, that doesn't count. Something else."

"I hoard books. I've literally got over a thousand books. I have three book shelves in my room and—"

"No, I knew that, too. I've been to the bookstore with you, and I've seen your room on Snapchat. Something else, man, dig deep."

"Okay, here," Alex starts. "No one knows—well, actually Julie probably knows at this point. But Reggie and Flynn don't—"

"Luke does?"

"I'm getting there," Alex says. He pauses. "He was my first kiss. And second and third and—a lot. We didn't… date? But both of us wanted… practice."

"Really," Willie whistles. "When was this? I thought he's been all eyes for Julie since he met her?"

"Yeah but they didn't get together until sophomore year. Anyway, I'm pretty sure he was practicing for her," Alex admits. "I didn't care. It was just… nice, at the time."

"Huh. Well, yeah, okay, definitely didn't know that one," Willie acknowledges.

"Yeah," Alex laughs, "like I said, no one does."

"All right, your turn."

"You're not just going to answer?"

"You wanna ask the same question then? Something you don't know about me?"

"Oh." Alex looks down at the ground. In the corner of his eye he can see their hands swinging together. He looks towards them. They look completely fine even though it feels like his hand is on fire. "Uh," he clears his throat, and looks back up, looking at Willie. "If you could talk to any animal, what would it be?"

Willie's step falters and Alex opens his mouth, about to take it back, ask for a redo, when, "like, any species of animal, or like, a single… one animal, like, say I had a pet dog, I could only talk to that pet dog?"

"Like, a species?" Alex says, voice lilting into a question.

Willie hums, thoughtful, but he looks genuinely into the question, so Alex doesn't ask to take it back even though he feels like it had been a ridiculous question. Willie's face is so focused that Alex doesn't want to break him out of it. After a minute, he picks his head up from where he'd been watching the ground as they walked, and looks over at Alex with a confident look on his face. "Crows. Hands down. They're supposed to be one of the smartest animals out there. Did you know they understand water displacement? Like, scientists did an experiment where they put treats in water in long, skinny test tubes and gave the crows objects. They-they figured out that the heavier the object, the higher the treat rose. They learn safe and dangerous places to go, and they can remember good and bad people, and hold grudges against bad people and even pass those grudges down through generations. And they, sometimes they hold funerals? Which I think is really cool of them. They're can make their own tools or use things around them—there are crows that drop nuts in the street during red lights in path of car tires, let the cars run the nuts over, wait for the light to turn red again, and then go get the food. They just… they seem so cool, y'know? I'd love to talk to something that intelligent that isn't human."

In the second that it takes Alex to blink, he falls even further in love with Willie. Alex… can't believe that Willie is real. He took Alex's dumbass question and ran with it and didn't give some half-assed answer like most everyone else would have done. He put genuine thought into a inane question and even before he answered he had made Alex feel relaxed for asking a question that Alex had thought was dumb. Alex feels so at ease around Willie, even when he does something foolish like ask a completely out of place question, and Willie just… makes him feel like it's okay. Willie makes him feel like it's not an out of place question.

"Alright, sticking with the animal theme, if you could be an animal for one day—what day?"

Willie really makes him feel like it's not an out of place question. 

"I—" Alex goes to answer the question, then narrows his eyes. Well that's not how he expected the question to end. He looks over at Willie and sees his shoulders shaking as he giggles to himself. He goes with it, just like Willie had. "Is it every week or just this upcoming day?"

"Hm. Every week."

"Sunday," Alex decides. "It'd get me out of the seven hour lessons I have coming up every Sunday for the next month and half for the foreseeable future and after that… wait, is this like… a werewolf situation where like… Sunday, boom, I'm an animal? Or do I get to like, change at will?"

"Let's go on the side of chaos. Boom, you're an animal."

"Oh, great. That's fun. That's awesome. I hope I'm not a dangerous animal."

"Nah, man," Willie grins, bringing his hand that's not holding on to Alex's and swinging it to bump Alex in the chest. "You'd be a golden retriever. But like, one who wasn't taken out enough as a puppy, you know? So you're scared of shit."

"Makes sense. Yeah, though, still Sunday. Gets me out of lessons. And it can't be Saturdays because of band practice, and I can't miss a day every week of school a year, so. Sunday is the only option. Plus maybe my parents would stop giving me disappointed looks every time I didn't go with them to church. I can't Mom, Dad, I'm on four paws and slobbering."

Willie swings their hands exaggeratedly between them. "Who knows? Maybe if you were a dog they'd have an excuse to clip a leash to you and literally drag you to church." Alex looks at Willie, horror on his face. Willie laughs. "Alright. Your turn."

He looks back ahead. He dodges out of the way of a couple that's passing them, which means he has to press his body closer to Willie's. When they separate again, his mind is going so fast he can't keep up. He tries to think of something, tries to come up with anything. "What are you most proud of?"

Willie's eyebrows go up. Alex thinks he's asked another stupid question for a second until, "huh. That's a good question. I'm… not sure? Obviously I'm really proud of my dancing, I'm really proud of my grades, my dedication to my work… I'm really proud of my skateboarding. I've come a long way with that, and it's… you know my skateboarding is like… is like my happy place. But I also don't skateboard to show off or for a job? So saying that I'm most proud of it doesn't feel right." He looks over at Alex and studies him. He tilts his head, and then looks back out at the path they're following again. "I'm proud of my friendship," he decides. "I'm proud when the kids at the skate park come to me when they need help with a trick, or when they want to show off a new trick. And when Flynn and Julie ask me to help them prank you guys. And when Reggie feels safe enough to tell me about his parents fighting again, and takes me up on my offer to hang out at midnight just to get him out of the house. And when Luke asks my opinion on a new song and genuinely cares about my opinion. And when I help you through a panic attack, and see you come back to yourself and know that you're okay. And—and just hanging with you guys, making you smile, making you laugh. I'm proud of that."

He feels overwhelmed for a moment, but when it passes, he feels so genuinely grateful to have a friend like Willie. To have someone who is not only willing to help him through his darkest moments, but is proud to do so, who isn't ashamed or embarrassed to be associated with the kid who has anxiety. He's grateful that his friends have someone like Willie: that Flynn and Julie have another mind to help them—with school as well as their pranks. And Willie not only helps Reggie with his parents, but sometimes Reggie will see Willie playing with a fidget toy and a few days later at lunch Willie will toss it to Reggie, holding up a new one saying his parents had accidentally gotten him two. Then with Luke, Willie helps him get away from music and just exist in the world and he's one of only five people who can do that, so that's amazing enough on it's own. And with Alex, Willie is there through the hard times, yes, but Alex loves most when they're celebrating the good times together because that's when Alex can appreciate it the most. It's just—Willie's incredible, he's an incredible friend, and Alex is so glad that Willie knows that.

"I think I asked the better questions," Alex murmurs, at a loss for anything else to say. But, Alex really does think he asked the better questions in the end, even if they had been dumb. Or, maybe he didn't ask the better questions; maybe Willie just had the better answers. He feels like he got so much more out of Willie than Willie got out of him and for a second, he feels guilty. This had been Willie's idea—Willie had been the one who had wanted to find out more about Alex. Alex will just have to find ways to disperse pieces of himself into the rest of their conversation today to make up for it.

Willie tips his head back and laughs. "Uh-uh, no way. My first question got out of you that your first kiss was Luke Patterson. Clearly the superior question." Alex groans and drops his head. "Yours were a close second and third, I'll give you that."

Alex huffs, feeling his face heat up. "I'll just think of a better question."

"Nothing is going to beat finding out that Patterson was your first kiss," Willie says, squeezing his hand. It sends a jolt through Alex, and reminds him that they are, in fact, still holding hands. That they are walking around Venice Canals holding hands. On a "date." Oh, fuck him. He looks over at Willie who is looking back at him with a smug grin on his face. "So. Your Royal Highness—" Alex groans, and Willie laughs "—what exactly have you been doing at those lessons of yours?"