#I love how your cat stretches out as if he is a little rug <3 <3

[true-blue-sonic]

Hello sorry I don’t have anything to say :( but it’s 2 AM and I wanted to share my cat

Hello, I hope you are doing well!🍀 And say hi to the majestic little lion creature from me🥰🥰

I have some Espilver fic musings to offer, if you would like them ^-^ I'm writing/editing the first chapter of New New Beginnings right now, but I don't know how to end it, basically. The idea I have for the chapter is that Espio and Silver are travelling back to the mainland, and very unfortunately for them they come across Sonic and Tails at the docks (I believe Rivals 2 takes place on an island), who are Less Than Pleased about how the whole business with the rings went down. Cue awkwardness, 500% hostility from Silver, and poor Espio really just wanting a break.

I do have the second chapter done, because my way of writing embraces chaos, and in there I have the following paragraph:

But now, he [Espio] was silent, and he had been silent since they’d gotten off the boat and left Sonic and Tails behind. And the silence ate at Silver more than he wanted to admit.

And the part in italics has the following comment of mine attached to it:

 "since he'd torn Silver away from Sonic and dragged him off into some city" --> aka Silver just fucking punched Sonic right in the face

So I at least have an idea about what I want to happen in chapter 1, haha! Now just to find something Sonic can say that's gonna make Silver so pissed he'll throw himself right on top of him For Violence🤔

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

hiii i luv ur work^^ can i request a fic where carmy get sucked off so good it makes his brain short-circuit a little? like he came home all tired and pent up n reader just "blow" it all away. wanna see this man get taken care of🥺 he's alway got so much on his mind i just wanna see him fucked till his brain is empty

Short Circuit.

Carmy doesn’t know how to shut his brain off. Luckily, you do.

pairing - roommate!carmen berzatto x female reader

warnings - smut. cursing.

word count - 1.8k

authors note - carmy’s a little bitch in this one!! mwahahaha!! to my love who requested - i’m sorry I ended up making him a bit pathetic here, but in my defence… he does give off the energy of a wet cat, so. this set in the roommates universe, but the fics have no particular order <3

if you enjoyed, please reblog!! reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which in turn creates more. <3

masterlist. inbox. series masterlist.

“Sit the fuck down.”

Carmy blinks at you like a deer caught in headlights, confused and struggling to process.

“W-what?”

“You heard me, Carmen. Sit the fuck down before I shove you there myself.”

You gesture at the couch only a few feet away, crossing your arms over your chest expectantly.

He exhales shakily before placing his mug of coffee on the kitchen counter, walking over to do as you ordered.

He’s never really been bossed around by you before. Sure, you scold him occasionally, warn him when he does something wrong, but never like this. He can’t tell if he likes it. He thinks that maybe he does.

He gets comfy on the couch, sitting back against the cushions and spreading his legs. His white t shirt stretches deliciously across his broad shoulders, tight and worn. His old flannel pyjama pants look so cosy, you itch to reach out and run your hand across them.

Carmy’s watching you curiously, waiting for your next move. He can’t predict what’s going to happen, which would usually make him nervous. But right now, he’s got electricity buzzing through his veins, crackling and charged.

You set your own mug down and saunter over in his direction, as if you have all the time in the world. You stop at the window and shut the blinds, smirking over your shoulder when he raises his eyebrows in a silent question.

“Don’t want to give the neighbours a show.”

Carmy’s breath hitches in his chest, panting with anticipation. You crack your knuckles and stretch your arms above your head, suppressing a laugh when you see his eyes glued to the skin you expose between your t shirt and pyjama pants.

You stand in front of where he’s sat, patient and waiting. You look so tall, looking down on him, so completely powerful. He’s suddenly very confused by his own feelings.

“I’m sick of you bitching and moaning,” you begin, dropping to your knees on the patterned rug. “So I’m gonna make you shut the fuck up.”

Carmy suddenly sits up straight, full attention captured.

“What?”

“God, do you ever listen, Carmen?”

He’s silenced by your rebuttal, so you continue.

“You’re stressed to the max, and you don’t know how to leave work at work. You bring it home, complain for hours, and then wonder why you can’t relax. You need to shut your brain off.”

Carmy swallows harshly, eyes never leaving yours.

“And how am I supposed to do that?”

“You’re not. I’m gonna do it for you.”

With that, you rise up onto your knees so you’re face to face with your roommate.

“You okay with this?” you whisper, searching his features for any signs of trepidation.

“More than okay,” he breathes, leaning in to you. “Kiss me first? Please?”

You don’t think anyone would be able to resist him in this moment, when he looks and asks so pretty.

“Whatever you want, babe.”

You press your lips to his gently, testing the waters. Carmy instantly pulls you in with his arms around your back, deepening the kiss. You slip your tongue into his mouth and take control, nipping at his bottom lip when he gets too cocky.

“I’m in charge,” you tell him lowly. “If you wanna stop, say stop. But otherwise, I’m gonna keep going until you can’t remember your own name.”

Carmen’s eyes roll back at the promise, head hitting the sofa behind him as he groans. You settle back down between his legs, pulling his pyjama pants off and throwing them aside.

You trail open mouthed kisses up his thighs, starting at his knee and ending at his hip. Occasionally you bite down, soothing the sting with your tongue as you go. When he starts to fidget, you fully sink your teeth into his muscle, sharp and warning. He flinches, and you smirk.

“Patience, Carmen.”

“Don’t wanna be fuckin’ patient,” he grumbles under his breath, petulant as ever.

You look up at him firmly, and he gets the message.

Running your fingers up and down his thigh, you sit and enjoy the way goosebumps rise across his skin. You’re on a power trip, buzzing with the adrenaline of having a man like Carmy at your mercy.

“Good things come to those who wait,” you tease, before dancing your fingertips across the material of his boxers. His hips buck up into your hand and you relent, pulling his underwear down and off in one quick move.

He hisses as the cool air of the room hits his heated skin, the combination of sensations overwhelming.

You kiss along his hipbones, tasting salt and the musk that’s so Carmy. Nudging your nose into the juncture of his thigh, you chuckle when he shudders.

“Please, babe.”

“What do you want, Carm?”

“Just- just do something, please. Anything.”

Maybe it’s the rare show of manners, or maybe it’s his pleading tone, but you finally take pity on him. Grasping him in your hand, you give your wrist an experimental twist, biting your lip when he groans.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, all breathy and strained. He sounds so pretty like this, all loose limbed and pliable. “Shit, babe. Yeah.”

You take your time learning what he likes. Twisting, pulling, applying a little pressure. Carmy is writhing in his seat, completely unable to keep still. You keep pushing his hips back down firmly, putting him in his place.

He has his eyes screwed shut, head thrown back into the couch cushions, gorgeous neck exposed. You take him by surprise by wrapping your lips around him, sucking gently. His hand flies to your head, grasping for grip, for any kind of anchor.

You double down on your efforts, twisting your wrist as you hollow your cheeks. You rake the nails of your other hand down his thigh, squeezing occasionally to let him know you’re still good.

You feel his muscles go tense, knuckles gripping the cushion underneath him. He’s right on the edge - you can sense it.

So, you stop.

You pull away completely, laughing when his eyes shoot open, brows furrowed together.

“W-what? What the fuck? Why’d you stop?”

“Because I can.”

Carmy doesn’t even have the energy to come up with a sarcastic response. Instead, he sinks further into the couch, looking down at you with those big blue eyes.

“Babe.”

“So whiny. Jesus, Carmen, have some self respect.”

On any other day, he wouldn’t take that lying down. He’d sass you twice as hard, smirking when you roll your eyes. But today, he doesn’t have it in him.

“Please.”

“Oh you sound so pretty when you beg.”

He blushes, heat blooming up his chest and across his cheeks. He reaches out and traces your lips with his thumb, a tender gesture among all of the filth currently occurring.

“Do it more.”

He blinks at you, wondering if he heard you correctly.

“What?”

“Listen for once in your life, Berzatto. I said, do it more. Beg. Beg for it, and I’ll make you come.”

Carmy thinks he might have died and gone to heaven. He’s never seen this side of you before - in all honesty, you didn’t know it existed. He’s discovering a lot about himself tonight, and as confusing as it is, he’s loving it.

“Please, honey. Please.”

You click your tongue disapprovingly, shaking your head.

“Nuh uh. I want you to beg so hard that I am dripping, Carmen. Make it count.”

“You’re getting off on this,” he chuckles in disbelief. “Fuck, that’s so hot.”

You mime tapping an imaginary watch on your wrist, signalling him to hurry up. In reality, you’d kneel here on the rug all night if he wanted, content to watch him all high strung and flushed.

“Okay, okay. Sweetheart, please. Fuck, I need it. Need it so bad. Need you so bad. Just- give me anything, something, please.”

His voice has gone all breathy, shaky and unsure. He sounds like he’s on the verge of tears, and the mental image of him crying because of you turns you on more than it should.

“Oh baby,” you coo. “Was that so hard? Hmm?”

He shakes his head, bitten lip between his teeth.

“Gonna give you what you need now, because you were so good. My pretty, pretty boy.”

It might be your tone, or it might be because you called him your boy, but Carmy melts. He’s nothing but a puddle, mewling and panting, no coherent thoughts left in his brain.

You get back to work, hollowing your cheeks and working whatever you can’t fit in your mouth with your soft hands. You swirl your tongue, pressing it to the underside of him when you pull back slightly for air.

You wonder, for a second, if you’ve broken your roommate. Nonsense is leaving his lips in constant streams, babbling under his breath like he’s lost his mind.

“Yeah baby, keep going please, please don’t stop.”

“Fuck you’re so good, s’good, so good.”

“Just wanna come, please honey, I’ll do anything. Anything you want.”

“Ohhh, yesyesyes, oh fuck, thank you baby, shit.”

You keep humming in response, and the vibrations are Carmy’s undoing. His hips jolt upwards as his back arches off the couch, fingers scrambling for purchase. He hits the back of your throat and you groan, letting him ride it out however he needs. He relaxes back into his original position, body completely spent.

You squeeze his thigh to get his attention, making sure he watches as you swallow everything he’s given to you. He groans, low and tired, shaking his head with a smile on his face. You rest your head on his leg, looking up at him.

“You good, Carm?”

He nods, trying to gather the energy to answer you properly.

“Yeah,” he says after a while. “I genuinely think I’ve never been better.”

You laugh, and the sound makes him grin, all slow and saccharine.

“I can’t move. Think you’ve ruined me.”

“That was the plan,” you wink, standing up and pulling his boxers back up his legs.

You grab a bottle of water from the kitchen, watching as he downs it all in one go. Sitting next to him on the couch, he pulls you into his side, slotting you there perfectly.

“Thank you,” he whispers into the evening dusk of the room. “Not just for making me come harder than I ever have in my life. But, you know… for everything.”

You chuckle, intertwining your fingers with his.

“Of course. You’d do the same for me.”

“Next time you have a bad day, I’m gonna throw you on the couch and eat you out until you cry.”

You groan, pinching his thigh in warning.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

@enigmaticloki @kaelabear @idontexist-anymore @jazminsjaz @kingsqueensandvagabonds

[ghoststyles]

Fairway to Heaven - Chapter 9

7.8K

SO SORRY I WENT MIA LIFE SUCKED FOR A MIN THERE

_________________________________________________________

When Harry peels his eyes open at the crack of dawn on a Tuesday, he’s not expecting two beady eyes to be staring into his, mere inches from his face.

“Morning, sleepy!” Hattie’s shrill voice rings through the small guest house. She’s dressed and ready for the day, munching on some Percy Pigs.

“Morning, rug rat. Why’re you eating candy at half eight?” He narrows his eyes, slowly lifting his head from the pillow. “Gimme some.”

Hattie hesitantly hands him one, taking notice of the dwindling number of gummy candies left in the bag.

“Mumma left already and Daddy took a phone call,” she reasons.

Harry rolls his eyes as he chews, pushing himself to his feet.

“C’mon, let’s go get you a proper breakfast.”

She perks up at this, following behind her uncle. Harry’s bones crack as he stretches his limbs. He crosses the slightly damp grass and opens the back sliding door to Gemma and Michal’s house, trying not to let any cats out. Hattie stays in the garden, staring at some worms on the stone pathway.

Harry begins making scrambled eggs and conjuring up any fruit he can find. As the eggs cook slowly, his mind begins to wander. It’s been a little over 2 1/2 months since he returned to England and his mind has had very few thoughts that didn’t include Briar.

He misses her on his runs. He misses her on the train. He misses her in the morning. He misses her when he’s alone in a shop buying fuck-all to fill the void.

Grabbing his phone, he sends his daily “ . ” to Briar, just to check if he’s still blocked. As usual, the message sends in a green bubble.

Pushing the eggs around, he makes it just how Briar likes it; mostly cooked, but still runny. Drudging over to the fridge, he spots some cheese to sprinkle on top. With careful hands, he plates the eggs for the two of them to share.

By this point, Hattie is romping around the garden in her school uniform, getting dirt and muck on her shoes and dress. He stalks over to the door, opening it enough to shout out to her.

“Oi! You’re due at school any minute and you’re ruining your clothes! Get in here.”

Hattie’s head whips up at Harry’s tone. He’s never once yelled at her in her 6 years of existence. Usually, she can get away with anything from painting Harry’s nails to stealing his nice clothes for a fashion show. Harry sees her face drop and can sense the tears are about to start. She stands up, her wide eyes looking at him. She meets him at the door and wraps her arms around his legs.

“‘M sorry, uncle H. Didn’t mean to mess up my dress.”

“It’s okay, bug. I didn’t mean to raise my voice. Why don’t you sit and start eating, and I’ll run upstairs to grab a new dress, yeah? Do you need new socks, too?”

She nods sadly, her bottom lip still in a pout. Harry lowers down to kiss the top of her head.

“Alright, love. Be right back.”

~

It’s not right. The room is silent, apart from the strained puffs of air hitting her face. Soft praises and dirty comments aren’t being whispered in her ear, and the hairs on the back of her neck aren’t standing straight up. Sweat is building up on her lower back and the backs of her knees as his hips snap sloppily into her.

They’ve been in this spot for a while, Spencer and Briar. If she were with Harry, she’d have reached completion twice by now, and explored 3 different positions. He’s barely uttered a word to her, just periodically grunting and saying, “oh yeah.”

Shuddering at the thought of Harry, she finally musters up the courage to look up at Spencer. His eyebrows are furrowed and he’s biting his lip in a manner that would normally be sexy, but to her, it’s repulsive.

They’d been out at a bar with a group of his friends; Briar being the only girl to tag along. They were both drinking and listening intently as his friends told funny stories. He included her when he could, but for the most part, Briar sat quietly to people watch.

“Close, Bri,” he grunts again.

She cringes, again. Only the people she’s closest with call her Bri. Is he asking her if she’s close, or is he telling her he is?

“Mhm,” she squeaks out a lie. He can’t possibly think this is good, right?

“Oh my goddd,” he drags out as he finishes into the condom. His heavy pants continue as he rolls off of her, a little sweat from his chest transferring to hers.

She cringes as he maneuvers his way to lay along side her. When he doesn’t immediately get up to grab a washcloth, she slides herself off the bed, picking up her shorts and throwing her long t-shirt on. She slowly shuffles to the bathroom, willing herself not to cry.

Spencer is nice; he’s respectful, but a little boring. When she looks at him, her heart doesn’t hammer in her chest.

Staring at herself in the mirror, her heart sinks to the floor. Her mascara is smudged, bags more prominent than before.

Briar used to feel enlightened and empowered after sex, a sense of weightlessness hitting her senses. But right now, a pit is formed in her stomach and she can’t wait for him to leave.

Entering the room, she sees Spencer sitting along the edge of the bed in his boxers. He smiles at her before pulling his sweatpants up.

“I have to be at the shop early tomorrow. I’ll text you?”

She inhales sharply, slightly relieved.

“Okay, yeah,” she smiles back as he leans in to peck her on the lips.

“See you later, gorgeous.”

Gus lifts his head as the unfamiliar man makes his way past him before exiting through the front door.

She joins him at his spot on his bed, nuzzling her face into his wide and fluffy neck. She’s a little salty because Spencer didn’t even acknowledge Gus.

“Gus, what did I get us into?”

~

After 10 weeks in England, the longest period of time he’s spent there since he was 16 years old, Harry is heading back to the U.S.

There were lots of tears from Hattie, sympathetic looks from his sister, and sad waves from his mum.

He’s in his groove as a father to Oliver, balancing work and making time for FaceTime dates and even popping back over to France for a weekend. Camille is bringing Oliver to America in a few days.

His flight was seamless. He opted for business class so he could lay down and sleep. By the time the flight attendant shook him awake, they were just minutes from landing in New York City.

Looking to the escalators, the same ones Briar left him at to go to France over 3 months ago, his heart sinks. Getting broken up with 11 days into a trip is fucking with his head.

Harry’s driver, Paul, is waiting for him, the trunk of the SUV open for his luggage. He’d added an extra bag to carry new clothes and even a new trinket for his collection. Paul gently pats Harry on his back when he approaches.

Sliding into the back seat, Harry doesn’t bother buckling himself in, and lays his long legs over the seats. His eyes are about to close when he gets a text from Niall.

Welcome home, mate. I’ll stop over tomorrow for the meeting?

It’s not that he’s not excited to see Niall, he just can’t stomach acting happy and ignoring the elephant in the room. He wonders if he’s been to Wynnewood recently. He answers Niall with a quick ‘ya’ and shoves his phone in his pocket.

Town is quiet, just a few joggers and dog walkers milling about. It’s early, so the shops are only just opening their doors.

“Hey, Paul, can we stop for a minute? I want to grab a coffee.”

“Sure thing,” Paul says, slowly pulling the car to a stop.

With a cracking of his bones, Harry slides out of the car to stand in the street. He ducks inside the shop to find one guy behind the counter. He’s tall, flowy brown hair with a few tattoos on his arms and hand. He reminds Harry of a younger version of himself.

“Morning, man. Let me know what I can get started for you,” the barista smiles.

“Thanks. I’ll take two large iced cold brews. Black. And a croissant.”

“No problem. I just gotta fire up the oven, so it’ll be a minute," the guy says as Harry taps his credit card.

“Take your time,” Harry waves him off as he tucks himself into a corner booth, pulling out his phone to look at his emails.

A few more people filter into the coffee shop, so the level of chatter increases. Another worker brings over his coffees, and the original worker is pulling the croissant out of the oven.

The bell over the door jingles, signaling someone is entering.

“Hey, Bri!” the barista shouts as he’s pulling two espresso shots.

Harry’s blood runs cold as he wills himself to lift his head. His chest tightens when he’s met with his worst fear.

She’s as breathtakingly gorgeous as the day he left her at the bottom of the airport escalator. Her eyes are still puffy from sleep, but bright and lively as ever. Her skin is perfectly tanned, and her hair pulled into a neat braid that extends down her back. She’s a bit flushed, assuming she is in the middle of a run.

The barista has completely abandoned Harry’s croissant in order to lean over the counter and talk to her. He passes her her favorite drink; a green iced tea, lightly sweetened with lemon.

In his observation of this interaction, Harry forgets to breathe, so he lightly chokes on his own saliva. He’s hidden from their view, so he’s not worried about being caught.

Are they friends? Are they more? Was she in essentially no pain since she ended it?

Peering around, he can’t find an emergency exit. Paul will start to question why he’s been in there so long. The other worker finally brings his croissant to Harry, but there’s no way he can physically stomach it.

More people are entering the coffee shop, so Briar waves shyly to the barista and makes her way out of the shop.

He counts to 30 before pushing himself to his feet. The lock in his jaw is tight and his shoulders are so tense he’s scared he’ll snap a tendon.

He leaves the croissant, grabbing the drinks and stalking out of the shop. He’s moving haphazardly around the small cafe style tables.

“Have a good day, man!” the barista shouts, to which Harry ignores and slams the door with the strength of Thanos, he’s sure the whole building shook.

Paul is stood outside the car, leaning on the hood, his eyes a little wide, “Was that…”

“Yes,” Harry snaps, handing Paul the cup.

He rips the door open returning to his seat. His heart is pounding, and he can’t help but obsess over one detail:

She didn’t fucking pay for her drink.

~

For the remainder of her run, Briar felt unsettled, but she couldn’t pinpoint why. She never feels this paranoid unless she takes too much of her edible gummies. Even then, she always had Harry with her to make her feel safe.

Things with Spencer are stagnant; they’ve hooked up a few times, and he’s invited her to meet his friends. They have a good time when they’re together, but she isn’t feeling the spark. Since shutting off contact from Harry, she’s grasping for male attention; something she’s worked on since starting therapy.

There’s a networking event at Wynnewood later today, so Briar is anxious to know if Niall will be there. They’ve effectively avoided one another, treading the subject of she and Harry’s relationship lightly.

Her pace picks up when she hits the public garden, stomach twisting in pain when she passes the bench in the little alcove where she and Harry had their first official date. Tears begin to prick in her eyes, making her squeeze them shut to try and stop it from getting worse.

Her relationship grief comes in waves; waves of missing him and fits of anger. Anger at herself, really. Deep down, Briar recognizes she fucked up. She won’t admit it, though. The amount of times she’s wanted to pick up her phone, unblock him and grovel at his feet should have her on some sort of government watchlist. She reaches her apartment complex in record time.

While the shower runs, she foam rolls her legs and starts to lay out her skin care on the counter. Her phone is blasting her calming playlist, and her favorite bergamot candle from Target is lit. She’s not sure what comes over her, but she delicately enters her passcode and scrolls to Harry’s contact.

Her stomach churns and her finger hovers over the unblock button. She’s a split second from unblocking him when she hears Gus bark abruptly in the other room. Slamming her phone back down, she strips her clothes and jumps into the cold shower. That should clear her head a little.

Getting ready and driving to Wynnewood went by in a blur. Her knuckles are white from gripping her steering wheel tightly. She’s certain she’ll see Niall today. He’s the executive sponsor of the networking and charity event on the back course and luncheon in the main dining room. She just hopes his best mate isn’t there to support. She’ll donate an extra buck to make up for that damning thought.

Briar spots her Uncle Patrick in his office squinting at the computer screen as he normally does. She smiles to herself before gently opening the door. Patrick looks up, glasses perched on the end of his nose.

“Hey, Bear,” he smiles brightly.

“Hi,” she sighs, taking her usual spot on the sofa.

“I sent over your itinerary for California. We’ll all be on the same flight, but you’ll be on your own for most of the trip. The boys and I will be playing at Pebble Beach and a few other courses. But, I’m sure you’ll keep busy with your mom.”

Briar inhales through her nose at the mention of her mother. This will be her first time visiting her in her new life in California. Anxiety bubbles in her chest, causing her to feel her pulse at her neck.

“We want you to come over for dinner when you drop Gus off and stay the night so I can take us all to the airport Sunday morning.”

Her jaw locks at that. This is a mandated trip, planned by her uncle so she can’t put it off. She’s the last of her siblings to visit. Seeing her mother start over with a new family seems too much to bear. Her heart hurts thinking about it.

“Okay. Are you sure Aunt Mer is okay watching him? I can have Caroline stay at my apartment.”

“She’s fine. She’ll want a buddy for the week, anyway.”

Briar hums, playing with the hem of her shirt as she musters up the courage to go out on the course. But before she does, she scrolls to Harry’s contact again and finally bites the bullet to unblock him.

~

Harry finally makes it back to his house. The sun is rising, casting an orange hue over the windows. He sees his annoying neighbor Maureen watering her plants, so he’s sure if she sees him she’ll fill him in on 12 weeks of nonsense he missed.

The lawn is well kept and the windows are clean. Madison did a good job of making sure his house is in order. His heart twinges when he enters the new code on his lock, imagining Briar on this same step, cursing him out and steam blowing out of her ears. He misses the way her nose would scrunch up any time she was cross with him.

Slowly, the door opens and the deafening silence hits him like a bus. No sign of life anywhere. He isn’t tripping over her shoes, and he doesn’t smell the light traces of coconut and citrus from her perfume anymore.

Paul follows behind him, placing his bags down by the entryway. Harry says nothing, but nods at him appreciatively.

“I’ll be back to pick you up for the airport on Sunday, Harry.”

“Thanks, Paul. Have a good day.”

Dreading the walk upstairs, Harry continues on with his carry-on so he can shower and try to sleep off as much jet lag as he can. He has a feeling he’ll have a lot of early mornings this week to get back on track.

He stomps up the stairs, preparing himself to see his bedroom with no traces of Briar left. The door squeaks when he opens it, and a gust of wind escapes his lungs. It feels wrong; almost too sterile. Briar brings a certain level of peace and comfort everywhere she goes, and now his house feels empty and void of color and fun.

Hell, he even wishes his sheets were twisted from Gus rolling around on the bed even though Harry hates it. The three of them just fit. It was easy.

Harry pads into the bathroom, turning the water in his shower on the hottest setting, ignoring the lonely blue toothbrush sitting on the counter, clearly missing its pink companion.

“Fuck,” he chokes out, not expecting to be hit with the grief from something as simple as that.

Just before he strips, he opens his text conversation with Briar to send his daily “ . ” to see if he’s still blocked. This time, the message is blue.

Harry’s heart stops for a split second. A rush of adrenaline shoots up his spine, but he can’t help the smile that’s formed on his face.

~

Briar finally emerged from Patrick’s office, so she quickly scurries to the garage to start loading up her cart. The bar backs already got a head start on it, so really she is only putting out the fun straws and straightening up.

She spots Joaquin, the stuffed bird Harry got her. She’ll spare him — for now. She thanks the boys for their help before setting off to the back course.

Wynnewood is packed with people, thanks to the networking and fundraising event hosted by Niall and the men’s league he plays in on Wednesday nights. She’s bound to see him, so she’s basking in the moments of no awkwardness.

Zipping past the practice green and driving range, she spots a lot of members who are never at the club at the same time; it’s all of her worlds colliding at once. No sign of Niall.

The shift is going relatively smoothly; Everyone is in great moods, and being even more generous. She’s already decided she’ll donate a portion of her tips to the fundraiser.

Rounding the 14th hole, she sighs as she sees Niall seemingly waiting for her. He’s leaning suavely on his golf club, tan chinos hugging his legs nicely. He smiles at her facial expression, knowing he has her in his trap.

Panicking, Briar slowly approaches him on the path. As Niall begins to speak, Briar punches the gas and plows over the grass, cutting around Niall. In shock, he whips around and begins to shout after her. She smiles to herself smugly as she whips to the 15th hole.

The grounds crew will have to forgive her for fucking up the grass.

Briar makes it through the afternoon without running into Niall again. But at 3pm, she’s in need of a break. She parks the cart and heads to the locker room. Staring down at her phone, her breath hitches when she sees a notification from Harry.

Just as she’s about to swipe to open the message, a pair of hands grabs her and she’s suddenly lifted into the air.

“Oh my God! What the f—”

Niall is laughing hysterically as he drags her into the empty steam room. He covers her mouth so she stops screaming. He places her down on the ground and she starts to smack him on the chest.

“Niall, what the fuck is wrong with you? Grabbing a fucking girl like that!”

“I know, you’ll have to forgive me,” He laughs sitting down on the teak bench. “I need to talk to you.”

“I don’t want to talk.”

“Okay,” he reasons, crossing his arms over his chest. “Sure about that?”

Briar stays put. Niall cocks his head at her, fully assuming if that were the truth, she’d have left by now.

“Fine,” she grumbles. “What?”

“What is going on? You’ve been AWOL, Harry won’t talk to me, and I’m just plain miserable. Why did he fuck off to England?”

Briar is quiet. She had no idea he hasn’t been in the states this entire time. She figured he was avoiding Wynnewood.

“He was in England?”

Niall hums, “There it is. There’s the confirmation.”

“Fucking — Fine, yes, Niall, we broke up. I broke it off.”

Niall sighs again standing up to face her, “I figured as much. It’s been like, two months, and he’s barely had a conversation that’s not about work with me. He worked remotely from his sister’s.”

Her heart hurts knowing Harry fled to England; reminiscent of when Camille ended the engagement. She can’t help but feel like a villain.

“Briar, you’re 24. I think anyone with a good head on their shoulders would have apprehensions if their significant other has a kid. He just needed time.”

Tears prick in her eyes as she hears the one thought she’s been beating herself up over for weeks.

“I know,” she admits quietly.

“There’s plenty of time to fix it, if that’s what you want.”

Niall pulls her to his chest, the most physical touch she’s received in weeks. He leans down to whisper in her ear, “I’m sweating out of my arsehole right now.”

She guffaws and shoves him, turning on her heels to leave the steam room. She pulls her phone back out to deal with the text from Harry. She mentally prepares to read a long text trying to get her back. Instead, she’s met with a single “ . ”

What the fuck?

~

Friday night comes quicker than Briar likes. She begrudgingly loads her luggage and Gus’s supplies into the Jeep and sets off for her Aunt and Uncle’s house. Her brothers are already there, based on the memes in the “BarlHOES” family group chat.

Her uncle is quick to help her unload and manage Gus, and Cormac grabs her small suitcase and backpack. She gives her youngest brother a big hug. They silently embrace until Cormac pulls away.

She follows the two of them inside and is greeted by her aunt.

“Hi, sweets! I’ve missed you, honey.”

Briar hugs her aunt and gives her her best fake smile. Meredith looks at her knowingly.

Dinner goes by in a blur; Briar only participating if directly spoken to. The boys head to bed early to prepare for their rude wake up call at 3:30 AM. Patrick bids the girls a good night after he takes out the trash.

Briar slowly backs out of the kitchen, hoping her aunt doesn’t notice. Meredith clears her throat and slams two wine glasses down on the kitchen island. She silently reaches down into the wine fridge and pulls out a Cabernet Sauvignon.

“Sit,” Meredith orders.

Briar exhales and gives in. She pulls out the stool and rests her legs on the spare one between them while Meredith pours.

“How long?” Meredith pries.

“How long, what?” Briar plays dumb.

“The break up. The break. Whatever you’re calling it,” She pokes. “The reason you’ve been M.I.A.”

“10 weeks, maybe? I ended it,” Briar replies, stone faced. “I’m hooking up with someone from my program now.”

Meredith sighs, taking a sip of her wine. “What spooked you?"

“Nothing. I just wanted Harry to be able to adjust to being a dad without me in the way. I had the parent who didn’t choose her kids, and it sucked.”

“I think those were two completely different situations, Bri. Your mom had issues and needed to focus on getting better. Harry can easily find a balance with his circumstances.”

Briar rubs her neck, “I’m only 24, I can’t be someone’s step-mom,” Briar replies out of exasperation.

Meredith glares at her and clears her throat, “Um, I was only 27 when I took in FIVE little monsters. Cormac was barely even eating solid foods!”

Briar laughs, and takes a sip. “You’re right. I didn’t think about that.”

“It was the sexiest thing watching Patrick care for all of you. It showed commitment and stability,” Meredith recalls fondly. “And it takes a strong partner to keep it all together. I don’t think you give yourself enough credit.”

Briar inhales deeply, resting her head on her forearms, “I know what we had was good. Amazing, even. I fucked it all up. I told him not to contact me. But obviously I wanted him to. He respects me so fucking much, he listened!”

Meredith laughs, “Briar, he’s 40 years old. He’s not gonna play your game. So, now, you need to figure out what you’re going to do about it. I suggest you do some reflecting and journaling when you’re in California. And smoke a joint. It’ll give you all the clarity you need.”

Briar hums, shaking her head.

“I think you already know what you want. You just have to go get it.”

~

Harry’s wake up call on Sunday ripped him from a deep sleep; the best night’s sleep he’s had since getting back to the states. He’s usually up by 4:45 AM pacing the kitchen and reorganizing things for the hell of it.

But today, he’s sluggish, and doesn’t even want to move from his bed. Rising to a seated position on the edge, he cracks his neck, followed by several cracks down his vertebra.

He checks his phone to find a text from Camille from 30 minutes ago. She, Oliver, Theo and Amelie are 2 hours from landing. Harry and Oliver are going on a solo trip, so Camille and her family are staying in New York for the next 2 weeks while they bond. Harry has a few stops in mind, and he can’t wait to spend this time alone with him.

Paul texts Harry that he’s downstairs. He unlocks the door from his phone, and sends him a text to let him know where his luggage is. For good measure, Harry checks his messages between himself and Briar. The message is still blue, but no indication that she read it.

He slips down the stairs after getting ready to head to the airport to meet them. Harry and Oliver’s flight is in a few hours, giving them plenty of time to go through customs and get him situated.

The ride is silent; Harry slipping in and out of a light sleep. Paul isn’t talkative in the morning, either. For some odd reason, there’s a traffic jam at the terminal. Harry can’t quite place what’s going on, but spots a family that looks like they’re arguing and some of their bags rolled into the road. Harry shrugs and pulls hood further over his eyes to block out the bright lights of the terminal.

Camille’s plane hasn’t landed yet, so Harry opts to lay in the car until it’s closer to when they’ll hit customs. With time to kill, he slips back into a peaceful sleep.

~

“Get the fuck out of my face!” Jasper screams at Welles before shoving him out of the way.

“I didn’t even fucking do anything!” Welles screams back.

Before they know it, suitcases are toppling over into the street, and Uncle Patrick jumps out of the driver’s seat to intervene. He shoves Jasper, who’s significantly taller than the rest of the boys, and shoots Welles a glare.

“Knock it off! Callum, Cormac. Pick the suitcases up. Now!”

Cars are honking and swerving to avoid the family’s altercation. All of this is happening at the grand old time of 6:15 AM. The younger boys roll their eyes before listening to their uncle.

Briar is disassociating in the passenger’s seat, not even lifting her head to assess the situation. She woke up with extreme anxiety, so she’s just praying her heart doesn’t jump out of her chest.

“Fucking ridiculous. 30 years old, for Christ’s sake,” Patrick mutters about Welles.

If there’s one thing about the Barlowe boys, they settle everything physically. They’ll even team up on Briar every once in a while, throwing her in a headlock or slamming her down on the sofa.

She finally snaps from her daze and maneuvers to grab her belongings. For all she cares, she’ll head in alone and pretend she doesn’t know them. Once she’s through security and has her Starbucks, she’ll be golden.

They descend toward the escalator, until Briar hears a gasp. She whips her head around to her younger brother, Cormac, looking white as a ghost.

She places her hands on his shoulders, her sisterly instincts kicking in, “Mac? What’s wrong, bubby? Are you gonna be sick?”

He speaks so softly she has to lean in to hear him.

“Bri, I forgot my license. Are they gonna let me on the plane?”

She tries to mask the pain on her face, but fails. She glances over at her stressed uncle, whose blood pressure is probably only just lowering. Cormac turned 18 3 days ago, so she knows their chances of flying without his license is slim to none

“It’s okay, I’ll tell Uncle Patrick,” she pats his head lightly.

They are 25 feet from the security line, so Briar speaks up.

“Uncle Pat, don’t make a scene, please,” she reasons. “Mac doesn’t have his I.D.”

Patrick closes his eyes, taking a deep breath to try and regulate his reaction. Wordlessly, he pulls out his phone to dial American Airlines. Briar watches as he places his phone between his shoulder and ear, and aggressively waves the family to follow him back downstairs.

Needless to say, none of the Barlowes got on that plane.

~

It was just like the movies when Harry reunited with Oliver. He stood at the bottom of the escalators and waited for his boy to spot him from the top. He immediately bounces on his heels but refrains from running down the escalator when Camille shoots him a look. Amelie is strapped to Camille’s chest while Theo manages the bags.

“Papa!” Oliver shouts as soon as he’s within earshot of Harry.

“Mate! Welcome to America!”

Camille smiles as she makes the final steps off the escalator. She looks down at her excited boy fondly and gives Harry a side hug as to not disturb the baby.

“Customs line long?” Harry asks, breaking up the mild awkward silence. Theo finally joined them, shaking Harry’s hand and pulling him in for a bro hug.

“Not bad today. Packed far too much, though,” Theo grumbles, looking directly at Camille.

“2 1/2 weeks in New York means 2 months worth of clothes,” she smirks.

While Harry takes Oliver to California solo, Theo and Camille are staying in New York. Camille worked out several business deals, so she’ll have in-person meetings the entire time. When Harry and Oliver return, they’ll fly home to Paris together. After that, Harry’s not sure when he’ll see him next.

Camille felt more comfortable being in on the same continent during their first solo trip. Harry is stoked — he planned the whole trip to Montecito, being sure to hit all his old favorite spots and spend plenty of time in the sun. Even though he and Camille aren’t together, he thinks it’s important to tell Oliver about their story. He probably won’t understand, but he’s excited nonetheless.

Oliver stifles a yawn, so Harry takes that as their queue to start their own trip. They have about an hour until their flight. He needs coffee and a good bagel.

Camille leans down to give Oliver a huge hug, whispering in his ear to behave, be kind and have fun. The boy smiles brightly, wiggling his first loose tooth at her.

“That tooth better be gone when I see you next, mister!” She smiles, planting a kiss on his cheek.

“I think we can arrange that. Does the tooth fairy travel?” Harry laughs.

Harry bids the couple farewell, and drags he and Oliver’s bags behind him. He spots a Dunkin’ Donuts, so he decides to treat them to some coffee — hot chocolate for the little guy — and munchkins.

Oliver’s eyes light up at the taste of his first American donut. Harry hopes he isn’t going to regret this later, unsure of how Oliver reacts to loads of sugar. It’s the American way, he supposes.

To pass the time, Oliver colors and the two of them play tic tac toe. He’s grateful he wasn’t raised as an iPad child. They talk about what movies they’re going to watch, fully knowing the boy will probably sleep for most of the flight. He’s a trooper after almost 24 hours of travel.

Harry shows Oliver pictures of their bungalow for the next 2 weeks; a small cottage steps from the beach and a short walk from the Beachwood Cafe, he and Camille’s old stomping grounds.

About 20 minutes before the flight, Harry ushers them over to their gate. As he’s sitting down, he partially tunes out the chatter around him, until he hears an announcement from the desk associate, her accent thick.

“Bare-low party of six, please check in at the desk.”

Harry looks around, in case the love of his life is right under his nose. He can’t be that lucky.

Then again, 10 minutes later.

“Bare-low, party of six, last call to check-in. Standby passengers, please come to the desk.”

Getting Oliver settled, they wait for their boarding call. They board third, a new perk of having a kid.

He places their bags in the overhead bin, sets his boy up with snacks, juice and headphones for a movie, but he can already see his little eyelids fluttering. Painstakingly slow, the plane boards. Harry paid close attention to the passengers coming on, and he knew his luck had run out.

Though, the seat next to him is suspiciously empty as the pilot announces the closing doors.

~

Thanks to Aunt Meredith leaving pilates to drive an hour to the airport during rush hour, Mac has his license and they’re booked for a later flight. The family swiftly runs through security and heads to their gate. The boys have calmed down, opting to lay in an empty row of chairs. Two are sleeping and two are scrolling their phones.

Patrick is scratching Briar’s head as she leans against him, something they’ve always done since she was little and pretended to be a dog everywhere they went.

Their boarding group is called, so they embark on their journey, leaving Briar to suck it up. She’s decided she’s going to make this trip about her, leaving all distractions behind. Her mother, Harry, Spencer, and school.

Settling into her seat, she turns on the movie she queued up and gets comfortable. She watches about 25 minutes of the movie before dozing off. She hopes Patrick will wake her to get a biscoff biscuit and a ginger ale, but she doesn’t have high expectations.

~

Patrick nudges Briar awake when there’s 40 minutes left in their flight. She climbs over a sleeping Cormac to use the bathroom and stretch her legs. She spots her other brothers a few rows back, smiling at the way they’re piled on one another. It reminds her of them all as kids, dog piling on a fort of pillows in the basement.

She stretches her arms above her head as she pees, swearing plane bathrooms have gotten smaller. She takes a selfie in the plane bathroom before heading back to her seat. Cormac is still passed out, so she clambers over him to the window seat.

Before she knows it, the plane is descending into Los Angeles. A pit forms in her stomach knowing she is spending the next 2 weeks with her mom while her brothers and uncle golf and surf most of the time.

Patrick rented two cars; so she opts to ride with Welles. It’s not often the two of them are alone. He was 12 when their dad died, so he had a more realistic grasp on what was happening to their family. He was Cormac’s age when their mother sought treatment. His bright, happy demeanor dissipated quickly. It makes Briar’s heart hurt sometimes. Her siblings dealt with these issues differently, and they’ve never had a true heart to heart about it.

They drive for a few miles, Welles fiddling with the Bluetooth and playing his music. They’re in the car for the next few hours, so Briar finally got the courage to speak up.

She clears her throat, “what moment did you realize Mom needed help?”

Welles’ eyebrows scrunch, and he looks over at his sister before looking back at the road.

“Uhm,” he starts, not sure where to begin. “I remember Mom picking me up from the first day of middle school. She was waiting for me in the pick up line, and she was slurring her words. I obviously didn’t know what being high was, so I was scared something was wrong with her health.”

She closes her eyes, remembering that day vividly. Uncle Patrick came storming into the house, yelling at their mother. Welles called him, too scared to get in the car with her.

“I remember that,” Briar replies quietly. “Mine was when she kept missing important things; school events and doctors appointments. It got to the point she didn’t know what day it was.”

“Yeah,” Welles responds solemnly. “Well, that’s in the past now. She’s better. Even though I don’t agree with some of the choices she’s made recently, we have to try to support her.”

“I know,” she starts to sniffle. “It was just fucked up to put that kind of pressure on us.”

Welles reaches over to squeeze her shoulder, “I know, Bear.”

~

Harry and Oliver’s trip started off smoothly. He collected their bags and got them on the shuttle to the rental car office. Oliver could still barely keep his eyes open, so Harry held him while they stood in line. When it was finally their turn, Harry was ecstatic (first to relieve his back and arms from carrying 55 pounds, and second, because he rented them a convertible coupe).

It’s similar to the car he used to drive around Montecito as golden hour hit the coastline. He and Camille would drive on the Pacific Coast Highway and head to the beach to smoke a joint and watch the stars. He smiles to himself fondly.

He sets Oliver up with a booster seat in the back, and rolls the top down. If he weren’t so tired, he’s sure he’d be smiling ear to ear.

“Papa, je suis fatigué,” Oliver mumbles.

Harry smiles to himself. Even though Oliver can speak English well, his native tongue slips out when he’s exhausted.

“I know, mate. As soon as we’re at the house we can sleep some more.”

“D’accord, Papa.”

They drive for a while, and Harry slows down to stare out at the ocean as he drives through familiar towns. He’s excited to have some decent Mexican food again.

They pull up to the bungalow a little before noon. He lifts Oliver from his booster, laying his head on his shoulder. He unlocks the door based on the AirBnB host’s instructions, and gently lays him down on the sofa in the main room. His face scrunches in protest, and Harry can’t help but feel like he’s looking in the mirror. Even their mannerisms are identical.

Jogging back out to the car, Harry unloads and gets everything inside before locking up. He’s excited to head out back and enjoy the view. He snaps a few photos of the water, and sends his daily “ . ” text to Briar.

The bubble is blue again.

~

Briar and Welles talked the whole drive to Montecito. They laughed as they covered what seemed like years they’ve missed out on being close. She hopes this is a turning point for them.

Her phone chimes, and her heart stops as she looks down at the notification. Another fucking “ . ” from Harry! What does that even mean?

“What’s wrong?” Welles pipes up. She must’ve made a sound or had a sour face.

“Oh, um. I’m not sure if I told you, but Harry and I broke up.”

“Yeah, Jasper told me. Sorry to hear.”

“Thanks. So, I blocked him like, 2 months ago, and I just unblocked him the other day. I’ve been getting messages that only have a period in them, and I have no idea what that means.”

“It means he’s been testing if he’s still blocked. He’s probably been sending those the entire time.”

Briar ponders this. She kind of thinks it’s funny. And a little sad.

She laughs, “Do you know that from experience?”

“Maybe. Before Imani and I were good together, we were not so good together,” he says, hysterically laughing.

The GPS indicates they’re at their destination. It’s a nice house that overlooks the ocean, and appears to be well kept.

Patrick and the other boys are already inside, so Welles and Briar approach the front door to knock. They’re greeted by a small girl, no older than 8 years old, in a purple princess gown.

“Hi,” Briar smiles.

The girl ignores her and retreats back inside. She and Welles shrug, stepping into the threshold of the house. They follow the loud voices into the main living room. Along the way, she spots photos on the walls of her mother, her new husband, and his kids. Her heart pangs when she realizes there isn’t a trace of her or her brothers.

“Bear! Wellie!” Catherine Barlowe screeches. “All my babies under one roof!”

She hugs both of them and plants strong kisses on their cheeks.

“Did you meet Penelope?”

“Uh, I think so,” Welles responds.

“You remember Dean, right? And these are his two other girls, Daphne and Delaney,” she points to two identical girls. They’re probably 10 years old. Briar remembers seeing photos of them at the wedding.

Dean leans in to give her a hug and shake Welles’ hand.

They all exchange pleasantries until Briar excuses herself outside. Their back deck is gorgeous, and overlooks a picturesque part of the ocean. She snaps a few photos, and fights the urge to send them to Harry.

~

By the end of day 9, Harry is exhausted. He wasn’t aware of the mental toughness required to occupy a child, feed said child, and and also take care of himself. His heart grows three sizes everytime Oliver smiles during a new activity, making it all worth it.

They’ve already explored the beaches, went shopping, went to the aquarium, explored Big Sur, and even spent a day on the golf course. Harry just had to sneak one day of golf in to keep sane. Oliver reacted well and had fun chasing the golf cart, despite the nasty looks from members.

They start off most of their days by walking to Beachwood for coffee and croissants, and Harry tells Oliver their plans for the day. It’s been nice to reminisce his life with Camille. Almost like exposure therapy.

They check in with Camille frequently, and Harry’s even gone out of his way to vlog their entire trip. Maybe he’ll put together a video at the end. Briar used to love vlogging. She’d take 1 second clips and arrange them with his favorite songs. Some videos were for their eyes only.

Camille is busy with work, but she’s thinking of leasing a New York apartment to make traveling with Oliver easier. Harry’s not sure how to feel about it.

Harry goes to sleep that night with a plan to take Oliver kayaking. They’ll swing by Beachwood before heading off.

~

Briar’s brothers and uncle have golfed every single day, leaving her to stay with her mother and her new family. It’s interesting seeing her mother in this role; almost like she’s on a TV show. This trip should be healing for Briar, but she feels an overwhelming sense of anxiety.

The moment she woke up, Briar informed her mother that she’d like to spend the day alone. They’d gone shopping one on one and went to lunch, but Briar felt a major disconnect. Her mother took some offense, but understood she’s there for a few more days.

Slipping on her running sneakers and pink trucker hat, Briar set off up the hills of Montecito. She’s explored every coffee shop in the neighborhood and has one left that her mother raves about; the Beachwood Cafe. Her running pace has improved tremendously, so she makes it to the doors of the cafe just after 8. It’s jam packed, but she realizes it’s a Saturday. On vacation, she loses track of the days.

After ordering her iced green tea and a croissant, she spots an open table outside. The sun is shining, but the damning humidity from the east coast is nowhere to be found. She could live in weather like this forever.

Her podcast is playing and she just started the mini crossword when she feels the vibrations of the extra seat at her table being drug away from the table. Startled, Briar looks up to find a young boy, loose chocolate brown curls on his head, freckles, and bright green eyes staring at her. Still a bit stunned, Briar doesn’t react when the boy sits at her table. He has a book of marine animals with him, equipped with a sticker set.

Her heart is beating erratically. It can’t be, can it?

The boy is paying her no mind as she wordlessly starts to pack up her things. She’s cursing herself for bringing so much shit with her on a run. He munches on his croissant with strawberry jam and watches her fumble around.

Finally, she gathers her things and heads to the door, her head down in case this is really happening. She takes 5 stunted steps before running into a rock-solid object. She stares down at the brightly colored Hoka sneakers belonging to the man she’s utterly in love with, but is choosing to torture herself and stay away from.

“Birdie?”

___________________________________________

REUNITED N IT FEELS SO GOOOOOOD :D

Wrapping up the story in part 10 <3 I already know how I want it to go, so hopefully I can get it up soon.

[selineram3421]

Alastor X Human Reader: Arson Cat

You adopted your cat when finding them playing with an old box of matches in an alleyway nearby your place.

The poor thing was soaking wet. Good thing you had a rag on you. They were at least a few weeks old.

Once at home you set the fire on at the fireplace, getting tuna and water. Before anything you had to warm them up.

The cat purred while getting pets, feeling warm and cozy. Watching the fire.

Love at first sight lol🔥

When the fire place wasn't on, your cat would meow. Looking around for you to turn it back on.

Of course you couldn't do that during the summer, so you bought candles.

So. Many. Candles.

Mistake #1: Leaving your cat unattended with a candle.

A rug you had caught on fire because the cat pushed the candle over the edge of your coffee table.

They got fussy when you put the fire out.

"Mroow", your cat meowed, obviously upset with how much their tail was flicking.

"Yes, fire is pretty but when it gets really big we won't have a place to live in anymore.", you said, sweeping up what was left of the rug.

Mistake #2: Letting your cat on the kitchen counters. Specifically, the one side with the stove.

Your cat likes to watch you cook. At least that's what you thought, but really they were just interested in the pretty blue and yellow flames coming from the stove top.

All it took was one minute. You went to get something from the fridge and your cat brought a napkin to the stove, placing it right by the fire.

The fire alarm nearby went off, making you drop everything from your hands to cover your ears.

You quickly opened a window and turned on the kitchen fan that you keep forgetting to do when cooking. Then you got rid of the fire and cleaned up.

Again, your little arsonist was not happy. Meowing in an offended tone.

"You are banned from sitting on this side of the counter.", you boop their nose and move them to sit by the sink. "You can't get close."

Mistake #3: Not telling friends/family/pet sitters about your cat's fascination with fire.

You got a call during work. Thankfully you were on break and could take the call. "Hello?"

"Your cat started a fire."

That's all it took for you to tell your boss that an emergency came up and you had to leave early.

With your hands on your hips, you stared down at the cat who was licking their paws as if nothing happened.

"You can't start fires when other people are watching you.", you cross your arms.

Hehehehehehehehehehe

Your cat doesn't like fireworks. Ironic right?

They do like sparklers.

You'll leave your t.v. on with a YouTube video of just fire for ten hours when you're out. Sound and everything.

You hide anything that can start a fire. Gotta cover that crystal ball and put it away. All the candles you bought? Stored and replaced with fake battery operated ones.

Birthdays are..ok. Your cat watches the candle flame as you sing happy birthday. You have to blow it out quick and replace it with a fake one.

All in all, your cat is well behaved....

And then Alastor comes along~

Lol 🎤and then a hero comes along🎵🎶

You thought your cat was bad? Hoho.. Alastor just encourages your little baby.

He makes a fire ball in his hand one day and your cat is hooked. Following the red man around for him to make more fire. They started to get along.

He lets your cat sit somewhat close by when cooking. "Not too close! We don't want fur in the food!"

Then theirs times when its quiet. Too quiet...

When you notice the silence, you get up and look around for your cat. They are eventually found but somehow they have soot on their paws.

It confuses you a ton when you look for a possible fire but see absolutely nothing burnt.

One day you find out why there's been so many house fires. Seeing your demon roommate literally teleport your cat.

"Wha-", you blink and your cat is brought back.

"Meow!", your cat paws at Alastor.

"Hello my darling!", he smiles innocently as if he did nothing.

"I-", you take a deep breath. "Why are you teleporting my cat?"

"Just letting them stretch their legs!"

Your phone buzzes and you see a news update. Clicking on it, there's a story on another house fire.

"........."

Mistake #4: Letting Alastor know about your cat starting fires.

~

Arson cat deserved their own headcanons.

~Seline, the person.

From this headcanon➡ 🔥here🔥

.

Tag-list@

@c4rved-pumpk1n @ducky-is-dead-inside @stolas-thebirb

ML for Alastor🎙

[possum-quesadilla]

Chapter 11 of Time’s Arrow, “Wait for me, I’m comin’, Wait, I’m comin’ with you”, is here!! Yeehaw!!!

Extras below!!

- The lyrics for this chapter’s title are either from “Wait for Me” (live version) or “Wait for Me (Reprise)” (album version) from Hadestown, for obvious reasons. Pick your poison!

- “The air around her felt so cold. She was sure death had never been so cold before.” - Once again, my silly theme of warmth. Beetlejuice didn’t realize he was giving off warmth and love just as much as he was receiving it.

- “Percy lay a short distance away, one paw outstretched to gently touch Lydia’s knee.” - Based on a weird, silly thing my own cat does.

- “None of them really seemed to mind as the cat strolled over to the rug, his nose loudly whistling as he sniffed at the air.” - Percy has a deviated septum that makes him snort when he’s excited, and whistle when he breathes through his nose! It doesn’t bother him too much. Partially based on my own cats.

- “ Lydia’s gentle whimpering sobs quieted when he raised his head and let out a loud, strange meow. (That kitten really did have one of the strangest voices she’d ever heard from a cat. Perhaps Beetlejuice had some sort of influence on him?) “… what is it?” She whispered, voice hoarse from crying.” - He’s got one of those weird, long, creaky meows. He did take after Beetlejuice. Also, familiar communication! He’s alerting her to Cyrus’ fur.

- “What’s up, Soos-” - She calls him ‘Soos’ as a nickname. It is one of those fun, weird pet nicknames that evolves over time. Also a reference to “Gravity Falls”.

- “She froze, letting out a loud gasp when her hand made contact with the carpet in front of Percy.” - She can use things like strands of fur to scry.

- “It felt like mere moments, it felt like it stretched out for weeks.” - Another instance of a character feeling how Beej often feels and being unsettled.

- “Deb could not guide them. “… I’m sorry, little ghosts. I care for you all and for Goose, but..” something dark clouded her eyes as she averted her usually bright eyes away from them. “… I can’t help you any more than preparing you. I can’t risk losing the precious, peaceful, fragile existence I carved out for Bela and I.” ” - The last sentence is a reference to “Good Omens”! Also, yeah, Cyrus is very powerful in the Netherworld and could ruin Deb and Bela’s unlives.

- “She nearly wretched as a pungent odor hit her open mouth, revolting and… familiar.” - Beej used to reek of the Netherworld.

- The various dead people - I made them up! Not based on any real people. They were fun to think up.

- “ “You two again?” She groaned, shaking her head. “What part of ‘pick a number and wait your turn’ do you people not understand? You cannot skip the line!” ” - This is a joke at the fact that they met in the movie, but not the musical. This version of Adam and Barbara have not, in fact, met Miss Argentina.

- Huge shoutout to @raineisinkless for her help with Miss Argentina’s dialogue <3

- Miss Argentina and Beetlejuice - Time works weird in the Netherworld. Beej was cursed and cast out long before she died, but since time there is nonlinear, he was in the Netherworld for when she first died and started working there. He was very nice to her.

- “She turned to the pale woman sat next to her, dressed in a beautiful blue figure skating gown stained red with the blood that constantly flowed from the gaping wound in her neck. “Patrice, take over for me. I’m taking my lunch for the year.” ” - Yes, she only gets one break per year. And Patrice is a reference to Miss Argentina’s original actor, Patrice Martinez!

- “Is she living it up on top?” - This is a reference to the Hadestown song, “Livin’ it Up on Top”.

- “The room they stepped into was pitch black. Not even the dim lighting from the hallway could permeate it’s darkness.” - It’s kept dark because demons have sensitive eyes. And they can see in total darkness! Well, most of them.

- “They growled again, the little supply closet suddenly feeling much hotter. “Shut up.” ” - They got very embarrassed at the implication that they care about Beetlejuice.

- “The other demons would swallow your souls whole if they knew you were here.” - Partial joke reference to “Evil Dead”.

- “I know it’s not like how we talked about, but-” - Surprise! Well, maybe not to some of you. They’ve been discussing becoming demons for a while now!

- “She heard their bones creaking as they did.” - They got bad joints.

- “Something brushed up against Barbara’s arm. “All you two have to do is shake my hand.” ” - Larry was being nice and showing Barbara where their hand is here.

- “Your souls need time to create and bond with your new bodies.” - Demons have their bodies and souls combined, which is why they don’t pass on to an afterlife! Their soul dies with their body.

- “Barbara gasped as a warmth flooded through her, hot and exhilarating in her veins.” - Hellfire!

- Altair and Vega - Their demonic names! Yes they have meanings behind them. No I will not elaborate currently. I will in a different post if I remember (or if someone asks me/reminds me)

- “Barbara yelped as it seemed fabric was passed over her head.” - Larry straight up tucked them under their coat here.

- “There were no stars or moon above to light their surroundings, just the dim glow of humming pink fluorescent lights somewhere just outside the alley.” - There are no stars in the sky because they’re all wandering the streets.

- “It was out of the kindness of my Hearth that I brought you two here.” - hehe, yeah, they say ‘Hearth’ instead of ‘heart’. As a joke on the fire in their chests.

- “He looked down at himself, glasses briefly slipping down his nose.” - A little bit of foreshadowing to his ears changing.

“‘Pollux’, in bright yellow. It seemed like half the sign had burnt out, and Barbara could just barely make out that it used to read ‘and Castor’.” - They were besties that made Deals and ran their Covens together. Then Castor died. Whomp whomp.

- “Barbara had to shield her eyes. Had neon lights always bothered her eyes that much? Maybe being stuck inside for so long had made them sensitive.” - Her eyes are getting more sensitive to light as she changes!

- “Adam was covering his ear with his free hand, gritting his teeth and softly complaining about how loud the lights were.” - Similarly, Adam is getting more sensitive to sound.

- “Thick, blue smoke, pungent and noxious. It smelled… herby, but Barbara could not quite place her finger on which herb it was.” - The blue smoke Cyrus and other demons smoke is actually something of his own creation! It’s how he gained so much power among demons. Perhaps I will elaborate in a Cyrus lore post since this is the last we’ll see of him in this fic! She knows her herbs, but not this herb.

- “It was dim, lit only by the sign outside, but somehow still Barbara could make out nearly everything.” - Again, demon changes! She can see in the dark now.

- “A particularly short demon manned the bar, ignoring one demon quite literally barking at them as they wiped a glass clean.” - Author demon sona cameo! I didn’t halt to describe them so I didn’t break the flow of the scene.

- “(Although, he wasn’t wearing blue like they’d said he was. He was instead wearing black wool cloak.)” - Uh oh. Where have we seen black wool before?

- “ “Where is he?” Adam repeated, gripping his wife’s hand tighter.” - A reference to the live version of “Wait for Me” from Hadestown.

- “You won’t find him. You could look for the rest of your un-lifetimes and you’d never find even a hint of him.” - A reference to the song “Home”, how Lydia mentions she could search the afterlife for an eternity and never see her mom.

- “Barbara wanted to punch that smug look off his face.” - Foreshadowing.

- “It was then that Barbara realized he was missing three fingers on the hand not holding the cigarette.” - HE FUCKIN’ GOT HIM GOOD!!

- “Barbara just about growled, the words coming out with a throaty noise.” - She can actually growl now!

- “The demon only paused when Adam involuntarily let out a strange little growl of his own. Cyrus slowly looked between the two of them, something glinting in his eyes. His smile wavered for a few moments. (Barbara thought perhaps she recognized… fear?)” - He is afraid of the power they both now wield. Perhaps this will be elaborated on later? Also Adam can growl now too hehe

- “His smile widened as his eyes flicked over to the Maitlands. “It was only made tolerable by the feeling of his intestines snaking between my claws.” ” - He said this to rile them up. Also, this has been previously mentioned by Beetlejuice as something Cyrus did! Just not directly.

- “Ah. Shit. Lydia didn’t mention how tall he was. That’ll make it much harder to reach him.” - Foreshadowing!!

- Adam recognizes the tale they’re recreating, hence his apprehension at first; Orpheus and Eurydice. Just with added stakes, since all three of them have to not check, not just Adam and Barbara.

- “She swore she heard the bartender whisper, “good luck”.” - :)

- “Yeah, well, die mad about it,” - A joking reference to a scene in “The Owl House” I accidentally mirrored here.

- “ “S-seven,” Barbara stammered, picking the first one that came to her mind.” - thank you @ten-chocolate-sundaes :) I wonder what he’ll do with this number

- “It seemed like days passed.” - because they did! Thirteen days to be exact.

- They’re deers!! Surprise!! All of the deer and star foreshadowing for Adam and Barbara is finally paying off!!!

[throughtrialbyfire]

WIP Wednesday!!

happy wip wednesday!! i've been very busy irl with school and family, but i'm so excited to see what everyones doing this week!

tagged by the lovely @thequeenofthewinter @totally-not-deacon and @skyrim-forever !! thank you so much, and as always, i love what you're all working on!!

tagging the fantastic @thana-topsy @orfeoarte @aphocryphas @dirty-bosmer @mareenavee @wispstalk @polypolymorph @wildhexe @boethiahspillowbook @gilgamish @v1ctory-or-sovngarde @umbracirrus @caliblorn and you!! the lovely writer/artist/modder reading this, i'm always here to see your wips!!

this week, since i just published chapter 15 of CotS, i wanted to jump ahead and share three small snippets. these are from chapters 22, 23, and 24 respectively. i'm sharing sections from all three of these chapters because i wanted to highlight the differences in POVs of the trio, and how the LDBs process one specific situation. i hope you enjoy!! <3

Night. Wyndrelis became acutely aware that it was night. The flicker of torches passing by the windows of the inn marked long stretches of orange along the stone walls, pawing like a cat along a rug. He could feel the claws digging in, deeper, pinprick needles of the dark surrounding the three in the small room. What were they doing last? What had they done? He closed his eyes. He wished he hadn't.

Roggvir. That's right. The execution. He jolted, making desperate attempts to keep the image of the man's corpse from his mind. He could still see the spray of blood, the spinal column severed by the axe, the way his skull lulled off the stage- Oh, gods. Wyndrelis' stomach churned. He cupped a palm over his lips and leaned forward, off the bed - bed, he was sitting on a bed - and hoped only that he would- A cold rag met his forehead, easy motions, a palm circling between his shoulder blades. He shuddered and winced and begged it all to stop, squeezing his eyes shut as the nausea passed, as something was presented to him, a scent he couldn't place wafting under his nose. He swallowed down hard. As though through water, a voice said, "you'll be fine, you need to lie on your side and breathe slowly." Emeros. He nodded and crawled up into the bed, lying down as instructed, allowing the waves of nausea to pass him by, sweeping over him. The room came back to him, piece by piece. The bed, the inn. He turned his gaze to the foot of the bed and saw Athenath, staring straight ahead, unmoving. Athenath was never not moving. The Altmer always rocked in their seat or bounced his leg or did a hundred other little things, and now, unmoving, staring to the wall. Arms folded over their middle. Soon, Emeros was guiding them to the middle of the bed. Soon, his hand brushed the Altmer's forehead, stray curls tickling their nose, making the Mer grimace. Then, he blew out the candles, and climbed into bed with the other two. Wyndrelis could feel Athenath beside him. The young Mer laid there, staring at the ceiling, watching torchlight pass through the window. Emeros on one side, Wyndrelis on the other, the Dunmer's head pounding.

----

If Emeros ever got General Tullius and Ulfric Stormcloak together in a room, he'd kill them both. A languid haze shone off the waters of the Sea of Ghosts. He watched it from the window of the Winking Skeever with what could only be described as mild contempt. Contempt for the silence. For the goings-on of the people down the hall, at the hearth, in the town square. The sundry moods of them in all their garish hues, impish laughter coating one, stress coating another, cloaked all in these colors of the day ahead. But in none of them, did Emeros sense grief. Roggvir's head had lolled off the stone stage, landing squarely with a wet and stone-hard plop at the foot of an Imperial soldier. This had aroused no response. Another head. Another axe. What difference, then, was made in this one? None. None at all, he concluded with a quiet scoff. So, it had meant what, nothing? A life cut with a deft swinging of a blade at orders given, same as a tree fallen to a woodsman? Sawmill machinery, this war. The warmth of a hand on his arm startled him from thought. In the reflection of the glass, he saw the face of Athenath, Wyndrelis' figure hovering close behind. The night's rest had done them all some good; Athenath's unusually rosy hue returned, and Wyndrelis seemed to have gotten his color back, for all good that observation did of a Dunmer. "You okay, Emeros?" The question arrested him, a quiet surprise settling in the Bosmers features. What good would it do to answer honestly? What would be the point? They had all seen the same thing, the same, horrific thing. They shared, too, in the suffering for it, the knowledge of their own terrible near-miss with the executioners. How ironic, then, the dragons, those dreadful bastards of Akatosh, had been the ones to save them. The bashful shuffling of Wyndrelis' fur-lined boots against the stone floors drew Emeros back from his silent thoughts, meeting Athenath's gaze. "Yes, I'm fine," he replied, shaking his head, "I'm more worried about you two."

----

Don't think about it. Athenath stood, back to the low wall blocking off the craggy cliffs, the sea, the gulls encircling the stars in their briny white wings. All through the noon, all through dinner, his mind had reverberated with the single thought. Don't think about it. Emeros, asleep, circles under his keen eyes. Wyndrelis, resting on his back, flattened out like a corpse for burial. The grey of him, the moons on his cheeks and the cold dead bloodied thing formerly known as- Don't think about it. What was it that old priest in Bravil used to say? The lilting cant of his worn voice, the cold of his shoulder, mercy was only as powerful as one let it be? He'd lost a son to the war, it was no wonder the priest held Mara in such high regard. He'd paced the chapel and prayed with the young elf, much younger then. The war. Talos outlawed, now Ulfric and his Stormcloaks- no, before this. Anvils architecture floating up raft-like on the sick and turbulent seas of Athenath's mind, the sand in his sandals and the sky high above and- Don't think about it. A deeply familiar thought over the years. The rain would wash the blood, but for now, the block remained rust-stained, saddled with the weight of it. Its stench and buzzing flies screeched of Helgen and it made Athenath wish he'd never escaped it, the nightmares prominent, the kind where they awoke with a heart-racing start, eyes jolting open only to face one or the other of his companions and what did he really know of them to find such comfort in sleeping in a shared bed and what did they know of him to trust the same and they had all nearly died and then the dragon and- The more he pushed it out, the more it came back, head pounding head race heart race no no, don't think about it don't let it come to mind even though their hands shook now and their thoughts numbed against all noise and the world blurred and they could feel it in their skin the fire and the blood and the sword in hand and don't think about it don't- "Oh." Wyndrelis' voice shook the Altmer from their thoughts. Were their eyes wide? Was their face pale? He hoped not. The pair watched one another, night shrouding all expressions, thick with silence. Wyndrelis coughed absently into a balled fist. "I suppose I'm not surprised, you weren't in bed, but I… Nevermind." The Dunmer gave a nervous chuckle, eyes darting off to the side, rims of his glasses catching the light. Athenath forced a half-laugh. "It's fine." They leaned against the stone, arms folding over their chest, fingers curled against the fabric of their sleeves. "Um… So, how're you holding up?"

[coconutcordiale]

steady pt two (what if i'm the one, but you're not?)

pt one | pt two | pt three | masterlist | prequel

pairing- rooster x female bartender!reader (no y/n)

synopsis-

“He won’t ever make you feel like I do.”

Part of you wants to strangle him for being right, for highlighting every part of your soul that still believes it was made for him with nine little words.

“Maybe that’s the point.”

warnings- angst with a happy ending, austin tx slander because i'm still annoyed that glens a ut fan, one joke about doing drugs, one dark adjacent joke about murdering an annoying rooster, drinking as a coping mechanism, past infidelity (no current cheating!), this is slow burn, heartbreak/healing, friends to lovers, smut in next chapter

length- 5.4k

an- actually why is the wedding in tx, idk. mostly because i feel weird making fun of states i've never lived in (which only leaves tx & ca) but also i'm moving and i'm gonna miss tx so this is how i deal, by making vaguely insulting jokes. austin is actually a very nice place guys i'm sorry lol

also I did a lightning fast google search of the naval air station in key west so apologies if it's completely inaccurate that rooster could be teaching there but lets be real this story is like...barely about tgm and more about rooster's mustache

d a y 1 3 9

As far as Bradley is concerned, the problem with you is that you’re far too magnetic. He’s constantly fighting the pull of you, the urge to show up on your doorstep and share his vinyl with you.

Maybe it’s because he has more free time now, going from living with someone to spending his nights alone.

He tells himself it’s that. It’d be easier if it was only that.

It’s probably because you’re quick on your feet, sarcastic as hell, and your new favorite past times include insulting his favorite patterned shirt and the fact that he loves BBQ Chicken pizza and hates The Office. For some reason, he wants nothing more than to hear you tell him all his opinions are wrong. He always feels one step behind your wit, one beat too slow in your dancing banter.

Occasionally, he’ll celebrate getting in a good jab about your uncultured music taste.

It reminds him, sometimes, of a certain blonde pilot he flew with at TOPGUN. His good qualities, at least.  

It’s a good thing you’re a hell of a lot nicer than that guy.

He doesn’t know if it’s the pilot in him, the part of him that won’t quit, but he finds himself wanting to break down the walls you’ve spent so long building around your heart.

Wants to peel back those layers, wants you to know not everyone will hurt you like whoever it is that you’re running from.

Can’t help but try to take care of you. He doesn’t know why when you seem plenty capable of taking care of yourself.

Maybe that’s why he suspects you need it the most.

(It’s not his friendliest of instincts, but he can normally keep himself in check.)

He knows you deserve it, at the very least. Because for all your whining about BBQ chicken pizza not actually being pizza, but instead, a crime against nature, when you knock on his door with Pizza Joe’s in your hand, he’s certain he’ll open the box to see one half of it covered in BBQ sauce. And you won’t even make fun of him for it.

It doesn’t stop him from ribbing you for asking him to play something from this century, Jesus Christ Bradshaw, more Righteous Brothers, really?

He puts on The Beach Boys just to be a dick.

“You should expand your horizons,” he suggests, halfway through California Dreamin’, thoughtfully chewing his pizza. “There’s a lot to learn about music if you’re willing to broaden your tastes. We could start easy, with the Doors or something.”

You roll your eyes, stretching out on his rug like a cat. “I already like the Doors, you pretentious snob. Besides, music is more of a visceral thing for me. Not an intellectual learning experience.”

Bradley furrows his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“This is probably weird to you, because you’ve made it your life’s mission to learn every instrument on planet Earth, but for me, music is more instinctive. I like what I like because it makes me feel something.”

“Like what?”

You make a thoughtful humming noise like you’re really mulling it over.

There are more questions on the tip of his tongue, but something has been telling him since you started hanging out that the way to get you to talk is not going to be badgering you.

“How do you explain how music makes you feel? Isn’t the point that it’s indescribable? It’s a feeling, that moment when goose bumps shiver up your legs, something about two sounds coming together that gives you an unprecedented emotional reaction.”

“I’d say that was a pretty good description.”

“Jackass,” you snort, throwing a wadded-up napkin at his head.

He dodges it easily, because, hello fighter pilot, but your words stick with him. It’s uncanny to know someone who probably loves music as much as he does but in a distinctly different way.

You seem more reluctant to head to work than usual, and he tries not to let himself feel too proud about the fact that he might have something to do with that.

Partially because you’re clearly going to be late if you don’t get going soon, and mostly because he’s not done spending time with you yet, Bradley offers to head in with you, citing he could benefit from having to walk the couple miles back to the apartment having skipped his run this morning.

Bradley rarely visits you at work and he tries to tell himself it’s because you guys spend enough time at each other’s apartments, that he’s already skirting around crossing the friend line by always showing up at your front door as soon as he leaves base.

The real reason, however, is that Bradley is terrified of Beth.

“Look,” Beth starts, steely edge to her tone after you’ve walked to the back grumbling about stupid tourist bars and their garnishes to find maraschino cherries or drink umbrellas or whatever else you need. “Don’t you dare think about hurting her. If there’s even a chance of that, walk away now.”

Bradley holds his hands up, trying to seem like a nonthreat and she shoots him another look.

“We’re friends,” he defends. “Both still healing.”

She ignores him. “You weren’t around yet. When it was really bad. When I had to pick her up off the bathroom floor and force feed her because she wouldn’t eat. When she’d get drunk and cry until she could barely breathe. If you make her go through that again, I’ll make sure even the Navy can’t help you.”

He doesn’t doubt it.

“You haven’t been here much longer than Cali, have you?” Beth asks suddenly. You must be back from your tiny umbrella quest.

You come into his line of sight to flip her off at the nickname before tossing the umbrellas into their holder, a little more aggressively than he thinks the situation warrants.

Bradley bites back a laugh at your clear vendetta against cute, colorful drink décor. That earns a pointed look in his direction, but he just smiles amicably until you give into his warmth and he sees you fighting a smile back.

“I miss working in a dive bar where I could tell the customers to fuck off.” You joke, staring at the ceiling wistfully.

He rolls his eyes, biting back a chuckle, and turns back to Beth. “No, only been here a few months.”

“I take it your ex didn’t like Florida.”

You snort from where you’re setting up the garnish caddy, but Beth and Bradley ignore you. He knows you’ve heard this before, that your opinion on Lauren isn’t exactly fond.

“She didn’t seem to be a fan, no. That’s probably why she left so quickly.”

It’s not like he doesn’t miss Lauren. He does. In the way you miss having summers off when you were a kid or Saturday morning cartoons. He misses her because he spent so much time around her, because it was routine to miss her, but it’s no burden to live without her.

They were together for a long time, and the breakup did take him by surprise. But now that it’s done, he realizes she was right in leaving, that they were little more than roommates by the time they moved down here.

She’s like that missing space in your gums after getting a tooth pulled. You’re better off, having had the tooth pulled, but in the weeks after the operation, you run your tongue over the empty space, over and over again, trying to get used to its absence.

Eventually, you will, and it’ll be more right than things were before. He just hasn’t gotten there yet.

 “I like Florida, though,” he finds himself telling Beth. “And I’m enjoying teaching replacement pilots. It’s better than Lemoore or Fallon or wherever else they might send me, anyhow.”

“I mean look at this hideous shirt,” you chime in. “He was practically born to be here.”

“Excuse me?” Bradley gasps, hand going to his chest in mock offense. “I thought you liked my eclectic old man style.”

“Rooster, we’re friends, so I’m going to be brutally honest right now. Your style blew past eclectic years ago, it’s incoherent. That shirt has birds on it. Where do you even find these things?”

Bradley’s trying to keep the smile off his face, but he doesn’t think you realize this is the first time since he stumbled into your apartment a couple of months ago that you’ve used his callsign.

“What?” You ask finally.

“Nothing.” He grins, something like pride and unmistakable fondness budding in his chest as another layer peels back.

d a y 1 6 5

Just like last time, the phone call starts with your name. Your breath hitches, the world momentarily stops spinning on its axis. He doesn’t say sweetheart, doesn’t use his soft and honeyed voice to make you melt.

“I know I shouldn’t be calling,” you hear Jake say slowly as if he’s taking the time to enunciate each syllable.

“Have you been drinking?” You ask, chest tightening.

“Maybe.”

Your hands are already trembling. You don’t know why you can’t just hang up, block his number, do something, anything that doesn’t pry this wound open again.

“If you know you shouldn’t be calling then why are you?”

“M’drunk and I needed to hear your voice.”

“Jake—”

“How am I s'posed to let you go?” He asks, the crack in his voice corresponding with the break in your heart. “Don’t want to lose you.”

“You never really had me.”

That’s the thorn of it, isn’t it? You always considered yourself his, you were willing to give him all of you, but it was futile from the start. He couldn’t really have you since his plate was already full.

“Yeah, guess that’s true.” He exhales audibly. “Wish I had something else to say besides I’m sorry.”

“You are a lot of things, Jake. We both are. Sorry isn’t even ranked.”

+

You toast Bradley with your whiskey bottle when he gets back from work, walking through your front door still in his flight suit. “I know Beth said you didn’t have to deal with me at my worst, so I thought I’d grace you with the lovely opportunity of finding me drunk on the floor.”

The best thing about Bradley is that he doesn’t even question it, just ambles over to you, settling in close with his back against the wall.

“It’s been six months. Look at you, all healed and moved on, while I’m still a wreck.”

He shrugs. “That probably just means I’m still in denial.”

You make a face at that, but you’re too emotionally wrecked to touch it right now.

“Did something happen?”

“He called me.”

The breath he takes in would be deafening even if he wasn’t mere inches away from you. “That’s pretty unfair of him.”

The truth spills from your lips, feeling odd and out of place after having spent so much time lying to yourself and everyone else about Jake. “Wasn’t the first time either.”

Bradley’s eyebrows raise in surprise at that. “You didn’t tell me. Or Beth, I’m guessing.”

You sigh. “I knew she would tell me to block his number.”

“Which you don’t want to do.”

It’s not a question.

It’s never a question with Bradley because he always knows.

You lean your head on his shoulder, nose crinkling a little in displeasure at the smell of his flight suit. “The first time he called to apologize. It was nice to hear, even if it doesn’t make up for everything.”

Bradley doesn’t answer, just takes the bottle from your hands so he can take a swig.

You wonder, absently, if he’s allowed to drink in uniform.

“He said a bunch of fucked up stuff to me the night before I left. That it was just sex, that our relationship was all in my head, basically. It was—he just wanted to hurt me.”

“He lied.”

You shrug. “I’d like to think so. But it doesn’t really matter, does it? He still said it. But since I’m working through the stages of grief, I’ve now rebounded to anger.”

“You can’t stay mad forever,” he reasons. “You have to forgive him eventually.”

“It’s either be mad or start doing drugs,” you say, shrugging one shoulder. “Being mad is cheaper.”

That earns a dry chuckle and even your alcohol-addled brain preens a little at your constant ability to make Bradley laugh.

“It’s easier,” you admit quietly. “When I’m mad at him. It’s easier not to wish things were different, not to wish we could’ve worked out.”

“You mean it’s easier to move on if he’s a piece of shit.”

“Yes.”

“Well, he is, so you don’t have to worry about that.”

The air is still heavy and serious between you, his face twisting as you watch him mull over his next words, choosing them carefully. “It’s not a good idea, to keep talking to him. To keep entertaining this.”

Logically you knew that, of course, but his words feel like a bucket of ice water being poured on you anyways.

You’re feeling defensive, and you know you’re not being fair to Bradley, know your anger at Jake is taking over this conversation, but you can’t stop yourself, words tumbling out harsher than you mean them to.

“I just want closure,” you say, words slicing through the air sharply.

You could kiss Bradley for how mildly he takes your tone, how easily he absorbs the edges in your words. “Only you can give yourself closure.”

You know he’s right.

“You have to stop answering,” he says firmly, probably unconsciously leaning into your thigh where it’s pressed next to his own on your kitchen floor.

You look down, staring at the green material of his flight suit, the muscle that hides beneath the baggy material, wondering how it’s strong enough to hold the pieces of you together.

+

Jake calls again three days later. You hand your phone to Bradley, who takes one look at the DO NOT ANSWER flashing on the screen, before sliding the phone into his pocket and dragging you outside to go to the beach.

That’s the problem with Bradley, you never have to ask, and he always does right by you. He always knows.

You feel like you should be doing more to return the favor. You know he’s going through shit of his own, even if he doesn’t say anything, even if he always shows up to be your rock.

“I want you to be happy, you know that right?”

He’s staring out at the horizon, refusing to look you in the eye. “I’m fine.”

You roll your eyes. “We both know that’s not the same thing.”

His lips press together in a hard line. It’s impressive, really, how much derision he manages to convey in one minuscule facial expression.

“Is this necessary? Do we need to ruin this peaceful moment on the beach talking about my emotions?”

Something you’ve begun to notice is that your hands are always steady around Rooster, even when he shuts down and annoys you enough to consider cold-blooded homicide.

“I’m sorry, all right? I wasn’t trying to make you mad. But I know what it’s like, to go through the motions, barely keeping your head above the surface. You have to find something to help pull you out of the water. Flying, your friends, me, Beth, your fucking plants, I don’t know. We need you. You’re not a burden because you need us back.”

He slots his fingers into yours, squeezing them in a silent understanding, a silent apology. Your heart hammers in your chest at the gesture, trying to ignore the intimacy of it.

The problem with Bradley is that the possibility of him is terrifying.

Friends you can do. Friends is easy, friends doesn’t threaten to shatter you irreparably and incite you to move across the country. As long as you can keep Bradley squarely in the friends box, there’s nothing to worry about.

Even if, sometimes, you wish there was something more to worry about.

You’ve been drifting at sea for so long, nothing to tether you, nothing to hold onto. Here, in Florida, away from almost everything you’ve ever known you want nothing more than to keep your feet firmly in the sand.

Bradley is like flying high above the clouds, miles away from the ground.

d a y 2 5 4

You hear a crash, a stream of expletives, a door slamming all the way from downstairs in your bathroom. You’re upstairs before you can think better of it, before you can consider that he might need space.

“Bradley?” You ask tentatively, knocking gently on his front door.

He looks wrecked when he opens it, face splotchy and red, hand at his side still clenched in anger.

“I’m sorry for being so loud,” he breathes. “Did I scare you?”

A little, but you can tell he feels bad, so you’re not super interested in being honest right now.

“I was just surprised,” you respond slowly, which is true. “Usually, it’s me that’s doing chaotic things.”

He smiles tightly and you edge your way in, gently pulling him to the couch with you.

“Nice change of pace. I like being the one with their shit together occasionally.” You knock your shoulders together gently and instantly feel him relax where your arms are touching. “Wanna talk about it?”

He scrubs a hand over his face. “There’s this wedding.”

You let out a breath. Sometimes your life really does feel like a cheesy rom-com. “Let me guess, you need a date.”

He nods. “Lauren was supposed to go with me, I already RSVP’d with a plus one.”

You don’t know what to say, so you take a page out of the Bradley playbook and stay silent, letting him ruminate.

“I had a shit day at work, then came home to a reminder about this dumb wedding. I know it’s stupid to be this upset. It’s not like I wish she was going with me…it’s just going alone, having to explain to everyone why she’s not there, I don’t know. It’s hard not to feel left out, being by yourself at stuff like this.”

“Feels like the whole world is set up to make you feel bad for being single.”

“Yeah, exactly,” he agrees, putting his face in his hands.

“I could go with you,” you suggest slowly. “I’m not going to pretend to be your girlfriend or anything, I mean I’m sure some people will assume, but whatever. At least then you don’t have to go alone.”

“It’s in Austin.”

Damn it.

“Texas,” you say flatly.

“I’ll buy your plane ticket, obviously,” he says quickly as if that’s the problem here.

“I can’t believe I offered to do this without asking where the wedding was,” you grumble, shaking your head. “I’m way too good of a friend.”

“Come on, Cali, it’ll be fun.” His mood has practically done a 180. “We can go line dancing, or whatever it is they do down there.”

“Nobody from California says Cali,” you protest for what seems like the thousandth time. “Are you sure you’re from there?”

He rolls his eyes but otherwise ignores your nickname slander.

You sigh. You already knew you were going to say yes.

d a y 2 7 5

“I’m gonna strangle Rooster when he gets back.”

Beth laughs.

“Austin is so much like California, you’ll love it,” you mimic. “I’ll fucking end him.”

“You Californians are such snobs,” she sniffs.

“Beth,” you whine into the phone. “It’s one billion degrees here and there isn’t an ocean in sight. Just some river full of bacteria that’ll give you hand foot and mouth disease. Or something.”

When you get out of the shower Bradley’s back and he’s already in his choker whites, so it’s pretty much impossible for you to be mad at him.

+

“About the wedding.”

You look at him expectantly. His tone tells you this can’t be good, but you’re pretty distracted by how tan he looks in his white uniform.

“It’s gonna be a lot of Navy people. I met Brandon way back in API. I haven’t seen him since before I went to TOPGUN, so I’m surprised I even got invited, to be honest.”

Somewhere in your mind alarms are going off, sirens blaring. “You were in TOPGUN?”

Rooster squints. “You know what TOPGUN is?”

“God, Bradley it’s a good thing you’re pretty. I literally told you I grew up in San Diego. Also, everyone has seen that stupid movie.”

“You hate Tom Cruise. He gives you hives to even think about,” he comments, as if that’s what’s relevant at this moment.

You can feel your eyes rolling of their own volition. “Hence why I called the movie stupid. Don’t change the subject. How has this not come up before?”

He shrugs. “You don’t seem to like military pilots that much, so I try not to remind you. I just thought you might want some warning. In case you didn’t realize what kind of wedding you were walking into.”

“And yet, you waited until we were almost there to mention it.”

 “I was scared you’d change your mind about coming. I wasn’t really sure—you’ve never told me why it is you hate pilots.” He makes a face, and you feel kind of bad for letting him think that you’d bail on him over this.

“Specifically, I’m from Coronado. Take a wild guess,” you tell him eventually, wanting to smack your forehead on the dash of the rental car.

Something knowing is lighting up in Rooster’s chocolate eyes and you don’t like it one bit. “Wait, the dive you worked at before was the Hard Deck?”

“Yes, with Penny.”

He lights up at that. “She’s the best. That means you must know Mav…”

Bradley trails off as he watches you finally give in and put your head on the dash, shutting your eyes against this information.

You let out a sigh of frustration because what are the odds, and how did I not put this together before?

He furrows his brows, asking a silent question.

“Penny told me that Maverick knew someone when I moved. Wanted to give them my number, in case I needed anything. I said no because I needed a break from fighter pilots.”

His lips form an ‘o’ in realization under that stupid pornstache as he picks up what you’re putting down.

“Yet here we are,” you finish, hand flourishing in a gesture that hopefully gets your point across.

Rooster grins at that and it’s so endearing it makes you forget what a complete clusterfuck you’re in for a second. “It’s fate, baby.”

You snort. “It’s fate, seriously?”

Looking out the window, you think maybe you’ll get lucky. Bradley’s a few years older than Jake, they probably don’t even know each other. The Navy can’t be that small.

And even if it is, it’s fine, right? You’ve done some serious work these past nine months. You’ve cried, you’ve screamed, you’ve tried your best to stop being angry.

You’ve grown, you know that you have.

It doesn’t hurt, doesn’t wrench your chest, to think about Jake anymore, so if you have to see him, you can pretend like everything’s fine for a few hours. Right?

+

Wrong.

Unfortunately for you, imagining seeing Jake Seresin is nothing like seeing Jake Seresin.

The moment you do, panic rips through your chest. You’re glad you’re sitting in a pew already, certain if you were standing, you’d have crumpled to the ground the moment you clocked piercing green eyes and golden hair.

He looks gorgeous, because of course he does, because no one looks more like they should be in an ad for the Navy than Jake in his dress whites. People would be tripping over themselves to sign up if the Navy were smart enough to cash in on his arrogance and All-American good looks.

“Bradley, I can’t…I’m so sorry, I’m sure you hate me, we just got here, you don’t want to leave, obviously you don’t, but I have to…” You’re rambling, you know you are, but one second after seeing Jake you’re already trembling. You’re itching, to get up, run away, leave the state and never see anyone in this room ever again.

“Hey, hold on,” he says softly, putting a hand on your shoulder to keep you from getting up from your seat. “Take a breath. This’ll be easier if you’re not trying to have my part of the conversation too.”

Deep breaths. Stop freaking out before someone notices.

“I slept with him,” you admit, barely audible for fear of Bradley actually hearing you. You thank your lucky stars that no one seems to be near you to hear the admission of crimes you’ve been choking on for months now.

“Who?” He follows the way your eyes flit up to the blonde across the room and immediately back down, terrified. “Hangman?”

Rooster looks downright confused, clearly not fully understanding the situation.

“I knew he was married,” you whisper, unable to meet Bradley’s eyes.

You’re gripping his arms so hard that they must hurt, but he doesn’t say anything. You just hope you don’t have anything on your hands that’ll mar his pristine uniform.

“I knew he was married and had a child and I still slept with him, for months, and I thought that he loved me. I thought he’d leave her, even though he told me he wouldn’t. Because I’m an absolute moron.”

“Seresin,” he says slowly, not putting the pieces together as quickly as you’d like, but he’s getting there, “is your ex.”

“Yes,” you whisper.

Expression unreadable, Rooster takes a long look at you before standing, quickly pulling you to his side. You’re sure he can feel the constant, low vibrations running through your body with you this close, can practically taste the anxiety in your exhaled breaths.

“Let’s get some air.”

You go with him blindly, staring at the floor.

Right, left, right, left.

“I’m sorry,” he says when you’re outside in the sticky Texas air. “I’m dense, sometimes. Even after what we talked about in the car, I assumed your ex wouldn’t be here, because anyone here that graduated from TOPGUN probably did so years ago.”

“I could’ve mentioned it was Jake,” you respond delicately. “I was kind of holding onto hope that you didn’t know him.”

“Still.” He cups your cheeks in his large hands, warm eyes tracing over you. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed you to come with me tonight, that was selfish.”

“You’re sorry?” You ask incredulously, finally registering that he’s apologized to you twice in the span of a minute. “I don’t—how can you stand to look at me?”

“We’ve all done things we’re not proud of.” He waves it off like it’s nothing. Like it’s not something that makes you nauseous every time you think about it. Like you don’t have nightmares about having to face Jake’s family. “We don’t have to stay.”

Here he is again, doing right by you without so much as a request. 

“No,” you say firmly, rolling your shoulders back, determination taking over. You can do this.

You know what it took, for Bradley to ask you to come with him, to admit that he didn’t want to do this alone. You won’t let Jake take that away from you, your unspoken pact to be each other’s support systems when it seems the rest of the world has left you to pick up the pieces of your broken hearts alone.

+

The night goes about as well as you can hope for, given the circumstances. You recognize a few people from the Hard Deck, but the large majority are people you don’t know.

Jake does a double take when he sees you with Bradley, but in classic Hangman fashion quickly recovers, placing that charming smile right back on his lips. You thank the powers that be that he seems to be alone, not sure what you’d do if he was here with Katelyn besides start praying that the ground opens to swallow you both whole.

You try your hardest not to look at him but you’re not sure you manage it. It doesn’t help that when you sneak looks at him, most of the time, he’s already glancing at you.

There’s a part of you that thinks it will always be connected to Jake, the part of you that knows you’re cut from the same cloth. It makes you feel off-kilter, still being drawn to someone you once loved more than you ever thought yourself capable of.

The anger must be radiating off your date in waves because Jake carefully avoids you two for most of the night.

Until the end, as you’re getting ready to leave, when you hear Jake’s voice from behind you, calling your name.

“Can I have a word?” Without him, his expression clearly requests.

“You’ve had plenty, I’d say,” Rooster grits out. He seems so large right now, anger allowing him to tower over Jake even though they’re nearly the same height.

“Rooster, it’s okay,” surprising yourself at how calm you feel and squeezing his arm, comforting. “I’ll meet you outside.”

His face goes through a wide range of awkward facial expressions before he nods curtly, turning his back to Hangman without another word.

It’s awkward, to say the least.

“You look beautiful,” Hangman says finally, soft like he always is with you, except when he’s drunk and plotting ways to make your chest split in two.

You nearly roll your eyes at him. “That’s what you want to talk about? How good I look in this dress?”

He clears his throat, shifting uncomfortably. “He’s why you stopped returning my calls.”

“You shouldn’t have been calling me in the first place,” you snap, irritation laced in every word.

You’re proud of yourself for your tone, having spent those last few weeks around him whiny and teary and broken, a fragmented version of your former self. Because by the time you and Jake were done putting each other through the wringer you didn’t even recognize yourself anymore, didn’t feel like you had yourself to fall back on.

You really are healing, a microscopic part of you dances with glee.

Jake pauses, he must know you’re right.

But you can see the jealousy written all over his face, have been pretending not to notice the hard line of his jaw every time he witnessed the easy way Bradley’s arm snaked around your waist. It’s pathetic, really, how well you can still read him after all this time.

You’re watching him carefully and you see the knife coming out unauthorized a second before you hear him.

“He won’t ever make you feel like I do.”

You suck in a sharp breath anyways.

Part of you wants to strangle him for being right, for highlighting every part of your soul that still believes it was made for him with nine little words.

“Maybe that’s the point.”

Clenching your fists briefly, you try to release your anger through your fingers, before moving to get up and get the hell away from whatever this is, because agreeing to this was clearly a mistake.

“I’ll wait as long as it takes,” Jake calls to your retreating back.

Even though you wouldn’t wait for me, you hear in the silence that follows.

You can’t help but stop dead in your tracks. You don’t say anything, though, and he takes it as a sign to continue.

“It’ll always be you,” he says, honeyed voice tingling your skin. He’s moved up behind you while you were busy listening to your pounding heartbeat and the blood rushing in your ears.

Jake’s fingers gently brush your hair over one shoulder, exposing your neck in an intimate gesture he has absolutely no right to, but sets your skin on fire anyways. It’d be easy for you to turn around and give into him, to give your broken heart the band-aid it’s been begging you for the better part of a year.

But your brain pleads with you to remember all the times you did give in, to gain that small reprieve from the pain, the fallout splintering your heart further and further each time.

The only way out is through.

“I’m in love with you,” Jake says finally, and somehow it shatters you even more than it did to hear him claim the opposite.

“That’s not enough,” you say, and you walk out the door.

What if I’m the one, but you’re not?

[all-about-kyu]

Pairing: cat hybrid!Seonghwa x gn!reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: language

Word Count: 810

Note: shout out to Megan @ericssmile for helping me out and beta reading this for me <3 and blame Wren @horanghoe for putting hybrid!ateez thoughts in my head.

໑˖ ݁، ݁ ˖ 𖥔 ࣪ ˖ 𖤐ʾ ̨𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪◞ ໑˖ ݁، ݁ ˖ 𖥔 ࣪ ˖ 𖤐ʾ ̨𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪◞ ໑˖ ݁، ݁ ˖ 𖥔 ࣪ ˖

University was kicking your ass, to say the least. It was the end of the semester and studying to make sure you passed all your exams were going to be the death of you. Of course, your partner was more than happy to help you relax and take breaks. He was always happy to cuddle with you, let you vent to him, anything you needed at all he was there to do. Your bag was weighing heavier on your shoulders today, not only because you had to return your rented textbooks, but you didn’t think you did well on the final you had taken today. The moment you step into your apartment you drop your bag and lean against the door letting out a sigh. You just wanted to see Seonghwa, he was somewhere in the apartment, probably in a sunny area like he always seemed to be.

Venturing into the apartment you didn’t have to go very far, seeing your boyfriend stretched out across the couch taking a nap. His jet black furry ears twitching as he dreams, you notice his brows furrowed in concentration as he sleeps and you feel a soft smile grow on your lips. Slowly you approach the sleeping hybrid and take into account that he was still dressed in what he wore for work. He had had an early shift today and anyone who knew him knew he didn’t like waking up early like his quokka friend Jongho. Seonghwa much preferred taking naps in the sunlight in the later parts of the morning. You sit in the little bit of space left of the couch and run your fingers through his hair between his ears causing him to stir. You had been dating him for almost two years now and had moved in with him about six months ago mostly out of convenience. He had approached you and asked because you had always been there anyway, you practically lived there already. He stirs again, his nose twitching in the cutest way, you feel your heart melt at the sight before he stretches out even further and you duck out of the way of his arm.

“Hi pretty.” you hum, feeling the stress of the day melting away fully.

He whines and pulls you down against him, not saying much. You do your best to look up at him and see him smiling brightly as ever, more than happy that you were the first thing he saw when he woke up.

“How were classes?” his deeper voice rumbles underneath you.

“Shit.” you grumble slightly, you hear him gasp and hug you tighter.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks gently, “Or I can just help you take your mind off of things.” he offers, his ear twitching cutely again.

“Hmm,” you hum again, “I kinda just want to forget about it. Tell me about your day!” you beam.

He sighs and pulls you closer to him before speaking up, “I spilled a coffee on the floor, I’m never clumsy like that. I never spill anything, but I tripped over the rug and it got everywhere.” he groaned dejectedly, “But that nice older woman came in today and gave me strawberry pastries again today. I wanted to save one for you, but they were so yummy I just ate them all.” he giggles slightly embarrassed.

You yawn as he speaks, not because you were bored, far from that, you were just exhausted from your day. Seonghwa notices this and sits up with you still in his arms, he doesn’t show any hesitation and starts to carry you off somewhere. Looking up at him, you give him a very confused look but he just smiles at you before entering your guest room, another place he loved to nap.

“It’s three o’clock,” he explains, “the sun comes through the window and it’s a good sunny, warm spot to sleep. You’re tired and need to relax. We're taking a nap.” he insists.

“Hwa, didn’t you just wake up from a nap?” you laugh as you get comfortable.

“I’m a cat!” a likely excuse, “I enjoy my sunny naps and I know you do too. You just won’t admit it.” he states matter-of-factly.

You laugh again knowing he’d use that excuse every time he just wanted to cuddle in the sun. He curls up beside you hugging you around your middle and resting his head against your shoulder. His eyes glowed like stars as he looked at you as if you hung each star in the sky. You can only smile at him and place a short kiss on his forehead before letting yourself sink further into the comfortable mattress and fall asleep there in the sunlight with the only person that mattered to you.

໑˖ ݁، ݁ ˖ 𖥔 ࣪ ˖ 𖤐ʾ ̨𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪◞ ໑˖ ݁، ݁ ˖ 𖥔 ࣪ ˖ 𖤐ʾ ̨𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪◞ ໑˖ ݁، ݁ ˖ 𖥔 ࣪ ˖

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[mysteriesmuse]

A/N: I don’t know what this is. It just happened in my brain, maybe I’m just tired of being single lately, but some of it is really super cute! The cheering part on stage and giggly accent thing is “mwah” *chief’s kiss* perfection of fluffy Hisirdoux things.

Over the many, many, many, many, many, many years Douxie has known you he’s come to realize several things about . . .

1. You can not do accents for the life of you. You are so, so terrible, he cringes whenever you attempt to copy his. But does that stop him from drawling out words? Hmm. No, he gets endless enjoyment from showering you in the word love over and over again as it rolls of his tongue. He may never actually word up the courage to confess it; sandwiched between a few other words, but he loves watching your noise crinkle as you move your pretty pink little lips to try and copy his. And he can’t say that watching your eyes dance across the line of sight with his lips in it, so attentively, doesn’t get him feeling some certain kind of way. He sometimes has he mind go numb as he focuses on your voice and the hazy telescope vision on your lips. . .

2. Over the course of the many years he’s never seen you have morning voice over on the few times you’ve had sleep overs. Douxie will find you, a head of messy hair popping up from over the top of the couch, see you yawn and stretch your arms, and then chrip out a “Good Morning” as soon as your done. He’s over here muttering out some ragged, ”M’rning,” And he can not? He can not fathom or process for the life of him how you do that. Every time. Every Morning. And he’s still over here muttering like some poor cat scratched up his vocal cords!

3. After the first couple of decades he learned you’re an amazing singer. Remember how you couldn’t do accents back earlier, well who cares if Y/N can whip out some gorgeous songs in different languages. Douxie can not quite remember which ones you’ve done as of yet, but he loves it when you tell him, “it’s a love song I’m working on,” for some classical concert or other nerdy choral things and just busts out part of the melody for him in the other language. He is absolutely dazzled and, oh mordraxs miracles did he forget you’re an excellent performer the expressions you’re able to create with the music is unbelievable. And sometimes when he’s watched you practicing he swears you could be in love with him or that wall the way you make goo-goo eyes at it. 4. Singing! Douxie absolutely loves trying to harmonize and sing with you! He thinks it’s incredibly romantic all at once! Little does he know you do too; nothing not to swoon about a rugged british wizard turned rockstar singing with you. Of course, Douxie is also delighted to accompany you on some songs too with his guitar or lute. You and Him both LOVE (and hate) the challenge you two set up for yourselves. Trying to write in specific different counterpoint styles and forms from begone eras past that the two of you lived through. Or, desperatly trying to write down that folk tune both of you can only half remember. . . Oh, well better grab some coffee from the kitchen, it’s gonna be a long night of figuring that out!

5. Several times in recent years and especially months (it certainly does help that the two of you are both living in Arcadia now as it’s become a much more frequent escapad) Douxie had found himself coming over to your place or you coming over to his, coincidentally, when he’s dead beat over his shifts and monster hunting duties. Now, sleeping on regular hours or a quality amount of time has never been Douxie’s forte. Those eye bags he totes are not nearly exaggerated enough in Archies eyes. But when Hisirdoux first started nodding off on the couch in your living room over a afternoon get together of tea and heard your voice gingerly singing to him. . . Oh boy did that change things. He couldn’t remember having a better nap then falling asleep to you throwing a old blanket over him and taking the warm mug out of his hands for safety. And Hisirdoux swears by Merlins Beard everytime it happens he can feeling the sensation of someone gently brushing his bangs and carding their fingers through his hair. Whatever hesitancy there is about it on your part, why-well, he will not bring it up if you’re being shy. Whatever it is, Douxie cannot help but feel his heart thump softly and his eyes slide close, as he just can’t do nothing but help falling asleep.

6. There is nothing more exciting to Douxie than being onstage, but one of the few things that amps him up onstage and off is the sound of your voice yelling out his name. Whether that be when he’s onstage and you’re yelling out his name, cheering him on from the crowd. Or when you’re both out doing Wizard-y things, such as monster hunting, and you shout out his name like a screech in the middle of a noon day. Nothing quite gets his adrenaline running quite like you calling out his name.

7. Finally, and most recently Hisirdoux has found it incredibly tender and heartbreaking all at once the way he will hear you sometimes start humming this- now familiar- tune. Him and Archie can pick up on it whenever the 3 are you are in a particularly dangerous or tense situation. But, Douxie has also heard you humming this tune with a blank and dejected face. . . He will forever remember you coming in just after closing hours, sitting beside him on one of the sofas in the bookstore humming that tune (by mordraxs mircales this is a familiar tune! Why fuzzbuckets! That’s why! She’s crying!) as fat glossy tears welled in your eyes. . . There’s hoping that he knows this tune- he’s heard you sing one too many times- before well enough as he starts humming it and singing it with you. Shoulders touching as he’s already reaching for the tissue box and gently placing in on the spot of the couch just between you guys. Hand rubbing circles on your knees as he taps out that beat to the song- it’s an incredibly old one thats been revamped for some television show in recent years, but he can still remember the original style and beat that went with it when it was still new. Who ever knew this would be your comfort song; it’s got an incredibly silly gossip story weaved in it for the lyrics, but he can’t help but crack a smile when you give a wet laugh when you both start singing them out loud together.

. . . your voice.

[mmvalentine]

The Bargain pt 11 | Feysand

Modern AU. Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10. Just a little more smut, yeah?

Rhys woke up early and traced patterns lightly on Feyre’s skin as she slept.

They had just one more day together before he flew home to New York, but in the pale dawn light and with Feyre’s even breaths beneath his fingers, he couldn’t for the life of him think of why he needed to go back.

After a moment, Feyre stirred.

“Making me more tattoos, are you?” she mumbled, without opening her eyes. Rhys chuckled. “Sorry,” he said, “I didn’t mean to wake you.” “Why?” Feyre asked muzzily. She rolled around to face him, all smudged mascara and sleep-swollen lips. Beneath the sheets, Rhys was hard in an instant.

"Because I wanted to let you sleep." “But we only have one more day,” she said, and looked so cute when she frowned that it broke Rhys’ heart a little. He pulled her body over his, loving how soft she was all over, and kissed her nose.

"And what would you like to do with this one more day?" he asked her. Had not meant to add any suggestions of his own, but the way she was nuzzling into his chest, still waking slowly, had his hips sliding under her. Feyre's eyes widened a little, and colour bloomed on her cheeks.

"I could think of one thing," she breathed. "We don't have to-" Rhys started to say, but got cut off as Feyre put her lips on his throat. His words broke off into a stifled moan as the heat of her hovered just below his navel.

Her hands slid over his collar bones and around the back of his neck, and she was so marvelously warm on top of him. Next thing he knew, her tongue had made a blazing trail down his sternum, over his stomach, and around the head of his cock. Rhys gasped, and gripped the bars of the headboard hard enough for them to creak in protest.

When Feyre slid her mouth down over the length of him, Rhys's hips jerked forward reflexively.

"Sorry," he muttered, trying to hold still. But Feyre just moved her lips lower, letting him hit the back of her throat and sucking hard on the way back up. Rhys groaned, and the sound seemed to encourage her. She moved her head back and forth and the world shifted in and out of focus.

"That... feels amazing," Rhys told her, watching her move over his body. Feyre didn't reply, just kept up a steady rhythm until Rhys could barely stand it.

"You're going to have to slow down," he managed to get out. Feyre shook her head 'no,' and decidedly did not slow down. "Seriously," Rhys said between gritted teeth. "I'm not going to be much use you you in a second."

Feyre lifted her head long enough to say, "we don't have anymore condoms anyway," and then resumed her motion. Used her hand at the same time to cover the length of him. Rhys's hips arced up off the bed to meet her touch, and one hand moved through her hair before he realised he had reached out.

"Feyre stop I'm gonna come," he said, jaw clenched. But she showed no intention of doing any such thing. "Feyre." His control crumbled, and he started fucking hard into her mouth. She didn't pull back. "Feyre I'm gonna..." And then he was coming and she was swallowing him down and the sight of it was so unbearably sexy that his climax stretched on even after he was empty.

Feyre crawled back up his chest, kissed him with his own cum still on her tongue, and then promptly took a snooze right there on top of him like a cat. Rhys just watched her in wonder, and stroked her bare back while she slept.

Fifteen minutes later, she woke, they kissed lazily in bed and then in the shower, and then they strolled down the road to the bakery. And to the chemist.

On the way, Feyre chatted about Berlin sights she thought Rhys needed to see, iconic street art she could show him, and the best food in town. Rhys nodded along, saying very little and being content to watch Feyre animated and enthusiastic.

And he did want to do all of those things, wanted to go anywhere Feyre took him. Really, he did.

But then they got back to the hotel room, and did not manage to leave it again that day.

Did make love on the edge of the bed, fall off the side and fuck on the floor, get messy and have sex in the shower with their hands pressed up to the glass. Did cover each other's bodies in swirling patterns with black markers and ball point pens found in the hotel drawers. Did take breaks for pretzels and hot chocolate, before beginning again in the tangled white sheets with the 'do not disturb' tag hanging on the door handle outside.

They were just dozing off on the rug, Feyre in nothing but a pair of white cotton panties and black ink, Rhys completely naked, when Tarquin rang, and the sharp intrusion of the outside world in their little bubble was about as welcome to Rhys as a kick in the guts.

Feyre groaned. "Don't answer," she said, her head pillowed on Rhys' stomach. His fingers traced around her navel.

"Hello?" "Rhys! It's Tarquin. How are things over there?" "Fantastic," Rhys said. "We've finished painting and are tidying up now. I was just about to call you and tell you the good news."

Feyre took his fingers and guided them lower. She moaned softly as he pushed light circles onto her clit, over her underwear.

"You have? Wie schöne, that's wonderful news," Tarquin said. "I'll come meet you both up there."

Feyre reached out and stroked his cock while he dipped his fingers under her waistband.

"Actually," Rhys said, forcing his voice to come out evenly, "we're just leaving now. But I would still encourage you to go have a look." "Oh but I want to see it with you," Tarquin argued. "Give my thanks to you both. Shake your hands."

Rhys bit back a laugh. "Don't think you could shake out hands right now." Feyre giggled silently. "They're... covered in paint."

"Ah fair enough, but even figuratively speaking, it'd be good to see you both off." "Love to, Tarquin," Rhys said, eyeing Feyre. She was starting to arch off the floor, and little whimpers were escaping as his fingers sped up. He held a finger to his lips. "Unfortunately we actually have an engagement to get to. We're leaving the site now, and I'm going to eat something but I'll put Feyre on."

He handed the phone to Feyre, and at the same time rolled over her. Slid her underwear down and put his mouth on her pussy. She lifted her hips to him, and then mouthed Naughty, while her eyes sparkled above him.

"Hello?" she said. Breathlessly. "Oh, yes Tarquin do come have a look. It's-" here here breath hitched, "well I'm quite without words, Rhys is ve-ery skilled hmmmm I've been so glad to work with him on this project."

Rhys grinned, and reached his tongue deep inside her. Feyre clamped a hand down on the phone's speaker and bit down hard on her lip.

"No, we won't be there but I would love to... ah... to.. mm, to catch up with you later in the week. Sorry, yes I am a bit... uh... out of breath. We're carrying all the supplies back to my... umm.. my car."

Feyre swatted Rhys' head, but he just sped up his tongue on her clit.

"Doyouknowwhat, ah, Tarquin you head up there now, text me what you think and I... I'll speak to you later. Yep. Okay. Yesokaybye."

Feyre hung up the phone, threw it to one side and then moaned so loudly and deeply Rhys felt the vibration in her stomach. She wrapped her legs around his head, put her hands in her hair and pushed herself closer to him. She was hotter than anything, and then Rhys was palming his own cock while he watched writhe on the floor. It wasn't long before she was coming undone on his lips.

When she finally came, Rhys was struck with the desire to draw her, just like this, in gorgeous ecstasy and with the exact colour of the blush across her chest.

The next morning, Rhys was due to get on a plane.

They sat in Feyre's car, with Rhys' bag on the back seat, and sat outside the airport without saying a word. Eventually, Feyre said, "Do you know, I came a long way to get away from my ex, and now all I feel is homesick." "Do you now?" Rhys murmured. "I've honestly thought about moving back to New York. But I packed everything up and left. I have nothing there, I have nowhere to live."

Rhys leaned back in his seat, and grinned lazily at Feyre.

"I'll make you a bargain, Feyre darling," he said. "I'm listening," Feyre replied. "You move back to New York and you can stay with me while you look for somewhere, and then you just move out when you find a place." Feyre considered it. "That would make things easier," she agreed.

"And hey," Rhys continued. "Maybe you like living with me and you never move out." Feyre grinned right back. "Maybe you like me and we live happily ever after."

Rhys shrugged. "Anything could happen," he said. Feyre stuck her hand out.

"It's a deal," she said, and they shook on it. Rhys pulled her in by the hand and kissed her, committing to memory the exact way she tasted.

"Come home soon, then," he whispered. **** Theeeeee end! That's all lovers, thank you so, so much to everyone who has been with me on this super lovely ride. Your comments, reblogs and general love have been deeply appreciated and I am forever grateful. I am a bit sad this one is over.

MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: @ghostlyrose2 @highladysith @stardelia @feysand-loml @tillyrubes10 @ratabrasileira @live-the-fangirl-life @maybekindasortaace @annejulianneh111 @thebonecarver @rowaelinismyotp @loosingdreams @whythefuckdoiexist @inejsarrow @swankii-art-teacher @sjmships @courtofjurdan @teddytdr @positivewitch @thalia-2-rose @darling-archeron @rapunzel1523 @fairchildjace @philosophorumaurum02 @story-scribbler @allthecolorsneverseen @asteria-of-mars

[littlefreya]

Good Girl

gif credit amancanfly

Synopsis: Henry is at the gym testing the new Glute Drive while his longing wife drops by to visit and decides to play a little wicked game of teasing. 

Pairing: Henry Cavill x OFC

Word count: 4.2K

Warnings: Explicit, this is basically ALL smut. Slight SubMale / DomFem then a lot of DomMale / SubFem, dry humping, cock teasing, dangerous driving, fingering, dirty talk, daddy kink, slight size kink (I am all the kinks today), unprotected sex and bodily fluids!

A/N: Okay so this fic was born out of the UNHOLY union between this thread and the video of Henry going “good boy” at Kal. Many thanks to my darling @agniavateira​ for helping me proofread this!

Title: Good Girl

There he is, my bear of a man. His sculpted, wide body plastered to some medieval-looking torture device. Strong, large arms hang onto the handles, muscles flexing. Slick with sweet sweat, he thrusts his hips up and down while grunting with effort.

Who the hell came up with this air-fucking machine?

I walk through the deserted mirrored room, my black painted nails scratching the glass as I draw closer toward Henry. Gyms tend to be freezing, and I’m not properly dressed for a workout session with my mini plaid skirt and a dark grey t-shirt. But his arduous gasps fill the chilled space enough to make things a little warmer. 

“What are you doing here, little one?” Henry finally asks, pausing his thrusts for a moment as he spots my cattish moves toward him.

I observe silently as I inch closer. he has his waist strapped to a bench, heavy weights of 80kg are on each side of his body while he lifts upward and presses his behind back down. A sheer layer of sweat covers him entirely, his skin glistening in the fluorescent’s light. His favourite blue top is soaked.

“I came home from the studio and my hubby wasn’t there.” I pout, standing right at the edge of the bench where his feet are pressed for support.

He pouts back at me, genuine care on his face. My darling bear might have the endurance of a large predator, but his heart is all strawberry marshmallow when it comes to his lady. He hates to spend time apart. Whenever our schedules collide it’s all about Face-timing and sending nudes. 

Honestly? I care less than he does about this shit ever getting leaked. I even keep some steamy under-the-cover selfies so I’ll have something to work with when either of us is away.

But what I hate the most, is having him here yet he’s absent. The Pre-production shenanigans have him preparing for his next role, which usually means working himself at the gym to the point of collapsing, just so he could look like some demi-god. Honestly, I wouldn’t mind him having a little body fat. That’s why I bake him pizza every weekend. What his gym coach doesn’t know, can’t hurt him.  

“I’ll be done in 10 minutes, darling.” he answers and continues to slowly push down and up again, releasing a pained grunt and clenching his teeth. “Just…  two… more… sets.”

“I don’t want to wait.” I alert him, circling the machine carefully to not get in his way. I appreciate the hard work and stamina, but I am quite tired of having the downside of the deal. Every day for the last 2 weeks I received an exhausted Cavill with aching, strained muscles. The most action I got was massaging his muscles in the bathtub which might sound romantic if not for him snoring 3 minutes in.   

“Ten minutes,” he mentions again. He’s out of breath as he ascends and then lowers once more, the weights pressuring his body down while the bands create a resistance. 

No way in hell someone came up with this device and didn’t think this is a sex thing. I see my bear thrusting his hips upward like this and only one thing goes through my mind. 

Oh, how I need to be on top of this mountain of a man.

I cannot help myself, nor can I hide the malicious grin forming on my mouth. I lift my leg carefully, hovering it in the air above him. I cage him between my straddled legs whilst giving him my best dominatrix glare. Henry raises his eyes to meet mine, looking dumbfounded. 

“What are you doing, darling? You’ll hurt yourself.”

Oh, sweet summer child. 

I sway my hips in a slow dance, with the thrust of his body and his heavy breaths as the music I’m dancing to. The arousal in his eyes is evident within seconds. His lips part away slowly, his beautiful blue eyes begin to cloud, and his adam’s apple slides upward in his throat as he swallows.

“At home.”

“Here.” I ignore his request lowering myself slowly and carefully to squat over his groin. He’s not hard, yet.

Henry releases a deep loud grunt. Usually, I am weightless for him, but right now I’m adding to already 160kg of weights. Well, he is the type of guy who likes to push his limits and I am the type of girl who likes to test boundaries. 

“Don’t,” Henry protests, another grunt escaping his lips. I stretch myself, my ass pressing back, my groin rubbing against the tender muscle that begins hardening between my legs. I can feel the rush of blood, making him throb and grow vast between my legs.

“Don’t do what?” I press my teeth against the lushness of my lower lip viciously, beginning to grind against the hardness in slow circular motions. “Don’t you have two more sets?”

He clenches his teeth, his hands tightening around the handles so harshly his knuckles whiten. With great effort he lifts up, succumbing to my wickedness. His erected cock is concealed underneath his clothes, yet I press and dance onto it, making blissful moans as the friction has me singing that sweet familiar tune.

When he pulls down I dive with him, feeling the exhale of his body and the dancing twitch of muscles. I greatly anticipate the next push upward, my hands reaching to squeeze my breasts together. My panties are now soaked with moisture as I press and rub, bringing myself closer.

When he lifts again, his thrust is a wee bit faster. He’s either getting used to my weight on his groin, or the adrenaline of the beast that I’ve been teasing allows him to push higher. He angles his hips into mine, serving my need, and gives me the friction I demand. His eyes meet mine and pure darkness devours me within them. 

I am in so much fucking trouble, but it’s so worth it. 

“Oh Henry, you’re making me so wet.” 

I moan his name, rubbing myself on his cock at a demanding speed while he lifts up and down. My clit tingles, swollen against his enormous bulge as that familiar wave begins to spread. He’s so hard, so painfully swollen, and so incapable of getting any release while I ride him into a powerful orgasm.

I clutch his thighs, desperate gasps spiralling out my mouth as the pleasure continues to hit my core. My nails dig deep into the hardened flesh but I can’t be bothered.

“Oh god…” I throw my head backwards, trying to adjust my breath while my legs are shaking around his wide waist. There’s still a throbbing hardness against my burning core, the angry drumming of blood pulsating against my opening. 

I’m tempted to take my phone and capture his looks in my camera. But I’m in too much trouble as it is. Henry is drenched in sweat, upset in ways I’ve never seen in my life. He's done with his workout for today,  no doubt about that.

“Are you done?” he asks me with a frown. 

I lick my lips and lift myself up, knees nearly giving up as my legs are still numb from the intensity of pleasure. I let out a provoking giggle, putting my finger between my teeth, knowing he likes that gesture. This is my favourite battle, control. He enjoys superiority with his physical power, but every now and then I sweep the rug beneath his feet. And though he loves it when I am his good girl, sprawling and letting him take what he wants, when I am bad, the beast is willing to split my ass in half.

Guess I won this round. 

Henry unbuckles the harness from his waist as I step back. He takes the towel from the bench and wipes his face. My eyes fixate on the still hard swelling in his nether area. I could offer to take care of it for him, but I am not feeling this generous right now. Better keep his stamina for home, so I can actually get me a proper shag in a nice, clean bed with a nice, clean husband that doesn’t smell like an entire rugby team.

“Go wait in the reception.” he demands, his tone anything but sweet right now. 

“Don’t take too long.” I demand in return as I turn around, flipping back my hair and letting it slide down my ass. I can hear his frustrated groan behind me, just before I leave the room. It makes me lose myself in a burst of chuckles. 

~*~

Henry meets me downstairs, a serious expression on his face. His gaze doesn’t meet mine, letting me know that unlike myself, he is vastly unamused. He takes my wrist in his big hand and leads me outside while smiling to bid bored receptionist goodbye. 

I am forced to follow his large strides. Being a tall man, every step of his is equal to three small ones of mine. Even though it seems like his “problem” subsided, he’s not exactly interested in waiting.

He’d always be tender in his behaviour towards me, a respectful gentleman who knows how to treat women. Sure, he can rearrange a guy’s skull, but he never raised his voice at me. He’d take a walk outside the house and then return to so we can have a talk like adults. 

But this is not a fight. This is but our favourite little war. Ongoing from the day we met.

I notice that we are not going to the car. Instead, he leads me to a narrow, dark space between two buildings. I can smell the damp sidewalk, the scent of earlier rain filling my nose. This spot is anything but romantic or erotic, with street cats screeching at the back and the sounds of trash cans being hit as they bounce on top of the lids.

Finally, he towers above me. His hand lets go of mine and hold it open in front of me with a demanding look in his eyes.

“Take off your panties.” 

I let out a bemused laugh, dry and short as I am uncertain of his odd demand. But he holds out his hand at the stern request, motioning for me to do as I’m told. 

“Here?!” I ask, looking around to see if there is anyone who might be a voyeur on our little engagement. The last thing I need is our agents scolding us again for photos of us being inappropriate in public places. Gretchen swears we make these mess on purpose. We kinda do, because we can’t keep away from one another.

“You want another one of your fancy pairs turned into rubbish?” he threatens.

I comply, breathing out like a brat and leaning down to take off my underwear for him. I place it in his hand and move back against the wall, anticipating his next move. I guess “Cavill and wife caught doing cardio after the gym!” could be a funny headline, better than the one at the hotel at the Academy Awards.

Henry folds the small material in his hand, holding it in his fist as if it’s something he can actually squeeze, before shoving it into his pocket. He grabs something else in exchange. I hear the chink of his car keys, dangling between his fingers as he offers them to me.

“You drive.”

There are no explanations, nor can I make anything of his behaviour. My man is willed with the control of his emotions. To outburst is to be weak, I am keen on that, my own terrible flaw. It only pisses me off more to see him keeping himself so relaxed while I am always the one who sees fire. 

I follow his order, walking after him silently as he leads me to where he parked the car. Having no underwear beneath my short skirt is anything but convenient right now, especially when I have to enter the vehicle and crouch down. 

I try fixing my skirt to cover myself, feeling the leather of the seat beneath my ass and other regions while Henry begins messing with the music player. I can see the small smirk at the corner of his lip, it’s evident that he’s having himself a good time knowing how uncomfortable I am at this very moment.

I roll my eyes at him and try closing my knees together as much as I can while stepping my foot on the gas.

He puts on Queens of the Stone Age and takes the passenger seat back, remembering he needs more legroom than I usually require. His head turns to face me, his lips sucked into his mouth in a cunning gesture.

“Had yourself a good time?” 

His hand reaches toward my knee, grazing at the bone with featherlike movements. It tickles, I am forced to move my knee from him involuntarily, but he keeps it in place, resting his entire large hand on my kneecap.

“I’m driving…” I warn him, keeping my hands on the wheel and my eyes on the road.  

I can tell he is smirking wickedly, his eyes staring at the road ahead of us carefully and then back at me. His fingers make their way up my thigh, snakelike on my bare skin. His palm is large and warm, pressing onto my inner thigh while his thumb draws invisible circles on my skin.

“Henry…” I warn again, feeling cool air blowing against my lips as he forces my legs to part wider for him. “You’ll get us killed!”

“Then focus on the road.” he commands, licking his lips. His fingers meet my wetness in a touch so tender it’s almost a phantasm, yet still there, undoubtedly making me swallow a sigh and squirm slightly in my seat. It’s as if he is testing the water first, a slight brush before plunging in and damn if he doesn’t push into me with his fingers, pressing three of his large digits to massage my heat. 

“Fuck!” 

I am fighting to keep my eyes open, my hands clutching at the steering wheel while my left foot kicks at the floor. 

“Maybe we should stop.” I suggest, nearly pleading. 

“Keep driving, we’re almost home.” he answers, sounding relaxed. The amused grin has vanished from his face, replaced with the severeness of pride and triumph.

He strokes my cunt between his fingers in a tight grip, his fingers running up and down, playing with my wetness, smearing it across his hand before plunging two of his knuckles inside me as we stop at a red light. I am very much aware that other drivers might see us, so does he, but he seems to care very little if anyone spots him pleasing his wife. 

“Aww…” he mocks me, hearing the helpless cry that pushes out of my throat. “You shouldn’t have been such a bad little girl.” he teases some more, his fingers now plunging in and out with excitement. I allow myself to grind at the surface of his palm to achieve more friction at the base of my clit so maybe we can finish this quickly before the light is green.

But he’s the one in charge of my satisfaction now. He holds his hand further, so I will have none of it and keeps the stimulation only at the rim of my cunt, his fingers circling my entrance. 

“Too bad you had to tease me like that.” he murmurs in his low voice, his fingers slowly withdrawing and only his thumb grants my clit with a small tender brush.

 “Now you’ll have to wait, and be a good girl for daddy.”     

I let out another cry, arching toward the wheel and biting on my lips. It's not out of pleasure, but out of torturous frustration as he withdraws completely. I give him a quick, infuriated stare, seeing how he sucks his fingers victoriously, enjoying every single drop of his sweet win.

Feeling slick between my thighs, I press slightly harder on the gas pedal, trying to get us home faster. Henry pumps the volume of the music player higher.

Watch you come from above

I'm so needy for love, I'm desperate,

Greedy in slavery I sneak around from behind I got a one track mind We got a skin on skin thing baby I want to lick you too much I hear you comin ooh aaaah baby 

~*~

The moment we enter the house I lock the door and try to make my move but he has his hand on my throat in less than a second, squeezing not too tight, but tight enough to make a point. His blue eyes scan my face, his soft tongue slithering across the freckle of his lower lip with arousal. 

“Get on your knees, little one. You’re not off the hook yet.” 

I gasp at his fierceness, weak against his charisma and beauty. I stroke his face, still sticky with sweat from earlier, my fingers are gently smoothing against the stubbles on his high cheekbones and at the dimple of his chin. 

“Please, daddy, just fuck me already,” I bargain. 

“I’m wet and ready for you.”

“On your knees.” he repeats himself, his lips twitching to a small grin as he sees my defeat. His hand slightly releases my neck, his fingers pet my chin and jaw and finally entangle in my hair as I fall to my knees slowly, levelling myself at the height of his groin. His hand strokes my head lovingly, pressing my chin against his growing arousal as I look up to him with fake innocence.  

“Are you gonna be good now?” he asks, his fingers twirling around my long hair lovingly. 

“Yes, daddy.” I nod, waiting to have his cock in me, in any part of me. I want to touch myself so badly, my pussy throbs with desperate eagerness to be stuffed by his huge cock. . 

“I want to see you crawl on fours and wait for me in the living room, babygirl.” he growls at me while discarding his blue top on the wooden floor, exposing his thick hairy chest. 

“I want to look at your cunt as you move for me before I’ll destroy it. You’ve been such a nasty girl today.” 

I shiver at his words, a shrill of air kicks out of my lungs at once. My toughness is down to non-existing. I let him have it, I let him have it all. I crawl on my knees and palms like a cat in heat, my ass exposed for him. My cunt drips with primal desire to be conquered by this menacing alpha. I stop for a moment and then look behind me. I see him kicking off his shoes, his sweats slipping down his thick thighs along with his briefs before he continues to follow me, holding his erection in his hand, massaging the base of his cock while looking at me to open wide for him.

I reach the furry white IKEA carpet in our living room and wait for him, still on all fours. His heavy footsteps make the wood creak beneath his weight which alerts me that he’s close. The heat of his body is near. I feel the aura of his body as he falls down to his knees carefully behind me. 

His hands smooth against the curve of my ass, appreciating my shape to the point of worshipping my flesh. He takes the time to study again what he knows better than I do, trailing up to lift my skirt until it’s hiked around my belly. He then pushes my shirt, prompting me to take it off. Not an easy task to perform on all four limbs.

For one lingering moment, his hands roam across my body, massaging my muscles, pinching my nipples between his fingers. I moan beneath his large hands as he coaxes me into being his little plaything, succumbing to his will. Possessive fingers grip my shoulder and in a sudden movement, I’m pressed with my back down while Henry pushes my legs apart with his knees. 

“I just love to look at your face when I fuck you, babygirl.” he explains, his hands pulling my legs violently against his hips to position me as he desires. That way, we can both enjoy the show of his cock slipping in and out of my slit.

I squirm beneath him, my hands reaching for his chest to stroke at the thick dark hair and hardened pecs. “Please, fuck me.” I beg to the point of whining as I look at his sturdy cock, admiring every vein and ridge that decorates his impressive size. Henry takes himself and begins to tease my entrance, making teasing groaning voices while I plea so weakly. 

But that’s only to prepare me for his brutal invasion. He lets out a loud husky shout as he pushes in, penetrating me with such vulgarness, it takes the air out of my lungs. I am split in half, feeling how my body stretches immediately to bind itself to him. 

My narrow slit tries to remain resilient while Henry keeps himself nested between my lush folds, a groan of pure pleasure vibrates through his glorious chest before he takes my jaw in his great hand and makes me look at him to see the sin in his eyes.

“Good girl…”  he calls out in his deep low voice, pulling himself out slowly and then slamming back inside me in with a slippery wet slap. I gasp, my entire body shuddering in his veiny arms. 

“Good girl.” He speaks again, letting the words roll and linger on his tongue.

His rhythm is somewhere between torturous to divine. When he pulls away he does it ever so slowly, watching with perverse fascination his own cock as it slides out my narrow entrance just before he slams back in. Henry promised that he will destroy me; he never breaks a promise. I already feel how my muscles are thrown into a paradox, trying to resist him yet have him deeper and deeper with each one of his amazing thrusts.  

“Look at how you take me,” he calls in a guttural voice, urging me to look at our union. “You have such a tight succulent cunt, baby.” 

It feels almost too sinful to stare, my entire existence shivers at the sight. His big beautiful cock enters me, slick with my juices as he increases the pace. I’m petite but with him inside I’m forced to expand, my body stealing his shape, embracing him with devotion, wanting him to be like this forever.

His wide thighs are placed right beneath my legs, his right hand silks its way down my hip and grips me roughly as he pounds me in increasing speed. With one hand still on my jaw, he presses his fingers to my mouth where I suck and bite at him. He always wants me to look at him, loves it when I’m hopeless beneath him when my mouth cries for him while he stuffs me with his cock, over and over again. 

I squirm to meet his pelvis. He fucks me so raw that no actual words come out of my mouth but the mewls of a small, helpless animal instead. Being hunted for sport rather than eating. I grind my clit against his pubic bone to elicit more delightful friction, getting me closer and closer. But I’m stealing control and he’ll have none of that right now. 

He shoves us down, pinning my hands against each side of my head while his groin is holding me down to the surface in complete captivity. I am hurting for a mere moment as he shoves too forcefully. His apology is a deep passionate kiss which he is forced to break as we both gasp for air with every merciless push of his loins into mine. 

“Fuck babygirl!” He leans his forehead against mine, a feral gaze in his eyes. I lock my legs around his waist, my body losing every grip it ever had on control as the warmth begins to throb at the base of my cunt, spreading from my womb towards every nerve until I feel nothing but love flowing through my body.

I pant in awe, my voice adding to his deep growls and husky gasps which only become louder as his orgasm looms closer with the tightness of my cunt around his swelling cock. It sucks him harder, demanding his release, milking him of his offering until he shudders through me and yells out my name. 

The gush of warmth that spills inside me is my second favorite thing in the world. I moan with sweet delight as his cream coats me inside.

“I love you so much.” he whispers, holding me in his protective embrace as if to apologize for fucking me so hard.

I’d imagine that after such a long time together he’d already figure it out that I’m the one provoking it.

“What’s the name of that device again?.. the one I was…”

“Glute drive.”

“Glute drive, yeah, we’ll do that again soon…” I suggest, nibbling at his ear playfully while he remains on top of me.

~*~

Song lyrics are by Queens of the Stone Age - Skin on Skin

[jooneggs]

MIDNIGHT MENAGERIE 1/3) - KNJ

❀ Word count: 8.7k

❀ Pairing: Namjoon x Reader

❀ SUMMARY: Like water, cradling your fragile soul, Namjoon has held the lily of your heart all your life and you wish you could let him know just how much that means to you. Coincidentally, it just so happens you can: in a week's time when you're stuck in the holiday of your life at Namjoon's father's Botanical gardens. Will you finally get to repay him in a bed of roses or will he be the one to make the bouquet for you?

❀ Genre/AU: f2l, fluff, angst, smut

❀ Rating: 18+

❀ Warnings: Sexual tension (if you use a magnifying glass), Brief anxiety attack, Brief mention of past trauma/sexual assault (I’ve starred this bit between two ❀’s if you need to skip).

❀ A/N: I got back from my writing slump and i’m here with part one that took lots more time and effort than i expected haha! Writers block had me in its clutches but i’m here, and i really hope you enjoy the new chapter of this Joon Series! And a shout out to @jamaisjoons​ for letting me be a part of this project *blows kisses*

❀

They say that on the longest nights of spring you can see it. When the dark frames the stars in tenebrous black and the halo of the moon umbers the shallow of the sky. When the flowers bloom in a thicket down old country lanes and the ground softens for idle footsteps. Just beyond its fleecy hedges and dew-damp grass, framed by the large body of an antique greenhouse it can all be seen: two lovers in an embrace as beautiful and age-old as the wrinkled love-lines on their palms.

❀

It’s 7am.

And it’s a Sunday.

You find that during the times you need it most, comfort is in a suitcase and has taken the next flight south. 

Feet strewn out from the duvet and palms placed flat to the bed, you find yourself with the sudden urge to breathe. Dormant around you, your room is dark and the distant sounds of birds can be heard outside. Thoughts are wild in your head, uncaged and hitting at your skull to escape. You find them moving to your windpipe and toying with your ability to take in the right amount of air you physically need to breathe right now. Whenever this happens, it’s like the cold of the outside has come indoors and made its bed in your chest. It’s like all the muscles in your body are working against you. This feeling has lasted for over three years now, or what feels like your whole life. It happens suddenly and unexpectedly, at times when you’re low or even when you're at your happiest. A gust of wind will fill the air and instantly, you're trapped again.

Reaching for the blinds, you pull yourself up against the headrest and attempt to let some sunlight and air into the room. You wrap your fingers around the beads of the pull and gently tug as light streams across the floor of your room and slowly climbs the walls. You ball your eyes shut as the exposure blinds you and almost hiss at the sudden change of atmosphere in the room. Although now incredibly bright, you still feel your hands shaking and lungs wheeze as you curl yourself further against the wall, commanding yourself to stay calm. 

You feel your body reach this state whenever you consciously or unconsciously muster up thoughts of the past. Thoughts regarding negative experiences: failed friendships, attempted friendships, unrequited loves, unwanted advances from desperate, hungry, grease-slicked hands..

You don't want to have to go through this so often. To face the threat of feeling an inch of your being escape you each day. You want to be held, caressed and healed. You want to be bundled up into a blanket of another body only to disappear into them and their world and to never return again.

Sucking in another breath of air, you fish for the bottle of water on your side cabinet. With such restless, anxious hands, you find the task incredibly hard and end up having to get out of bed to reach for the bottle now face forward on the floor, dribbling onto the carpet. 

Hands and feet now damp and jittery, you attempt to salvage the remaining drops of water in the bottle before draping the duvet back over you, right up to your shoulders, and nestling against the wall like a caterpillar to its cocoon. 

You think about taking deep breaths, and rubbing your hands to conduct heat. You also think about all the terrible, horrible things that lay wake in your past. You don't want to think about these things, you want to find your way out of this panic. Negative thoughts as pungent as these don't tend to want to go away as quickly as the others do. 

You've learnt to let the thoughts linger, accept their presence, acknowledge them and deal with them one by one. It isn’t an easy task and it’s not a quick one either. It’s like rationalizing your derationalized thoughts into specific moments of your life that really hurt to think about. It’s worth it when someone like your therapist is helping you out, but when it’s just you on your own, it feels impossible knowing where to start. One of the best things you’ve found recently, is morphing your fear into tiredness and letting your anxiousness send you to sleep. It sounds like the opposite of something that anxiety should do, but by the time you’ve exhausted your mental and physical capacity, you feel ready to sleep for a thousand years or more. 

So with minimal effort, and the sudden feeling of aching bones and a sore throat, you tip yourself back into bed. And when you close your eyes, it takes all the effort in the world to push back all those thoughts telling you to stay up and worry and bleed yourself raw. But against the odds, you do it. You do it like clockwork because this is like a routine to you, one that means you can never fully relax in the wake of losing a part of yourself all over again. 

❀

Sunlight is like the lighthouse that finds you stranded on the shore and wakes you from your sleep. It pulls you from the deep water and onto the warm speckles of sand. You’ve woken up. 

In many ways, you feel like you’ve never been asleep. Your throat still stings and you haven’t forgotten the feeling of being unable to breathe. It’s like sleep is the short term solution to an everlasting problem that can take a backseat for your slumber but pop back up ten-fold as soon as you wake. And even then, it won’t be long before the problem starts to probe into your dreams. You feel like that’s already started to happen. A thin husk of memory tells you that your last dream definitely was a nightmare and that you’ve been haunted by monsters and dream figures chasing you for a while. 

Things seem much better when you aren’t in the shell of your room or the realm of your sleep. Since your later teenage years, you found much more comfort staying in or near the outdoors, sometimes surrounded by your parents, sometimes calmed by your cats. It was a shame because your room to you was your haven, a slice of heaven covered in all the things that you loved. And you still love it, you just feel a slight weight in its presence, one that the outdoors helps brush away. 

You stretch your feet and rub your chest, relieved to find yourself breathing normally again. Twisting in your bed, you wrestle a teddy off the side and move to head toward the door. Wetting your feet on the rug still damp from your spilled water, you trudge toward the end of the room and swing open the door from its hinges before walking across to the kitchen. 

On a quiet 9am Sunday morning, you want nothing more than to bury your troubles in tea and a book. Your school week has once again ended, culminating in the beginning of a spring break. It has also meant your parents leaving on the next train they could out of your hometown and into the city. 

Since the dawning of time - or rather the first waking moment you could remember - you had lived in the countryside. The air was a fresh lavender breeze, the sky at night blew out stars like blaring bulbs and the ground beneath always felt like it was rooting itself back to you. They say ‘the grass is always greener’, and many times you had almost fooled for it: believing that life in the city would bring you the freedom you really wanted from your parents, the joy from true love you lacked. You thought it would change the cycle of your life, like all those terrible moments that had happened to you could have been avoided if it weren’t for the sanctuary of suburbia. Like the knowledge you would have known there, would have protected you from all the devils of this world. 

You sometimes felt you didn’t know enough, That Tolkien and Carroll weren’t enough to shape your knowledge into experiences otherwise faced by children of the city. That you were strange, the odd one out because you hadn’t had the life you felt a lot had been living. At 12 there were no first relationships, at 16 no proms, at 18 no parties, at 20 certainly no lovemaking. Had you been living falsely? Was your clone-self fulfilling your wishes out in the world without your knowledge? 

These feelings were occurrences that hit you when you were down; crept up on you when you least expected it. But most times, you knew better. You knew your life was good and that the only feeling you were missing out on was feeling complete in regards to that. You could see it in the way your parents walked when they’d return from weekends in the city: shoulders slightly slumped, breath laboured, legs an entanglement of walking on thick tar or marble stairs. You could see it in the way the blare your box TV made you feel whenever you seldom switched it on or the way street cars or school kids made you feel whenever you stumbled to the edge of the green belt on the cusp of the  town. 

It was a feeling that reminded you that you loved the countryside. That whatever you had missed out on, you only had to gain by the joy you felt living in this little world of your own. That whatever you faced, were facing, or yet to face, would be outweighed by the positives that surrounded you each and every day. 

With a lighter note to your step, you made your way to the kettle and took it to the tap. Filling it with water, you latch it back on to its base and switch it on. Today was a green tea day, the fresh scent of leaves and the warm yet bitter taste of vegetal flora. You pop a bag of it into a bottomless white mug and wait for the kettle to chime. 

Every spring break since your early teenage years was one you had looked forward to. That, and the addition of any single break you got away from working and learning. You loved the time away to pursue what you really loved most and to feel as if you had all the time in the world. 

Most of all, you loved being with your friends.

You couldn’t forget that what had made your experience in the country so beautiful and thriving was the people you had around you. Without them, you’d have no experiences at all, let alone the knowledge to make things like the cup of tea you were brewing right now. All of them had taught you different things and given you different opportunities and adventures. All seven of them being boys, you missed their brotherly presence and the feeling of really belonging when you were beside them. In fact, you hoped today, with feeling more solemn and tired, they’d magically sense your sadness and start the spring break with you.

Fishing the bag from your mug, you stir the tea and bring it out to the front garden. Closing the door gently behind you, you move onto the patio and sit against the wall of your house, brushing against a rose bush climbing its walls to the drain pipe of the roof. Setting your mug on the cold of the ground. You turn to your left and push at the floor of the patio, skimming your nails against the brick edge of one of the tiles. With quick effort, the brick slides to the side and you lean forward to peer into the shallow of ground dug out below. Under this small tile of your garden was a small collection of books you were currently reading. You prized your books, but never bought them new without their own wear-and-tear. Keeping them underground would only further the process of their weathering, so any books you bought were second hand from the local market or given as a gift from one of your friends who was a book-worm. 

Reaching down, you close your eyes and pick a random book of the day. Sliding back the tile, you flick through the browning pages to the dog-eared bookmark of where you last were and start to read. It’s no fun just reading one book at once. You love to pursue multiple lives and experiences at one time as well as critique books on what one lacks and the other makes up for. If given the opportunity to do so, why not take the bull by the horns and charge into multiple universes with adventurous intentions?

With an open mind, you continue to read, your intention to fall into this book for at least a few hours before resurfacing back to reality. You find time slipping further with each crease of a new page. Your tea growing colder as you take small, yet thoughtful sips, popping the mug back onto the tile and rubbing your leg in reflection. What brings a story to an end? What is it that causes the binding to fold shut? Is it that a character can finally be content with the way things are; is it that their pain has finally ended and now the stage of their acceptance begins? You’ve always hoped that books would carve out your path for you, would give you the knowledge you needed to move on, or bring a charming fantasy character to you without you lifting a finger. You wanted to know what it was that you were searching for, that comfort that could just be right in front of you..

You turn a page. 

“Y/N!”

“Namjoon?!” 

You look up, and see him. Dropping your book back into your lap, you wrestle with your hands and move the hair from your eyes. 

He’s staring back at you, intent on grabbing all of your attention. His umber eyes shine against the afternoon light and his flushed lips grin a lopsided smile. Sun-kissed, tawny skin and a button-nose - he is a vision - and you forget how hard it is to maintain eye contact with him for too long until your staring right back and squinting at his beauty. 

His eyes drop down to your book and move back up, glowing with his usual sense of admiration and approval. 

“Reading another one this time?”

“Yeah..” You mumbled “Well I've started this one already but i took a break from it and picked it out today in a random draw. But it’s pretty good so far so i’m not really fussed. I think I might even pursue this one fully to the end. No breaks..cool, right?”

“What one is it?” He responds, pulling the cover up into his eye line and taking it into his hands. 

“You should know by the cover. Go on. Guess.”

“I’m not that good..”

“Hey! You were the one who lent me the book!”

“Probably because I've never gotten the chance to read it..”

“You recommended it to me!”

He squints and observes both sides of the book, careful to not peer at the binding with the title on. You watch with a strange enthusiasm as you yet again share a bonding moment with him over something you feel not many cherish anymore. It’s good to have common interests with others, yet the more you divulge in them, the deeper you fall into that person. 

“It’s Doctor Zhivago by...Boris..Pasternak?” He smiles “But translated right? I can’t remember the man’s name..”

“You mean ‘name’s’. Hayward and Harari. Bit of a tongue twister. It’s so good.”

“That book was the most complicated thing.” 

“But romantic.” You whisper.

“What was that?” He tilts his head.

“I said it..it’s romantic.”

“Oh..” He blushed “Yeah it’s very well written. Right..”

❀

Sometimes you guessed that ‘that’ was the thing you were missing. When you lay awake in bed at night, or felt yourself losing breath in the bundle of a blanket; in the morning, spilling a frozen mug of tea, or at night, clutching onto one of the books he had given you. Your friends had given you everything you needed, helped you in different ways, and sometimes you didn’t know how to repay them. You were reminded that you were enough, that what you did by just being you was enough to keep all of them smiling. Your friends had given you everything, but more than ever, right now, recently, one person had been taking over all of your thoughts, all of your friendships. 

Here he was standing in front of you. And yet again you maintain normal conversation. You avert your eyes to intense stares, you keep from slipping on your tongue. Your hands stay in your lap, and your fingers ache to touch his. It was something you thought of often, yet something that remained at the back of your mind. Like a dirty secret, you didn’t want this longing to ruin the broken bridges you’d connected from your past that had taken you so long to build. 

But moments like these, when he smiled too bright, or let his cheeks tinge pink in the presence of you without even trying to hide it..you knew you were so damn screwed. 

❀

“y/n?”

You snapped from your thinking “Yeah, huh?!”

“Thinking again?”

“Yeah. Sorry..”

He smiled, exposing those beautiful dimples “It’s okay. I was wondering if you wanted to pop into mine and grab some more new books to read once you’ve finished that one?”

“That actually sounds great. I think the spring break will give me more time to read some of your favourites.” 

“Awesome. C’mon then.” He reached out his hand to pull you up onto your feet and take you next door to his house. Like a burning crush, you touch his hand and feel a small fire come to life in your stomach. It was a common occurrence and one you still hadn’t managed to learn how to extinguish. Rather it had become a feeling you blamed on too much herbal tea or lack of sleep. 

Deep down, the small fire was telling you that its existence was most likely due to ‘him’.

You follow Namjoon next door, across the small valley of your front garden and into his. He was tall, masking the view ahead of you, and his broad shoulders stretched the expanse of the garden gate as he idly swung it open. In a metaphor, he was a large, wise-old tree. You had envied him ever since your young teenage years and were unlikely to ever feel superior, let alone on the same level as him.

❀

As your neighbour, Namjoon moved in when you were 11. Living your whole life in the same house out in the country, bothered only by the rising sound of birds, you’d yet to have a neighbour that wasn’t five times the age of you. It was a new experience, and happened to come at the most confusing and inconvenient age of your life where you were like a magnet to anyone of the same age and opposite gender. Alongside your other six male school friends you had happened to befriend, moving up to secondary school, you found he was soon to become your 7th. Like your other friends, he was kind, charming and open from the moment you made your first greeting. You all found interest in the hobbies of adventure and play and reveled in the fact that your fantasy world was now one to share with many others. 

Growing up as a human was weird enough at 11: weird bodily changes, voice-deepening, and a sudden strong romantic attraction to others. Your friends and you thought it was funny, speaking at lengths only to crack off tune or bopping Adam's apples like a game of tennis while you sat there and touched at the flat plain of your female neck. At times you’d play twister and fall apart at the sudden growth of each other's legs and how it would up the difficulty of the game without you even trying. Other times you’d stare at the faces across from you and wonder what the soft blades of their cheeks would feel like to touch. 

You thought that was bad enough, but at 19 it had hit you like a brick and was only getting worse. 

❀

“You had a bad night?” 

You look up as he turns around by the door of his house and nod, “Yeah..something like that i guess..”

“You can tell me about it.” He pauses and brushes his fingers against the tips of yours - and there goes that fire in the pit of my stomach again..

“It’s okay. It was just a bit of an anxiety attack. It came on unprovoked, no reason, no big deal.”

“As long as you're sure.” 

He stares into the pits of your soul with that intent and interest in his eyes again, and you simply nod and smile.

“Alright, let’s go find a new book to cheer us up. I’ve got this amazing one i found at last weeks market, you won’t believe the coloured edgism on it!”

❀

A few hours had passed and you and Namjoon had gone through dozens of his books, discussing why each and every one was a merit to read. You found his bookshelf harbored all sorts of genres, but favoured writers such as Murakami and Hesse. It truly was a sight to behold: a 16-shelf, 7-foot mahogany cupboard of prismatic-colour in the form of disjointed stack upon stack of novels. It was like a second home to you; one for the books, and two for the person who lived there. 

“So you’ve chosen?..” Namjoon tilts his head, looking up from his spot kneeling on the floor. 

“Ah..i’m really not sure.”

“Go on.” He sniggers, “I'll do a drum roll.”

“Okay. So. I’m choosing ‘A Wild Sheep Chase’..aaand, ‘The White Book’!”

“Those are amazing! Hold on, show me the covers again.”

You move from your position leaning against the bookshelf, and kneel next to him, arm brushing against the cotton of his. He seems to respond to this, and shuffles closer, knee knocking yours as he moves to see the covers of the books more clearly. 

Although he’s silent, you feel his acknowledgement and study of the novels before him as he remembers their plots and summarizes his critiques against them. Knowing him for so long, you can almost feel the cogs in his brain working and you struggle to hold back a smile as you imagine him feeling the same way about you. 

*ding, dong*

In a sudden halt, the door rings, and the two of you separate as quickly as you came together to head towards the entrance. A silent awareness slips between the two of you regarding the past few hours you’d spent scrolling through books together. This was something friends did, right?

“Hey, lovebirds!” You hear a deep voice chime and peer from the side of Namjoon to see the other six of your friends standing out on the patio in a huddle. Taehyung stands centre of the pack, beaming with his box-grin as if he’d just opened the gift of his life. You peel back behind Namjoon nervously and wave back to them, making yourself known, watching a smile deepen on all of their faces as they glance back and forth between the two of you. 

You know what it must look like, but you’d hoped they’d be used to it by now. The older you got, the more time you divided towards Namjoon compared to the rest of the boys and you never gave an explanation for it, leaving an air of question between you and the others. At this point, you weren’t surprised by their assumptions. You simply went along with it, hoping one day their words would manifest themselves into tangible things.

“Hi guys. How’s the beginning of Spring Break treating you?” Namjoon smiles, fiddling with the books now in his hands. 

“It’s going well. We were enjoying the sun and nearly forgot about you guys.” Jimin replies, a sly wink directed your way.  

“C’mon now, what do you want?” You smile. 

“Come to the hideout with us.” Jungkook chimes, scrunching his nose, “Let’s make some plans and get stuff done!” 

❀

It was a mossy road, filled with scattered piles of leaves, hulking rocks and long, giant-like cutlasses of grass. Trees decorate the rim of the trail, large oaks and fuzzy maples. The flowers surrounding you crowd in, tickling your feet, shining a blistering yellow onto your chin. The sun above flares and your neck swelters as you trail behind the seven boys. 

The path to your secret hideout was never an easy one to make. Beautiful but not easy. In the past eight years of being friends, the nature surrounding your home and further out had reared its wild and boisterous head, making its mark with swollen muddy ditches and overgrown thickets of grass. You frequented it often, making the trek in under half an hour with flimsy boots, often exhausted from the school day. Sometimes you’d visit in the mornings by yourself, shuffling around chairs and cleaning up crumb-riddled plates from the last visit there; other times you’d head over in the evening and nap on the ground with your head in one of the boys laps as you mumbled incoherently about some classmate or teacher. 

Your hideout was a camper van, plastered white, now chalky flakes. Its interior was large and had been hollowed out into two large rooms of a dusty kitchen and bedroom/living area via the drivers door. As you approached it, a sense of nostalgia filled you, memories rushing in chromatic frames of adventures played out within the confines of those few feet. Although overgrown, the ground beneath you still felt as pliant and kind as the first day you set foot. 

You come to a halt as Taehyung steps forward and swings the loose driver door open, bowing in a way too childlike not to smile

“Ladies and gentleman, your accommodation for the day. Step right up, step right up.”

Following the boys, you find Taehyung waiting with the door open and you nod in return, climbing up, sliding across the driver's seat and landing in the main space of the van. Grabbing the nearest seat, you press yourself up against the backrest and kick off your shoes, feeling a sting evolve then dissipate around the clutches of your ankles. It’s not long before Namjoon joins you to your right, and Yoongi sits idly to your left. Jungkook, Taehyung and Jimin form a small triangle in the centre of the room and Jin and Hoseok move over to the kitchen to presumably look for snacks. You wiggle your toes and smile at the boys around you. The past few hours had made the morning feel like a distant memory and you, yet again, made a note in your brain that reminded you how important these guys were to your mental stability. 

“Jellied eels and gummy worms!” Hoseok cheers, bouncing into the room alongside Jin with two large packets in tow.

“Eels?..” Namjoon mouths next to you.

“Worms?” Yoongi resounds.

“They’re gummy sweets guys! Did you even have a childhood or did your life only just begin when you met me?” Jin smirks, throwing himself on an armchair opposite you and leaning over to grab a can of soda from the seat underneath him. 

“My life began when I started eating these sweets.” Hoseok hums, a gummy worm dangling from the creases of his lips. 

“Let’s have one!” Whines Jungkook, and pulls Hoseok down to share the sweets out with everyone in the room, nodding at Jin to join along and share his cans of soda too.

❀

You met the boys halfway through your Primary Education, age 11. Being a socially distant and independent child, you had struggled to befriend anyone the past few years and were blissfully ready to roll through yet another year alone. You hadn't known any different, and expected you were better off not having friends. There were certain days however, when an unfamiliar sense of loneliness would strike you and you’d struggle all the next week in school. 

Moving up to the next grade required an induction into the class. It was inevitable that part of the induction would include ‘ice-breakers’. Playing hide-and-seek and musical-chairs didn’t seem productive or fairly educational, but it helped you spot your tribe from the rest. You had found that, moving into a different set in a different year had meant everyone in class was new to you. It was exciting, but it made you feel yet again like a tiny fish in a giant pond. 

It wasn’t long before six boys, during a particularly boisterous game of dodge ball, had come to your side to make a wall around you and pellet balls back at the opposing team. You were lost for words, but stayed planted as you watched them continue to protect you and even smile back occasionally with ease. After the game, following onto lunch, they invited you to sit with them at their table. They individually introduced themselves, stretching out hands to shake with yours before moving back to demolishing their lunches. Although unfamiliar for you, you felt comfortable around these boys, and it wasn’t long before you felt secure to approach their table on rough days and simply slump straight down into your chair. 

Jin, Jimin, Jungkook, Taehyung, Yoongi and Hoseok had met the first day of the grade you were starting. You’d almost known them as long as they had known each other; the boys meeting by coincidence at the local convenience store to buy evening snacks a few days before they had met you during the dodge ball game. A band of misfits, as disinterested in cliques and gossip as you were, it made sense that you stuck together for the rest of your primary and secondary education.

Jin was the first for you to have a full interaction with. On a late autumn finish from school, just after the ‘razzle-dazzle fair’, Jin had ran up to as you were exiting the school gates and offered to walk you home. You had been friends for a month now and Jin admitted that he lived quite close to you and would be more than happy to take you to your house. You had agreed, and in the short 20 minute walk home, you had been able to laugh and socialize more than you had ever done before. Jin was the eldest of the group and a social spark. Alongside Taehyung, he often led the group's conversations and was unapologetically unabashed regarding his strong looks and vibrant personality. It was refreshing to see and often annoyed the group at times where they all wanted silence, yet could still hear Jin nattering away behind them. After a few years knowing and maturing with Jin, you could see the layer underneath his visage that was insecure and ashamed. It was something you saw in yourself, yet you made no qualms regarding the way you held yourself in very low regards. As an only child, Jin was like an older brother to you; always the one to continue to walk you home when the others couldn’t. Even up to the age you were now. 

You next spent time individually with Jimin, Jungkook and Taehyung. With Jin, Hoseok and Yoongi out on a school trip one day, the other three were desperate to get out and made a pact with you to go out nature foraging at the end of the school day. You all kept your promise, and on a foggy October, you made your way out into the stretch of hills where you lived only to discover the abandoned camper van you now sat in. Aside from an empty fridge, and musky air, the van’s interior was the same and you spent the whole evening dusting it out and running around, planning different ways in which you could now brand this vehicle as the groups own. The three of them were the most youthful and bonded to each other like glue. On future nights in the camper van, you’d sit outside to catch a breath, only to spot them swinging their legs off the roof, clanging the sides with their feet and giggling to each other. Other times you’d wake up in your sleeping bag and wriggle over to hear three soft snores as they practically piled atop one another like little caterpillars. Jungkook was the youngest of the group, and truly the sweetest. He enjoyed physical contact, and playing with your hair including the way you’d hug him back after he’d had a long day. Although close, the boys weren’t always around to protect each other, and you’d found yourself in many situations, standing up for him as he was bullied by older kids or others who simply envied his ability to be good at practically everything. Jimin, at times, had also found himself being picked on, but unlike Jungkook, could stand up for himself and sassily retort back. Jimin was a cuddle bug and enjoyed poking fun at your lack of ability to stay still during a shoulder massage without becoming ticklish. He loved showing you new routines he’d learnt taking ballet class in the city, and often shared his experience of the bright lights, making you fear them even more. Taehyung was the same in regards to his songwriting and desperate need to learn guitar or piano but never being able to pick between the two. Taehyung was soft-spoken and euphonious in tone, and was the first to help you study for your music test, age 16, in hopes your voice would be up to parr for the grades you wanted. 

Soon after the other four boys- nearing Christmas - you had met up with Hoseok. He’d taken up a job as a newspaper boy and had started doing rounds on your street. When cycling past your door, he’d seen you reading on your patio out front and asked if you wanted to join him on his rounds by hopping on the back of his bike and holding on very tightly. Like a Ghibli character, you joined him, and felt the wind and his contagious laugh whip at your hair as you raced from street to street, paper in hand. Hoseok was the blistering, smiling sun of the group. He was the one to supply the snacks during group meetups and the hand to drag you towards your next adventure. As you got older, and your past had started to further distill itself into you, he had been there to listen and to give you that serotonin when you needed it. 

Yoongi was the last to fully introduce himself. You’d bumped into him at the annual Christmas Market and shaken off the snow that was starting to pale on your cheeks and nose. He’d felt bad that you had attended the market alone, but you had assured him that your parents were just around the corner and had let you run loose. He’d taken your woolly mitten hand and pulled you around the stalls of warm chestnuts and wood-carved geese, gums and teeth gelled into a smile the whole time. Yoongi was never one to flaunt his emotions, or smile when he didn’t need to. You felt special because he reserved all his excitement and joy for the group, hiding that side of himself from his schoolmates as if he were a stoic block of pure ice. He didn’t like to admit it, but he was protective over you: watching you mature and watching boys ogle you, hitting back out at them, saying you were nobody's object but your own. He was one of the few who taught you how to own your pride and to stand up for yourself when you needed to.

It was the 5th of January the next year when Namjoon entered the class; four months into your friendship with the boys. Namjoon was a transfer student from the city nearby and had moved schools to better accommodate his parents, now fully divulged in the industry of agriculture. At 5 feet, he stood awkwardly, his lanky form swamped in a cardigan, tie and trousers, a small badge of a book crested to his right. He bowed as he introduced himself and shuffled toward the back window seat of the class, eyes to the floor the entire lesson and entire day until dismissed for the day with the rest of his raucous classmates. A week later, he had found himself paired in a science group project with the six of you and had struggled not to look up as Jin poured his packet of mentos into a bottle of coke and watched it stream over a miserable Yoongi. It wasn’t hard then to feel a part of the mischief as he banded to the rest of you in the principal's office and subsequently joined you on a walk over to your secret hideout, officially knighted a group member after witnessing and accepting Jin’s disorderly act in front of the entire class. 

Namjoon became the group's glue: a peace-maker and divulger in clumsy behaviour, the middle man in acts of rebellion and acts of peace. He would settle any argument entailing stolen food and encourage any efforts to liven the mood. Around the rest of you, he made no secret of feeling like an outsider all his life and, as you grew older, you only found more and more stories of his you could relate yourself to. Namjoon made sense to you. He didn’t always tolerate the group's behaviour, or understand his peers, but he understood and accepted you and you often found that that was enough. 

But you stumbled on your soda as you felt his presence beside you in the camper van. Something had been missing. A lingering need for his legs to reside an inch closer, or his forehead to skim the crest of yours. A want for his voice to your ear like an ungodly prayer or his lips to plant a halo on your own. 

The way you had matured had only made it worse, not better. You had hoped you simply harbored a strong interest in his psyche, but the older you grew, the less you could ignore the fire that never left your stomach. Looking over at all the boys now, it was obvious that you’d never forget. In seven long years, they had all grown and the blaze in your gut was a whore to be sated. 

Thick limbs in tight shorts and muscles rippling under skin, their physiques had swelled from boys into men and your eyes were traitors. No longer the deviants of school-youth, their gluttony was peaking, something that grew at lengths in their trousers and peaks on their chests. The testosterone was tangible and its thick air was making it impossible to ignore your attraction toward Namjoon. 

But whether you could handle the possible rejection or sudden acceptance of love was another ordeal. Could your past ever be healed by the vines of attraction, or were you too scared to ever let another person in again?

❀

A few hours later and you were in the small kitchen, playing with dust bunnies and watching the sun sink down the hills. The boys were still in the main room, talking about their plans for the spring break. You could hear them discussing family vacations and trips to visit friends in the city. They were buzzing about expanding the camper van and joking about making it into a bachelor pad for their new-found love lifes. You listen in, but hear no noise from Namjoon in the conversation. It had felt like, as the years had passed, the boys were moving forward, finding new hobbies and friends and succeeding at becoming adults. You saw the joy in their eyes at their success and you were proud of them, but you knew Namjoon and you were lagging behind. 

All these years, Namjoon hadn’t found any new friends, he hadn’t moved out to the city to discover something new, he’d just grown in height. Of course he’d matured, mind and body and become even more undeniably magnetic, but - like you - he also wondered where his life would go. It was a silent thing you seldom mentioned but knew you shared. It was during those nights when he’d tell you his fears and the little life he dreamed of, running a bookshop and flower garden with the one he loved that you knew you wanted to be that part of his story. 

Turning from the window, you walk back into the other room to join the boys. Namjoon looks up and sidles over to make space for you to sit between him and Hoseok. You kneel against the soft burgundy rug of the floor and feel Namjoon move closer to you as he closes the circle, his hand nudging yours to check if you are okay. You look up, meet his soft eyes and smile, reassuring him that your thoughts and feelings are at least somewhat intact and he drops your gaze, turning back to the boys to listen in to their conversation. 

“So..the bachelor pad would have a super king bed?” Yoongi questions. 

“I think a super king is a bit too optimistic for this space, maybe just a double.” Taehyung chimes.

“Not if we add a conservatory extension to the end of the van.” Jimin mumbles.

“Listen, i think this conversation is getting a little bit too authentic. This is just an idea guys, don’t lose your heads.” Yoongi responds.

“Well..when i reap the benefits of my entrepreneurial enterprise, i’ll give you some cash for this little startup of ours.” Jin laughs, slapping the knees of Jimin and Taehyung who clearly seem to be the fuel to this idea.

You chuckle and gather your knees underneath you to cross your legs, “I love your ingenuity, but I want no part of this idea. I’m afraid, i’m out”

“Our startup’s doomed then.” Jimin wails “Every group needs a lady to orchestrate the rest of us, otherwise we’ll just run a riot.”

“He’s right you know.” Namjoon whispers, “I think you’d make a great CEO..”

His tone is easily distracting and you falter for a second before laughing off his words, “Thanks guys. In that case, give me 50% of the company and we have a deal!”

“Just shake her hand Jimin.” Yoongi whines and gets to his feet, “Alright guys, I’m beat. I’ll grab the sleeping bags; who put them away last?”

“The far left cupboard in the kitchen!” Jungkook says, and you turn to watch as Yoongi begins to draw out the long sleeping sacks from the cupboard and drag them through the room to where you’re seated. You tilt your head in question to Namjoon as Yoongi returns with the second lot of bags, unaware you were staying overnight with all of them.

He perks up and, making the connection to your thoughts, starts with a comment to the boys, “Hey, who let y/n know? Or did you all forget to tell her?”

“You know we’ve left all that kind of stuff to you nowadays.” Taehyung smirks, yet again sending a knowing wink your way.

Namjoon sighs, “So, while you were playing with dust-bunnies out there, we were planning to stay the night. I’m sorry i didn’t let you know, the conversation just drifted on and i got a bit distracted..”

“That’s okay..”

“Is it? Are you up for sleeping over with us?” Jungkook smiles.

You feel a sudden knot in your throat. ”Y-yeah, I..um..” 

“It’s alright if you have plans, there’s no pressure to stay with us!”

The wedge in your throat tightens and you struggle to hide the tide of panic that you feel is approaching you. The boys seem to notice your sudden change in demeanour and they all stop, Yoongi dropping his bag and kneeling down with you to make sure you’re okay. 

“Hey, hey. It’s alright, what’s going through your head?” He asks, Namjoon suddenly a rock beside you.

“I - “ Visions come swarming through your mind, too sudden and harsh to ignore.

*❀

You hadn’t slept over with the guys for a few years, not since your exams had ramped up their intensity and started to steal all of your time. Back then, you had less thoughts of your past, and lived life with more ease, thinking of the future and not dwelling on previous experiences that were desperate to hold you back. Yes, you were still nervous at times, falling asleep amongst a group of men and trusting them to guard you, but you were a lot less anxiety-riddled then you were now. 

In the past two years, your childhood had come flooding back to you in thicker and more residual pieces than before. Moments you thought you’d forget, or that your friends would help heal were now naked shadows, following you around day and night. You were scared it was only going to get worse, the images of non-consensual acts filling your mind and your body, exposed to all of them.

It was hard because - sitting here now - you loved your friends, and you wanted to trust them, but the wall of trauma that had built itself around you seemed too impossible to break in just one go. Even though you knew they weren’t going to harm you, your mind couldn’t stop from seeing a man and a dark room and going, ‘No. I need to escape’.

You’d opened up to them in the past, and briefly told them a more closeted overview of what had happened to you. They had listened, and of course sheltered you in their concern and love. They wanted you to feel like you didn’t have to be afraid around them. And it took a while to even just let them hug you or squish beside you on a group movie night in. They’d give you all the time you needed, and you’d be patient as they understood and exercised the boundaries around you that they firmly respected. 

*❀

“I’m sorry, I..I just had a moment.” You exhale, the fog now waning in your mind. The boys watch you steadily and you feel Yoongi and Namjoon have since moved back in distance to give you the physical space you need. 

“We’d all really love you to join us! We’ve missed out on so much time since our exams have started and we really miss our sleepovers.” Jin smiles, and you nod back, breathing another shaky exhale and beginning to play with your hands.

Noticing your discomfort, Namjoon turns round and silently hushes the boys out of the room momentarily. They seem to pick up on his gestural hints and, one-by-one, move out of the room into the now pink half-light of the outdoors. 

He shuffles to sit facing you and adjusts his eye-line to meet yours as you slowly look up from the floor. His tawny eyes shed all the colours of sunset and he frowns as he notices the panic knitted in your features.

“I know what this is about, and i want to let you know that you don’t have to be afraid. I don’t know what it’s like to be in your shoes or the fear you must be feeling right now, but the least i can do is let you know that here, with us, in my presence, we will cloak and protect you.” 

He adjusts his position on the floor and leans over to clasp at your hand. Heart in your throat, you open up the love lines on your palm to him and lace your fingers with his. You suddenly feel a fire burn and a dread douse all at the same time in your stomach. He is the one that makes you truly feel safe, and now your head is swarming with the essence that is him.

You were never one to pick favourites, take one friend for granted, or to even have friends, but Namjoon had always been the exception to those rules. He would always stay a little longer, listen a little closer, and it just made you want him a little more.

He was the one who gave you your first romance novel, helped you grow your first ever rose, taught you how to Waltz on your tip-toes atop the highest hill of your village. Even when the past would rare its lethal mane and roar, you knew that Namjoon would be a pillar to fall back on.

“Okay, Joon.” You whisper, the seldom used nickname slipping from your lips and casting dimples all over his cheeks. 

❀

An hour later and the boys had been summoned back. They were scattered in a circle around the main room floor, half of them balled into their sleeping bags like squirrels in hibernation. The air was cooler and the sky now a tenebrous brown, small stars floating in the sky like lost astronauts. You took a sharp breath and felt the cool of the twilight wind sweep through your body. Your eyelids felt heavy and you felt almost certain that now was the right time to fall asleep. The day, since the morning, had recovered itself, and everything seemed too tranquil and good to be true. Without wanting to ruin it, you were ready to say goodnight to the moon and reflect on what a good time you’d had before a new day. 

“Mmh, goodnight moon. Sleep tight.” You mumble and lean back, pulling your body into the cocoon of your insulated bag. You adjust your sleep shorts, and turn onto your side, tucking strands of loose hair behind your ears before closing your eyes.

“Are you going now?” You hear a voice ask.

You slip one eye open to see Namjoon, now turned toward you, doe eyed and pouty. A lazy smile tugs at your lips, “Not if you don’t want me to..”

“It-it’s not that.” He blushes, “I just wanted to make sure you were feeling comfortable..”

“I am. Thank you for talking with me earlier.”

“You should be thanking yourself. You’re the one who’s so fearless all the time.”

“Am i really that good at hiding it?”

“You’re stronger than you know.”

“I’ll keep a note of that under the list of ‘compliments Namjoon has given me’.”

He smirks, “Want a few more to add to that list?” and you feel your cheeks stain pink.

“Maybe another day Joon.” You quickly switch the subject and twist around, “Goodnight.”

“Y/n, wait.”

You turn back to him, “What is it?”

“I. I didn’t have many plans for Spring Break but i'm visiting my father and i was wondering if..maybe you’d want to come with me?..”

“To visit your father?” You question, wondering how on earth you’d be able to contribute to conversation with Namjoon’s father, let alone not look like ‘the girlfriend’ to him. 

“It’s not what you think. My dad has an amazing botanical garden outside his house that stretches acres across. I thought, if you didn’t have any plans, you’d want to study the flowers with me and spend some more time in nature.”

You're amazed with his thoughtfulness, a reminder that Namjoon’s split parents now owned a menagerie and a farm, the first belonging to his father. Aside from catching up with the group and reviving certain sparks that had faltered, you were more than open to spending all of your time in Namjoon’s presence. You imagined picking Azelia’s with him and brushing cobwebs from daffodils. You pictured long, warm evenings amongst a patch of lavender and early mornings, tilting buttercups under your chin until they shone a luminous yellow. It sounded too much fun to even fathom, and you had to bite your tongue from sounding to sudden or enthusiastic about the whole ordeal. You just resound -

“That sounds nice. I’d be happy to go.” 

And with that, you feel another chapter of your life unravel underneath your feet. 

❀

[terreisa]

Love Down the Line: Chapter 10

The last thing Indie musician Emma Swan needs is a gigantic wrench thrown in the workings of her biggest tour to date weeks before its launch.  When her backing guitarist that caused the problem says she has the perfect solution Emma is skeptical but left with little choice but to accept.  Unfortunately she isn’t really prepared for said solution to be former Rock Star and leading man of Emma’s teenage fantasies, Killian Jones.  With no other options and a month of performing across the country ahead of her Emma just hopes she doesn’t come to regret letting Killian onto her stage and into her life.

Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5, Ch 6, Ch 7, Ch 8, Ch 9, AO3

~*CS*~

On the road between Oakland and Portland, May 27th

Emma felt the mattress dip slightly behind her.  She curled in on herself but there wasn’t much room in the bunks of the bus for her to completely avoid whomever it was.  It didn’t mean she wasn’t going to try though, stubbornly keeping her gaze fixed on the wall and not making a peep.

“I’m not going away until you tell me something,” Ruby sighed.  She shifted and Emma felt her stretch out next to her, “You can’t avoid it forever.  It might help to talk about it.”

“What’s there to say?” She asked dully. “It’s all over the internet.”

From the moment she’d stormed out of the office building she’d been hounded by paparazzi.  Her Instagram was full of comments that ran the gamut from cussing her out for kicking Killian off the tour to cussing her out over the leaked, and very edited, audio from her ranting at Walsh.  Will had informed her with an impressed grin that she’d been trending on Twitter for two days along with the hashtag MissHighandMighty.  The only good thing that had happened was Regina was too busy putting out fires to rail at her in person over what she probably saw as her failings and shortcomings.  Instead she’d received and ignored multiple texts that clearly communicated Regina’s increasing frustration with her.  She’d blocked Killian’s number completely.

“You know that’s not what I meant,” Ruby chided.  She paused, “He’s been calling me, asking what happened.  I’ve been letting them go to voicemail, mostly because I don’t know if you want me to answer or what really happened actually, but even if I did I wouldn’t say anything.  Chicks before dicks and all.”

Emma felt herself smile, her first real one in three days, “Yeah, but that’s how you like it.  Dorothy okay with you being out here?”

“Eh-” she could feel Ruby’s shoulders lift behind her in a shrug, “She knew I’d be touring when we first hooked up.  We just got a few extra weeks before it actually happened.  She wasn’t too happy with the drop everything and catch a red eye to LA part of it all, though.  We were about to go on a date, by the way, so thanks for that.”

“Sorry,” she whispered, feeling a bit guilty.

“You can make it up to us later,” Ruby said matter of factly. “Nice attempt at a deflection by the way.”

“Thought I’d try,” she muttered.

“And if I was Tink it might have worked but I’m not so it didn’t.  Time to spill.”

She closed her eyes.  It was just one of the many moments she’d been dreading since seemingly everything in her life had imploded.  In a sort of grim twist of luck it was going to be one of the easier of the conversations she knew needed to happen.  With a resigned sigh she opened her eyes and turned onto her back, though she kept her gaze trained on the underside of the bunk above her.

“How much did you know?” She asked, trying and failing to keep the accusation out of her voice. “Did Regina tell you I’d only go for it if you were the one to bring him in?  Did he flirt and flatter his way into getting you to agree to helping him re-jumpstart his career through me?”

Ruby let out a harsh burst of air, clearly surprised by her question.  She could almost feel the glare aimed at her but kept her eyes focused upward.

“If you really thought that you wouldn’t have made me fly all the way out here to replace him,” Ruby said harshly.  Then she sighed, “I didn’t know what plans Regina had for him or his career but I did know that he’d signed with her.  It’s why she didn’t put up a fight when I suggested he take my place on the tour.  I thought you knew that.”

“No.  I clearly didn’t,” she said shortly.

Ruby sighed again, “Okay, but to be fair it also wasn’t this big secret.  He was just a substitute guitarist, you even told him that.”

“Yeah, well, he turned out to be more,” Emma muttered, hating the catch in her throat.

“Emma-” Ruby lifted herself up on her elbow and hovered over her, her eyes wide, “Did you fall for him?”

“No. We were just…”

She couldn’t force the words ‘having fun’ off her tongue.  Instead she gave a one shoulder shrug, hoping Ruby would get the idea.  That Ruby’s first instinct was dead on wasn’t something Emma wanted to dive into.

Ruby narrowed her eyes and studied her before smirking and flopping back down beside her, “Whatever you two were ‘just’ doing it definitely wasn’t ‘just’ fucking.”

Emma couldn’t help twitching at Ruby’s matter of fact statement.  She hadn’t known that Ruby was a goddamn psychic.  Looking over at her suspiciously she was annoyed to see Ruby looking like a cat that got the canary.

“What did Tink tell you?”

“Oh, it wasn’t Tink,” Ruby said with a sing-song tone, “Will has been complaining non-stop about having to share a room with Tink.  Apparently glitter ruins a man’s reputation.”

“He’s with Belle, he shouldn’t be worrying about his reputation,” Emma grumbled.  Then she sobered, “He’s not telling everyone about that is he?”

Ruby’s grin faded, “You know he wouldn’t do that.”

“I don’t know what anyone wouldn’t do anymore,” she whispered.

“Emma-” Ruby turned onto her side and grabbed her hand, squeezing it, “I’m on your side, always, but you haven’t even given Killian the chance to explain himself.”

She scoffed, “You haven’t heard what Walsh actually told me.  He said that Regina was the one that told him to bring up Killian getting back into music.  She had to have planned it all out with Killian at that goddamn lunch, gotten his okay to do it that way.  There’s fucking pictures of them shaking on it right before Regina came to the studios.”

That had been the final blow.  She had been in line at a grocery store the day after the disastrous interview, waiting to buy emergency Milk Duds and microwave popcorn.  Killian had been calling and texting her with increased frequency and she’d ignored them all.  Her phone had started buzzing in her hand again and in her fumbling to pull it out of her pocket she’d dropped the Milk Duds.  When she’d bent to pick them up her gaze had caught on a tabloid with a blown up picture of Killian, Regina and Robin seated on the patio of a restaurant, the remains of their meal strewn across the table.  Killian and Robin had been shaking hands while Regina looked on in satisfaction.  Emma had dumped the candy and popcorn into a basket of french bread and fled the store, blocking Killian’s number as she did.

“There’s pictures of them sharing a meal,” Ruby said, being annoyingly pragmatic, “And that was a paparazzi shot, so you don’t know that they were plotting anything.”

“He never told me Regina was going to be there,” she said harshly. “I was almost willing to hear Killian out, eventually.  He kept calling and texting and I thought maybe I should give him a chance to explain.  Then I saw that fucking picture.  I asked him what he was going to do that day and he lied straight to my face.  He said he was hanging out with Robin and his son.  No mention of Regina or lunch meetings or that he had even started recording again.  He’s lied to me at least twice that I know of and I have no idea how many more he’s told me since we met.”

She was breathing heavily and as much as she wanted to yell, scream out her frustrations and heartbreak, she was all too aware of the others on the bus waiting for her to do just that.  Tink and Will had been watching her closely for days and while deep down she knew they’d never blab to reporters or post anything on social media they also weren’t the ones she wanted to talk to.  Ruby had been her friend the longest and should have been the perfect person to unload on but Emma still felt like a powder keg, ready to explode.  With a heavy heart she realized that the one person she wanted to vent to was the one person she wanted absolutely nothing to do with.

“So you’re just going to ignore him?  You never want to know what was really going on?” Ruby asked incredulously.

“I can find that out from Regina.  She’s underhanded and does things on her own terms but she never lies about it.  At least not when you ask her straight up,” she said bitterly.

“And don’t you think Killian would too?”

A week earlier she would have been absolutely sure how she would have answered.  Instead she felt as though the rug had been pulled out from beneath her and she’d yet to find her footing.

“I’m just not ready to talk to him yet,” she hedged, knowing Ruby would keep at her like a dog with a bone. “Can we just… not talk about it at all anymore?”

“Okay,” Ruby acquiesced after a small pause where she’d merely looked at her, “but can I ask one more thing?”

Emma rolled her eyes and huffed, “Fine.  What?”

“Were you happy?”

Her breath hitched in her throat and her heart clenched in her chest.  She thought back to the couple of times that she’d woken up before him, able to look at him without a suggestive wag of his eyebrows or salacious twinkle in his eye.  There were the nights they stayed up too late, either on the bus or in their room, talking about everything and nothing.  He’d made soundchecks less of a chore as he joked around with Will or teased Tink about the romance novel that was always sitting on top of whatever flat surface was nearest.  Then there’d been the moments when she’d look at him only to find him already watching her with a soft smile that she was helpless to return.

The memories only made the sting of his betrayal hurt all the more.

“I really, really was.”

For the first time since her world came crumbling down she let herself cry.  She’d held herself together with nothing more than stubborn will and ignoring everything that didn’t have to do with the next show.  As she curled into Ruby’s arms with heaving sobs she vaguely realized it might not have been the best strategy.

Slowly, and nearly a whole box of tissues later, Emma regained control of herself.  Ruby was still curled around her, gently rubbing her back.  She was vaguely aware that at some point Ruby had been whispering to her but she had no idea what she’d been saying.  It didn’t matter much, not when just being there meant more to her than anything Ruby could have said.

“I’m sorry,” Emma murmured, her voice wavering and her nose sounding stuffed.

“Nothing to be sorry for,” Ruby said, tugging on a lock of her hair, “You’re just lucky this was a tour shirt you ruined with all your snot and tears.”

Emma snorted and pulled back but only got an inch away before Ruby crushed her back to her.  She sighed in annoyance even though she hadn’t really wanted to leave the comfort of her embrace.

“You’re going to have to let me go eventually,” she said, even as she relaxed.

“Eh, there’s still a few hours until it’s absolutely necessary,” Ruby said, squeezing her harder.

“What if I have to pee?”

“Babe, you just cried out all of your bodily fluids.  If anything you’ll need a Gatorade but I’ll just yell at Will until he brings it to us-” Ruby scoffed.  Emma felt her tense slightly before she asked quietly, “Do you want me to block Killian’s number?”

Her knee jerk reaction was to say yes.  She felt like she should want to cut Killian out of her life completely.  To make him feel even a sliver of the hurt and uncertainty she was feeling.  However there was something deep inside her that recoiled from that idea, that despite the hell she was going through she still cared enough about him to want to minimize his pain.

“No,” she sniffled, “He’s your friend too.”

“Not right now he’s not.  I mean, I still think you should hear him out but maybe he kinda deserves the cold shoulder for a week or two.”

She shrugged, knowing that Ruby would probably ice Killian out for a month instead.  Which, of course, meant that after that she would most likely put all her energy in encouraging him not to give up.  Then Ruby would simultaneously be wearing her down to get her to call him.  Even thinking about that probable future had her wanting to delete Killian’s number completely, if only to stave off the inevitable.

She fished her phone out from under the tangle of blankets.  While she hadn’t turned it off completely she’d put it on silent and had pretty much ignored every text and email notification since the Walsh audio had leaked.  Regina had told her she’d take care of it and Emma trusted her just enough to believe that she would.

After unlocking it she was greeted with the continued barrage of messages she’d been expecting.  Unable to hold back her frustrated sigh she gave up the pretense of trying to hide what she was doing and pulled out of Ruby’s arms to prop herself up to deal with the never ending tidal wave of texts and emails.  She could feel Ruby’s gaze over her shoulder but made no move to hide her screen, even in the best of times it was hard to keep her from snooping.

Scanning through the emails first she was glad to see that most of it was spam.  A few were from Mary Margaret or David and she suspected that half the texts would be from them too.  There was only one from Regina, though it had been sent at the beginning of the shit hitting the fan telling her to keep a low profile while everything was dealt with.  With grim satisfaction she proceeded to delete the spam, glanced over the ones from Mary Margaret and David with a touch of guilt at their concern and her lack of communication with them.

The texts were another matter completely.  She had been right in thinking that half were from Mary Margaret and David, reiterations of the support and concern from their emails but a touch more frantic as they progressed.  After sending them a quick message that she was alive and would call them once they got to the hotel she grimaced at the ten unread messages from Regina.  Having one message go unread from her was bad enough and Emma knew that when she finally responded Regina would probably reach through the phone and rip her heart out.

The first couple were innocuous, more warnings for her to lie low and to ignore whatever reporters might show up at her hotel or the venue.  Several were updates on how things weren’t progressing with the fight against Walsh.  Then there were the admonishments and disappointment at her continued insistence to keep Killian off the tour.  The final text was a directive: Answer your goddamn phone, that had Emma wincing and noticing for the first time the little indicator that she had voicemails to listen to.  Throwing Ruby a worried glance she tapped on the icon and prepared for the worst.

You have six new voice messages.  To listen to your messages press one- 

Message one:

“It doesn’t look like we’ll need to take legal action but be prepared for the possibility that we will.  We also need to discuss the Jones fiasco.”

End of message. To erase this message press seven.  To listen to your messages press one-  

Message two:

“I don’t appreciate having to leave another voicemail along with the unanswered texts.  Walsh has agreed to issue an apology and his employer is sending him on an unpaid leave of absence for a month.  I would have preferred a firing but they will be generously donating to a charity of your choice and will be giving you final say in your future interviewers if we ever decide to return.  We still need to discuss the Jones fiasco.”

End of message. To erase this message press seven.  To listen to your messages press one- 

Message three:

“Reviews for last night’s show could have been better.  This wouldn’t have been an issue if Ms. Lucas had more than twenty-four hours notice to begin rehearsing.  I am still waiting to hear what happened with Jones.”

End of message. To erase this message press seven.  To listen to your messages press one-

Message four:

“Emma, sweetheart, I just want you to know that David and I both love you very much and we’re here for you.  Call either of us back when you can.”

End of message. To erase this message press seven.  To listen to your messages press one-

Message five:

“I am beginning to lose my patience with you, Miss Swan.  You are not my only client and neither is Mr. Jones.  I cannot do my job if you do not answer your phone.”

End of message. To erase this message press seven.  To listen to your messages press one-

Message six:

“I will be flying up to Portland to discuss matters with you in person.”

End of message. To erase this message press-

Emma hung up and dropped her hand to her lap.  She was screwed.  Regina was a nightmare to deal with when she was irritated but still in a forgiving mood.  In the last message she had sounded beyond pissed and was likely to be even more so by the time they were in the same room together.  Especially since she had told her that she wasn’t intending to rejoin the tour until the final show in Vancouver.

“From the look on your face you probably didn’t hear any good news,” Ruby said cautiously.

“Sorta,” she murmured, “Walsh is going to publicly apologize but he’s really only getting a slap on the wrist as punishment.”

“Asshole,” Ruby snarled.

Humming her agreement she turned her phone over and over in her hands.  She contemplated calling Regina to try and get some of the yelling that was bound to happen over with.  The only problem was if Regina was meeting them in Portland then she was most likely on a flight and wouldn’t be able to answer her phone.  There was no way she was going to play phone tag and end up pissing her off even more than she already was.

“There’s something else, isn’t there?” Ruby was watching her with narrowed eyes. “Is it Killian?”

“Blocked his number, remember?” She sighed tiredly. “I’m pretty sure Regina’s going to murder me when we get to Portland.”

“Regina’s going to be in Portland?  I thought her royal ass wasn’t going to be around until Vancouver.”

“Well, looks like I’ve made her mad enough to change her plans.”

“Shit,” Ruby breathed, “Sucks to be you.”

She huffed out a half-amused laugh, “Thanks.”

“Welcome,” she chirped, gleefully. “So, you’ve got at least a few more hours left to live.  Wanna see how much money we can take Will for?”

“Blackjack or Hold-Em?” She asked, already crawling over her to get out of the bunk.

“Hold-Em,” Ruby said with a devious grin, following her, “He has the most obvious tell I’ve ever seen.  Someone should really tell him.”

A few hours, a couple of hundred miles and one pissed off Will Scarlet later the bus pulled up to their hotel in Portland.  For the most part Emma was able to keep her mind off of everything that had been dragging her down.  It helped that her focus had to stay on her cards while ensuring that Will’s boasting morphed into irritated grumbling until he’d finally thrown down his final hand in disgust and stomped off to his bunk a few more dollars poorer.

As she tallied up her half of the take she warily eyed the front entrance of the hotel.  She’d almost convinced herself that Regina would have been waiting for her, pacing like a caged tiger, ready to strike.  Instead she found herself looking at a couple of bored valet attendants and a few of the other guests entering and leaving, some slowing to gape at the bus as it came to a stop.  To her great relief there were no reporters or paparazzi in sight, unlike their hotel in Oakland.

“I’ll let the front desk know we’re here,” Tink volunteered, popping out of her bunk like a jack in the box.

Before Emma could thank her she had already skipped down the stairs and was making her way into the hotel.  Shaking her head at Tink’s boundless energy she stood herself, stretching out her road weary muscles.  Just as she was about to move to gather up her stuff to take up to the room she caught sight of Regina striding out of the hotel’s entrance.  The furious look on her face made Emma’s stomach drop to her toes.

“Uh, you guys should go,” she called out, keeping her eyes on the advancing Regina.

“You already drained me dry and now you’re makin’ demands?  I’ll go when I’m good and ready,” Will scoffed, his voice muted.

She felt Ruby come up behind her, “I’ll just wait for- oh.  Will, let’s go!”

“What the bleedin’ hell for?” He growled, she heard him drop from his bunk and stomp towards them, “It’ll take Tink at least twenty minutes to get everythin’ all sorted out and since I’m bunkin’ with the crew, thanks to you and that wanker havin’ a row-”

“If your accommodations aren’t to your liking Mr. Scarlet-” Regina said icily as she ascended the stairs into the bus, “I can arrange for something more suitable, a Triple A recommended motel perhaps?”

Looking over at Will she saw his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard before grinning cheekily, “Ah, won’t be necessary, luv, seein’ as motels never have a decent bar.  Shall we, Red?”

Ruby looked torn.  Emma nodded, giving her the okay to leave even though she desperately wanted her to stay.  Unfortunately she knew that Regina would lay into her no matter who was there to witness it.  Regina had already made it clear that she was annoyed that Ruby had replaced Killian.  If Ruby stuck around she’d most likely fight on Emma’s behalf and get sent back to Maine for her trouble.  The last thing she wanted was to give Regina the opportunity to bring Killian back on.

Will had already left the bus and Ruby followed reluctantly, her gaze narrowed at Regina’s back until she disappeared out the door.  Steeling herself Emma waited for the oncoming tirade.

“Have a seat Miss Swan,” Regina said icily, brushing past her and sitting down at the bus’ small table.

“A please would be nice,” she muttered, low enough to not be heard while doing as she was told.

Regina watched her silently.  Emma fought against the urge to fidget, feeling a lot like she was an unruly student about to be reprimanded by the principal.

“Mr. Hoakley’s apology has been released-” Regina began without preamble, “His producer and the company have also issued their statements.  Unfortunately, the edited audio is still being circulated despite the original recording and a transcript being released and you’re still trending negatively on Twitter.  We haven’t seen any major drop in overall sales or requests for ticket refunds but there has been a dip.  Enough of one that the label is insisting that you release a statement of your own.”

“What?  I-”

“I am talking Miss Swan, you will only listen,” Regina said sharply.  She paused, clearly waiting for her to try and argue.  When she didn’t she continued, “I have already written the response which will be posted to your Instagram today along with a photo from the tour.  You will also be doing a live session tomorrow morning to answer fan questions.  The questions will be chosen and looked over beforehand to prevent any more mishaps.  If everything goes well we should see a solid bounce back by the time we reach Vancouver.

“Now, concerning Mr. Jones-”

“I could have kicked him off the tour at any time, we put it in the fucking contract,” she said hotly, annoyed at having been dressed down and feeling defensive over the decision she still wasn’t sure about.

Regina’s brown eyes flashed, “Yes, which saved you from being dropped from the label entirely.”

“Wh-” Emma could feel the blood draining from her face, “What?”

“Despite what you may think you are not as indispensable to them as to take the liberties you already have.  The fiasco with Mr. Hoakley was bad enough and while you were in the right the label saw your combativeness as a strike against you.  Dropping Mr. Jones from the tour at the same time was a misstep that jeopardized both your careers.  Yours more so than his.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?  How is that fair?” She asked in disbelief, feeling irate heat crawling up her neck.

“It isn’t, but that’s how this industry works, Miss Swan,” Regina said flatly. “Mr. Jones is an established artist with a built in fan base and therefore guaranteed record sales.  His past troubles are well documented and any misstep he could make wouldn’t come as a surprise even with his turnaround and the years spent in reclusivity.  You, on the other hand, have only begun to bring in returns on the investments the label has made.  Having Mr. Jones on the tour was his tacit endorsement of you and could have drawn a new demographic of listeners to your music.  Instead you’ve made it appear as though you were doing him some great favor instead of the other way around.”

“I don’t need his or anyone’s help,” she growled. “I’ve already made it this far on my own.”

“You made it to open mic nights and small bookings at bars on your own.  A world you are closer to returning to than you think,” Regina warned. “I suggest addressing how thankful you are that the label has been supporting you during this time.  It’ll be a step towards getting back in their good graces.”

“This is ridiculous-” she threw up her arms in frustration, “I did nothing wrong and I’m getting punished for it.”

“Again, this is how things work and you are not the only one being reprimanded for your behavior,” Regina snapped.

She frowned, “What do you mean?”

“I have been in meetings and taking phone calls for the past three days fighting on solely your behalf-” for the first time Regina seemed to soften, a wry twist to her lips. “There is nothing worse than trying to convince a group of old, out of touch, decidedly male record executives to consider for a moment what a young woman in the industry has to deal with on a daily basis.  Let alone trying to explain the capriciousness of social media trends.  Regardless what you may think, I am on your side Emma.”

“Wait, I’m confused-” she sat back, crossing her arms over her chest, “You just spent the last fifteen minutes chewing me out.”

“And you spent the last three days ignoring my calls-” Regina said pointedly. “If you’d actually answered any of them I might have been more patient in explaining everything to you.”

“So if I’d answered you would have been less of a bitch?” She asked sardonically.

Regina pursed her lips and glared at her, “Seeing as I’m the one currently keeping your ass out of the fire I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.”

“So, I post my statement and do an awkward live thingy to get things back on track,” she said in lieu of apologizing.  There was no way in hell she was going to give Regina the satisfaction. “Anything else?”

“We still need to discuss what happened with Jones,” Regina said with a raised eyebrow, folding her hands together on the table.

“Jesus,” she muttered under her breath.  Dropping her head back she sighed, “Do we really or can we pretend we did and go get drunk at the bar instead?”

There was a pregnant pause before Emma heard Regina shifting in her seat, as though she were uncomfortable.  Curious she swung her head back down and was surprised to see an almost concerned look on Regina’s face.  She must have let her confusion show because Regina rolled her eyes.

“We may not exactly be friends, Emma, but I do have your best interests at heart.  What happened with Jones the day of the interview? You were eager to be done with the day and back with him as soon as possible, then a few hours later you dropped him from the tour and cut off all communication.  As your manager I need to know if there’s going to be any issues in the future that can be quietly dealt with now-” the concerned look returned, “As someone who worries about you I want to know that he hasn’t done anything to hurt you.”

Emma burst into laughter, unable to help herself.  She should have known that Regina would have no clue why she’d practically fallen apart.  In Regina’s mind she was merely doing her job of getting her clients’ careers to the next level.  It wouldn’t have occurred to her that she might have been the reason for it all going to shit.

Catching sight of Regina’s bewildered stare threw Emma into a fresh gale of laughter.  As tears of mirth streamed down her face she fought to catch her breath and wondered almost idly if she’d finally lost her damn mind.  Several minutes passed before she was finally able to get ahold of herself and look Regina in the eye.

“Are you quite finished?” Regina asked, clearly exasperated.  At her nod she leaned forward, “Now, will you please tell me what it is I said that had you laughing like a madwoman?”

“Do you worry about me or my career?” She said instead of answering, quirking her lips in a wry smile.  Regina’s brows drew down in consternation and Emma sighed, knowing they were only heading towards a fight, “Killian didn’t do anything.  He got what he wanted out of touring with me so it was time for him to go.  End of story.”

“That sounds more like the middle of the story-” Regina leaned forward, “Explain.”

“There’s nothing to explain,” she sighed, completely over the conversation. “Being on tour got him back in the saddle or taking that first giant leap or whatever.  He’s working on new, amazing stuff with the hit-maker Robin Locksley, which is what you want from a new client.  Right?  So I let him go and we’re both moving onto bigger and better things.  Everyone’s a winner.  Can I please go get a drink now?”

Regina had slowly straightened in her seat during her small tirade.  She was sitting rigidly, looking at her with an unreadable expression.  After a moment she shook her head, Emma somehow felt it was in disappointment, and stood from the table.

“I’ll send you the statement to post and options for the photo to go along with it.  The live Q and A needs to happen before nine tomorrow morning, I will be sending along the pre-approved questions as well.  Stick to those and hopefully you’ll come out of this relatively unscathed.”

Emma stared up at her, almost annoyed she hadn’t pushed the Killian issue further, “Okay…”

“Have a good evening, Miss Swan.” With that Regina strode off.  Emma watched her go, flabbergasted by the abrupt departure when Regina stopped at the top of the stairs leading off the bus and turned back, “Just so you know, Mr. Jones is refusing to do any work on the album the label has him on contract for.  Mr. Locksley, a close, personal friend of his I believe, is having difficulties convincing him to even pretend to work on it to appease the label.  He is perilously close to being in breach of contract with them and is refusing to answer my calls as I try to salvage what’s left of his career.  But everyone's a winner, right?”

Regina didn’t wait for her to answer, stepping down off the bus without any further acknowledgement.  Emma sat there with a growing sense of unease, staring blankly at the spot that Regina had been standing.  The part of her that hadn’t wanted to see Killian in pain was trying to twist Regina’s words into lies, make everything she’d said another ploy to boost sales or something, anything to keep her mind clear of the idea that Killian was sabotaging himself for her.  Yet the longer she sat there the more her unease grew, knowing that what Regina had said was exactly something that Killian would do.

Antsy she got up from the table and paced between it and her bunk.  She no longer wanted a drink, just the thought of drowning her sorrows and problems had her remembering Killian’s hard fought for sobriety to face his own issues head on.  With each pass she made in the small space she teetered back and forth between believing Regina and vilifying her, both of which would have her making decisions she wasn’t ready to make.

Groaning in frustration she dove into her bunk, wanting nothing more than to hide away there and hope that everything would just fix itself.  Her self pitying was interrupted by a phone buzzing at her hip.  Reaching underneath her she pulled it out, expecting to see her old, battered but still functional phone and instead found her fingers wrapped around Ruby’s practically new iPhone in its protective red case.  Surprised that she’d left it behind Emma flipped the phone over to see who was calling.  When she saw Killian’s name on the screen she nearly threw it across the bus.

She eyed the still buzzing phone like it was a snake about to strike.  There were a million reasons for her to ignore it, to let it go to voicemail and have Ruby give her the gist of the message.  There was only one reason for her to answer and it was that that had her swiping up and pressing the phone to her ear before she could think better of it.

“Thank god,” Killian sighed in relief, the sound shooting straight to Emma’s heart, “Ruby, lass, I don’t know what’s going on and I won’t ask but please, just tell me that Emma’s alright.  I’ll stop calling, anything, I just... please, I just need to know.”

Her breath had backed up in her throat at the plea in Killian’s voice.  He also sounded exhausted, his accent dragging across the words much like they had when they’d stayed up too late, nose to nose talking the night away.  The memory had her breath hiccuping out of her in a half sob.

“What’s wrong?  Is it Emma?  Ruby, is she okay?”

His panicked questions had her biting her cheek to get a hold of herself.  She closed her eyes and gripped the phone as though her life depended on it.

“I’m okay, Killian.”

“Swan?” He breathed and she could hear his unfolding hope in the single word, “Love, is that you?”

“It’s me,” she whispered.

“Swan, Emma, I…” he huffed in either frustration or disbelief she wasn’t sure, “Dammit, love, I had so many things I wanted to say and now I can’t think of a single thing.”

She took in a shuddering breath, “Just tell me why.”

“Why?  Why what?”

“Why didn’t you just tell me that you were trying to get your big comeback?  That’s all this was, wasn’t it?  You could have just told me that.  You didn’t have to lie to me,” she had tried to keep her tone even, unaffected, but had ended on a growl nonetheless.

“I never lied,” he said vehemently.  She scoffed and he made a strangled noise, “Emma, listen to me, when have I lied?  Yes, I admit, being on the tour may have begun as a stepping off point but it became more than that.  We became more than that.”

“A lie by omission is still a lie, Killian,” she said emphatically.  She couldn’t focus on how heartfelt he’d sounded when talking about them, not when he’d also confirmed everything she’d been worrying about. “It’s not like it matters anyway, you got what you want.  Your name’s back out there, people are interested.  Congrats on the record contract by the way.”

“None of that bloody matters to me,” he snapped. “If you’d just listen-”

“No,” she said, cutting him off, “You had your chance to explain when you first auditioned.”

“Emma-” his voice cracked, “please.”

“I- I can’t take the chance that I’m wrong about you-” her voice wavered, tears lodged in her throat, “I’m sorry.”

She cut off the call but not before she heard him say her name once more.  The phone immediately began buzzing in her hand but she swiped to ignore the call, quickly shutting off the phone completely to resist the temptation to answer.  She then curled into a ball and gave into her tears.

[a-forgotten-spirit]

Love Isn’t An Illusion (8)

Pairing: Todoroki x Bakugou, Todoroki X Reader x Bakugou, VERY SLOW BUILD

Summary: First day of training camp, chilling with Todoroki and falshing Bakugou

Words: +-6900

Warnings: fear of forgetting something, parents with tone, anxiety, showering, wet hair, sitting with Todoroki, skirts, nervousness, quirk getting taken away, fighting dirt monsters, flashing Bakugou, lack of eating, tiredness, swearing, yelling at Aizawa, angy, bath / hot spring, scars, nudity, Mineta (nothing happens it’s what he did in the show).

Tagged:  @kittycatspervertedheart​ @lemorrite​ @gwendlynn​ @marleps​ @thicctati2​ @saitamastamaticsoup​ @succulent-momma​ @aurorahoneybuns​ @imjusttireddudes​ @misconceptualised​ @ochabby​ @katsukisuwus​ @gayverlinq​ @star-witchs-blog​ @icyhotpie​ @kyrah-williams​

A/N: I wrote this for the fans. I do not own My Hero academia or the characters, I don’t own most of the plot for this story, I had watched the show and re-written the dialogue and plot as if the reader was the main character. Everything is centred around the reader. Please comment, makes me happy. Ask if you wish to be tagged.

Masterlist

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7

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Chapter 8

Waking up to the blaring sound of an alarm wasn’t the best but I could have woken up worse. Throwing my arm out of the warm soft covers I turned off the alarm and closed my eyes for a second sighing then throwing myself from the bed. I wasn’t a morning person, I never was and I never will be. I walked to my bathroom letting out another sigh as I removed my clothes placing them in the hamper before moving into the shower. It was warm and my muscles instantly began to relax, a week with my class non-stop. A whole week, this was going to be long but I knew I was going to have a lot of fun. 

Washing my body and hair, I left the shower making sure to step on the rug and not the tiled floor having fallen far too many times to not be careful. I placed my hair in a towel cage. Flipping my head down, placing the towel over my head and twirling the fabric before flipping it back over my head. Hair drying and out of my face it’s was a win-win. I stretched and looked over my bag one last time making sure to pack the extra, extra charger for Todoroki. 

I knew I had to get dressed but I just didn’t want to, I didn’t want to get dressed or move. I was tired and needed more sleep even though I had gotten more than the recommended amount. Shaking my head and slapping my face lightly I nodded and began to get ready.

I got dressed and was thankful for button shirts as my hair could stay in the towel and dry for a little while longer waiting until I took the towel off to throw on the jumper. I made sure to look at my bag again, I had everything I knew I had everything but the fear of forgetting something was a lot to take. I shook my head. I’m sure someone would let me borrow something if I desperately needed it. I wasn’t worried. I was excited. I moved to take my headphones off charge placing the charger in and then rolling my eyes making my way back into the bathroom and placing all my toiletries in the travel bag than in my bag. Now I was sure I was ready. I was confused about why we had to wear our uniforms but I didn’t question it. 

I walked downstairs with my suitcase and then looked to my mum saying I was ready. It took more effort then I would ever admit to putting my suitcase in the car but that was for another time. Finally sitting down we began the drive to school. 

“Message me on your way back, hopefully, we will be home but if not you can call Lacy” Lacy who was mums butler per se. I had never asked her for a thing but I might ask for a lift home after the camp. I nodded. “Do you have everything or do I need to stop” there was the tone I had been missing for the past couple days. 

“I have everything” I nodded and then the car ride was silent. Driving in the parking lot I could see a bunch of my friends and the other class, I forgot they were coming. Getting out I moved to the boot and grabbed my suitcase. “Bye Mum” I called out from the boot and got a quick reply and then she was off. I walked over to the group and Aizawa began to talk, I made it just in time.

“Now that you are finished up your first semester at UA high. It’s time for summer vacation to finally begin” I was pulling at my hair still slightly damp from the shower I had taken that morning. It wasn’t dripping onto the jumper so I was happy with it. “However, don’t think these will be months of rest for you heroes in the making” why was he always so serious, it made me on edge and scared for whenever he spoke. “This camp will be to push you beyond your limits” I wanted to but in saying he already had with my exam but a swift bite of my lip and I was silenced. “You’re aiming to become plus ultra” then we were waiting to leave. 

I sighed and felt my hair again, I hoped it would dry but I knew it was only bothering me because I was thinking about it. I stood with a few other people talking about my suitcase having been put on the bus by someone I had never seen before. I was excited and nervous all at once. I watched as Kaminari and Mina left the conversation to dance with a red-faced Uraraka clapping for camp. They all looked so excited. 

“I heard some of class A has to take extra courses. Does that mean they failed the final exams, that would be so embarrassing? Especially because you are meant to be so much better than my class. All of you must be waddling in shame” the blonde boy from 1-B shouted his eyes wide and voice loud. I seriously didn’t like him, he really had a problem but he fell to the ground with one hit upside the head from Kendo and he was out. He didn’t like my class but...there was no but, he was just rude. 

She picked him up with ease by his collar “Don’t mind him” he was then dragged towards the bus and I wondered how many hours a day he was knocked out on average I would be quite interested in the outcome. 

“Oh the rest of class B” Midoriya smiled and I turned to see some familiar faces looking back at me. I couldn’t see any distaste or anger when I met their eyes so I didn’t look away but I was nervous. 

“It’s nice to see you outside the sports festival” her eyes were so wide and she had this smirk on her face but from no one batting an eye I figured that was just her personality "I guess now we’re not technically rivals” I don’t think Monoma got that memo. I saw a few nods and I smiled to the class.

“Time to get on the bus” Kendo called out from the door, I wasn’t sure if she was the class Rep but I knew whatever she said everyone listened too. Like a big sister, though I liked it. The class had someone they trusted and always looked too. Everyone in class B began to board and I looked to my class if we were meant to follow. 

Though my thoughts were short-lived “Attention Class A our bus is here” Iidas’ arms were moving frantically his face stern and serious. “Line up in seating order” we all boarded and I moved to where I was meant to be sitting down and then looking out the window. 

“I am seated with you, I think” I turned to see Todoroki and then sat down with me next to him. The lords are blessing me once again. He was so graceful as he sat down, not even making a sound. 

“I brought the charger” I smiled and he spoke a quick ‘thank you’ as he proceeded to explain he lost track of time with his Mum “Don’t mention it, I stress so I would have had a spare even if you didn’t ask me beforehand” I laughed and he smiled, it was so small but I caught it, or did I imagine it. 

We began to drive off, I wondered how long a trip it would be to the destination “Listen up, you’ll be on this bus about an hour before our first stop” it seemed all my questions were having immediate responses today. “Make sure you stay focused” Aizawa was one of the most serious people I had ever met. 

“Why aren’t we blasting some music” of course it was Kaminari to say something like that. I was laughing lightly at the comment. I looked behind Todoroki and I and saw Bakugou and Tokoyami then in front was Tsu and Uraraka. 

“No one should be standing that is a safety hazard, please remain seated” A definitely standing and angry or more so worried Iida yelled. I don’t think one person cared for what Aizawa had said or they just chose to ignore it. “Do not open that window” I laughed again quietly.  

The journey may have only been an hour but it was far too long for my back on the uncomfortable seats. I had filled the time talking to Todoroki, just about anything and everything. Showing him things on my phone and him doing the same. We talked and it felt so natural and easy to talk to him. We talked until we were told to get off where he moved to let me out first, I made sure to thank him. When getting off I held my skirt jumping down off the rather high last step of the bus and sighed out walking forward into the group then moving to stand with Todoroki again. 

“Finally, I needed to get off that bus” I agreed with Kaminari, it was an hour but a long hour. I didn’t regret it though, I got to talk to Todoroki for an hour which was by far a bonus in my books. Mineta cried about having to go to the bathroom though from what I could see we were just on the side of the road. 

“You didn’t think we stopped here so you could stretch your legs did you” I turned seeing Aizawa, hands in his pockets and leaning back in a lazy stance like he was built to just standstill. Mineta stood in front of him begging to be able to go to the bathroom. 

Then the door to the mysterious random car opened “Hey Eraser” so they knew Aizawa and judging by his lack of care, we weren’t in danger. Aizawa bowed and commented that it had been quite a while since he had seen the person still in the car. Then two girls jumped out one wearing pink and the other blue. Dressed in cat costumes. “You’re feline fantasies are here”

“Purfectly cute and cat-like girls” I mean they weren’t wrong they did have the whole look going for them. I was confused, this is why we had stopped for a few girls to just jump around in front of us. 

“You can call us the wild, wild pussy cats” they finished their little routine and posed with a smaller boy standing next to them. They sure were confident and loud, I’m sure Mic would get along with them quite well. Though the class stood in silence. 

“These are the Pro heroes you’ll be working with for summer training camp” I didn’t doubt they were heroes but they did scare me. I wasn’t a fan of overly loud people… I was a fan of one overly loud person. They, on the other hand, were a bit too much for my liking. 

“They are a four-person hero team that specialises in mountain rescues. The pussy cats were founded when we were kids” I saw the two women stumble at his words, they didn’t like their age being mentioned. “Like forever ago” another hit to the ego. “This marks their twelfth year working as-” Midoriya was fanboying again, eyes wide with a matching smile though he was cut off by a hand, paw, to the face. 

“I’m pretty sure your mouth must be off” I was right, they were sensitive about their age. It was the blue one who had a problem and I stepped slightly closer to Todoroki being a little scared of the women. “I’m eighteen at heart” of course she was. 

We all collectively bowed and said our Hellos as of Aizawa's request. I was confused about why we had stopped if they were going to be our guides for the next week. I didn’t understand why we couldn’t meet them at camp. Though I didn’t voice my questions opting for just standing with Todoroki. 

“We own this whole stretch of land, everything you can see” I was impressed, to say the least, it was a lot of land they owned not to mention how dense the forest was. It was the pink one talking, she seemed kind and loving “The camp you're staying at is there, at the base of the mountain” her voice was so calm as she simply pointed out into the area she owned. 

It was quite far, I tilted my head in confusion. Why were we here then? “Uh, why did we stop all the way up here instead?” Uraraka asked Tsu to turn to face her friend. She voiced all our thoughts and I was grateful not even wanting to speak with the blue cat still on a rampage. 

“I’m afraid we both know the answer to that” was I missing something? Had I not read something or was I not listening? I looked around and saw a few people shaking their heads in disbelief. 

“That can’t be right,” Sato said slowly his head shaking, what was I missing. I looked out, we were on the side of a mountain. What were we going to do from here? Like sure it was nice to see where we would be staying but weren’t we just wasting time. 

“Ok, back on the bus” Sero whispered his voice shaky and nervous. “Let’s go” wait, no they couldn’t be serious. I was reading this wrong, I had to be. Sero slowly turned to the bus as did a few others as we all agreed.

“The current time is nine-thirty in the morning” why was she mentioning the time. I was losing my mind, this couldn’t be real right? I felt my heart speed, why was time mentioned. “If you’re fast about it, you might make it there by noon” she smiled her tail slowly waving behind her. They weren’t going to make us walk there, were they?

I watched as everyone began to run to the bus in a panic, I just stayed still. If they wanted this to happen, we weren’t getting a choice about it. Sure I was angry but a simple bridge to the camp, we’d be there within the hour. It was easy, annoying but easy nonetheless. 

“Kitties that don’t make it there by twelve don’t get any lunch” she called out and I sighed looking to my fellow peers running, or at least making a break for the bus. I walked over a little more so I could see them. 

“You should have guessed students” Aizawa began his voice monotone and easy to read, he didn’t care. He was changing his mind. “The training camp” the blue one dropped in front of the group a collective yell being heard. “Has already begun” just before anything happened I felt something clasp to my wrist. “You need to work on not having a quirk” I was confused and then I was being thrown off a mountain. 

“I swear I’m going to kill you Aizawa” I screamed my body going flying through the air as I held my skirt down trying to have some form of decency why of course I wasn’t allowed my quirk, why would I? The teachers loved making my life difficult. 

We were all falling, dirt coming with us, the blue one. The blue one could control dirt? Or at least something like that. I held down my skirt as I was falling, I couldn’t believe we had been thrown off a cliff. We all landed with a shout and some groans.

“Good news” I looked up at the pink cat, her smile genuine and wide as she leaned over the rails to view us. “This is private land so you can use your quirks as much as you want too” I stood quickly feeling rage boil inside me. “You have three full hours, you should be able to make it to the facility in that time” was she joking, was this some kind of sick joke? “That is if you can get through the beast forest” I walked over. 

“What quirk” I yelled and held up my arm showing the bracelet “I don’t get my quirk, what kind of absolute bullshit is this'” I was furious. I didn’t like not having my quirk or at least being equal with my classmates. “Aizawa” I yelled and saw his face lean over, I dangled my arm in the air “Hello” I screamed. 

“Your quirk would allow everyone to easily get through without so much as a thought. So I take the quirk you work on your physical abilities and the class gets to learn” he was smiling, I could hear the smirk in his voice as I steamed. Rage and anger boiling in my veins. 

“No” I shook my head, “First the exam and now this. This isn’t fair” I yelled out, I knew my class was behind me. I knew they could see me losing my mind. I was so angry, why could I not just be treated like the rest of them. 

“Your quirk is unfair” he shrugged...shrugged. He just shrugged it off! My hands were shaking as I had so many thoughts running through my head. I was so mad as I gripped my head in anger. 

I didn’t answer turning and watched as Mineta ran into the woods, he needed a bathroom. Though with the sound of a growl I looked up seeing a forest monster of sorts, big root teeth and arms as thick as logs. I heard a few screams but I was running.

I was so angry that my quirk had been taken I jumped high into the air and growled as I came crashing down onto the creatures head my foot landing and splitting the wood and dirt. I landed and looked back up the teachers “Fuck your forest” I screamed and then I was off again walking deeper into the woods with the class following. 

“Y/N are you ok” I turned to see Midoriya and I knew everyone was watching me as I continued to walk, my footfalls loud and deep. Anyone could see I was angry, I was so angry. 

“Do I look ok” I glared at the green-headed teen and he shook his head “There’s your answer” I grit my teeth and clenched my fists. “I am going to destroy each and every one of these pathetic little monsters and then when I get to camp I am going to lose my shit” I finished. “These monsters are just dirt, the blues quirk” I added. 

We walked through the woods and slowly more and more began to appear, the next one was flying. Of course, this was going to be difficult. Why wouldn’t it be? We were working together to kill as many as possible. 

“Seven in total, they’re coming” Jiro called out as I jumped from tree to tree. I jumped onto a flying one, digging my hand into the wing and pulling back, breaking it. The beast began to fall as I jumped not being crushed with it. I walked over and slammed my foot down into the creature it didn’t get back up. 

Sato and Kirishima beat one while Dark Shadow and Ojiro took down another one. Mineta was running as well but Kaminari had used far too much electricity and his brain short-circuiting due to the intensity. I ran and picked him up before he was hit again. Iida kicked one, how many of these things were there? I was running with Kaminari, he was quite light. Toru was good at luring the monsters to set locations so the others could attack. Mina throwing acid on the legs making them fall. I could have ended this fight so quickly but no I wasn’t allowed my quirk. I placed down Kaminari with Shoji and I was off again trying to pull off the bracelet, it didn’t work. 

I was fighting one, my mind clear and body fast as I ran through the legs and jumped on it’s back running up the back “Bakugou” I called out and kicked the creatures head forward making the weak spot on top of the head seeable. A yell and an explosion the creature was pieces. I fell through the air holding my skirt as I landed. “No quirk no fucking pants” I cursed. 

Momo had made a canon and was blasting the creature while Tsu and Uraraka were working together by just throwing them in the air with zero gravity and then making them crash into the ground harshly. I watched as Bakugou continued to explode things. He seemed very happy. I continued to run as one followed me. There were more than seven now, there had to be.

“Ojiro, Tokoyami '' I called out and then ducked skidding along with my knees beneath a large branch as the creature got caught and then was destroyed by the two of them. “Thanks,” I called out. 

“No problem” I heard in response and I was off again, running and jumping through the tree and ground. Dodging the creatures moved and their domino effect in the forest. I had to not get hurt. My knees were covered in dirt and I was sure my clothes were too. 

Todoroki and Bakugou were working together. Ice slid along the ground rising and covering the legs and torsos of the monster then while they were stopped Bakugou came in with devastating blows. Exploding the dirt and smoke being created. They were flawless, I ran past jumping up to land the final blow, a kick to the top of the head as my leg fell all the way through as I landed on the ground crouching. Then Todoroki and Bakugou were running with me. 

There were so many of them. She could make them quickly I could at least give her that but by the time we thought we were almost to the camp the sun was setting. Anger was boiling through my body. I was covered in dirt. I was flung into the air with my ass on full display as I went to cover myself I was going to be hit but was caught by none other than Bakugou. Who had given me quite a bit of a tongue lashing with flushed cheeks? 

When we saw the ‘clearing’ I was on a march. Half the people could barely stand, we were holding each other up. What kind of bullshit was this, on the first day? We hadn’t even made it to the camp! Todoroki was shivering, Bakugou holding his arm, Iida not even able to use one of his legs, Kaminari was out of power. Everyone was like this, I was tired, exhausted. I hadn’t been able to use my quirk which could have helped my friends. 

“I hope you are happy” I called out anger dripping from my lips as I walked out of the treeline my peers following “Do you have any idea how hard that was with no quirk” I threw my hands out in anger. “But no, who cares about Y/N she’s so strong and can do it” I made a digging motion with one hand. “Take this stupid bracelet off me this second” I was in front of Aizawa now. 

“You said that would only take like three hours” Sero gasped out. He was right, they had said that. Aizawa moved forward to unlock the bracelet, he was smirking at me. I was so mad. 

“I guessed we based it on how long it would take us, sorry” that’s all we got. A weak apology and a smile. We had fought our guts out and all we got was a sorry. I was shaking as Aizawa finally managed to get the bracelet off me. 

“You were too strong for this exercise. Your peers need to catch up” I understood why he did it but it was unfair to throw me into a beast infested forest with no quirk and no heads up. I walked away back to the group rubbing my wrist. 

“I thought it would take you kids even longer” it was the blue one, her paws over her mouth. It was her quirk we were fighting, a good quirk but I wanted to throw her off a cliff. “But you did a lot better against my dirt monsters then I thought you would” she smiled her voice light and high pitched, she had to be kidding? Was she doing this now, while we were all on the verge of collapsing? “You guys were seriously great, especially the five of you” she pointed to Iida, Mirdoriya, Todoroki, Bakugou and I. “It seems like you’ve had quite a bit of experience and the girl. Even without a quirk you still did some damage” Some? I did quite a bit of damage, I had my quirk back. I could do a lot more. "I call dibs on these kittens. I’ll groom them myself"

She came lunging at us and I simply put her in a box “I’m fine, thank you” I whispered out and raised my hand into the sky as the box began to float. I could feel her trying to get out “Much better” I sighed. 

Midoriya pointed out the little boy that had been with the two women all day, I had noticed him but didn’t care for children. I hated children, disgusting little things. “Oh he’s my cousin's son, he just lives with us now. Don’t be shy Kota, say hi to everyone. You’re going to be around them for the next week” 

“Y/N let her go” I sighed and dropped her from the sky, her tail spiked and she landed looking back to me with a scowl I glared back uninterested. Midoriya walked over to the small boy who seemed rather angry at the world. 

“Hi, my name is Midoriya.” Why was he trying to make friends with the child? I grimaced and a shiver ran through my body at the mere thought of talking to a child. “I’m from the UA highschool hero course, it’s nice to meet you” his hand was outstretched but Midoriya wasn’t met with a light or gentle handshake but a hard and powerful punch to his lower regions. He fell. I think I saw his soul leave him.  

Iida was running over within a second “What a low blow” I laughed silently, he wasn’t wrong. The blow was quite low. Iida managed to catch the falling boy in his arms “You fiend of a child” just another thing to add to the list of why I hated children. “A punch to the scrotum is unforgivable” I could imagine. 

“The last thing I want is to hang with some wannabe heroes” my face fell, he seemed to be angry. Teeth grit and eyes flared. Something had happened, no one hated with so much passion for no reason. 

“I can put him in a box” I swirled my hand mist falling from my skin like ink onto the ground. I had no shame just locking him inside a little endless prison for a few hours, days. 

“No” I heard Aizawa and let my quirk fade “We are not doing that” I could hear Iida still yelling as I sighed and looked away shrugged. “He’s just a kid” I didn’t care if he was eighty or eight he was being rude. 

“That brats got spunk” Bakugou smiled to the little human as I shook my head. He seems too proud of the little boy, I looked to the fallen Midoriya and realised this little kid was probably his favourite person right now. 

“He’s like a mini version of you” I turned to hear Todoroki, he had a point though. The kid did act like Bakugou in a way, a more immature Bakugou. I wondered what the two of them were like as kids. Would we have gotten along? They were the only children I would have been able to handle. 

“What are you talking about” Todoroki has made him mad again, Bakugou was storming over to the duel haired hero in training with a bounce in his step, a bounce ready to crush the other's skull. “Shut your mouth before I blast you all the way to hell” he was offended but if he liked the child I didn’t see why he was acting this way, I thought it could have been a compliment. 

“Yeah sure” Todoroki had simply stated as I walked over and pushed them away from each other with a shake of my head. It wasn’t worth it, not while we were all so tired. Also, I didn’t care for their little conversation about the kid, he was a rude little shit. I only had room for one in my life and that position was filled. 

“Enough playing around, get your stuff off the bus” they hadn’t even done us the courtesy of taking our things in. They had plenty of time to do it. “Once your bags are in your rooms, we will have dinner in the cafeteria. After that, you can bathe and sleep” the last two options were looking appealing right now. I would happily skip dinner to bathe now and sleep. “Tomorrow your training starts in earnest, better get a move on” 

We all walked towards the bus and I could see everyone struggling. I did love my class and they had helped me out all day. I walked in front of them all bending down to open the hatch. “Thank you for helping me today” I whispered and I made a little illusion for everyone. Getting all their bags “You just have to get the copy to your rooms” 

“Thank you” I was engulfed in a hug by Mina who was crying and rubbing her face into my shoulder in thanks. I pet her hand as an illusion walked over and helped her in ‘my’ arms as she cried. 

“Y/N you are honestly a goddess” Kirishima bowed and I flushed waving my hand in dismissal. I was just doing something nice, they deserved it after today and these illusions took next to no effort for me. They were easy, I had been making them since I was a young one. 

“It’s thanks for dealing with me being in a bad mood all day” I looked up and could see the thankful looks from everyone as a copy followed them holding their things as we walked into the building. I saw the boys sigh in defeat as we got to the crossroads “The illusion will stay, no need to worry” then the sighs of relief. 

Placing everyone's things in the room the illusion would bow and then fall into mist as I helped the girls move their things into their rooms and places they wanted them. I was thanked the whole time and waved it off. Making our way to the cafeteria we all sat down and said our thanks and began to eat. It was good, more than good. It was perfect. 

I ate slowly not having much of an appetite from the exams, I sat next to Bakugou or more so Bakugou had taken the seat next to me. I smiled that he wanted to sit with me. My other side was then occupied by Todoroki who was more than interested in the food. I saw Kirishima just shovelling rice into his mouth, he wasn’t chewing, I watched more. Not chewing, there was no way. 

Bakugou was doing the same and Todoroki was following, slower but just as eager. I ate slowly not eating too much, just enough to fill me. I knew I was getting a few looks but I didn’t care. The beef was nice and had a nice seasoning. I grabbed another piece of a plate and within one bite I moved to pick up the little plate and put it in front of Bakugou who took a piece and then took the plate. It was spicy. 

“This is amazing” he nodded and added it into his rice, no one else was eating it so I’m sure he could eat the rest of it with no issues. I turned and saw Todoroki looking for the water with his glass in hand and a jug was placed in front of him the illusion falling from stealing it from another table. 

“Thank you” he whispered and drank down his water, sighing out happily in contempt. I had finished eating and offered my leftover rice to the still eating Bakugou who didn’t hesitate to take the bowl and continue eating. 

Once everyone was done it was time for the bath, I was more than excited to sit and soak in a nice hot bath. I was walking slowly my head lolling to the side as I walked with the girls. Once in the room I grabbed anything I would or could need and I was off to the bath. I walked in happily my head beginning to clear with all the steam. 

Everyone was getting undressed as I looked down, I had never been one to get nude in front of people, sure I had been in changing rooms but never fully naked, I took to the stalls most of the time. I set up an illusion to cover myself as I walked out of the bath. I could see the confused faces but no one said anything. Stepping into the bath, so hot and sending a nice shiver up my body. I dropped into the water, it came up to my waist, I walked forward and let the water slowly rise to my chest. The rest of the girls came in and we all sat around a rock. I lowered myself so only my head was out of the water and let the illusion fade the water full of different healing properties making it not clear. 

“This feels amazing” Mina called out her voice happy as she moved to sit on the rock we were all crowded around. I nodded in agreement, the hot spring was lovely and just what my muscles desired after the day I had had. 

“You are to stop this at once Mineta. What you are doing is demeaning for both the girls and yourself” we all went silent at the loud voice of our class Rep and the seemingly hurried aquatic steps. What was going on over there? “It’s shameful behaviour” then it registered, Mineta was being a pervert as per usual. Why was he allowed within a hundred metres of any female I wasn’t sure. 

I wasn’t sure what Mineta had responded but judging by the loud bangs slowly going up the wall, he was climbing. How in the fuck was he climbing a straight wall? His quirk, I shivered. They were getting closer and none of the girls seemed to be able to move. 

“Get down here this instant” Iida once more, so he was climbing. I stood from the bath and sighed. I was tired, putting up my hands slowly I rose a wall around us. Mineta couldn’t look in. 

“He needs to find a hobby” I whispered and dropped back into the water as the rest of the girls looked over. I could see a few of them eyeing my shoulder. I froze and then an illusion went over the scar, it was fine. They’d think it was a mistake. 

“Before you become a hero, you should learn how to be a good human” I looked up and saw Kota at the top of the wall separating the girls and boys bathing areas. I let the illusion of us fall, as he pushed Mineta off the wall with a slap of his hand. 

“I’ll get you for this” Mineta yelled and then there was a scream, I think he landed on someone. I sighed and sunk lower into the pool. This was a lot for my mental capacity to take right now. Why was he in the hero course?

“Mineta is the worst isn’t he” Tsu croaked out in a quick reply. I nodded into the water not wanting to verbally respond like a few other of the girls did. I still wasn’t a fan of the child but I inwardly thanked him for being there. 

“Thanks so much, Kota-babe” Mina called out her arms rising to put thumbs up at the kid as she sat on the rock. We were all standing together and I watched as Mina smiled in thanks. “We owe you one” I didn’t owe him anything but I was thankful for him.  

He turned and looked at us and within a split second, he was falling off the top of the wall. I sighed, I was sure one of the boys was going to catch him. Perhaps he had a quirk of his own. 

“Lookout” I could hear the child being caught, I was right and it was none other than the green-headed Midoriya. See, the child was fine without my help. I just wanted to soak and then go to sleep. 

We soaked for a while longer and then it was time to leave and head to bed. As I walked out of the bath I covered myself in mist and made my way into the building to grab my full body towel. Covering myself I sighed out and grabbed my things as I made my way back to the room. I could have gotten dressed there but I wanted to change in the comfort of my room or at least the shared room. 

I walked down the hall and then into the room, opening my suitcase to grab my clothes and walked into the bathroom. I dried myself and got dressed, I was running on instinct and willpower at this point. Grabbing I pulled down the jumper over my pants and looked in the mirror. I wished I grabbed Bakugous, his jumper was a lot warmer than this one. I left the bathroom and got my bed ready for the night. The other girls were talking and having fun as I brought out all my chargers moving over to the wall to plug them in and remembered I hadn’t given Todoroki his charger. 

“Hey guys” I called out and the conversation stopped as I bent down to retrieve the charger I had packed for him “I’m just going to give Todoroki a charger he asked me to bring for him” I stood my eyes falling and tired “If I’m not back in twenty” I paused and shook my head “Come save me from Mineta”

“You got it” Mina replied and a few others nodded with smiles as I did too. “We will come and find you” she put up her thumbs and bounced on her bed happily. 

I bent down and got the PowerPoint I had bought and walked over handing it to the girls “Also I bought a PowerPoint so all of us could charge our phones. I didn’t expect there to be a lot of power points” I could see the love blossom in their eyes as I smiled and then left as I heard a chorus of thanks. 

I walked through the building making my way to the boys' rooms. It wasn’t too late but I was on the verge of passing out as I'm sure many of them were too. It was an easy find and I could hear some chatter. I walked up to the door and knocked lightly thrice all conversation stopped. 

“I’ll get it” Kirishima, he was always first to volunteer. I loved that we got along and that he was my friend. I heard quickened footfalls as the door was open and his face fell into one of confusion “Oh hey Y/N” he grew awkward “I thought you were Aizawa” I laughed as he moved from the doorway “Come in, how can we help you” 

Everyone was looking at me in my large jumper, short shorts and shin-high dinosaur socks I flushed and looked away shaking my hands “Oh no, I’m just here for Todoroki” that sounded weird. I looked over and now all the boys were looking to the duel haired male who was rolling out his bed. “I brought the charger you texted about” I held up the cord and he was walking over. 

“Oh, I forgot, thank you” his voice was smooth as I held out the cord “I could have gotten it in the morning” he answered, I shrugged and tilted my head with a light shake my head. “Thank you again Y/N” 

“No issues but I’m going to go before I pass out” I heard a few laughs as I turned to leave “Night boys” I called over my shoulder to the room full of my class. 

“Goodnight” It was all over the place and different voices chirping in all at once but I closed the door and began the walk back to my room. I loved my class with all my heart, they were so amazing and I couldn't’ ask for anything better. 

The walk was short and once I was back in my room I smiled at the jokes the girls were making that I arrived safely. Not too long after were we heading to bed. Lights out and chargers on we all laid down and I was out within seconds.

________________________________________________________________Chapter 9 

[dapandapod]

A story of Catnip and Witchers

On Ao3 Here! 

Not sure what happened, but I had so much fun! I have no idea how tagging works, and I don’t know if they want to be tagged, but thank you so much for the prompt, I needed it! <3 

                  ~~*~~ 

There are many things that Jaskier is good at. He is very good at singing, he is a terrific lute player and poet. Depending on the amount of wine he consumed he might even give philosophy a new go. 

It is fun and all, but what he is the very best at is storytelling.

Now, to get yourself a good story you can either use your imagination (which is safe) or you can go out in the world (less safe), or, in Jaskiers case, find and desperately cling to a witcher (very unsafe). 

The latter is not a common practice and more often than not closely connected to death. Somehow Jaskier managed not only to stay alive but to befriend said Witcher. And honestly, there might be something more going on there. 

They don’t talk about it, they don’t talk to others about it, but there is this little spark whenever they are close. Which is another thing, because they usually are. Somewhere along the way Jaskier realized that he might even be in love with his witcher. 

A good story is usually kicked off with a drink, a bet, a contract, a pair of beautiful eyes. 

This story is kicked off with baking. 

It is a cold afternoon at Kaer Morhen, frost decorating all windows and even indoors the air has a bit of a bite in it. Jaskier was invited to stay with Geralt this winter, which is new. Pleasant, but unexpected. 

It was supposed to be pleasant in any way, but it is so bloody cold in this keep that Jaskier has started wearing his cloak at all times. Sometimes he wears Geralt's cloak too, just because. 

He soon learned upon arriving that the keep is mostly destroyed and therefore there are somewhat limited livingquarters in use. It doesn’t really matter, Jaskier and Geralt are used to sharing anyway. And it is so cold.

The other witchers staying at the keep, Eskel, Lambert and Vesemir, are a funny lot. Jaskier have only been here for two weeks, but he is starting to compare it to living with cats. Rude, antisocial and with a very specific kind of humour. It gives Geralt's behaviour some very needed context. It’s cute, really.

This afternoon Jaskier took it upon himself to do some baking. It is another thing he is very good at, and there is this new spice mix that he would like to try. 

The kitchen is steaming hot now from the ovens burning. His fingers are sticky from kneading the dough, and he is sweating just a little bit. When he brushes a lock of hair out of his face some of the dough on his hands sticks to his forehead. 

It is a messy process. Jaskier is not used to this kind of kitchen (really, it’s ancient) and when he finally gets the buns in the oven there is a lot of cleaning up to do.  Which is something Jaskier is bad at.

The actual story begins when Jaskier actually gets to serve said buns at dinnertime. They are eating in a study with a big fireplace, cozy with a thick rug and big bookshelves. Jaskiers lute rests against the wall next to a big plush chair that he claimed for himself since he arrived. Lambert sips wine from a goblet, smiling at the snarking around him. Jaskier chatters away as usual, with Eskel and at Geralt.

It is nice, the witchers are relaxed and appreciative of his baking. It feels great. Jaskier leaves for the kitchen for a moment (one can not simply have a nice time with an empty goblet) and when he returns there is something wrong.

To begin with, Lambert is sitting on the floor. Kneeling, in front Jaskiers lute, head cocked. Like he is listening to something he can almost hear.

Confused, Jaskier looks at the others around the table for answers. There are none to be had. If anything, Jaskier gets more confused. 

Eskel has taken at least three buns and is pressing it to his face, looking incredibly happy. He hugs them to himself, humming, stroking them and getting flour on his cheek and arm.

Vesemir looks up to see Jaskier, and gets the biggest smile. Jaskier never, ever in these two weeks saw Vesemir smile, not like that.

The older man gets up, stretching his arms out wide.

“My boy!” He exclaims, and hugs a stunned Jaskier. “Our little bard, I'm so glad you are back!”

“I uh, thank you?” Jaskier is perplexed, not sure if he should hug back. What the hell is going on? He settles on patting Vesemir awkwardly on the back, seeking help from Geralt.

And freezes.

Geralt is staring at him, intently. Unblinking, unmoving.

Jaskiers heart starts pounding. Geralt has that effect on him. It’s that spark again, crackling under his skin.

“Aaw, Vesemir, I want a hug! Hug me!” Jasker hears Eskel complain, and is finally let go.

“Of course Eskel, my little rascal!” Vesemir booms, and goes to put his arms around Eskels shoulder, buns and all.

Jaskier can’t look away. Not even when he can hear the telltale sounds of strings being plucked on his beloved lute. It doesn’t matter. Let Lambert have his fun. Are all four of them drunk? He never took any of the men present for lightweights, he’s seen how much it takes for Geralt to get sloshed.

Speaking of, Geralt still hasn't stopped staring at Jaskier. It’s like he’s never seen him before. Jaskier can feel a blush spreading, warmth spilling over his cheeks and ears, down his neck. Eskel and Vesemir still seem to cuddle with the buns, and something suspiciously like purring is coming from Eskel.

Geralt gets on his feet, and Jaskier swallows. He has no idea what to do, his heart is beating like crazy. Geralt walks up to him, still not breaking eye contact and takes the goblet out of his hands. He puts it on the closest surface, which seems to be a bookshelf, and then takes Jaskiers hand again.

It crackles, it burns, it makes his breath catch in his throat.

Geralt pushes past Jaskier, dragging him behind as he walks back out through the doors. As soon as the doors close behind them he crowds Jaskier against a wall.

There is barely a hint of amber in those eyes staring at him, pupils blown wide. Wait.

“What’s wrong with them?” Jaskier asks, voice all kind of breathy. Geralt lifts Jaskiers hand to his face, and presses his nose to his wrist.

“I think it’s that catnip you used in the bread.” Geralt replies, and takes a deep breath. It is almost like he’s smelling him.

“It’s not supposed to make humans react like that, though.” Jaskier protests weakly.

“We are not humans.” Geralt says, lips against the thin skin over Jaskiers wrist, and then seeking upwards over his palm and fingers. Breathing in deeply, eyes half closed.

“Our mutations make us react to the weirdest things.” Geralt adds, almost as an afterthought.

Through the door they can hear Lamberts playing, and he is singing now. He has a rather nice voice actually.

Jaskier is not sure what to do, what to say. If this is only the spice talking, he is not sure he wants this. Jaskiers heart is a tender thing.

“Is this your reaction to it?” He must ask, but he dreads the answer.

“No.” Geralt smiles, and it’s a wonderful expression. “My mutagens made sure I have a high tolerance. Bullshit, really. It’s so expensive to get drunk.”

Jaskiers mouth is dry, and despite the cold air around them he is burning. Geralt rarely talks this much, so he is definitely somewhat affected. His breath against Jaskiers hand gives him shivers down his spine. It takes all he has to not just cup Geralt's face, to not tread his fingers through his hair.

Geralt seems to read the question on Jaskiers face, and he really seems to be in a mood to talk.

“Apparently catnip gives me shitty impulse control though.” Geralt leans into Jaskiers hand, almost nuzzling it. It is really, really hard to breath. Under Jaskiers fingers, he can feel Geralt's warm skin, his stubble. Rough fingers almost twining with his own. It is a harsh contrast, burning skin and cold stone against his back. 

Geralt's eyes are back on him and a small sound escapes him. 

”I can smell it on you.” Geralt says. ”On your hand and on your breath.” He leans in, putting a big hand under Jaskiers chin and tips it up. His nose is touching Jaskier, just under his lower lip. He can’t help but part them a fraction. 

”I just want to lick it off.” He whispers, and Jaskier full on shudders. It is a true wonder his knees haven't given out yet. Geralt drags his lips slowly over Jaskiers chin, pressing his body closer. 

They are not kissing, not really. Jaskier really wants to lean in, but even more he wants Geralt to do it. To take that step. 

He looks at Geralt through his eyelashes. 

“Please.” He whispers. 

Geralt crushes Jaskier against the wall, both on his hands now on his cheeks, his neck, his hair. The kiss is hot, messy, everything Jaskier needs.

There is a crash inside the study, like a chair falling over. 

”I CAN HEAR COLOURS!!” Eskel shouts. 

”It's the lute and Lamberts yowling you imbecill!” Vesemir shouts back. 

Jaskier can’t help the small chuckle escaping him. 

”Maybe we should go to our room?” He suggests. Geralt all but carries him there.

The day after is the punchline of this good story. 

(The finish already happened three times during the night. But that part is for him alone.)

It turns out that Catnip not only makes witchers go haywire for a few hours. It gives them the worst hangover. Jaskier comes down the next morning, he feels the need to check on the poor souls he accidently drugged. Geralt is right behind him, in case they got mad about it.

It was not necessary. It was, however, amazing. On a pile on the floor Lambert and Eskel lie tangled up. They seem to have built a fort with the things in the room, and somehow they managed to get Jaskier lute up on the chandelier.

Vesemir sits on the plush chair like it's a throne, fast asleep. He hopes. He looks a little dead.

Geralt steps in, looks around and gets a devilish grin on his face. He takes a big book and slams it down on the table.

Three groans of protests erupt around them, and all three grab their heads as the pain sets in.

Now, the art of storytelling is how you tell the story. And to whom. Jaskier will never tell it within earshot of any witchers, just in case. Messing with men brought up by the school of the wolf and then compare them to kittens is perhaps not the best way to stay alive. Especially not when you are the bard who drugged them.

But then again, a good story is rarely safe.

[rougebangtan]

pairing: hoseok | gender neutral!reader

genre: fluff

word count: 1.610

prompt: scarf

warnings: mild description of a panic attack, but Hoseok is a sweetheart that coaxes you out of it 🥺

a/n: thank u @heyitsmeee2​ for the cutie banner!! i love it and thank you lilli and ley for the support on this :3 @moccahobi​ @pars-ley​

Hoseok was tired.

To say he had been swamped with work lately would be an understatement. His routine had been taking too much from him. Although he loved his job, he couldn’t deny the pressure that came with it. Teaching choreographies from morning until dusk was far from ideal, but he needed the money to steadily keep on coming. Even if, in hindsight, he felt exhausted and overwhelmed trying to hold everything together.

That’s the reason why he’s late now. He was saved by the bell. Jimin called him earlier in the morning to ensure Hoseok would enter the next train to Busan in time, and that call was what woke him up – an hour before the scheduled departure. Jimin spared Hoseok from the very embarrassing outcome that missing the ride would entail. If it wasn’t for Jimin, he would be still asleep, and... probably jobless. He’d rather be a little sleep deprived and keep his paycheck. Thank you very much.

The man was a frantic hot mess. He barely managed to take a shower before he saw the time and had to fleet from his house in desperation. What he didn’t expect, however, was the wintry temperature he was met upon leaving. His body worked best in hotter weather, so he noticed as soon as he stepped out. Hoseok dreaded the next couple of hours he would need to withstand the cold, but thankfully the clothes he put on kept him somewhat warm.

Running against the clock, he succeeded in arriving at the train station in time. He felt so alleviated that at the moment the adrenaline rush waned, he felt his body deflating almost instantly. When he got in, it was unmissable how busy the train was, and Hoseok had a long way ahead. The spots were packed, absurdly so, to the point another wave of dread began brewing inside of him as his eyes anxiously scanned the wagon.

It faintly registered that putting himself through so many highs and lows could give him a heart attack, but he sagged in relief once he spotted a seat. Which happened to be right beside you. You were rugged up while you watched over yourself. The crippling anxiety was crazy stupid for the logical part of your brain yet it was all the other irrational part of it was clinging to.

“Hi,” Hoseok greeted with a megawatt smile on his face. “Is this seat taken?”

You only nod – a very subdued response to his extrovert self – yet you can’t control the crushing fear you felt. You were shaking.

“Oh, I’m sorry then.” He replies as his face falls and his upbeat gait suddenly slouches. “I’ll have to find another spot.”

Panicking with what he said, you muster all of your courage to stop him from leaving. It wasn’t his fault you were feeling the way you were feeling. “No, wait! This seat is vacant…”

“Oh, alright. Thank you.” He doesn’t need to be told twice to plop down on the said seat.

He can’t help but sense the quivers of your body since the two of you are very close to one another. He notices how your breath vacillates whenever you have to inhale and exhale; you do it so mechanically, he wonders what could’ve put you in such a mood. And you look so cute and innocent. The mitten set complements your woolen scarf which is paired with a pair of boots. He wants to help you get out of the mood you’re in. He doesn’t know how, though.

Gently, he speaks to you in the softest tone. “You okay? You can talk to me if you want.”

The way he addresses you reminds you of motherly care and despite the alarms that ring on your mind, you knew better than to deny help. Because you couldn’t fight the panic alone, you accept his offer with a nod.

“You want me to talk to you?” He asks quietly yet you’re unnerved by his unwavering attention. With your voice caught up in your throat, you can only nod again.

Once it’s established you won’t be talking any time soon, Hoseok feels his tongue create a mind of its own. Not only was he a talkative kind of guy, but he tended to ramble in these situations where he was supposed to take action.

“It’s okay… I’m here with you, okay? Breathe for me.” He treats you kindly, and his voice soothes your nerves.

Your body heat combined with his begin to befuddle your wrangled brain. Exhausted by the psychological strain, you lean into him and he takes it as a cue to lean into you as well. You didn’t know the comfort someone totally foreign to you could provide as it dawns on you that he’s there to help. That caused you to warm up to him all the more.

Since Hoseok had already experienced a panic attack, he recognized that physical comfort was a great help. So, taking a step further, he asks: “Do you want to hold my hand?”

As he utters the words, he also extends his hand to show you could take it. Much to his surprise, you do, even if a bit shyly. You’re very warm – warmer than he felt, he thinks – so he smiles at you in response.

“You’re a good one for this. See? You’re doing so well.” He mumbles to your ear as he draws circles on the back of your hand. “You’re doing so well.”

You don’t keep track, but the stranger’s kind act and the rocking of the train lull you to sleep. Hoseok takes a while to notice, uninterruptedly caressing your hand, but when he gazes at your serene mien, he relaxes even further. He feels extremely accomplished knowing he managed to coax you out of your panic attack.

You wake up a few minutes before the train arrives in Busan. For a handful of seconds, you think the unhinged fear you felt before will come back to haunt you. However, it doesn’t. When you look beside you, you realize why. The handsome guy that helped you earlier dozed off with his head resting on your shoulder, and you found it cruel to wake him up.

The stranger’s body was comfortable against yours. It grounded you to your reality. As you look around, blinking the blur away from your vision, you take in the green landscape zapping through the window. It’s been a while since you ever experienced such a thrill; you had been too afraid to go outside for the reason of earlier. You were aware you couldn’t be such a scaredy-cat because of crowded spaces yet it’s not like you could help it.

Instead of waking the poor guy up, your eyes are attentive to how he shivers from the cold which gives you a better idea. Untangling the scarf from your neck, you sprawl it on your lap as you reach for your bag. You thank the heavens for always keeping a journal and a pen in it, scratching a piece of paper. Excitement floods on your veins the more you spend observing his graceful features, and you wonder if he would contact you.

At the prospect of meeting the guy again, you scribble the words down agilely.

Thank you for helping me. If you’d like, I wish to thank you. Maybe, with coffee someday…

In case you’re interested in my offer, here’s my number: 512-586-2000.

- The one from the train.

As you wrap the fabric around his neck, with your note securely guarded between the material, you’re taken aback by his beauty. He looked a bit rough around the edges since his eye bags could be easily spotted on his face. Nonetheless, he remained gorgeous and you hoped that he would text you when in your shyness, you didn’t dare to face him after the episode.

You hope to see him again in the very near future and to be able to actually hold a conversation with him. The possibilities are endless, and they sure make you dizzy, but you’re hopeful. Grasping on to such lighthearted feeling, you cast him one last glance and walk away.

He didn’t know when he fell asleep. He didn’t feel when his head fell onto your shoulder. Neither did he know he had been shivering from the cold. When he woke up, you weren’t beside him anymore. People on the train were standing to grab their bag while others rushed outside. Panicked, he stood too and in a leap of luck, he watches as you leave and you’re already too far off the platform for him to reach you.

As he observes you walk away, a sadness settles in his chest, but his mind is quick to notice a very teensy detail. You weren’t wearing your scarf. He looked at the seat, wondering if you left it behind until he belatedly felt the soft material around his neck. It covers part of his face and the warmth is beyond pleasant. He could smell the perfume you had been wearing.

Burying his cold, and now slightly pink, nose a little deeper into the warm fabric, Hoseok feels something hard prickling on his neck. His hands find it effective immediately, and as the rest of the passengers leave the train, he unfolds the piece of paper in childlike expectation. Once his eyes fleet over it, he is filled with a joyous buzz and grabs his bag with newfound inspiration.

When he steps out of the train and sees his friend Jimin across the platform, a huge smile stretches across his face. Here he comes to the city of Busan.