#I'm between two different songs for titles but one feels too on the nose so idk yet

[jonathanbyersphd]

Wedding AU chapter 1 summary

Will: Oh no he's hot Nancy: *freaking out about the circus her wedding has become* Jonathan: What if, and hear me out, we get the boys back together Mike: Oh no he's hot.

[typingatlightspeed]

TF2 Fanfic - Someone Else's Song Chapter 1

Engineer needs to do something about his crush on Spy. So Pyro convinces him to write him a love letter. Unfortunately, Spy reads way too deep into things and ends up spending a whole week trying to crack a code that doesn't exist. He also, somewhat to his consternation, ends up decoding his own feelings for someone on the team in the process. Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Ao3 Link!

I'll fully admit this one is dumb as hell but the fun kind of dumb where the mercs get to be little shits lol. Just, uh, ignore how Scout is better at reading in this than in canon. It's for the bit, dammit. Also spot the Simpsons joke!

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Pyro looked from the page in his gloved hands—typed up on the publicly available typewriter in the rarely-used records office on base—to Engineer, who was doing his level best to avoid eye contact, his face bright red as he inspected contents of his coffee cup like the answer to all of life's questions was hidden beneath the last dregs of the beverage inside. "I mean, the wording definitely doesn't sound like you, so between that and typing it instead of handwriting, I don't think he's gonna guess from that."

Engineer sighed a little, relieved. "It don't sound like no one else on the team, does it?"

"Aside from maybe Spy himself? I don't think so." Pyro set the letter back down on Engineer's workbench. "It should keep him guessing. But if you don't give him any clues, how's he gonna guess it's you?"

Engineer mulled that over a little. "Him knowin' it's me is kinda what I'm tryin' to avoid."

"Knowing it's you and guessing it's you are two totally different things!" Pyro shook his head. "Look, I get that you don't think you've got a shot, but the whole reason I said a love letter was the best way to get these feelings out is because you can get a feel for whether he's interested or not! If you don't give him anything to go on, he's gonna give up, Engie!"

"This ain't a 'come an' get me' letter!"

"No, but if he's intrigued enough to try and find out more, then you know he's not turned off by the idea that someone on the team's into him! And if you give him just a few breadcrumbs, he won't be able to turn down a mystery. Hell, he might dig that, that you know him well enough to know he wants a little mystery, a little bit of a chase, right?"

"You know so much about him, maybe you should be movin' in on him, 'stead of me," Engineer pouted, setting his coffee down.

"Pfft," Pyro dismissed him with a wave of his gloved hand. "I don't go in for these backdoor shenanigans."

Rolling his eyes, Engineer set his hands on his hips. "Well what do you suggest, then?"

Pyro tapped at the filter of his mask in thought. "Well, you typed it up, so unless you wanna try sneaking down to the records room again without being noticed, I'd suggest something quick and simple. Maybe a signature? You didn't even put a pseudonym, or a title. Like, 'your secret admirer' or something!"

Taking the page from Pyro's hand, Engineer set it on his drafting table, looking it over in thought. Pyro was right. He was terrified that Spy would suss it out immediately and reject him outright. He wasn't exactly a man that shared similar tastes to the fancy Frenchman. In spite of himself, however, he couldn't help but get giddy at just the thought of those bright blue eyes, that strong, aquiline nose, the adorably silly way he snorted when he laughed too hard. How in the hell did he manage to turn from a hardened killer in his forties to a blushing schoolboy?

Seizing one of his drafting pencils, Engineer considered for a long moment. How would he sign this love letter? What identity would he give this fictionalized version of himself, a breadcrumb for Spy to cling to without fully giving himself away? With a sigh, he scribbled down the first thing he could think of that wasn't obvious.

"N.G.?" Pyro read, over Engineer's shoulder?

"Well it ain't like I could use D.C., that'd be a dead giveaway. Nobody on the team's got an initial in common. So I just pulled two letters that don't match anyone on the team at all."

Pyro turned to his friend and stared at him long and hard through darkened lenses. He shook his head. "Yeah, yanno what? Sure, fine, it works." He threw up his hands and walked off, utterly done. "Good luck, Engie."

"T—thanks, Py," Engineer replied, confused at his friend's response.

*

The next day's match was a late start, leaving everyone utterly exhausted by its end, which pushed into the twilight hours. More importantly, the late start left everyone champing at the bit to get going at its beginning, leaving Engineer ample chance to sneak the folded note into Spy's locker without anyone noticing.

When at last the final bell sounded and the day was called to an end, the team ambled in from the field, spent and sore. The day's mission had been a payload defense, which was always grueling work that lacked a finality and catharsis in victory that holding a control point, capturing points, or retrieving a briefcase full of intel would always bring. Instead, it was simply a matter of holding pressure until at last the other team could push no longer, and it left them all battered and weary. It was with this bone-deep exhaustion that they returned to their lockers after the match, setting down their weapons and tools and undressing before they hit the showers, chattering idly about the highs and lows of the day.

"...and that's why, man. Ain't no way their Demo ain't got it out for me or somethin'," Scout said, continuing his long-winded theory as to his problems of the day.

"No more'n any of 'em do," Sniper countered, hanging up his hat and shedding his sunglasses. "You just keep gettin' in the bloke's way, mate. I keep tellin' you. It's not targeted if you keep stumblin' into 'is sticky traps."

"He keeps settin' 'em right where I'm goin'!" Scout replied, tugging his shirt off. "It's like the guy's got a grudge!"

"Your poor battlefield awareness is not the manifestation of a grudge," Spy shot with a roll of his eyes, stubbing out his cigarette on his shoe and finally making it to his locker. He lifted an eyebrow, immediately clocking the new addition to his possessions. "Hello now, what's this?"

"Man, I got plenty a' battlefield awareness! I got battlefield awareness comin' out my ass! Ain't nobody know the ins an' outs a' that field better than me you snooty fro—hey what's that?" Scout interrupted his own self-aggrandizement to peer at the letter that sat in the upper cubby of Spy's locker, where the rogue was also staring, studying, trying to be sure there were no traps attached. Scout merely ducked around him and snatched up the paper with a flourish and set to opening it.

"Scout! You idiot, there could be a trap! Or contact poison! Or—"

"'Spy," he nodded to the older man, holding the letter out of his reach as he grabbed for it," I find you fascinating in a way I can't shake. I'm fixated on you. You're all I can think of when my mind turns to idle thoughts, and those thoughts are a mixture of adoration and lust. Hoo buddy, this is gettin' spicy!" He grinned and waggled his eyebrows, dodging around Spy's grasping hands and hopping up onto the bench in front of the lockers. His voice grew more dramatic as he read." It's driven me to distraction and the kind of madness only alleviated by some sort of action. " He grinned down at Spy, who had given up on trying to snatch the letter from his grasp, his face growing pink with embarrassment.

"But I have doubts as to whether I'd be welcomed. Feelings beyond surface-level are impossible to read with you, which makes sense. You wouldn't be the deeply capable spy you are if you were an open book. What a fuckin' brown-noser. Your skill and talent are part of what make you so damnably attractive, if frustratingly mysterious."

The rest of the team had finished piling into the room, gathering around the bench as Scout read aloud for the group. Pyro had his hands on his hips, shaking his head. The kid could be such a dick sometimes, and he could practically feel Engineer dying behind him, the shorter man wilting as he tried to pretend to be surprised.

"So," Scout threw an arm out, giving it all the performance he could muster, "all I can do is write this and leave it where you can find it, so I can finally get this off of my chest. Yours..." everyone leaned in with interest, stricken with curiosity as to who had written such a note. Scout pulled the letter away from his face, holding it out for Spy to take, "N.G."

"N.G.?" Spy asked, finally snatching the paper from Scout's hand, holding it up for his eyes to scan hurriedly across. Everything was spelled correctly, and there was no unusual capitalization. A quick look at the paragraphs showed no immediate pattern in word choice, and everything but the name was typed, so handwriting couldn't be analyzed. From a cursory glance, where was no clue as to whom had written the letter. He took a deep breath, and looked from the page to the assembled mercenaries, his cheeks burning.

Four and a half sets of eyes and two pairs of lenses all stared back at Spy, and from a glance, he could discern nothing but surprise and curiosity from all of them. He swallowed hard and tried to regain his composure. "It seems someone is...smitten with me," he said slowly, the reality of the situation dawning on him.

Scout guffawed from his spot on the bench, hopping down next to Spy and throwing his arm over the taller man's shoulders. "Hope you like sausage, pally, 'cause ain't nobody got access to this locker room but us chuds." He grinned and gestured broadly to the assembled men in the room, all of whom averted their eyes bashfully at the suggestion.

Spy lifted an eyebrow at Scout, then rolled his eyes in annoyance. The little shit was right, but he didn't have to come out and say it. Whoever wrote the note, it was one of seven possible suspects.

Even if Scout were oblivious as to why it was the worst possible outcome if he were the author—and Spy had a sneaking suspicion that he wasn't as oblivious as he played, considering the occasional cracks Heavy would make—there was no way he would have been able to spell half of the words on the letter, let alone define them. And he certainly wouldn't go reading the damned thing aloud for everyone just to embarrass Spy. That was one worst-case-scenario squared away, at least, so Spy didn't have to worry about the logistics of a murder-suicide.

No, it was down to Soldier, Pyro, Demoman, Heavy, Engineer, Medic, or Sniper. His eye swept over them all, and he turned his mouth up into a straight line. All of them were uncomfortable under his gaze, which was only fair. After all, they were all in a room together, and Scout was clearly ready to pounce at the first sign of weakness for immediate mockery.

Spy tried to think it beneath him to do the same if the tables were turned, but he knew better. He would be the first to tease Scout and his prospective beau mercilessly, so it was only fair that he suffered the same fate, really. Though it seemed unfair that whoever it was who had placed the letter should be so shamed, particularly when it was already very clearly a labour just to make this barest gesture.

Among a team of straightforward, brash, confident men, it was certainly surprising.

Either way, standing around and letting Scout hang about as his personal gadfly wouldn't make it any easier. "How eloquent," Spy finally sighed drolly, knocking Scout's arm off of him and straightening his jacket. "Well, nobody is stepping forward, so there's no point to standing here, covered in dirt and sweat and stinking up the place. Gentlemen." He put the letter back in the cubby of his locker and set to undressing.

"You're gonna shower? With everyone? Knowin' you got a target on your ass? That one a' the guys is gonna be eyein' you up like fresh meat?" Scout balked.

"If he hasn't been noticed taking looks yet, he scarcely will risk it now," Spy announced, unbuttoning his jacket. He smiled, looking to the younger man, who seemed absolutely scandalized. "And if he does, then hopefully he will enjoy the show."

That brought a chuckle out of Heavy and Sniper, who peeled off to go change as well, the rest of the team following suit, conversations springing up among them as they undressed, grabbed their towels and shower kits and headed in to go wash.

"So yer intae blokes?" Demoman asked as Spy walked past him to the showerhead on his blind side. He shed his towel and hung it on the wall, and turned on the water, letting it run and get warm before stepping under its spray.

"I am into interesting people," Spy replied, setting himself up in turn. "I have preferences that interest me more than others, of course, but someone's gender does not disqualify them, no."

"Ye great pouf," Demoman chuckled. "Figured as much."

"You're one to talk," Spy chuckled.

"Oh?"

"Not a man on this base believes your line about that business with the BLU Soldier being just about friendship."

Demoman heaved a heavy-yet-quiet laugh. "Aye, fair enough."

Engineer stood at Spy's other side, his eyes straight ahead, his jaw clenched hard enough to ache. He heard a snort from the other direction, and turned to see Pyro looking pointedly at him, grinning. His eyes went wide, and he shut them, turning his face into the water spray. Little shit was going to get him made. But he knew why he was doing it. He'd heard it too. Spy was into men, and that meant he wasn't out of the game yet.

Whether Spy would think he's an interesting person, though, that remained to be seen.

*

"N.G.," Spy mumbled, looking about the mess table at his coworkers, watching them with keen eyes.

"So mysterious!" Medic tittered, looking across at Spy as he picked at his dinner.

"Yes. Very mysterious," Heavy agreed flatly, sitting beside the doctor. He cast a look about the table, wondering if nobody else had put together the very obvious pseudonym of its author. In spite of himself, he didn't let his eye linger on Engineer. The poor man had to build up the courage just to leave a love note; it would be cruel to out him. Though Heavy was surprised; he didn't figure Engineer for such a coward. The man was normally so plain-spoken. But then, matters of the heart were fickle. Who was he to judge?

Especially as Spy was busy analyzing every single one of them for the slightest tell, trying to socially engineer his way into a solution through sheer force of will, making them all squirm under his curious scrutiny. Heavy was grateful that it wasn't him who held a torch for Spy. He wouldn't be able to maintain a straight face under such intense study. He almost pitied Engineer.

But then, he'd asked for this, quite literally.

"Any theories?" Sniper teased, gesturing to Spy with a fork full of salisbury steak.

"Considering his dismay, I've safely eliminated Scout from the running."

Everyone nodded. That was obvious for other reasons, but they all knew better than to say it.

Scout made a face at the possibility. "Fuckin' miracle anyone wants to fuck you."

"Thank you," Spy dismissed with annoyance. "Otherwise? I do not know. I have theories as to who it isn't, but as to who it is? That is trickier."

"I did not write your letter," Soldier announced.

"I know, you don't know how," Spy replied with a roll of his eyes.

"Damn right!"

"Don't just tell him!" Pyro chastised, whacking Soldier on the shoulder. "That takes away the fun! Let Spy solve it!"

"I assure you, he did not provide me with new information just now," Spy said drolly. He finished his dinner and downed the last of his drink. "But thank you, mon ami."

Pyro beamed.

"Regardless, I think I will get nowhere surrounded by everyone, and I suppose I owe it to the author to perhaps approach him in private, once I have deduced his identity. As such, I will retire for the evening. If you'll excuse me." Spy rose from his seat, taking his dishes to the kitchen to wash before leaving mess for the evening with a casual wave to the team on his way out.

They all stared after him, and when the door closed, immediately turned to one another, staring hard at each other, accusingly. Except for Heavy, who just shook his head.

"I'm impressed! I didn't realize you held such a high opinion of him," Medic said, leaning in to grin at Sniper.

"Me? What're you lookin' at me for? I'm not interested in that bloody snake!" Sniper snapped, reeling back in his seat. He pointed to Demoman, "Demo's obviously this N.G. bloke, tryin' shamelessly to pull 'im in the showers!"

"Tryin' tae pull 'im?! I was jus' askin' a question! And a fair one at that! Nae a single one o' ye thought tae clear it up if N.G. even had a chance! If Spy only wanted birds, it'd all be pointless anyway! Ye cannae say ye were nae curious!"

"If Spy only wanted birds, only Doc'd have a chance," Scout snorted, deeply entertained by the chaos.

"Is that a joke about my pets, or are you suggesting I'm a woman? Answer carefully," Medic grunted.

"What's wrong with being a woman?" Pyro asked, fanning the flames.

"Absolutely nothing, other than I don't appreciate being misgendered simply because I do not strut around aggressively asserting my masculinity every three minutes like some insecure, immature Dummkopf!"

"That's big talk from a guy walkin' around callin' everyone a dumbhead!"

"Scout," Heavy warned, though he was quickly drowned out by Sniper.

"You're awful quiet, Truckie," he observed with a smirk, looking down the table at the shorter man.

Engineer choked on the water he was drinking, breaking into a coughing fit upon being called out. The table erupted in laughter, and once his throat was clear, he glared daggers at the assassin at the other end of the table. "I'm tryin' to eat my damn dinner's why I'm quiet, Stretch. Ain't nobody's business but Spy's who's sweet on him, and it's uncouth to sit around cacklin' like a bunch of hens speculatin'."

Everyone shared a look. Medic bit his lip. Demoman pouted, trying to contain a smile. Sniper simply continued smirking, his gaze leveled on his friend. Pyro was glad for his mask to provide a poker face. Scout had a hand clapped over his mouth to contain his giggles.

Heavy simply shook his head. Engineer was right. Engineer was also deeply, deeply obvious. "You are correct, Engie," he said. He rarely used the other man's nickname, but said it now pointedly. "Rude to gossip about teammates' love life, Engie."

Engineer stared hard at Heavy, and the giant smirked as his eyes locked on shadowed lenses.

"But you are not very good at being sneaky, N.G. "

Everyone's eyes alit on Engineer, whose face burned bright red.

"Ohhhhhh," Scout gasped, realization dawning. "Engie, N.G.! That's fuckin' genius, man, I never woulda thought 'a that."

Sniper turned a baffled look to Scout, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Love bloomin' on a battlefield. It's beautiful," Demoman said, wiping at his eye.

"A love letter from the soft-spoken American to his elegant French beau; how romantic!" Medic cooed.

"He ain't my beau!" Engineer replied, his hand curling into a fist.

"Come on, guys, be nice. Imagine how hard it must be to admit that to Spy of all people. He's not known for being gentle to people," Pyro cautioned, trying to deescalate now that it was actively turned on Engineer.

"Yeah, s'pose he can be...intimidatin'," Demoman conceded.

"And flippant," Medic admitted.

"And rude," Sniper pointed out.

"And an asshole," Scout added with a pout.

Engineer frowned harder.

"But he is handsome," Heavy offered with a thoughtful nod.

"What, are you a fanny bandit too?" Scout asked, a bit surprised.

"Keep forgettin' fanny means arse over here," Sniper mumbled.

"Not your business," Heavy shot, "but do not need to like men to understand what handsome man look like."

"Women do tend to fall for his charms readily," Medic observed, thrusting a finger into the air.

"That's true, and ye cannae deny the lad's got charm," Demoman agreed, nodding sagely.

"And we know Demo's a pouf, so there's your expert," Sniper chuckled.

Demoman shot him a look. "He's nae me type, but I'd nae kick the lad outta bed. So I see what you see in him, mate," he said, giving Engineer a wink. At least, he assumed it was a wink.

Engineer's face hit the table, his hardhat flopping off loudly as he slumped into a defeated heap, blushing up to his scalp. "Fellas…"

"Nobody better say a fucking word," Pyro cautioned, pointing a finger and making sure to jab it in the direction of every mercenary at the table. He laid a hand on Engineer's back as the man curled his arms around his head to hide his face. "Or respawn won't be able to save you."

Everyone else reeled back, hands up in surrender. None of them wanted to incur Pyro's wrath.

"What? Us? Say anythin'? No, naw, you got it all wrong, Py! Never never not once, nope. Not me, not us, right, guys?" Scout sputtered nervously, terror edging into his expression as he begged off.

Everyone else nodded in nervous agreement.

"Just can't believe Heavy made it before Spy," Sniper mumbled, casting an apologetic look to the giant, who raised an eyebrow. "No offense, mate. But it's Spy we're talkin' about 'ere."

"Spy's job is partly to decipher intelligence and codes," Medic conceded, laying a hand on his companion's shoulder.

"Spy look too hard, miss obvious thing," Heavy sighed, shaking his head. "He is probably trying to find coded message that does not exist."

"It's clever," Demoman chuckled, leaning in to Engineer, who had not lifted his head from the table. "Give the lad a bone tae chew on, a wee mystery tae solve, when the answer's in front o' his face! Just the sort o' thing that'd get his attention, for sure."

"Yeah, well hopefully givin' 'im that bone'll get 'im givin' you his bone, right?" Scout said with a toothy grin.

"Can you not?" Sniper shot, swatting Scout. "Can you be fucking supportive for once?"

"What?! How'm I not bein' supportive?" Scout rubbed at his arm, pouting at Sniper. "Engie's playin' to that rat's interests, and I'm sayin' that's a good thing! It's what he's into, so maybe that'll let 'im hit it! Look if Engie wants to dick Spy down I ain't judgin' nothin' but the guy's taste in men, man!"

Sniper sighed, sitting back in his seat, rubbing at the bridge of his nose as Scout turned to Engineer. "You got this, Hard Hat. A love letter, a little mystery? It's cliche but Spy's a big walkin', talkin', smokin' cliche. Bet 'e loves that bodice ripper shit, too. The romance shit. You show up shirtless, all flexin' an' dramatic, sweep the guy off 'is feet? Carry 'im to bed an' lay 'im down an' tell 'im you're gonna ravish 'im? Putty in your hands, pal."

"We still talkin' about what Spy's intae?" Demoman teased.

"Whatchu tryin' to say, Cyclops?"

"I dinnae ken, lemme get me shirt off and do some flexin' for ye and we'll see, aye?"

Pyro chuckled as Scout and Demoman set to bickering, Sniper immediately jumping in to roast them both. He pat Engineer on the back, who he felt shaking with soft laughter, relieved that the worst the team had for him was some gentle ribbing and their own version of being supportive. Now, all he had to worry about was what Spy thought.

*

N.G.

In ROT-13, that decoded to A.T. Not a man on the team had those initials either, and even the one man with a T, Tavish, had an F and a D for his other initials, so it seemed unlikely. Though he had been friendly in the shower...

He was always friendly in the shower. Spy always stood on his blind side, so conversation lacked awkwardness, and he always wanted to chat while the adrenaline of the field was still fresh. Spy knew that. And that aside, the man was forthright to a fault. If he were his admirer, there'd be no secret about it. He'd make a show of ogling him and ask him out for drinks, brazen as always.

No, Demoman seemed unlikely. Doubly so because Spy knew from experience that the man wrote in Scots, just as he spoke, which made his English even harder to parse in written form.

The writing of the letter was clean, precise, almost designed to be hard to identify. Surely, typing almost all of it had been a clever way to avoid handwriting analysis.

Which would be doubly important for a man with difficult-to-read handwriting. Medic, perhaps? Spy could rarely understand the scribbles the doctor threw onto his blackboards in the lab, and more infuriatingly: official documents that he needed to interact with. It was chicken scratch to his eyes, and he had to fight to make out what the hell the man was even trying to communicate. The love note would have been unreadable in Medic's handwriting, so a typewriter would be a clever move. Certainly, the vocabulary and formality on display seemed a closer fit for him than anyone else on the team.

But Medic had no shame. He certainly only partook in clandestine behaviour spontaneously, improvising his way through life to a degree that frankly stressed Spy the hell out. There was no way the man would bother with a note, let alone typing it up, especially when he maintained that his handwriting was perfectly legible, na schönen Dank auch! He, like Demoman, would likely just come out and say it, likely in an embarrassingly public scenario, likely with an inappropriate amount of familiarity, and wonder why everyone was staring.

No, no, it couldn't be him. Spy grumbled quietly, taking another sip of the whiskey he held in one hand, a pencil threaded between the index and middle fingers of his other hand, which drummed on the top of his desk as he hunched over it, eyes busily scanning the page once again. If there were a substitution cipher, the key would have to be contained in the letter itself, possibly in some sort of pattern in the words.

No clues in the capitalization. No clues in the words that started sentences or paragraphs. He counted the commas and periods, no pattern or morse code to be found. He took another sip of whiskey and sighed.

Soldier couldn't read, and admitted it wasn't him, so that was out. Unless he was trying to throw him off the trail in front of the others...

Heavy, while straightforward and confident, was also cagey with his more easily-bruised emotions. It could be him. Surely, leaving a note and hoping for the best, hoping to avoid the attention of the rest of the team and finding very few excuses to get Spy alone to speak with him, could be his style. The language was florid enough to speak from his poet's heart, but it was also too complex for the man's grasp of English. Had it been in his native tongue, he was sure a love note would read exactly like what one would expect from a doctor of literature. But Heavy would likely never allow any third party to translate something so intimate, and not another soul on the team could even read Cyrillic characters, let alone the Russian language. It seemed deeply unlikely.

That left Sniper, Pyro, and Engineer. Sniper was plain-spoken, but also spent most of his life hiding as part of his livelihood. Caginess made sense, and he knew the man had a better vocabulary than he let on, and could play roles when needed for work. It wasn't impossible that the letter had come from him, but it seemed strange, considering their vitriolic friendship. N.G. had complimented his competence at his job, and competence in one's profession was something Sniper always spoke of priding himself on. It would make sense that he looked for that tendency in a partner, as well. Spy admired the man's commitment to his work, and his pragmatism, but he wasn't sure he could handle being the object of affection of a man who was so pragmatic that he threw piss at people and lived in a van. He shuddered, not crossing the man out in his mental list, but dearly hoping that he wasn't the culprit.

Pyro was a cipher of his own. Most of his dossier was redacted, and he kept much of himself very close to the chest, short of his fondness for cute, childish things and his penchant for talking a lot of shit at the slightest provocation. Spy had never seen him write or read, now that he thought about it, but absence of evidence should never be confused for evidence of absence. He shivered, wondering what Pyro's affection might look like, and leaving a love letter absolutely seemed his style. Typing it rather than doodling it in crayons and markers, though? If if were him, someone else had probably sprung the idea, which suggested co-conspirators. Considering Pyro had been excited to let Spy solve the riddle in the first place, that did make him seem a more likely suspect.

Engineer definitely had the vocabulary, though he only showed it off when he was looking to show off. He was also clever enough to type it to cover his tracks. But would he be the sort to leave a love note? He wasn't exactly the kind of man who wore emotions on his sleeve, usually only allowing camaraderie and anger into the open, like your stereotypical American man. But secretly, was he a romantic?

Spy thought of quiet nights around the campfire, when Engineer would strum his guitar and quietly sing old folk songs to fill the silence, his strong jaw and dark eyes illuminated by the dancing firelight. He'd sing of home, of struggle, of love, of all sorts of things, his warm, throaty voice low and gentle, barely above the strings that hummed along. But this was man who says he's not qualified to answer questions about the nature of beauty. Maybe it was just a matter that one cannot analyze such things objectively; one has to feel them, and his image of propriety got tied up in his concept of logic somewhere along the way? Could there be a romantic behind that facade, betrayed by the beauty of his songs?

Spy set his pen down, looking away from the page to stare off into the middle distance. He took another sip of his whiskey and frowned. Well, shit. He didn't know who this mysterious N.G. was, and he had yet to puzzle out anything about him. But somehow he had just deciphered his own emotions, and was left with a heavy pit in his gut at the realization that, oh no, he had feelings for Engineer.

But what if he wasn't N.G.?

But what if he was?

"Merde."

[paper--machete]

idk if you did this before but ummm rank all qotsa albums including them crooked vultures

I'll do you one better! I'll include the desert sessions 11+12 cus imo it's too thoroughly produced to not include

10. lullabies to paralyze

no hate on lullabies but honestly the whole vibe of the record is just sooooo 2005. in my head has to be their worst song just because of how embarassing that chorus is and also there's just a lot of fluff, even the deep cuts on this album feel like throwaway tracks (which I would even say about my favorite songs on the album, tangled up in plaid and broken box). the whole album just feels like a radio-friendly attempt to prove they still had their edge after Nick was kicked out

favorite songs: tangled up in plaid, little sister, i never came, the blood is love, broken box

9. villains

villains gets too much hate. people always point to Mark Ronson for ruining the album but honestly I'm glad we live in the alternate timeline where qotsa made a pop album. the way you used to do is awesome (ESPECIALLY the live version), domesticated animals is awesome, un-reborn again is one of their best songs. hideaway has always sucked tho and I hate the ending of the evil has landed because it just sounds like they were trying to do 3s and 7s again for some reason (with the slide guitars and Josh going "way-ee-ay") but otherwise also one of their best songs. also I wanna mention that Jon Theodore is at his best on this album, you can really hear his background in prog shine through on certain songs

favorite songs: the way you used to do, domesticated animals, fortress, un-reborn again, the evil has landed

8. desert sessions 11+12

first and foremost noses in roses forever is one of the best songs jho has ever written. DS11/12 basically feels like josh decided he wanted to do his own Gorillaz style collaborative project thanks to the increased production values and honestly it just makes me want another desert sessions release just like it.... which contradicts the other thing I wanted to say which is that there's really no album that sounds like 11/12 out there. nowhere else will you hear a song like chic tweetz because any other album would’ve left it on the cutting room floor for being too stupid. i love it

also I wanna say that i think crucifire is for royal blood what ultralight beam was for chance the rapper lmao

favorite songs: noses in roses forever, chic tweetz, easier said than done

7. in times new roman

damn I'm surprised the recency bias isn't getting to me on this one lmao. ITNR has a lot of really good songs on it but put together into an album it really feels like they’re just treading old ground. (I was originally gonna write a review of it when it came out titled “new dog, old tricks”). despite this there’s a lot of great stuff, paper machete and emotion sickness are two of my fav qotsa songs and straight jacket fitting might be their best closer? idk. this would be higher if it didn’t just feel like a “more of the same” type album

favorite songs: paper machete, negative space, made to parade, emotion sickness

6. self-titled

this placement hurts so much because like a year and a half ago this wouldve been #2 😭 anyway i love the self titled so much because it sounds so different from the rest of their discography… you can hear alot of the leftover kyuss influence in the heavier songs and riff writing, plus what other album is gonna try some crazy shit like walkin on the sidewalks or hispanic impressions? (btw hispanic impressions is their most underrated song) also the expanded edition is better for having spiders and vinegaroons but worse for having droids

favorite songs: regular john, avon, how to handle a rope, hispanic impressions, you can’t quit me baby

5. songs for the deaf

i’ve always had beef with songs for the deaf…. i’ve always felt like the best songs on it are so good that they make the lesser songs seem worse in comparison. like another love song is great but when it’s sandwiched between god is in the radio and song for the deaf its like. well obviously this is one of the weaker songs on the album. anyway it’s still good, being the other nick-era qotsa album you can really hear the collaboration between the band’s all-star lineup across the whole thing

favorite songs: hanging tree, go with the flow, god is in the radio, song for the deaf, mosquito song

4. them crooked vultures 

TCV is just a really, really solid album. the sequencing is great, the songs are all great, the musicians are all at their A game, ESPECIALLY josh as it’s not an unpopular opinion to say this album is where he really started tapping into his skills as a vocalist. while i consider TCV to be the honorary bonus qotsa album, i feel like it also manages to stand on its own thanks to the creative contributions of dave grohl and john paul jones.

favorite songs: mind eraser no chaser, dead end friends, bandoliers, warsaw, spinning in daffodils

3.5. over the years and through the woods

maybe I'm biased cus qotsa brainworms but the dvd of this is the best concert film/album I've ever heard. there's a perfect balance between songs being played as they are on the record and songs having things tweaked or even reworked entirely, which is something i’m picky about when it comes to concerts (i saw jack white two years ago and he changed waaaaay too many songs :P) also there’s a lot of neat little bonus things in the set, like an early version of make it wit chu, another desert sessions track (covered in punk’s blood) and of course the live performance of fun machine which is a top 3 song for them and always will be

favorite songs: feel good hit of the summer, avon, little sister, you can’t quit me baby, the fun machine took a shit and died

3. rated R

rated R is a perfect album! i think its greatest strength is its sequencing tbh, it succeeds at both giving the impression of it being a concept album (while not necessarily conforming to the concept) as well as having a super diverse tracklist where no two songs sound alike. also characteristic of nick-era qotsa, i love how rated R isn’t afraid to have short songs or long songs, though unlike on songs for the deaf the short/long songs here feel like they don’t sacrifice length for substance relative to other songs. 

favorite songs: feel good hit of the summer, leg of lamb, auto pilot, better living through chemistry, i think i lost my headache

2. era vulgaris

there is no album that sounds like era vulgaris. why does misfit love sound like that? why does battery acid sound like that? WHY DOES I’M DESIGNER SOUND LIKE THAT??? it’s so fucking weird and rich with ideas, there isn’t a single moment on era vulgaris where the band isn’t trying something new. even my least favorite songs on here have something new and unique to offer while also being the most fucked up little beast creature thing youve ever heard.

favorite songs: turnin on the screw, i’m designer, into the hollow, 3’s and 7’s, run pig run

1. ...like clockwork

i’m an artsy kid, i like artsy albums, and i love like clockwork for how mature it is. every song feels like a statement, an emotion concentrated into a 4-minute masterpiece. while the lows on here are lower for me than on other albums, they still make important contributions to the album experience as a whole (not to mention the highs soar, i appear missing and fairweather friends are top 5 material for them. I appear missing might even be top 1 tbh.) i’m out of things to say so uhhh yeah like clockwork is my favorite :)

favorite songs: i sat by the ocean, the vampyre of time and memory, fairweather friends, i appear missing

[immoralimmortals]

A Song With Ten Names

Chapter 1: Take Me To Church

AO3 link

Playlist of all songs

next chapter

Summary: A traveler arrives in a land of hidden villages and even deeper mysteries. But to the Akatsuki, she's a secret herself. A multichapter songfic about a strange, soft, "real world" musician who wins a stranger group over. She'll use the only thing she's got- her whimsy- to survive, but what does that mean to the charter of villains who survived by throwing pure mirth away? Maybe her head is stuck in the clouds.

Author's notes: I have been hyperfixated off and on by the Akatsuki alone (less Naruto the show) for about ten-so years of my life. At this point, they are dolls to me. They listen to my silly little songs and agree if I say "lmao that you". If the canon is king then I am God and what is God to a king. I don't care if Hidan knows what a keyboard is, I don't CARE, NO HE DON'T.

(Clearly cares a lot)

Anyhow. Combination OC-self insert-reader insert character is soft, musical, secretly from the "real world", and wins people over. I have a sociology degree with a focus on religion so I like musings about that sort of thing. Philosophical thoughts about murder, suicidality abound. I don't plan on any SA or anything majorly sexual, but I'm mulling over some pretty fucked up (erotic?) moments so 18+ interaction only, please. Partial songfic as I associate songs with anytthing that has an imaginary pulse, have different songs planned out to reference. If you like Will Wood, you'll have fun. Title is a reference to The Song With Five names by Will Wood and acts as scene breaks in this post. Perhaps obviously, Take Me To Church by Hozier is in this chapter. Lyrics not necessarily in order every time.

I'm writing this to get it out of my system but more than happy if it's for you too.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Never trust in yourself Or anyone else We’ve always all been wrong

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

He likes the way boiling water stings at his skin. It’s not quite as hot as that, but hot enough to make him feel something. A small comfort, a reminder from Jashin. Hidan, lamenting as he slips into the spring, contemplates on a comparison between this and being clothed by the lord himself as it washes upon him inch by inch, popping and sizzling until it makes his hairs stand on end. It hurts-- not quite enough, but it hurts.

Good.

Prayer fills the back of his mouth, thick enough to choke on, as he remembers pain means he is alive. He wrings out a small cloth in a bucket besides him and places it over his forehead and eyes.

Darkness. Steam fills his nose; he breathes deep...and he listens to his god.

…

…

It sure sounds a lot like someone yelling a room or two away.

A dull smack happens somewhere else in the inn. A woman begins to run. She has no fucking idea where she’s going-- how, where, who-- just that HERE and with THEM is going to SHIT. Adrenaline is the only thing keeping her eyes open and feet moving. She’s so thirsty she could drink the clouds of steam as she unwittingly approaches the men’s bath. So tired that she hardly recognizes three red prongs as a weapon as it’s propped against the stone. So scared she sees only one choice:

“Hey!”

Surely that wasn’t a voice talking to Hidan, right?

“I- I need to—” She’s out of breath already and she’s hardly lifted his scythe. “I need to borrow this! You’ll get it back-- I promise!” He lifts up one edge of the wet cloth, heel-turning from annoyed to pissed.

“EH?!” Hidan shrieks. “What the FUCK-” He’s cut off as the woman screams herself and backs just out of view from the bath entrance. “SHIT!” He didn’t pray nearly long enough to not fall headfirst into magma-hot testiness. Who the hell sees THOSE robes and fucks with his shit?! Who sees those BLADES and fucks with him?!

He probably doesn’t leave the bath as fast as is really warranted, stumbling out with the knot of his larger bath towel so loose he needs to hold it at his waist to keep it up. Through the hot fog of this dark hallway, his chin tilts up in intrigue. “Eh--?”

Hidan sees her face first. A brow is furrowed, a thousand horrible emotions weighing it down. She’s afraid-- that’s what’s most readily apparent. There’s a blotch of red and blue on her cheek and her mouth gapes with heavy breath.

“Stay away!”

She looks like she’s never held a weapon in her life. Goddammit, she’s holding it with all of her life, though.

He decides just to watch as she begins to address the most forgettable thing in the room.

“Cute.” A man snides at her. Ah...Hidan had seen him check in. His cologne smelled like ass. Now that it’s mentioned...he guess he did see someone else trail behind him-- close enough to be his shadow. Didn’t really set his alarms off then. But then again, till his scythe got involved, he didn’t really care. Hidan’s eyes flicker.

“Not a couple, huh?” he mutters. Although uncaring if he was heard or not, the former possibility occurs.

“Hey! Either get your pants back on or mind your own business! You don’t know us.” This approach is not reciprocated by her, shaky hands pushing the crimson steel further into his space. At first the man cringes, but the bluff is called. “Come on, now…” The guy’s smile is soft, like he knows her better than she herself. Hidan doesn’t miss how she flinches. It’s impossible to when there’s five more feet attached to her arm of cold hard metal. Knuckles brush almost lovingly against her new, sharp fingers.

“You don’t have it in you, duckling. Fluffy and soft, all squawk with no teeth.”

“I said NO!”

He steps forward. She panics.

He cuts like butter.

All three of them briefly share the same expression. Wide eyes, shock. However, each births something much more complicated in the seconds following.

While her stomach flips, Hidan’s feel butterflies. The whelp's blood splatters in all directions, just as it was meant to with such a swipe. It flutters through the air, settling on their faces as gentle as a whisper, while the rest swim around the still-pulsating eviscerations of a soul worth less than a rat. She watches the body sink to the ground, a human heart gush its contents into a dark, glistening puddle closer and closer to her feet. Just as it’s about to touch, her gaze raises and meets another’s. The reverence in his eyes is lost upon her.

The silence is peaceful to him as he studies the stranger-- stilling, like his lord laid a hand on his shoulder and beseech he witness. At this point the thoughts and emotions that she’s gripping in her stare even more pure and divine than the blooming rose shedding its petals before him; that sort of thing is expected-- wet blood as ordinary as dew on grass in the morning. But this… He’s never seen a civilian kill before, he’s beginning to ponder...

This revelation, too, goes unappreciated, but the upcoming perhaps is even more delicious than the taste of iron in the air for Jashin’s priest. The woman’s breath hurries, the blade drops to her feet, and her arms raise at her sides.

Three expressions are in this hall: Addicted. Afflicted. And dead.

“JESUS FUCK!” she screams in horror.

Hidan grins wider than he has in ages. This is the beginning of something beautiful.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Yes or no isn't null Yes it is, no, I don't know Yes or no, isn't that a silly question? Ask it anyway

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Being isekai-ed into another world isn’t nearly as convenient as it’s cracked up to be, you know?

The traveler’s body is tensed tighter than tightrope, her teeth in a perpetual grit and brow hurting from being furrowed so hard for this long. She killed a man. She utters this out loud to process the fact.

“And it was GREAT, right?” This guy is more than a little too eager for all of this. Fuckin’ shit, that doesn’t bode well for her. She reflexively scream/shouts at nothing in response, gaze unflinching at empty air… No, that sort of volume isn’t going to cut it. A floor cushion is snatched up from besides Hidan and she belts face first into it until she can’t breathe, and then she goes for a few seconds longer so her insides burn.

The silver-hair demon, however, is having the time of his life. The great Jashin himself drops this poor little idiot straight from his palm to drench in blood till white becomes red. He leans into his own palm, amused smirk across his face as they bide their time in this inn’s bedroom. They’ll be kicked out eventually, dead body and all, but he’ll deal with that when they get there! Just break the news to Kakuzu that he lost the deposit. An amputation or two will be worth the trouble.

“Ahh, so this is your first?” he hums almost sensually. The tears well in her eyes.

“Yes!”

“And? How was it?! The weight of the blade in your hands, the way he ripped in half, how his chest cavity just DID THAT?” He pinches his fingers and “explodes” them in a quick stretch.

“It was BAD!” the woman agonizes, still needing a paper bag to breathe into.

He shrugs nonchalantly. “You get used to it.”

“Eeeughhhhhhhh….!”

Hidan sighs. Of course she doesn’t get it yet. Where would the fun in that be? “So, figures if that shithead had kidnapped you...you don’t really have a place now, huh?”

The pinpoint precision breaks her attention like glass, and she can tell where this is going. It wasn’t like she had anywhere to belong to in the first place!

“How about we hang out? I don’t have anywhere to be till my mandated jackass is back around.”

She squints. “M...mandated?” Like an...officer? “...Are you on parole?” she prods gently. He looks more confused than anything, though. Is that more or less relieving?

“The hell? You mean patrol?”

“...Yes,” she decides to lie. Her eyes shift finally, looking to the side to avoid his gaze. Constant reminders are about that she’s way down the rabbit hole. Or...bottom of the sea? That’s probably more accurate, going unconscious. The waking up part hasn’t come yet and hunger, thirst, and being punched do hurt a lot, and so she has no choice but to either survive or kill herself on the spot to save the trouble.

Hidan, unwitting, knocks the side of his head like he’s shaking water out of his ears. “Damn, you really ARE a dumbfuck civilian, mispronouncing that bad. Never heard the word before?” Just as the woman’s mouth opens, he interrupts. “Anyhow. No. Just biding my precious time till my partner comes back from whatever heathen nonsense dragged him away.”

She blinks. These words mean nothing to her. The whole murder thing makes simple conversation hard to keep up, and she’s already trying not to worry about pissing a guy off who thinks killing people is fine.

“Oi!” Hidan waves his hand like an impatient child. “Don’t leave me hangin’!” The stranger can only fold her hands in front of her lap and stammer.

“I-- I—”

There’s no clue what he really wants out of this. She’s 100% fucked if she doesn’t accept. Only 99% fucked if she does. Good odds.

“OKAY!” There’s no idea to her if he takes this as enthusiasm or as the duress it’s really under.

“That’s the fuckin’ spirit!” He sounds nearly sarcastic as he flings his head back and praises towards the ceiling. An ear-piercing scream brings him back down to earth. “Ahhh, yeah. Well, maybe now’s a good time to go. Don’t shit where we sleep n’ all.” With a swoosh, a black robe is taken off the floor and is swung around Hidan. “Normally I wouldn’t give a shit. But the virgin killer probably needs her time to relish this moment.”

A rock drops in her stomach. The man casually passes her and starts walking out the door, the bloodcurdling screaming continues as if it’s only as annoying as a car alarm in the parking lot. She swallows, and he stops past the doorway. Purple pools under a silver hairline look through her, over his shoulder. “Comin’?”

1%, she repeats in her mind.

Hopefully she’ll get the opportunity to kill herself later, without any help, if need be. There’s a hunch that dying by his hand wouldn’t be so pleasant.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Even I might defy, won't deny That I'm trying while my eyes do defy And belie quiet liars as I Say what I say, any way, I might be saying it But I've been wrong before

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Despite being a city girl, since she’s dropped in, the hustle and bustle of this society sure does overwhelm. The bargaining, the wagons, the bells-- and that’s only sound! Wafts of street food make her stomach hurt. The flags, statues, and other decor all clearly have a story behind them; she purses her lips trying to imagine--

“Oi!”

The woman knocks into his back and nearly falls over, him having nothing to offer but disdain as she regains balance. “How about this joint?” Clearly this is less of a suggestion and more of a certainty as he meanders into the doorway he suggests. A tapestry overhangs the darkness the cloaked man slips into, a single symbol printed so large and intimidating, despite not knowing what it means. She gulps.

Recompose. As best as you can.

She glimpses a ring as he sets his glass down, it only briefly distracting from the menu in her hands. “I’ll...get whatever you’re getting,” she compromises softly, hoping everyone gets the hint when she sets the list down. The man shrugs.

“Make it two, yeah?!” The server slips away, leaving the awkwardness as an appetizer. Anything besides the guy ahead of her is what her eyes go to, shoulders tilting back and head cocked enough every which way that it’ll get sore. The way people dressed. Laughed. Gossiped.

“Hoshigakure!” lips speak in the dim light. “That’s where it’ll be.” A snarl meets this, an old time friend with her doubts.

“You’re sure ‘bout this? That’s awfully far—”

“Yeah, but he’s worth it! Wouldn’t you? For the chance at true love?!”

“Get your head out of the goddamn clouds…”

A literal snap in her ear brings her back. “Oi!” the man repeats, forcing her attention back to him. “What are you, high or somethin’? Where. Are. You. From.” He’s not the type to repeat himself twice.

“...Hoshi-- gakure.” The unintended stammer makes her heart race, and the way he hums loud and long doesn’t help.

“Never been! Heard it’s a shithole. Probably why you left!”

The other conversation still fills her desperate ear, leaving her clues:

“The Kage is an idiot, isn’t he?! All that power means nothing with no respect. What’s a land without a leader?”

“We’re rendezvousing there, not living there.”

“The way you describe his passion for his homeland says otherwise, you know…”

“He likes the stargazing!”

The friend sighs. “Hopeless,” she murmurs.

The woman mentally returns to the table she’s seated at, briefly biting her bottom lip as she forces a face-to-face conversation. “It’s hopeless there,” she weaves. She may not be a good liar, but she used to have fun performing, pouring one’s self into the story being told. A grain of truth makes it all more believable, and so she rolls back her shoulders, swallows her pride, and thinks about being gone. “I didn’t belong anymore. Politically, it’s in the shit, obviously… Not even the stars could hold me in place.”

A palm holds his cheek in place, violet stare unflinching as hands drop steaming plates and bowls in the small gap between them. “So it started by leaving on yer on volition?” She nods, honestly. “Kidnappin’ came later,” he assumes. “Don’t take this the hard way but you’re not pretty or anything. Not like yer meant for sellin’… Any idea what he wanted you for? Did you have money? Don’t fucking tell me your family was loaded.”

Redness pinpricks her cheeks but she still manages to shake her head no. “I think he just...recognized someone was lost and thought he could make something out of it.” She rakes her mind, trying to think of the guy more alive than when he was dead. You know. By her hands. “Can’t really ask him why now…” the woman surmises.

“Ahh…” the man replies simply, conveying what seems to be the barest threads of interest in her actual words. “So. Alone. Broke. N’ lost.”

The scent of seared meat in front of her compounds the suffocation of this observation. “Yeah.”

The man once again snaps, though less in her face and more in front of the scratch on the table she had glued her eyes to. After her attention is caught, he uses two fingers to point to himself. His own eyes are hooded, far too calm, and his smirk is lopsided.

“Sounds like a perfect time for a change of pace, yeah?!” Instead of knocking his glass into hers, he bumps it against her forehead, chuckling at the noise that escapes her mouth. “Jashin will set ya straight.”

Her eyelids flutter. “Jashin?” He raises the cup to his lips at a bad time. “Is that your name?”

He spit-takes.

“Fuckin’—NO! No! Hell, no!” There’s a solidness conveyed to her as the ceramic is set down, a change of tone. “I can only aspire to the name,” he muses, leaning philosophically all of a sudden. “Study the scripture… Follow his ways…”

“Jashin…” the woman echoes, delicate on her tongue. A major religion, perhaps? Or a cult leader? Or-- as history has taught, maybe both! How exciting. “Tell me about it?”

Oh she has no idea how abruptly she had just changed her life--

That’s what he thinks just as he gets shoved out of his chair.

“Eh?! The hell?!”

The friend she was spying on suddenly towers over the not-Jashin, clenching her fist. “You fucking SPAT on me!” Only a long, drawn out question-shaped breath returns from his lips. The man planning to run away throws a warning shot with his own glass, squarely breaking besides Hidan’s ear. “Get on your knees and beg, or get the fuck out!”

While it isn’t lost on her that several others in the candlelight are matching her horror, she’s unaware their reasons don’t match too. She’s just mortified there’s fighting at all! Holy SHIT she hates fighting! Someone could get hurt!But to the locals...Hidan’s cloak gave a glimpse of the bloodbath to come.

He hums, oh how smoothly he hums. It’s almost a purr. Slowly, his head turns to the traveler. “Seems like we’ve been blessed a first hand opportunity.” The way the woman screeches likely bothers him more than what initiated it-- another attack attempted, a cling of metal as a knife is blocked by a scythe. After that, it only hits the friend and the runaway that they’re in deep water, teasing a piranha ravenous. It’s a thing of beauty straight from the river Styx or the fires of Hell, those blades, bisecting a man like you can blow puffs off a dandelion.

“Wait- WAIT-” the traveler beseeches just as the Jashinist enters a fighting stance. He considers the plea, nodding in agreement.

“Ah, yeah.”

She nearly falls down again with the force of the scythe finding her hands.

“Lesson one: grave sin to start a fight that doesn’t end in slaughter.”

“WHAT!”

Suddenly she is the grim reaper to these people, awestruck in fear. “Please, hey-- HEY! WE will leave, okay?! Don’t hurt anyone!”

“I don’t WANT to hurt anyone!” she begs to ears deaf with their pounding hearts. No, wait, NO! everyone prays in turn. Hidan reads her expression intimately; how does it taste, to make others see what they have to lose? She’s full to the brim of whatever Jashin has bestowed upon her soul, arms and lungs trembling with the weight of mortality. It’s like a kitten scared of her own claws. His teeth can feel the pulse of his lip as he bites in anticipation.

It’s just about when someone in the crowd is about to act on her hesitation that a familiar voice growls from behind.

“HIDAN.”

Two chilled hands grab the man by the collar and the woman by the scythe. Kakuzu wasn’t intending on dragging her over; her fault she won’t let go for dear life. She gasps, abruptly across the entire length of the room in a snap, shaky eyes meeting emeralds. They literally see right through her. Immediately she can see she is an object. A hindrance. If Hidan is the grim reaper then Kakuzu is cold uncaring death itself. And death is already tired of this bullshit playing around.

The tall newcomer sighs, gravelly in his throat. “What,” he more states than asks, “Are you doing.”

“Proselytizing, cocksucker!” Kakuzu repeats the first word under his mask, eyes returning to the girl while saying nothing directly to her.

“And this?”

“My disciple!”

He studies her. It’s like if a mouse that hides in the wall became a person.

“...You can’t be serious.” Guy and gal are simultaneously dropped to the floor, all threat forgotten in the crowd as they witness the bizarre show. The masked one starts to leave, and much to her dismay, the prophet takes her by the wrist and follows.

“Can you not respect my fucking beliefs for ONCE!” Hidan shouts at the back of his head as they go under a sunset sky.

“No.”

“KAKUZU!” Okay, so that’s both of their names now, she manages to note. “If you get your pointless bounties then I get this!”

“The hell you do!”

“Fucker!” Hidan spits back. “I saw it in her! This is something Jashin MEANT for me!” He grits his teeth, rationalizing the irrational. “We are all subject to Lord Jashin’s will! Even SHE can kill!”

The traveler only now recognizes how close to the outskirts they were, how if she screamed now, they’re so deep in the trees that the forest floor would dampen the sound. The red sclera stands out on Kakuzu’s face as he turns slowly-- too slowly-- to glare at the two behind them. She is in deep shit.

“I-I-I don’t mean to be trouble! I’ll just—” Politeness be damned, there’s no way out of a zombie’s grasp. Again, Kakuzu glares at her while addressing someone else.

“No expense,” he demands, curdling anger on his tongue. “No slowing us. She needs to do less than exist around me. If I feel a single iota of air shift around her, we are leaving her behind.”

In the woods. To die.

A lot of this comes back to killing or dying, doesn’t it?

She can’t even dare to swallow, while Hidan nonchalantly- roughly- yanks the woman from Kakuzu’s iron hold. “And you call me dramatic.”

Kakuzu doesn’t even have it in him to roll his eyes. He just turns back around, grips his fists to his sides, and walks once again. Hidan lets out a “pfff” in her ear.

“Old bitch.”

This traveler is fully aware she is just a goldfish in a plastic bag from this second on.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Why, I can't see That I am the "me" That I was born into And what's the source of you?

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Her tired heart won’t even stop pounding now that they’ve settled for the night; in fact, it made this worse. Idleness could mean anything to these people. For sure, at least for one it means that injuring others is entertaining. The other guy feeling at best contempt for her causes the woman to take Kakuzu’s threat very seriously. That’s why it’s such a surprise when a half hour or so into Hidan’s prayers, the masked man speaks to her for the first time.

“How’d he get you into this?”

She gasps lightly, as if any request of her will weigh the worth of her existence. As she hesitates, Kakuzu dips his head, light of the fire slicking over his slashed headband and ghostly gemstone eyes. Thinking better of it, she blinks away the fear and tries to reply.

“He...helped me get out of a bad situation.”

Rustling grass and crickets. She’s guessing if he wants more.

“He...saw me kill someone to get away. And. I guess he liked it.” Her voice is so soft, words not thick like honey but like tar.

“So he didn’t help you at all.”

“It was his weapon,” she states as defense. He murmurs in response. The pages of Kakuzu’s book finish flipping between his fingers, and he’s satisfied that at least as of this moment, she has no price.

“So you don’t want this.”

“I—” the woman holds herself tighter, hands in her lap and flames flickering, leaving as fast as they come. “I don’t. Know.”

“So you don’t.”

“I can HEAR, you bastards.” She suppresses a yelp but not a shiver. Kakuzu only sighs.

“She’s taking you for a ride, Hidan. Know that underneath all of your pointless sentimentality.”

“TCH!”

The silence fills the space between them, suffocating. Is she? Is she taking him for a ride? It never crossed her that way, but it was true. Just sticking around to whatever- whoever- offers a place to cling to. And how did it end up with the first guy? She was lucky that a sore face is the worst she got out of it. So what about this?

They sit in a triangle, both staring at the fire as a glow washes the fronts of midnight-soaked garb. One holds a book in front of his hearts and the other has a pendant to his lips. No one is really happy about all this. What’s the point?

Bravely, gently, the woman shifts up and wanders slowly enough that it’s known she’s not running away. She gets far enough away she believes no one can hear her, if she just speaks under her breath. A cliff is ahead, a clearing of stars over a pit of lush, deep greens stories below and miles beyond. The little noise there is becomes so much louder. Rustling leaves in the wind surely will keep her secret. You can taste the oxygen from so many trees; maybe they will satiate the hunger. Her own heart is sore from racing. Wistfully, she needs peace now, in this quiet, uncaring world that won’t let her rest.

My lover’s got humor

She whispers melodically.

She's the giggle at a funeral

Knows everybody's disapproval

I should've worshiped her sooner

If the Heavens ever did speak

She's the last true mouthpiece

Every Sunday's getting more bleak

A fresh poison each week

Hidan breathes in.

We were born sick

You heard them say it

Hidan breathes out.

My church offers no absolutes

She tells me, "Worship in the bedroom"

The only Heaven I'll be sent to

Is when I'm alone with you

I was born sick, but I love it

Command me to be well

Amen

Kakuzu doesn't acknowledge, but he does listen.

Amen

Hidan doesn’t know what it means, but he feels the veneration it carries. Her white-toned dress is spectral in the moonlight, curls of hair played with by the wind.

Amen

She prays for something she doesn’t know.

Amen

[explosionshark]

For Character Game: Faith, obviously.

General opinion/How much I care about them: she IS my poor little meow meow! My favorite character after Buffy herself. A deeply sad gay girl with a rough home life who can't quite tell the difference between love and power and wants them both so badly she ruins her own life about it? Fucks over the girl she's in love with in her rage and desperation? Undergoes a redemption arc underscored by penitent suffering? Fucking catnip for me. Good lord.

A ship I love: YOU ALREADY KNOOWWWW

A non-romantic relationship that I love: Faith and Angel! They're best friends! He's her Murderers Anonymous Sponsor! They give each other pep talks and have a deeply fucked up sense of shame that they can never overcome only mitigate through perpetually atonement! WOOO!

The NOTP: idk. I think the only thing that I really hate the idea of is Wesley/Faith.

My biggest headcanon about them: I feel like there's a fine line between true HC and 'details implied by canon that I have decadently elaborated on in my own mind.' One thing I have no real basis for but like the idea of is that Faith's birth dad is alive, but went to prison very young for something violent. Maybe even a murder charge. In my HC she never really knew him but "you're just like your father" was the exact type of thing her mom would say to make her feel horrible. I like the idea of this weighing down on years later when she's doing time herself. Someday I'll use it in a fic, I'm sure.

An idea for a fanfiction I would like to write/read about them: (if I have none in my WIPs I'll make one up on the spot!) I've got this one premise that doesn't really even have a full story behind it yet (though it DOES have a title) but - I like the idea of Faith getting dosed with a truth spell (probably s4? Could be S3 though or s7). But instead of doing the goofy love confession angle it's a terrifying metaphor for consent, because I think there probably isn't anything in the world scarier for Faith than the idea of being forced into vulnerability she can't control. I think if we're doing S3 or s4 it presents an interesting conflict for Buffy too - she could use the advantage to find out what Faith is up to, but could she live with herself after? Idk. I haven't worked this one all the way out but I've been rolling it around in my head for like two years now.

Something that makes me think of them: (a song, a character in another fandom, an animal, anything) "I Got Punched in the Nose for Sticking My Face in Other People's Business" by Boys Night Out (""Baby the blood's already been spilled / and no amount of crying will wash the red from your guilty hands") makes me go fuckin craaaazyyyy as a Faith track

[toxicanonymity]

Hey :)

About Lincoln, I listened to the 4 The White stripes songs, and the first thing I wanted to tell you was that the atmosphere suited the Lincoln series perfectly it's insane. I don't know if the music influenced you or if the series came to you and you then created the playlist, but I find it incredible that it fits so well in terms of atmosphere !

About the songs

Screwdriver - Of course got me with the Tommy line. I don't know if he'll be part of the final, hard to say, and would it be for asking his help ? (by Lincoln ? by reader ?)

Forever for her - I wonder if it's his thoughts, hurt by the fact she would left him (kill him ?) Or him wondering how he could stay with her, without being caught up by what he did ? So they would go elsewhere ?

A martyr for my love for you - Is he gonna leave her ? Let her go ? Kill himself to free her ?

You've got her in your pocket - Well this one is the opposite (thanks for the rollercoaster lol) and i'm wondering if he's gonna kill her ? Consider it to keep her for himself ?

Keep wondering how this will end. It took me so much times to see red flags in this series. It's interesting to see how people have different "keys" that creates red flags or not - The green/red flags of other readers you posted were quite telling !

Thank you for the songs and the playlist, i discovered cool ones !

Ask from August 10 - Milla had asked for the next chapter title, which at the time was supposed to be the finale. Instead, I narrowed it down to 4 songs, each of which have some relevance , even if it's a tiny detail or in a dif context than you'd expext. The title songs aren't always good clues but have at least some minor tie-in. (Forever for her was the next chapter)

⚠️ This answer may have references through pt. 7

Left in Lincoln Master List

Consciously, the story came first, then the music hit me after pt. 1 and I started including little details from the songs. I originally named pt. 1 "the Protector" in reference to the end of the chapter:

You thought about Bill and Frank's attempt at "the Talk" – how precious you were and that you could love anyone, but needed to protect yourself. Especially from men. Joel seemed like the protector. Not someone you'd need protection from.

I kept thinking, I could've sworn there was a song, but I couldn't find it. Then, days after posting the the first chapter, the song This Protector randomly got stuck in my head after not hearing it for years. It was never one of my favorites of theirs, but when I listened to the full song, it gave me chills how perfect it was, and not just the title.

You thought you heard a sound, there's no one else around, Looking at the door, it's coming through the floor

I ret-conned the pt. 1 title, changing "the" to "this," and decided to make the rest of the chapters White Stripes songs because they have enough songs with the right atmosphere and creepiness. Even certain motifs like apples, which were already in the story. Even the age gap factor, I mean look at Passive Manipulation, which of course was way too on the nose to use as a title lol:

Take a step back, take a look at one another You need to know the difference between a father and a lover

And In the Cold, Cold Night (sung by Meg)

You make me feel a little older, like a full grown woman might.

Anyway, there's a lot of good stuff. Screwdriver even has a Tommy in it as Milla mentioned.

Before this one, I had never made a story playlist before. I kinda lucked out on this. I overplayed the White Stripes so much in my formative years that I still know all the words to an alarming number of songs two decades later, for some of them.

As for the theories, I wouldn't feel right about killing reader or Joel in this story even though either of those could totally be realistic outcomes in different genres like straight horror or even true crime.

There are also some great songs on the reader-curated Lincoln Joel playlist.

[eletronicmonkey]

Sex night

↪characters: Aizawa Shota x dom!reader

↪genre: smut, fluff

↪pronouns: not mentioned--AFAB reader

↪TW/CW: sitting face, squirting, aizawa cumming untouched, oral sex (reader receiving), dom!reader, uses of petname, uses of master title. (let me know if I forgot something)

↪WC: 1.722

menu

Probably there are so many grammar errors, so I’m sorry.

Please, reblog. It’ll makes me happy! Hope you enjoy <3

I open the door of our apartment with a heavy sigh, day was exhausting, so much trouble for so little time. I leave my purse on the hall table and went ahead for the living room searching for him.

"Baby, I'm home!"

"Coming!" Aizawa shout from the bathroom

I enter the kitchen to drink some water while he's finishing his shower. I sit on the chair's bench passing through the social apps in my phone, getting immersed in trivial things. I didn't notice him approaching my side, only lifting my head when I feel him involving me in his slender arms. I put the phone down returning the hug and hiding my face in his neck, inhaling his fresh scent, feeling all my tiredness leaving me.

"How was your day, kitty?" I smile hearing the nickname. Always loved his voice, even when he's only murmuring to himself something about the students turning his life into hell, it's so quiet and calm, relaxing. He has this effect on me, regardless of anything he can always calm me down.

"Stressful, at least I'm here with you now. Yours?"

"Normal" He starts patting my head slowly, leaving sweet kisses all over my face and finishing with a peck on my lips. I smile and tighter the embrace as a thank you.

"Are you hungry?" I give him a nod "Good. I'm gonna make something for us"

I stay sitting, watching him cooking for us, admiring the sight. His face frowned in concentration as he cut the vegetables, his hands floating through the kitchen leaking skills as everything he did. The dinner was set on the table one hour after.

After the soup, I went to the bathroom for a shower.

Now we're laying on the sofa watching TV, my head positioned on his arm while his other one is surrounding my waist, my back against his chest, and his face hiding between my neck and shoulders, his breathing warming me up in a comforting way.

"Are you awake?" I turn to face him without an answer.

"Hi," He says before leaving a peak on my lips. I smile and return the kiss. "Can I help you relax?" Aizawa lifted himself, doesn't waiting for my response, and put himself on top of me, kissing my jawline.

"Baby, I'm sorry but I'm very tired," I said, throwing my head back allowing him more access to my skin.

"You don't need to do anything. Please, I wanna make you feel good" I let go a sigh hearing his voice on the foot of my ear, causing me goosebumps. He smiled, knowing that he won. "I need hear you saying, kitty."

"If you don't run with it maybe I change my mind" He chuckles.

"Ok, ok, I understood," He says as he reaching for the hem of my shirt lifting it, and throwing the piece of clothing to the floor.

He goes down while leaving wet kisses along the way. He's staring at my chest with lusty and a small smile playing on his lips. He starts with sweet pecks between my breasts becoming wet open mouth ones, he reaches the nipples and starts sucking around the bud. I grip his black strands and pull it harder, getting a hum of the older—he adores when I treat him roughly—signaling that he was supposed to stop teasing. Getting the message, he opens his mouth and gets the bud between teeth, circling it with his tongue and sucking it hard getting a moan of his name. I arch my back, gripping his hair stronger and pulling his head closer to me,—if that were possible—getting a groan from the bottom of his throat and a bite on my swelling bud. Aizawa always said that he loves my breasts, the feeling of them against his face goes him crazy. While he's giving attention to one breast his free hand starts playing with the neglected one. All of this, he does, looking directly into my eyes.

He continues playing with my breasts, alternating between them until he gets pleased. I pull his face up for a kiss. And he continues his path. After, he passed through my belly, leaving sucks, kisses, bites. Before he gets my remaining clothes off me, he licks around my bellybutton while he saw me shivering at the feeling of his tongue. He pulls off my shorts and underwear and looks directly at my cunt, soaked after his teasing, with an intense look, he runs his nose against my core, smelling my desire. He takes his hands to my clit and pulls the hood up, leaving it exposed to him—all I can do is breathing heavily, my legs shaking for the waiting. My body is burning with desire, I can feel the sweat all over my body. Then, he blows the swollen clit and my legs shake more, I let a whispering "fuck" pass through my dry lips. I grip his hair again, pulling his face closer to my core, but I find resistance. Suddenly, he grabbed my waist and turned us on the sofa making me sit on his chest. Seeing my confusion he explains "I want you to sit on my face, ride my face until you feel satisfied. I want you to use my face for your pleasure." He can feel me shivering and shaking with desire at his submissive tone. God, he knows what he does to me. As one last blow, he whispers "Please, maste-" I didn't allow him finished his ask, I'm smothering him with my pussy and locking my legs around his face grabbing his hair. We both groan simultaneously at the feeling. He wraps his arms around my legs and presses them around his face. He gives the first lick from the bottom up, dragging his tongue to the clit and moving in circular motions at a slow pace, return to the hole, in and out, circling it, dragging his teeth on my clit. Always hitting the right places. I can't control my moans at this point, I'm pressing my legs tighter around the side of his head. I can feel his nose on my clit, his whimpers as I use his face. I reach forward e and grab the sofa arm.

"SHIT!! that's it, baby, like that -fuck-" He sucked hard my clit, that's my limit. I press his face on my core and starting ride faster, his hands are squeezing my thighs and he's eating me out like I'm your last meal. "Oh my god, that's it, baby boy. You're so good - fuck- I love your mouth, always so good!" I said, looking at his beautiful face between my legs—like a faithful devotee—and I'd see his eyes rolling to the back of his head and shooting close. "Look at me." He stayed that way "I said to look at me." I raise my hips and he opens his eyes immediately.

"Why did you stop?" He raises his head searching for my cunt. I push him back to the sofa.

"You are going to look straight into my eyes until I say that's enough. Do you understand?" I grab his dripping sticky face, covered with my juices, waiting for his response.

"Yes, I'm sorry. I- please, I need more." I almost cum on the spot, fuck, why he has to be so fucking beautiful.

I return to my previous position, riding his face. Aizawa takes his fingers to my slit, rubbing the hole and put two fingers, bumping into, twisting his wrist just that right way, curling his fingers, hitting my g-spot, sucking, licking, leaving little bites over my clit. I could pass out from so much pleasure. All are incredibly pleasant, overwhelming. I can feel my climax getting more and more closer—but a little bit different as the usual—Aizawa, noticing it too, quicken his pace and unconsciously starts slightly bumping his hips into the air. I hold his hair tighter, pulling his black strands, my legs start shaking, my chest moving up and down with my breathing becomes desperate, my vision gets blank; I arch my back, throwing my head back, feeling the knot in the stomach tighter, my walls clenching in Aizawa's fingers. "CLOSE - FUCK"

He's watching me intensely, carefully, and marveling himself with the sight, getting more and more pleased by himself, knowing that he's the one who makes me feel that way, that he's capable of getting me like this, above him, riding his face and pleasuring myself, using and abusing of him, just like the way I enjoy.

I reached my climax with a loud moan of his name, arching my back and tensing all my muscles, cumming, squirting, all over his face. To Aizawa, that's the vision of the gods, he can't help himself of arch his own back—feeling his cock twitching and his balls squeezing, feeling his entire body burning, the coil in his stomach compressing tighter —his eyes rolling to the back of his head, and, just like that, he came, with a muffled loud groan he cum inside of his trousers.

I feel my body getting relax and heavy. Aizawa helps me to lay beside him while he's licking his lips, savoring my taste.

"Oh, my-fuck- baby. This was amazing." Aizawa says as he drags me to lay in his chest, wrapping me in a hug. I start to kiss him and reach my hand down to help him but he holds my hand intertwining his fingers with mine, kissing the back of it. "You don't need to, I'm already done"

"Oh- this was hot" He chuckles hiding his face between my neck and shoulder.

We stayed lie until we recover and went to the shower for cleaning and relaxing.

Now we're in the bathtub, my back against his chest, his arms wrapping my body, and his head laying in my shoulders. I'm patting his head humming some songs.

"Are you relax?"

"I can say so" Smiling I reaching for his lips, leaving a small kiss "Thank you, love"

[siriusblackloml]

Everytime ppl make celebration I'm so excited!! Congrats on 300< 💞 can I have mamma mia 🤍 my fav color is purple there's many actually , I'm a Sagittarius. With Fred Weasley, please? Thank you, lovely 🥰

hey my fave color is purple too :D thank you so much for the request!~ 

reminder: i’m responding to this request after my celebration closed! i am currently clearing out all the ones sitting in my inbox. please don’t send more!

not that you knew this before ever meeting fred, but if there was anything you two had in common was your split personalities

OKAY NOW HEAR ME OUT LMAO-

i don't mean that in the sense that you're like psycho or whatever (unless u are then u do u bae)

i mean it by the fact that during the week days you are one studious mf. you are always keeping your nose tucked away in the books to stay on top of your work

when it comes to the weekends though? you are a bit of a party animal 

you love to be around big groups of people swaying to your favorite songs 

thank god you had good music taste because you had somehow managed to convince your other friends to listen exactly what you hear all the time 

you weren’t one to dance often, but that didn’t stop you from busting out random moves every now and then 

and then the weekend is over. you’re back in classes early monday morning learning about the differences between two very similar spells and taking notes that will fill up what feels like should be ten scrolls 

one morning, however, you’d been in the library looking for a particular book about the history of charms 

you were absolutely lost in the maze of pages and were becoming quite frustrated (you’d barely been there five minutes and were growing impatient that you didn’t find the book right away like you had hoped)

so you start to learn back against a bookshelf, crossing your arms and huffing out a dramatic sigh

before you’d known it, a boy next to your whipped out his arm and held it above your head, your eyes glancing up to see that he had caught a book falling from the highest shelf 

he had prevented it from falling on you and it was quite literally the most flattering thing you’d ever seen 

the red head holds the book and chuckles, “nearly got a big ‘ole bump in your head, huh?”

you blush and say, “thank you...hey, could i see that book?”

he hands it to you with a cocky smile on his face, and you realize now as you read the title book (in large, purple, cursive letters of course) that the book that had fallen down was exactly what you had been searching for

you smile and take it from him, “oh my gosh, this is exactly what i need!”

the boy just smirks and shoves his hands into his pockets nonchalantly, “isn’t it fun how that works out?” 

you can’t help but think of that boy for days straight, nobody else had ever had such an effect on you

and then it was friday night, you were talking to a large group of friends as you started to exit a large set of doors to make your way out into the cool air of the night

the sun was just getting to the point of setting and you were letting out an exhale, but you were only excited for what the night was going to bring

your friend had mentioned that before going to hogsmeade, you would all be meeting up with another group of people

sure enough you guys meet outside and there stands that one mysterious red-head boy 

he sends you a cocky smirk and approaches you, “funny seein’ you here.” 

you smile and tell him, “oh yeah, it’s hilarious. you didn’t strike me as the party type of person.”

he chuckles and digs his hands into his pockets, walking alongside you on the gravel road

mumbling, he responds, “well clearly you don’t know me. name’s fred, yours?”

it’s safe to say that he didn’t leave your side for the rest of the night, straggling behind you like a lost puppy 

[dancingazaleas]

𖨆. 01 / all for us

summary: you wake up in a room that seems to be made specifically for you. as it turns out, it is made for you. you find that out when levi ackerman and erwin smith come in to the room and admit you aren’t allowed to leave. how are the first few days?

word count: +2.0k

warnings/notes: cursing, mentions of drugging, mentions of kidnapping, slight manipulation, abuse, violence, and starvation

YOU never thought that you would end up as a canary. a pretty yellow bird with dark dull eyes as you sat in a cage, a trap.

it all started when you met him. the devil incarnate. erwin smith.

he was charismatic young man, sitting at the age of 35 as he held the title of a prosecutor in court. you find it ironic, he puts vile criminals into jail but overlooks himself, the most vile of them all.

he met you at a café. the coffee beans were grinding in the machine at the counter, you remember how you relished in the smell.

when he first caught sight of you, you were scribbling on notebook paper with a nice black ballpoint pen. the gold framing of the pen shined in the light as you twirled it between your fingers. you looked slightly frazzled, but also at ease; something erwin was not used to seeing. you had white earbuds with the slight appearance of brown on the cords in your ears, hooked up to a laptop that you would occasionally glance at.

erwin thought you were a beauty.

you remember how he sat across from you, smoothly initiating a conversation with you. he was delighted to find out that you were a pianist along with a violinist, he loves classical music. you explained to him that you were struggling to create a song for your performance the next week, that all the music notes were just starting to contort into doodles.

when he helped you, that's when you felt grateful. you remember how he mentioned his partner, levi ackerman, and his own enjoyment of the piano. he asked for your number along with the venue where you would be performing.

you gave him the information easily, seemingly ecstatic about someone coming to your performance.

the next week after your performance, you met levi. he was curt and blunt, his difference from erwin had almost given you whiplash. luckily, you learned to adapt and you even would quip back at him playfully. it managed to make him smile, just a little. you enjoyed his company just as much as you did erwin's, something the two of them were happy about.

it wasn't until weeks later of hanging around them that it all went downhill. you went drinking with the two of them, easily complying to levi's request to drink more and more of your alcoholic beverage. it was the last drink that had you realizing that no other drink you had ever had was salty like this. you collapsed shortly after.

you remember waking up in a room, decorated to accommodate you and your interests. there was a white bookshelf that had gold framing splayed onto it with a vast selection of novels. there were three soft and plush chairs by the bookshelf with a soft rug underneath. a small coffee table sat in the middle of the rug.

there was a large bay window with a gorgeous view of a colorful and bio-diverse garden. cushions and throw pillows were placed onto the windowsill, another place for you to sit. the bed you'd awoken in was a queen, heavy cotton sheets messily spread across the bed. around the the room and even on the ceiling were soft yellow lights disguised as vines. directly across from the bed was a vanity and above that hung a nice flat screen TV. the night stands beside your bed held lamps and small knick knacks that you could entertain yourself with.

there were three doors. one to the left of your bed, one to the right of your bed, and one to the right of your television. you found out later that the one by your television was a small bathroom with nothing but a toilet and sink. the door to your right side of the bed was a walk-in closet that was decorated in clothing you'd never be able to afford.

you remember how after that, levi and erwin barged in as you panicked and started to pace around the room. you remember defying them, cursing them, hitting them, kicking them, and even spitting at them.

with a silent look from levi, erwin's distraught face turned slightly sad. his eyes were misty as he shuffled himself outside of the room. when levi's knee came into contact with your face, you realized why. especially whenever the gushing of blood dripped out of your nose and his voice screamed that none of this was their fault, but your's instead.

but now, levi was once again punishing you. you hadn't meant to do it. you hadn't meant to slap erwin. while you had a panic attack, your muscles thrashed without your command and you ended up slapping erwin across his face. you were secretly satisfied when you saw the pained look he gave you, but it immediately turned to dread whenever levi's rough hands pulled at your hair.

he's kicking you once again, and he occasionally accompanies it with a harsh slap.

"i didn't mean to, i didn't mean to!!!" your sobs sound so broken as you land on your side from levi kicking you.

levi ignores you, forcing you to stare at erwin, who sits at the door of your bed with that same neutral look sprinkled with pain.

"please!!!" you plead as you squeeze your eyes shut, "please, i didn't mean to!! i didn't meant to hit him!!"

levi stops his assaults, staring at your cowering form from above. the collar around your neck connected with chains clang against each other as you wearily raise your head.

erwin and levi are expecting a small whimper of pleas, but instead they watch as you slam your head against the hardwood floor. it has you reeling but even so, you continue. you're slipping into another violent mental breakdown, head banging against the floor as your other hand punches at your hipbone continuously.

your teeth are gritted as you start banging your ankle against the ground.

within seconds, levi and erwin are moving you onto your bed and holding down your thrashing limbs. they're murmuring sweet nothings to you, a hand on your forehead holding your head down against the pillow. you sob out again, entering the stage of hyperventilation and wails. erwin is crying along with you while levi just reminds you to breathe.

levi's hands are pressing your's on his chest and over his heart. his heartbeat guides you into stable breathing. when you've calmed down, you enter the shutdown stage.

"there we go," erwin praises and strokes a thumb against your cheekbone, "back to breathing."

levi stares at his boyfriend, who’s muttering something in your ear, but turns his attention back to you whenever you let out a small grunt.

"she wants to watch a movie," erwin says, pressing kisses to your cheek.

"any movie in particular? if not, i'll put on scooby doo; i remember you saying that it comforted you once," he grumbles while he turns on the television.

you don't answer, unsurprisingly, and levi puts on 'what's new, scooby doo?' for you. levi lays back next to you, cuddling into your warm and unmoving body.

it takes two episodes of watching the show for you to start letting out small, yet forced, giggles at some parts of the show. it takes two more for you to be able to speak again.

"food," that's all you said.

erwin shakes his head and wags a finger, "how do you ask properly?"

"can i have some food, please," you sound so tired.

the two men nod and leave your room to get you a meal. you sit up quietly and look down to your hands. they always left your hands untouched, seemingly trying to protect them from the abuse that levi would put onto you.

"stupid, fucking stupid," you spat, "this is their fault, not mine. their fault, their fault, their fault."

you drill the words into your head, but are soon interrupted whenever erwin enters the room with a tray of food.

"you're even sitting up now," he acknowledges while he puts the tray on the bed in front of you.

you thank him quietly and try to ignore the large hand stroking your hair.

"i love you," he doesn't. you don't do this to those you love. zeke never did this to you.

erwin frowns at your silence, hand now tilting your face to look at him. instead of love, your eyes were filled to the brim with hatred.

"you'll come to love us soon enough," he has no ounce of emotion on his face as his finger softly rubs against your skin.

"i doubt it," you mumble and force your face out of his hand. you just want to eat.

when you look down at the tray, you notice the absence of forks and knives. it has your stomach dropping.

"i'm feeding you," erwin says, fork between his long fingers, "we can't trust you with knives just yet."

erwin stabs the fork into cut up chicken breast on your plate, holding it up to your chapped lips. you stare at the food, had it been drugged?

"i don't want to be fed."

"that's too bad. you're being fed anyway, we can't trust you with forks either just yet," he grabs ahold of your jaw and forces your head to turn towards him.

his thumb and index finger squeeze your cheeks, forcing your mouth open with ease. you jerk away at the food suddenly being forced down your throat, hacking as if you were trying to get it up.

"let me chew first," you cough, handing reaching to touch gently at your adam's apple.

erwin doesn’t respond, opting to put another piece of the food onto the fork. he holds it out towards you, patiently waiting for you to stop choking and to eat again. you clear your throat, the idea of willingly letting erwin feed you makes you sick. you don't want to submit.

"i won't eat anything if you don't let me use the fork myself," you feel a headache coming on, fingers now pressing against your temples.

"then i guess you just won't eat," he says with a hint of sadness, taking the tray back into his hands.

you're so hungry. and the smell of the grilled chicken breast with a side of mashed potatoes isn't helping. you don't want to submit. you can't submit, you won't survive.

"guess that's settled then," you flop back down onto your back.

it wasn't the answer or reaction that erwin was expecting, judging by his widened eyes and stiff posture. he relaxes as he shakes his head in disapproval, walking out of the room and locking the door behind him.

you stare blankly at the ceiling while trying to ignore the growling of your stomach. your head hurts from the lack of food, another thing you're trying to ignore.

you turn on your side, but immediately cry out in pain. levi's earlier assault was starting to form bruises on your body, and the idea that you couldn't even curl into a ball made you want to cry. you hiss when you shuffle back onto your back, ignoring the searing pain that shoots through your ribs and sides.

your eyelids feel heavy after you settle down for a while, finally able to ignore all of the pain you've endured.

————

when you wake up, it's raining. there's not much natural light coming into your room, which you're okay with.

a pang of pain shoots through your head when you sit up, hands immediately grabbing at your hair and nails digging into your scalp. the tugging of your hair made your headache a little more bearable even if it was for a second.

the sound of your stomach growling and chains clinking echos through the quiet room, causing you to look down at your stomach. the chains are cold against your skin, tiny shivers spreading across your stomach.

you sigh and get yourself out of the bed. you walk to your bathroom, peeing with your face buried in your hands on the toilet. you ignore the fluorescent lights, which make your head hurt worse, and wash your hands aggressively.

you look up in the mirror as you do so, but you wish you hadn't. your eyes were puffy from the tears you shed yesterday and there's now a bruise on your swollen cheek from levi's smacking. you hold back the urge to punch the mirror, instead wiping your hands off with a towel and chucking it at the wall. you slam the door behind you and start to walk pass the three chairs meant for you, erwin, and levi. a wave of dizziness has you stopping and holding onto it, eyes instinctively squeezing shut.

when it passes, you grab a book and a throw blanket that's sat on top of one of the chairs. you settle onto the cushions of the bay window, taking a moment to stare at the rain falling.

you open the book, 'perks of being a wallflower', and find yourself lost in the words.

it's when levi comes in with a tray of food that you realize an hour or so has passed. he looks shocked to see you sitting and reading in silence, checking his watch as if he were making sure he didn't wake up late.

"got you food since erwin had to go to work. it's belgium waffles with some fruit and bacon on the side," he sits down next to your, now, curled up legs and puts the tray on the opposite side of him.

you wince at the mention of food and at curling your legs close. it doesn't go unnoticed.

"maybe if you didn't act out you wouldn't be in so much pain now," he says, holding out a piece of the waffle and a hand under to make sure the syrup doesn't drip onto the blanket.

"i'm not going to be fed. i'm not a child," you stare at the food.

"you're going to starve to death if you don't eat. quit being stubborn and fucking eat. i don't feel like cleaning up a body," he snarls and you resist the urge to kick his hand away.

"if you let me feed myself, i'll eat. then, you won't have to worry about digging me a hole."

"you haven't earned that privilege. we feed you for now."

"then i guess i don't eat," your eyebrows are furrowed as you stare at him.

"you're stupid. you'll end up dying."

"rather die than be fed like a child."

"you've got some pride. maybe i can beat it out of you," he drops the fork onto the plate.

"if you beat me anymore then you might actually have to worry about a body," you avert your eyes back to your book.

"if it's what needs to be done," he crosses his arms, "speaking of bodies, your's reeks."

"i don't have a shower in my bathroom, i can't help you with that issue," you shrug and flip the page.

"you can."

"i'm not letting you bathe me either. i'm not stupid. if you're feeding me then you're obviously going to be bathing me."

he chuckles a little at your defiance, but you know it's forced. you can smell the frustration on his body and your ego inflates knowing that you're the one who got him to be like that.

"when you decide you want to live, knock at the door and call for me," he grabs the tray and leaves the room, once again locking the door behind him.

"i can wait eight more days before i die."

[fincalinde]

For the latest meme, 23, 24, 36, and 30? 👀

23. Dialogue or description? Why is the other one so hard?

Hmmm I actually quite enjoy both. Lengthy and detailed description doesn't suit my style and I find it difficult, but I also find it difficult at times to differentiate between 'voices' for different characters. Sorry I don't have a more interesting answer. As a freebie: what I really find difficult is action sequences of any kind.

24. Thoughts on flashbacks/flashforwards.

Nothing against either though it's not something I'm drawn to. I'm not an adventurous writer and while I've experimented with analepsis and prolepsis in the past it doesn't come naturally to me and therefore doesn't crop up much in my fanfic. I think I've only done two fics with a flashback structure: the garden we find inside and the NMJ sidestory for weakness. But both are still quite straightforward.

An example of a fic that moves back and forth in a clever way is my perennial favourite darkness and fears to appease by welcome_equivocator. One that really rewards multiple readings.

36. How do you come up with fic titles? What's the one you're most proud of?

Oh almost always lyrics, I'm awful at titles and have absolutely no illusions about how inadequate most of my choices are. My rule is just that the song as a whole should more or less work for the fic or at minimum the pairing. My best title is probably old enough to be yours though I'm also very fond of the weakness of falling in love. And the whimsical working title a study of the urban fridge deer I ended up keeping because a certain raccoon and possum are enablers. If I ever manage to finish the sequel the file is named 'further study of the urban fridge deer' which I'm sure won't confuse anyone at all.

30. Describe a fic that almost happened, but then it didn't.

I dream constantly of the Wangxian Temple Fix but it's not going to get written because describing it is the joke. Probably the best serious example is the Orphan AU @xiyao-feels (aka you lol) and I devised where LXC and JGY end up at the same foster home. There's lots of cute little scenes like JGY getting a part time job as a barista and then LXC getting a job there too. Oh and they share a tiny room with a very small single bed each, so that makes it easy to be secret boyfriends but not that comfortable for all the very necessary spooning, so one of the many things JGY dreams of achieving when he's a rich and successful adult is buying the Biggest Bed Possible.

Maybe I'll be nice and share a tiny bit since it's never going to be a fic unless someone wants to pay me to write Xiyao all day:

They each have a single bed, on opposite sides of their very small room, and every night Meng Yao fantasises about shoving the bedside tables out of the way and pushing the beds together. He dreams about having enough space.

Tonight they talked after lights out, whispering to each other in Cantonese until Lan Xichen got quiet and not in a way that meant he was falling asleep. So Meng Yao had slipped out of his own bed and joined him, hugging him and letting him hide his face against his shoulder.

What Meng Yao remembers is falling asleep with one arm thrown over Lan Xichen and his nose pressed to the nape of Lan Xichen's neck. What he discovers when he wakes is that his arm is still over Lan Xichen's waist but his face is now hidden against Lan Xichen's back, his nose and forehead rubbing the clean-scented cotton of Lan Xichen's pyjama shirt.

[harryswatermelonsegment]

Fire For You

Pairing: Reader/Harry Styles,Harry Styles/Omc x2

Rating : Strong R 100% porn w/o plot tbh

Warnings: *cracks knuckles* orgies,sex parties, anal sex, male oral sex, female oral sex, anal play, sub!dom play, drug use, vaginal penetration, squirting

A/N: Look, never posted fic. And I haven't checked anything 😳 Due to the heavily noted anon prompt fluttering around my dash that read: "My friend went to some weirdo eyes wide shut kind of party in the Hollywood Hills last year and overheard 'yeah you can't use that room, Harry Styles is high as fuck and getting railed by some dudes in there" plus that damn 🍉 video... well, I am at peak feral in quarantine and 3k of smut just popped right out. Title actually the Cannons song cos it's such a sex song innit? I'm doing this at 4.20am after starting this at 11pm my time so..good fucking night. ✌🏻🍉

—--------------------------------------------

You were petrified. 

You'd moved halfway across the world with your best friend after a shitty person broke your heart and your spirits. 

A circumstantial opportunity had arisen to become her PA,after her chance audition for a series had turned into cult viewing overnight.

She was everything you weren't. Confident, effortlessly cool and entirely comfortable in her own skin and sexuality. That's why, as she sauntered away with a tuxedo clad tall stranger, you stood frozen on the spot trying to remember it was okay to watch. 

It had been her idea for you to submit an application after you'd said you needed to take risks and feel good in your skin again. Your best friend had told you you were wasting your youth, after years wasted on the ex you were in this country trying to forget. That you should embrace you were young, hot, single and getting older by the second. So you'd rolled your eyes and submitted your video application. You wouldn't get a reply for such an elite thing. 

And yet, here you now were, in a millionaires mansion watching two men fuck a bunny masked stranger infront of you. She looks up at you through the velveteen eye holes and offers you to join with her finger come hithering you over. Your eyes widen. 

You immediately remember your stiff upper lip and bound up the right hand staircase as fast as your heels will allow. Hoping to find a cool place to catch your breath. 

Maybe you weren't as free spirited as you were in your head. Open to trying things theoretically, but now, as you see a flurry of naked bodies out of your peripheral vision and hear sounds you'd only heard in more private settings, you felt quite overwhelmed. 

You were no virgin but not to say you could count on two hands your conquests past kissing either. 

You came to the one shut door at the end of the long hallway, assuming it was a bathroom. Heels clicking against the pristine marble floor below as you approached. You put your hand to the cold metal handle, if you weren't prepared to see strangers fuck, you certainly weren't prepared for this. 

There were five people in the room. 

Three men on the bed and two women. The first woman sat open thighed across a low backed plush chair. Another on all fours on the floor licking into the others cunt as one guy stuck his fingers into her own folds from behind. He was then, with the rest of his olive skinned built body, sharply thrusting into the man on the bed at such a pace you could hear his balls slap against the sweat glistening flesh. He held his hip nearest to you so tightly, you could see the red marks appear from under his large hands. 

The slender man receiving all this action was being silenced in his pleasure by the guy kneeling up in front of him. He hummed loudly through his nose as his mouth was busy bobbing up and down the guys length. Eyes closed in the orange low light as he was thrust into still, with such force he deep throated the guy he was swallowing down. He suddenly gagged and the man moaned then pulled his head away and nodded to signal if he was okay to continue, he agreed then he got right back down to business. 

It was probably one of the more explicit scenes she'd seen. Making her feel hot and cold all at once. Not because of what was happening, no, it was who it was. 

His face was disguised by a navy blue, high winged, theatrical mask. As were those involved, or some variation at least. 

You heard a voice beside you at the door frame. A deep voice talking to a white bunny beside him

"Nah, that rooms got enough going on, Harry Styles is high as fuck getting railed by two dudes" 

And that's all the confirmation you damn well needed. You'd been in L.A three weeks. Three weeks was all it had taken for you to be stood watching Harry fucking Styles getting Eiffel towered by two guys in the Hollywood Hills whilst you watched, mouth agape in barely any underwear. 

No one had seemed to notice your intrusion, if the screaming of the red head  in the chair reaching her climax was anything to go by. She rode out her high on the blondes face before getting up, lighting a joint and pulling the blonde up by roots. No real concern that she hadn't climaxed from Mr. Powerthrusts fingers yet. Dragging the young white cat back towards the door with a glistening mouth and chin, you were still entranced at the boy on the bed pooling your sheer briefs and the sight before you. 

The redhead looked at you, to where your focus was on, then back to you. Giving one condescending chuckle. Still with the small blonde girls hair in a vice hold she spoke roughly into your ear as she passed. 

"He's soft and ready to go sugar, strike whilst he's still loose" with that, she kisses your cheek and her Loboutins clicked away from you. 

You stood there. Tits up to your chin from the force of the practically sheer black bra you were spilling out of, the suspender belt grasped your hourglass shape perfectly too. There was delicate, black designer underwear framed by the belt and thigh high stockings. You'd felt beyond confident at the beginning of the party. New eyes dragging over you in a way they didn't when you were in your regular get up of jeans and a t shirt. But behind the Japanese type kitsune half mask, you had felt invincible.

Right up until the point people actually started fucking. 

But this, this was different. 

You'd never been into guy on guy action, not even in porn. It didn't ignite any fire inside the pit of your stomach like it should. But seeing someone you'd casually ogled through the media like the other few million in the world had, well the chances of being in this position again were rare. Suddenly, the thrill of being able to possibly turn dream into reality spurred you on. He'd never know it was ever you if you met again right? 

The three of them were still going at it. Powerthruster behind, contorting his face as he placed smack after smack across the pale flesh of Harry's ass. Grabbing a fistful in each hand as he sped up even more to reach his climax, he cried out when he did pulling Harry's hips flush against his own, it was only now, amongst all the activity that you notice Harry's cock for the first time. 

The rumours online highly underestimate it. 

He's long and thick and his drippy head is causing a string of pre cum to trail from its opening onto the white silk sheets below. 

You clamp a hand between your thighs, the first time you feel your inhibitions falter that night. You had to relieve some of the friction your body needs. Watching the man remove himself, and toss the condom in the bin by the door frame you were still fixed to. 

Harry scrambles to the other muscular guy infront of him, kneeling back on his calves, hissing a little as his legs under each cheek spread his already tender hole a bit. He doesn't miss a beat though, the already close to orgasming guy looking down at green doe eyes as he pushes Harry's mouth from him. Harry knows where this is leading and opens his mouth for him spill his seed onto his waiting tongue. 

By this point you'd moved quietly from the door and across the wall so you were in prime position to watch Harry swallow all this man's cum whilst you just stood watching. 

Feeling like a pervert, feeling turned on, feeling fucking everything to be frank. You'd question it later. Right now you needed Harry to touch you. 

One leg kicked up behind you so you could slightly part your thighs and rub your middle finger down your folds beneath your knickers. You began to put on a show. The other hand is inside your bra cupping and squeezing your nipple between your index and forefinger sharply. Panting quietly as you see Harry's eye clock you in his peripheral vision. You're terrified of his reaction for a second before remembering the setting of the evening, but he smirks the best he can do with an open mouth and looks you up and down slowly. His dick twitches in his lap and that's all it takes for you to start rubbing two soaked fingers fast against your clit, your ego inflated that you could be the cause of his heightened arousal. You're going at such a pace on yourself that you almost don't catch the ropes of cum descending into Harry's mouth as he watches you trying to get the release his actions have caused. The guy stills, spent. Harry is still watching you pant faster as you take the hand on your breast away to steady a palm against the wall. He holds the guys cum in his mouth before tearing his eyes away from yours to kneel up and place an opened mouthed kiss onto the guys lips, transferring him back into his own mouth, forcefully. Switching the dominant role back in his favour to show you who was really in control in the room despite how it may have looked. He breaks the kiss, both men chuckle at each other before Harry taps the other guys cheek with his palm playfully. Like his just scored a goal at the Sunday football league, but definitely not like they'd both shared a mouthful of semen. 

Your pace has slowed down slightly but you see him whisper something into the man's ear before he hops off the bed, grabbing only his black briefs and closing the door behind him. But not before saying "have fun" to you with a knowing wink. 

It suddenly feels very intimate. When there were a few more people in the room it felt easier to blend into the festivities, but now you were essentially alone with a stranger who was watching the slow movements of your hands in your underwear. You decided to carry on, to keep up the pretence that this is the sort of thing you do all the time of course. 

It wasn't. 

So when he stands straight up off the bed, taking the few steps towards you, slightly pouting into the air as he keeps his eyes locked on yours and gently grabs your wrist that leads to the hand on your pussy  bringing the two digits that had been furiously rubbing your clit, up to his mouth. He never breaks his gaze as he sucks them fully, with the same technique you'd just seen on that man's dick minutes previous. Closing his eyes and humming approvingly at your sweet taste. 

Your insides are screaming but your present body moans and he drops the hand to grab your waist and pull you tight to his torso. He kisses you hungrily and you taste mostly of yourself and try not to think about the other taste from the strangers cum on your tongue. 

He kisses you like he's getting to know you through this alone, grazing his palms from your waist to your shoulder blades then back down slowly to your ass, gripping it tightly to his body as he hooks a thigh over his hip. His cock is sandwiched between you, droplets of pre cum on both your bellies. The crotch of your underwear is rubbing his length slightly as you rock your hips down onto his. 

His tongue is lapping and swirling languidly against yours, it's unexpected given the setting but, it's fucking glorious. You grab fistfuls of curls at the back of his head between your fingers and once you get to the nape and give a sharp tug on the baby hair there, his breathing hitches. 

"You're quite good at this" he says casually,taking a breath. You pant in response and chuckle slightly. Mostly at the contrast of moods he appears to have. 

"Not s'bad yourself" you smile. 

There's a heartbeat whilst he takes in your accent similar to his own he pulls back, brows furrowed causing his forehead to wrinkle down slightly at the top of the blue mask. This isn't the time to get to know one another though, you get that, and despite your reservations on this place you suddenly don't give a shit. You push your mouth into his neck suckling lightly and finding a sweet spot at his pulse that has him shaking. His nimble pianist fingers undo the flimsy material of your bra as he goes back to the weirdly passionate make out session, you let it fall off your shoulders, shaking it down your arms to the ground. 

He walks you both back to the bed and sits down pulling you to straddle his thighs. You both moan at the reconnection and don't miss a beat rolling your hips over his slowly. Giving him a taste of what's to come. He grunts through his teeth out of frustration, pulling away from you both once more to reach blindly for the fishbowl of condoms, provided by the host, on the nightstand. 

"Fucked anyone else tonight?" he asks matter of factly. 

Your eyes looked shocked, even though they probably shouldn't be. You furiously shake your head. 

"Hm" he chuckles as you lay your hands in your lap submissively, he clearly notices and you see an eyebrow raise over the mask. "that mean you're a good girl?" 

Cottoning on to the game he's starting, and that you're more than willing to take part in, you take one side of your bottom lip between your teeth and nod quickly. 

This is an absolute fantasy. But you're aware you could get interrupted at any moment so you'll take what you can get before being pushed out, and no doubt off, this absolute wet dream of a man. 

He tears the packet open with his fingers, sitting back, a little hunched over to roll the rubber down his length. He hisses at the brief contact after being edged so much the last hour or so. You start to wonder how he's keeping up his stamina before he sits back up, taking your chin between his thumb and forefinger and interrupts. 

"Gonna be a good girl f'me then love?" he leans forward places wet opened mouth kisses at each of your breasts in between his words, looking you straight in the eye. "Gonna slip those pants to the side and get on me then?" 

No sooner had he spoke, you were grabbing his cock in your palm with one hand, and pulling the crotch of your soaked fabric to one side with the other. You hadn't done this in a fair few months and definitely never taken a cock as big as his, but your arousal was so high that you were desperate for the sweet pain of being stretched around him. You pumped him barely as to not roll up the condom, just grazing him and feeling him twitch in your fist as he watched you briefly stick two fingers into your cunt. The wetness being heard as you opened your mouth and gasped at the sensation. You didn't want to waste anymore time checking you were prepared so you scooted forwards on his lap. Brushing his swollen head against your clit, before tapping it a few time as you sunk down onto his length. It burned so good as you got to about halfway before lifting yourself up and sinking down again further. It took three times of doing that to be completely seated and drowning his cock in your juices as your pelvises locked together. You both took a second to pant out curses against each others necks. 

"Jesusfuck. You're so fuckin' tight. Can you move? Fuck! Please move" he strained into your throat. 

You sat back a bit so you were facing one another and with fingers pulling at those nape hairs you reconnected your mouths before rolling your hips experimentally against his. 

"Oh fuuuuck" you shot out, the feeling of him so deep inside you and him pressing against your clit was other worldly. The friction of the underwear you still had on, gathered between your folds and caused the sweetest friction. He grunted once as your jaw lay slack at the contact, before getting impatient and guiding your hips to slam into him harder as he thrust up at the same time. 

Your head was spinning. 

His strong hands pulled you close to him he smeared your lips together as he flipped you so he was on top, manoeuvring you up the bed and slightly diagonal so his feet didn't dangle off the edge. 

It became a power battle then. You knew he was on the edge and holding back. He pulled a leg to hitch around his waist and thrust into you at speed. Enough to leave you sore tomorrow. You smirked into his mouth, pulling both up further to lock behind his neck, knowing the angle would make it so much tighter and so much easier to reach that sweet spot inside you. With your head thrown back at the new angle he began leaving marks around your neck and breasts, trying so hard not to cum before you. 

Then you had a brilliant, foolproof idea of how to win this game. As he was preoccupied leaving a red mark against your clavicle, you sucked your middle finger into your mouth for your planned attack. Before you could do anymore though, he moved two of his digits against your soaked clit at speed, tapping every now and then and making you writhe and grip the sheets with overstimulation. You held off best you can but he was hitting that spot that few had taken much longer to find before. You knew what was coming but it was too late to warn him. 

Your orgasm took over your body from the middle down to your toes and up until your eyes practically rolled back in your head. You heard the lewd, wet sounds his thrusts were still making and wanting to even things up you made a quick recovery enough to part your mouth and make your middle finger drip with saliva as you gripped his ass to guide him into you. You could tell by his speed he was almost there so you went between his cheeks with your slick finger and suddenly buried it inside him to the hilt. He was still stretched from the previous guy so you sink to the knuckle easily. It only took two movements to feel him spill inside you. Long drawn out moans left his lips like a dirty drawl from his throat. You took out your finger and went slack onto the mattress. 

He was spent but he wasn't done. 

As he pulled out of you carefully, gushes of your cum cascaded down onto the expensive sheets. If he didn't know you were a squirter, he did now. He stared watching it fall from your weepy hole blind removing the condom and tossing it into the bin behind. 

"Holy fuck. I.. I've never managed that before. You're a fucking dream….so fucking sexy. Fuck" he looked at you like a feast. Your saturated underwear stretched out beyond repair now. Laying against your thigh and the material dripping. He pulled the stockings from their clips quickly, not taking them off but so he could peel the knickers from your sticky thighs. You noticed he threw them down near what you assumed to be his tux. 

And that was it, he pushed your thighs up and back to your body so your knees were flush against your chest. You felt some of your cum still seeping out if you and he growled watching the last few drops drip down your bum and onto the bed. 

He dove into you like he'd not eaten in weeks. Lapping every bit of fluid from your pussy, clit, thighs and ass. He licked around your puckered hole as he sink two fingers into your cunt at pace. 

"You got one more in there for me hmm?"

He said huskily, keeping one arm across your thighs as he sat up on his haunches to look down on you falling apart. You nodded frantically, feeling the bubbles in your stomach growing again. You felt the pressure build between your thighs. Completely living in this moment with this beautiful man you got to see so desperate for you to cum. He dived back in to trace figure eights across your clit with the tip of his tongue before laying it flat and going up over it again and again. He alternating the two before you were ready to burst. He felt it on his fingers so he stilled them inside you still lapping at clit but using his whole arm to move at speed up and down to keep pushing at that one ridge inside you. When he felt the first wave of your climax hit he quickly put his face infront of your cunt and let the force of your squirt hit him the face. He caught a good amount in his mouth before repeating the signature move of crawling back up to your face and getting your soft, limp body to open up so he could spit your cum back into your mouth. It was tart but sweet probably due to the pina coladas you'd sipped downstairs to get you loosened up a bit. 

"Good girl. Swallow, show me y've swallowed it all up" he panted kneeling at your side. 

You gulp and meekly open your mouth to prove it was all gone and he smirks and gives you a slow, lazy Sunday kind of kiss that sends its shivers down your spine. You stare at each other as he sweeps your sweet drenched hair from the front of your face. You're not sure what suddenly changed in the room but you've created your own bubble. Your own bubble where a millionaire pop star a Jenner has shagged, whispers praises against the shell of your ear in some sort of awe and kisses your neck and face tenderly. What even is life? 

It's stupid but you don't want to go. Well, it's not stupid as this boy is a hurricane in the sheets and why would you not want more!

But you know the deal. This isn't a date. This is an elite fuck party. A. Fuck. Party. 

The realisation dawns on you like a thorn to the side. You can't just lay here in a post orgasmic comatose state. There's people waiting, people he's waiting on too. He sees your eyes widen and watches in confusion as you take a white robe from the hook behind the door, still in your heels you pick up your bra. You smile briefly before closing the door behind you and practically sprinting to your car. 

Not before seeing the guy Harry had been deepthoating earlier, now standing fully clothed with a headset at the door you'd just come out of with a suit and headset on. Like nothing had ever happened. Of course you weren't interrupted. Of course he had security. You rush back down the staircase before you have a panic attack in plain sight. Your thoughts scrambled beyond what you thought was capable. Did that really just happen? With him? Is this who you are now?

It's only when you get to the end of the street after texting a quick "sorry wasn't my scene, call me when you need picking up" to your mate before leaving that you're suddenly aware you're missing your underwear...

[your-daily-biaswrecking]

Serva me, Servabo te

save me and I will save you

pairing: photographer!Taehyung x f.reader

genre: angst, some fluff, slight enemies to lovers

word count: 9.1k | reading time: 55 min

chapter summary: you leave the Manor after all and have to suffer the consequences (of being away from Taehyung)

warnings: bitch [affectionate], this is just an emotional rollercoaster and that is all

A/N: Title from the song Truth is by Sabrina Claudio. Also, this is the last proper chapter of this story. An epilogue is all there is left. Thank you for reading this far:)

All chapters  |  Masterlist  |  Read on AO3

Chapter 8: Truth is I'm dishonest

It was only the second time it happened, yet it felt so natural -to be pressed up against his body, to feel his hot breath fan the back of your neck, his arms wrapped securely around your torso- that you feared you had already become accustomed to waking up next to Taehyung. As if it was something that you’ve been doing for years, or perhaps something you’ve been missing out for just as much. In a state between sleep and wakefulness, you nuzzled closer to him, your dreams and reality merging since they both were starring this man, anyway. You took in his scent and the warmth of his company, willing to stay drowsing just a little longer. Because if you had to open your eyes, you would have to face more than you were ready for. But just the act of trying not to wake up is bound to wake you up faster.

“Ames?” you heard the whisper behind your ear, the man that had obviously woken up long ago and had stayed still and silent just to enjoy you in his embrace for as long as he could, had noticed you move, or even your breathing change.

Your eyes shut tighter as if something like that would get you back where you wanted to be. But there was no point; you exhaled through your nose and turned around to bury your face in the photographer’s neck. Your eyes still closed but the privilege of sleep clearly gone.

A hand started rubbing your back, warming you up and you were certain you would be purring like a kitten if you could. “Did you sleep alright?” he asked you, still whispering, even though he had determined you were awake. You could hear the smile in his voice.

You nodded slightly, your nose rubbing against his skin. Your hand traveled around the back of his head and dipped in his hair, feeling like that meant he was even closer to you than before. He took it as a sign to snuggle into you as well, lowering his head in a similar way as your own. You could hear the deep breath he took as to drink you in. You didn’t want to pull away. What if you pulled away, and then you had to leave like you had said last night you would? What if you left and never got a chance to hold him like this again?

Maybe Taehyung could read your mind, or it just so happened that he was thinking of the same thing, because he didn’t move back; not for long. And you said nothing. What could you ever say? The only thing the two of you seemed to be speaking, in any case, was arguments, mockery, or small talk. None fit the moment. Right now you would need something a lot more substantial, something with an expression of true emotion or such. But you’ve both been hiding those well since the beginning, you wouldn’t cave now.

“The housekeepers must be here,” Taehyung told you after he decided he had to be the first to acknowledge the fact that you would eventually need to get out of that bed.

“Right,” you finally spoked your first words for the day, keeping your face yet unseen. “If there are any.”

The boy chuckled before he gently pulled you away to be able to look at you properly. You were taken a little aback by his image; it wasn’t the regular, bright expression, whether that was a teasing or a serious one. Taehyung had just woken up and yet looked somewhat tired; somewhat pale. His small smile on his lips, for sure, but it didn’t reach his eyes exactly. It made you instinctively want to kiss him in an attempt to fix him, which in return scared you into not doing it. Any time you felt the impulse to be loving to him, it scared you, since it was the opposite of your usual compulsions.

His eyes raked all over your person, expression getting even more bittersweet. “I’m sure there are. We can go see for ourselves.”

There it was: the suggestion you were avoiding. Did you really need to uncover the true state of this Manor? Was it more important than staying in this bed with him just some more, even if it was a matter of the supernatural or not? Almost like the answer was no, you buried your face back into his chest. His arms instantly tightening around you, as if to let you know he supported you in your choice. And you would have remained in that position till the end of time if it weren’t for that knocking on the door.

You both jumped. Looking towards the exit was only your second thought- the first being to look at him. But he was already staring at the door wide-eyed.

“You heard that, right?” you whispered.

He nodded, never taking his eyes off the door. Then he moved, releasing you in order to get up, and you almost reached for him, to pull him back.

“Hello?” he asked in a cold voice as he started throwing on whatever clothes were close-by and walking closer to the entrance.

“Uh- hello. Good morning, sir.” It was a woman’s voice that came muffled through the door. A melodic voice, probably belonging to someone young and even pretty. “I’m the housekeeper. Mrs. Kim told me you wanted to talk to me?”

Taehyung looked over his shoulder to meet your eyes, and you both kind of shrugged. Then he pushed the dresser out of the way and unlocked the door, because perhaps he wasn’t sure what would happen, but there was only one way to find out. And what you found was a tall, slim woman in her thirties, wearing a black and white uniform that resembled that of a french maid’s but was clearly different. With her hands fidgeting in front of her hips, she looked at the man in front of her and only glanced at you, not wanting her eyes to invade the private space of the room.

“I apologize if I woke you up, I thought I heard you talk,” she mumbled, lowering her head.

Taehyung quickly shook his head, stretching a hand out for added effect, too. “No, not at all.” He gave you another glance with his lips pressed together before turning back to her. “Do you work here?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Right…” It was clear that all Taehyung wanted to do was look at the woman with his own eyes, just to make sure there were no doubts of her existence, and now he didn’t know what else to do. His eyes running to the side, chacing you like they needed your help. “Well, we just-” he stuttered, rubbing the back of his neck, “-I guess we just wanted to meet you. Since we hadn’t seen you all this time at all.”

The woman’s eyes widened just a tiny bit. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize. I should have properly introduced myself.”

That was nice and all, but there was still one question left to be answered. “Yesterday-” you spoke, very lowly, voice almost unable to reach the pair by the doorway. But Taehyung heard you loud and clear, all of his attention and senses already attached to you.

“Oh, that’s right!” he called out. “We wanted to ask you about yesterday. Someone was at the bathroom in the west wing while my friend here was taking a shower. Was that you?”

The girl turned her eyes to the side as she thought about the previous day’s events. “I think so,” she finally said. “I’m sorry, I try not to enter rooms you are already occupying but sometimes I misjudge the situation. I think I only realized someone was taking a shower a little too late.”

Having heard what you wanted to, you lied further down the mattress, trying to keep out of sight under the covers. Because now that the case had been solved, it seemed all that more ridiculous and embarrassing. You felt the need to hide. Even though Taehyung never gave you any reason to feel that way. He just smiled at the housekeeper, thanking her, giving her a joke as an excuse for the awkward conversation, and then let her leave. He chewed his lip when he turned back to you. His mind was troubled, perhaps more than before. Should he get back in that bed with you, or was this your cue to leave? You had already expressed your wish to get out of that house. Could he ask you to stay one more night, or would that give away more than he wanted to show?

There was only one thing he could offer at that moment, that you couldn’t refuse. “Breakfast?”

Even though it had been undeniably established that there were more people there, you still were unable to see any of them as you walked down the corridor to reach your room. The touch of another human was obvious, however, in the little things all over the place: the clothes put away nicely, the made covers of the bed, the smell of cleanness in the air. You changed and moved downstairs to find the photographer making the promised meal. A simple plate of bread and toppings to spread over it with a mug of coffee.

You weren’t in the mood for food but munched on a slice of bread silently as you contemplated your next words, or actions. And Taehyung stayed silent as well, not because there wasn’t anything to speak of, but probably because he was curious to see you try and do that first. And he watched you as you ate, as you kept looking around the kitchen to avoid his eyes, as if that meant you could avoid him.

“So…” you sighed eventually. You had to, eventually, say something, right? You looked at him and thought about how you couldn’t read his expression; eyebrows frown like he was mad, eyes wide like he was begging of something, a smirk on his lips like he was indifferent to anything you had to say. You sighed again. “I guess the Manor isn’t haunted then?”

He chuckled. “I guess not.”

“I mean… you never know.”

“Right, no. We’ll probably never know the truth of what actually happens here.”

He quickly raised an eyebrow before he looked down to take a sip from his coffee. His words felt like they weren’t actually referring to anything abnormal that had occurred. Then again, everything that had happened, and especially between the two of you, was abnormal. So, so abnormal… Perhaps it was you and your relationship who made this vacation metaphysical.

“And what happens here…”

“Stays here,” he finished your sentence. “I remember. Don’t worry.”

This conversation felt so much like a goodbye, and you hadn’t even made up your mind on what to do yet. Maybe Taehyung already knew; maybe he knew you better than yourself. You had told him you would leave first thing in the morning, and even though the housekeeper had shown up, it was in no way assurance for you to stay another night. Would it even be worth it? Who could predict what kind of chaos would ensue and if you would end up scared and wired one more time, just so that you can spend one more day with the photographer you were supposed to hate?

“The sky has cleared up,” he mumbled, looking out the window when you had stayed too long in silence.

You followed his gaze as if it was your first time noticing that the rain had stopped- and perhaps it was. “That’s nice.”

One might think this was an awkward type of small talk, when in reality it was a sad disguise of what was really being said: it was now safe to leave this place. There were now no more excuses to keep you there. If you wanted to stay, you would have to admit it first. You would have to admit that this man was the only reason you wouldn’t leave. Basically, saying you will stay after all was just as bad as saying you had feelings for the man.

And now, you couldn’t do that, could you?

“When are we supposed to check out?” you asked him, even though you knew the answer to that. Perhaps you hoped he would answer something more, perhaps what you were doing was giving him a chance to ask you to stay.

“Tomorrow morning,” he mumbled. His fingertips running along the mouth of his mug. “You can leave whenever you want to, though.”

Great, he did the exact opposite of asking you to stay; he basically told you to leave. No… you knew that’s not what he actually meant. He wanted you to stay, you could feel that he did in a hard-to-explain way. But he would never say that out loud. And how could he expect you to do that when he couldn’t either?

“I…” you murmured. It was hard to decide what the rest of that sentence would be, but now that you had started it, you had to finish it. You had to hurry up and make up your mind, even when your mind was a mess. “I…” I’ll stay, just say it. How much will he really judge you for it? “I will…” stay one more day, it’s not too scandalous. He watched you with a blank face, a face that seemed uninterested when in reality he was burning up inside just as much as you were. And he licked his lips, ready to speak for you. Ready to say what he was really thinking about this.

“I will leave in an hour.” The words surprised you when they reached your ears, as if they hadn’t just left your own mouth. And if Taehyung was surprised too, he hid it well. Simply took in a deep breath and looked away, nodding sharply.

“Very well…” he whispered, his voice almost breaking from how low it was, before clearing his throat.

The way he dismissed you so quickly, got up and left the kitchen, let you know you had made the right choice. Why stay there one more night just for him? Hadn’t you both specified how you felt about each other? How this was nothing but a means to survive this week, and it would be over the moment you stepped through that front door? You would go back to being enemies- or even worse, strangers. And it was what you wanted, wasn’t it? What you truly wanted was to never see him again, not spend a few more hours in his arms. Right?

The fire was out. When you walked into the sitting room to check if you had any books forgotten in there, it was cold and empty. The fireplace was for the first time unlit. So, that wasn’t a magic fireplace. Or if it was, if that fire was really the heart of this living house that had to keep burning in order to stay alive, it had been left to die out. You weren’t sure what that meant, but you did notice the way the hair on your skin stood and the way you immediately left the room as if by instinct.

You didn’t see Taehyung as you got back to your room to start packing up. The longer you didn’t see him, the more certain you were of your choice. You were only confused and acting weird when he was around, to stare at you and put you on the spot, unable to think straight. When he was gone, you could think clearly; and you knew that staying one more night in this Manor for a man you should have nothing to do with wasn’t worth it. Not when he didn't even have to balls to ask you to.

But still, you dragged everything out. You packed your clothes at the slowest pace you could muster. You paused all the time just to stare at the door. You stalled even your breathing as you stalled everything else you could think of. But no Taehyung appeared to stop you. And in the end, you had to drag your suitcase down the stairs and toward the front door. The action alone made your heart race and you weren’t sure if it was excitement for finally leaving the haunted place, nervousness of your last chance to change your mind, or pain of parting from something you had kind of liked. You opened the door and stilled there, looking over your shoulder around the hall, thinking about whether you were forgetting anything.

Kiss him.

The little voice inside your head took you off guard. You were forgetting to kiss him one last time, while you were still in that house where the rules would allow it.

You shook your head. Ridiculous. You did not need to kiss Kim Taehyung goodbye! He isn’t your boyfriend, Amy, get that through your thick skull already. Do you think people kiss their hook-ups before kicking them out of the house? Do you think he is interested in, I don’t know, giving you a big hug and telling you to drive safe? Pulling you back in to beg you not to go? He wasn’t even around. Lost in one of the many rooms of the Manor and avoiding your presence, just like it had all started.

This place had infected you with a disease called Kim Taehyung and you had to get out of there as quickly as possible to get better. You closed the door and didn’t even look back.

But even as you were in your car, on your way far from there, your mind was still tainted. Scenes of the boy and you constantly repeating in front of your eyes, almost making it impossible to pay attention to the road ahead of you. Images innocent, like the ones when you were cooking together or reading by the fireplace, as well as sinful ones. Like the ones where instead of cooking, you were making out on that kitchen counter with his fingers knuckle deep inside of you. And the ones where instead of reading, you were shouting and pulling his hair, about to burst not from the warmth of the fire but something more.

Perhaps it would take a little longer to recover from this affliction.

The way back home seemed shorter than when you were originally going to the Manor. Maybe it just seemed that way because you already knew the route, or maybe you had completely dissociated, barely even realizing you were driving, your mind undeniably elsewhere, and you didn’t notice when or how you finally got there. In front of your house.

You pushed the door open with your back, hands full of your luggage, any kind of focus missing, and it didn’t even cross your mind that you were about to face more people once again, until you heard Yoonji scream. It pulled you out of your trance and your head whipped towards the source of the sound, immediately turning back, your eyes shutting tightly when you registered the naked limbs interweaved together.

“Gosh, Yoonji!” you groaned, shaking your head and closing your eyes even harder, like that would make you unsee things.

“Ames!” she exclaimed, her voice out of breath. “You’re back!”

You sighed and dropped your suitcase. “What have I told you about sex on our couch?” you complained.

“We thought you were coming back tomorrow…” the girl sniffed.

“That doesn’t make it- Is that Jimin?”

“Hello…” his sweet, high-pitched voice ringed through the room. Of course it was.

“Hey, Minnie,” you sighed. “Are you guys decent now?” When they agreed, you turned around to find Yoonji with just a white shirt on that barely covered her butt and Jimin with his black boxers and nothing else. You rolled your eyes. “That’s not what decent means.”

Your roommate ignored your words and ran to you, her arms wrapping you in a big hug. “Bitch, I missed you so much!” You let her rock you side to side, your body limp, and not because you didn’t reciprocate the sentiment. You just had an immense feeling of fatigue and hunger, and perhaps even something you wouldn’t admit, and you thought you would either crack up or sink down.

“How was it?” Jimin called from the couch.

“Put a damn shirt on, then I’ll talk to you!” Not that the view wasn’t pretty or anything, but you knew your roommate you flick your forehead any time you looked at her man, and that didn’t seem fair when he was basically naked there.

“Why are you back today?” Yoonji asked you after she pulled away and guided you to the living room. “I was expecting you tomorrow.”

You groaned. “Uh, right. Long story.”

“I know,” Jimin chirped and your blood ran cold. “I bet she fought with Tae.” Oh, okay, no he had no idea.

But Yoonji took one look at your pained expression and thought she knew, too. “I told you she hated the guy!” she exclaimed, addressing the boy over her shoulder. Excited as if she had just won a bet.

That reminded you of your conversation with the photographer the previous night, about the rumors you had spread. You pointed a finger at her face. “You… you say too much, twit!”

Jimin, now properly dressed, came and sat next to you. “So, what happened? You really couldn’t last another day with him in the same house? He’s an asshole, I know… But, like, did something happen? Should I be worried about what I’ll face when I meet him?”

You sighed. “Nah… Nothing happened. I don’t think he’ll have anything extraordinary to tell you.” At least so you hoped. And as you watched the pair talk back and forth about what they guessed your relationship with Taehyung was the past few days -both of them nowhere near the truth- you decided to change the subject. “So, you two back together I assume?”

“Ah!” Yoonji exclaimed like she had just realized herself. “Yes, what’d you think? Also, you’d know that already if you actually answered your phone, you bitch!” she scoffed at you with her chin raised high.

“I had no signal!”

“You fucking ignored me and you know it!”

You shared an understanding look with Jimin before he started rubbing his girlfriend’s back and giving her some sweet talk to excuse you. And Yoonji immediately succumbed to his touch. They were really cute together, perfectly complementing and balancing each other out, and you were happy to see them like this again. You were always happy to see them together. Although at the moment your smile conveyed something more than pride; something sad. And you almost didn’t want to look at them too long.

“Is that what you wanted to tell me?” you asked Yoonji to bring them back to earth. “With all those dramatic texts and missed calls. That you got back together?”

"Oh,” they both said rather at the same time. And then they glanced between them, communicating with their eyes something you were left out of. You didn’t care, but as I said earlier, you were tired and hungry and you just kind of wanted to be over with this welcoming conversation with the couple, as mean as that sounds.

But they turned to you with rosy cheeks and smiles they were trying to control. It made you worried, really. “We have an announcement to make,” Jimin said.

“Oh, no.”

“We’re moving in together!” Yoonji shrilled.

You were frozen, not knowing how to respond. You really couldn’t do this right now, you already had too much on your mind. You simply didn’t have the mental capacity to process her words. But the two of them stayed staring at you, with their toothy smiles that turned more uneasy the longer it took you to react. So you had to say something, and what you said was a plain: “Why?”

She puffed, her mouth dropping. “Girl, what do you mean why?”

That was the wrong reaction, apparently. “Uh-”

“I asked her to move in with me,” Jimin chimed in with a shy smile. “My new apartment has plenty of room for both of us, there is no reason for you to be squeezing into this tiny place together.”

“Okay…” you grunted. It sounded wrong, like it was happening too fast. But if you think about it they have been together for three years. This is what normally happens with relationships. Just because you have never been in a serious one long enough and still have the maturity of a high schooler doesn’t mean your friends aren’t allowed to grow. “Okay,” you repeated more confidently. “But what are y'all gonna do when you break up every other week, huh? You’ll just be back here half the time, Yoon?”

They both laughed, either because they predicted the question or because they had the same one themselves. But the girl shook her head. “No, no… We won’t break up anymore.” You just raised an incredulous eyebrow at her. “No, I promise! You don’t think we can do it? It’s not like we ever broke up seriously. We can stop whenever we want to.”

It seemed like there was nothing left for you to do but be happy and supportive. Because even if what Yoonji was promising doesn’t happen, it was obvious they both wanted to try. And frankly, that alone was a big deal. That alone was a lot more responsible and brave than anything you had to show for. And she wasn’t wrong by the fact that their break-ups have been a joke up until now, anyway. If they wanted to stop, then you were optimistic they could.

It was a good distraction, too. A whole week of packing Yoonji’s things up, or talking about packing up, helping her move, or talking about moving. It was good. Because that way you didn’t have to talk about anything else. You didn’t have to think about anyone else. Well, you didn’t have to… but that didn’t mean you didn’t. It was hard when everything reminded you of him. Ramen- like what you ate on your first day there. Cards- like the games you played that brought you so much closer. Vogue magazine, cameras, candles, windows, sweater vests, music, coffee… Okay, perhaps some of them were a stretch. But you couldn’t help the fact that your mind searched for and found him in every little thing.

You hadn’t heard from him at all, not even really knowing if he even got back home or vanished in that Manor, but you assumed that you would have known if it was the latter. The silence ached you, yet what did you expect? You had been the one to ask to forget about everything once back in your normal lives, and he was just keeping his promise. Why were you mad he was keeping a promise you made him make? Then again, he is such a dickhead, always doing whatever he wants; if he wanted to break a promise he would. And perhaps that’s why you were mad- because his silence meant he didn’t want to.

If your emotions were a complicated mess, it became obvious on Yoonji’s last day in your apartment. You had decided to make it a girls’ night as a farewell. Very quickly, it turned into a drunken confessions’ time.

“I don’t want you to leave,” you whined at your not-for-much-longer roommate.

She gave you a pout. “Baby, you know we’ll still see each other every day.”

But you shook your head. “No, it’s not the same. I’ll be living alone. You’ll leave me all alone.” You didn’t want to tell her why you hated that so much right now.

“Think of it this way: you’ll have the whole place to yourself! And you won’t have to run into Jimin and I fucking on the couch anymore.”

You laughed before regaining your grumpy expression. “You don’t understand… I love you and I want to spend all my time with you.”

Yoonji frowned at you, chuckling at your weird choice of words. Sure, it was no secret you loved each other very dearly, but what with the alcohol, tears, and all, you sounded different. “Girl… Are you confessing to me?”

You turned to look at the girl as if you had forgotten she was there. And then you cried, throwing a whole tantrum right in front of her. “Ow, come on! Don’t go! Like, you guys fight all the time, anyway. We don’t fight though. We live together in this house so nicely, don’t we Yoon?”

The girl’s face got more serious; not in a bad way. She looked more like a mum or a teacher ready to give you a life lesson. She wrapped her arms around your body and pulled you closer, cuddling you and stroking you lovingly. “You’re worried about how I’ll be…” she mumbled.

You sniffed. “No, I’m only worried about me.”

“I know it looks like that to other people; that we fight a lot and that’s bad,” Yoonji continued, because she knew you were not emotionally strong enough to express what you actually felt right then. And she wanted to console you. “But in reality, if the other person does or says something that hurts you, fighting about it is the best option. Grudging, or pouting, or making a scene is good because you show that this offended you. You establish your boundaries and teach the other person how you want to be treated. And you give them a chance to make things right.”

Up until now, you thought Jimin and Yoonji only fought for the attention. That it was never that deep. Something annoys Yoonji, she makes a scene, they “break up” and then get back together again. Again and again. You could never be like that; if you broke up once with someone, you’d stay broken up out of spite. Even if you didn’t want to.

“But isn’t it always better if you don’t have to fight in the first place?” you mumbled. Isn’t the ideal relationship supposed to be perfect, where your partner never does anything to hurt you?”

But Yoonji shook her head. “People always make mistakes. If you don’t react or say anything, that doesn’t make you cooler than someone who complains. Because their words or actions won’t have hurt you any less. You are still offended and hurt, it’s just that this way, instead of letting it all out and allowing the other person to learn and fix their mistake, you keep it all bottled up. And you suffer in silence, and things that didn’t have the chance to get fixed keep piling up, until one day all those little mistakes become a big one that can no longer be fixed.”

You sniffed, then buried your face in her neck. You hated when Yoonji started being all serious, talking nothing but the truth. She was supposed to be the crazy one between the two of you. If she had reached the point that she was giving you advice, how far down must have you fallen into a close-minded pit?

You sniffed again. “And… that works?” you said, your voice barely over a whisper. “If you just say what bugs you every time, nothing but honesty, that won’t make everybody just tired of you? They won’t just leave you?”

Yoonji chuckled. “Are you tired of me?”

You immediately held her tighter. “Never!” you shouted. And she laughed even more.

“And has Jimin left me?” You quickly shook your head. “I may have had many, many little problems with my boyfriend, but I have never had a big one.”

At that point, it would just be lying if you said she wasn’t right. And anyhow, she was the one with an amazing boyfriend who just asked her to live with him, not you. You keep making fun of Yoonji for always fighting with Jimin, yet right now, between the two of you, who is really happy and who is miserable? She must be doing something right that you aren't. And perhaps that was it; the fact that Yoonji never, ever let something that she didn’t like simply go, whereas you never, ever admitted to having your feelings hurt. If somebody did something you didn’t like, you acted like it was your fault, and it was your duty to endure it with no complaints. But if you never tell the other that what they were doing is hurting you, how do you expect them to change? Time and time again, you get disappointed at people for not changing things you never asked them to.

When Taehyung hurt you by having a girlfriend while trying to get with you, instead of showing that, you avoided him for three years. You pretended you were fine; just didn’t like his character. And when you kissed again, after all this time, you ran away instead of explaining how you were too afraid to trust him as before. And instead of revealing it pained you that he didn’t make any effort to turn what you had into something more, instead of confessing you liked him, you left the Manor.

Even right now… you stay upset that he isn’t contacting you -when that’s what he thinks you want in the first place- instead of contacting him first.

“Fuck it,” you blurt out. “You’re right. You should tell people what hurts you.”

“Yeah, you should,” Yoonji chimed in, raising her beer to you.

“And you shouldn’t hide your feelings, you should just be honest.”

“Exactly! Now you get it!”

Even though it was clearly the alcohol talking, you didn’t back out of your decision. The next day you woke up determined to actually give this a try. You would do whatever you wanted to; what was the worst that could happen? Well, I guess that would be rejection. But, man, who cares? Rejection sounded better than waiting another three years until you get stuck in another haunted house with him for some progress.

In the morning, you drove Yoonji to her officially new house with the very last bag of her things. Which, in and of itself, was heartbreaking. Knowing that you could only hang around for a little while before you had to go back to an empty house, was even worse. Your friends let you stay for lunch, messing around just like the three of you always used to do. The only thing that had changed was the setting. And you guessed that wasn’t that bad after all. You had never seen them happier, and that was enough to make you happy for them while at the same time fidget around with a bit of jealousy.

You didn’t want to go back home alone… And it wasn’t even Yoonji that you missed.

The couple remained in the kitchen to do the dishes -they insisted there was no room for you to help- while you sat in the living room, watching TV. You thought about asking Jimin about his friend, but you weren’t ready for them to know. You had barely decided to talk to him, let alone the people who still thought you hated him.

You eyed Jimin’s phone on the coffee table instead. Then you glanced toward the kitchen; you couldn’t see them, but you could hear them giggling along with the running water. And even though you knew going through someone's phone was shitty, you swore it was for a good cause. So you grabbed it and punched in the password (obviously, it was their anniversary) and found the contacts’ app. Still checking over your shoulder like a paranoid, you quickly searched Taehyung’s name. But come back with nothing. You rolled your eyes when you realized there was no way Jimin would have his so-called soulmate with just his name. And when you took a look at his favorites, the beginning of the list was something like this: “Cutie Pie”, “Honey Bun”, “Ames”.

“Oh, thank God I’m just Ames,” you let out. Then looked at the first two names again. “What the fuck, Jimin? Which one is your girlfriend and which one your best friend? This isn’t right.” You unlocked your phone in your other hand. There was some silence from the couple, which made you sweat as you quickly compared Yoonji’s contact on your phone and Jimin’s. It matched with Cutie Pie. So, Honey Bun it was…

Step one of your plan was acquired successfully. Now all you needed to do was actually use that number.

You put it away, ignoring it for a good half of the rest of your day. Perhaps you had changed your mind. Although the silence of your home was so loud it made your skin crawl. You almost called him. Then you backed away again, opting for another beer instead. And you almost texted him, but you didn’t know what to write. Maybe you were just overreacting to Yoonji moving away and if you just waited a couple of days to get used to the new lifestyle, you wouldn’t even miss him anymore. Or maybe the longer you waited, the more chances you had to get rejected. If he ever did feel something, it might have been already gone. When you left him, or any second after that.

You called him. Your hands literally shaking as you pressed your phone to your ear. One beep and you were wondering if you were making a mistake. Another and you were almost certain of it. You went to lower your phone, ready to hung up, when you noticed you could hear more than the beeping from your end; you could hear a ringing, too. You paused, hesitated, your mind trying to put two and two together. And the call was ended before you had the chance to do it yourself. And the ringing stopped.

It’s not that you actually knew what you would find when you opened your front door; you hadn’t exactly gone through the whole thought process. But you weren’t surprised when you saw the exact man you were looking for only a couple of steps away.

“Tae?” you wondered with your eyebrows frowned.

He was facing away, hunched over his phone in his panicked attempt to silence it, frozen when he heard the door open, and especially so when he heard your voice. But his curiosity got the best of him and he turned around to face you. He knew his phone ringing had given his location away, but he hadn’t exactly expected you to get out because of it. I mean, the sound could have come from anywhere. Were you always this nosy?

But the phone in your hand gave him another idea. “Were you calling me?” he muttered.

You got flustered at his question. Took in a sharp breath, widening your eyes. “Were you waiting outside my door?” you shot back. Two can play this game.

You saw his eyes move around nervously, his expression admitting defeat. Then he licked his lips and dropped his head low. “I was— I came here because I wanted to give you something.”

Your mind raced with about a million different things he could be referring to, but couldn’t decide on one that seemed plausible. “Oh,” you simply mumbled. It suited you well, right? There was no need for an awkward phone call since he was already there; that way you could cut straight to the awkward declaration. “Okay. Come in.”

You pulled to the side, opening the door more for him to pass next to you. Which he did with a small nod and his arms stuck to his sides as if he was afraid he’d get burned if he accidentally touched you. And then he was standing in the middle of your house, looking out of place. Which is when it really hit you; and you burned after all. Your entire body itching in his presence, your stomach in shambles, and you couldn’t tell if it was anxiety or excitement. Or both.

“So… What did you want to give me?” you asked after clearing your throat and determining he wasn’t about to speak first.

He looked you up and down. “Why were you calling me?”

His words had an instant impact on you as your nostrils flared and your cheeks blazed even harder. “I- I asked you first!”

“Uh…” He dipped his hand in the pocket of his jacket, jerking his head to the side like a nervous tic. And he pulled out a white envelope. “This…” he whispered as he slowly extended his hand to you.

That was the last thing you expected. So you frowned at his offering. “What is that?” you wondered, rightfully so. It was light in your hands and you couldn't even have a guess. Taehyung didn’t answer you, waiting for you to see for yourself. So you walked back to the couch and sat down before opening it, letting him follow you.

“These are yours,” he mumbled again.

Photos. The photos he had taken of you. The ones on your picnic, where you were shy at first, then all smiles and blushes after all that wine. The ones where he was hovering above you to capture the way you looked up at him; a view prettier than anything you had seen all day. Your eyes glowed and reflected more than you wanted to show -it was so obvious through his lens- and you asked yourself if he had always been able to see you in that way. The pictures he took of you in the garden. Pictures that seemed so much more mature, as if within just a couple of days you had become a veteran of the sport. They weren’t meek or suggestive like the previous ones; these were just beautiful. Poetic.

“Look,” Taehyung told you with a small smile he was trying to bite back, pointing at one of the pictures where you were crouched on the ground, looking at the camera over your shoulder. “We caught the fairies!” He was pointing at two bright dots blended in your hair. Overexposure of the light and the old machine resulting in the sun being trapped on the film like stars.

When you looked up, you met his eyes. And his face was close, just as much as you would have liked. You couldn’t help but smile, and once he saw your reaction, he revealed the brightest, biggest grin as well.

“You’re really talented, Tae.”

He seemed to get a bit flustered. “It’s easy when you’re that pretty.”

You matched his shy stance. It wasn’t the first time he had called you pretty, but it certainly felt different outside that Manor. It felt different when it was just in your regular home, on that crappy couch, with nothing romantic setting the mood. It was rawer, perhaps even more real.

“Thank you,” you replied, referring to everything. And you spread the pictures out of the coffee table.

Taehyung cleared his throat. “So? I think it’s your turn to tell me why you were calling me now.”

“Oh.” That was a hard question since you hardly knew the answer yourself. You didn’t have a specific reason like he did; mostly just wanted to hear his voice again. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“About?”

You gulped. “Lots.” You found the courage to turn and look at him again, and his eyes were watching you like a soft touch. “I wanted to tell you, well- everything.” His tongue darted out, wetting his lips and catching your attention, as he scooted a bit closer, till his thigh was pressed against yours. Your mind got distracted, looking at his body and almost forgetting what you were talking about. “I have decided that hiding your feelings is lame—” you continued before losing your train of thought, “—and we should speak truthfully; straightforward; no holding back; word for word, exactly what we are thinking.”

Taehyung watched you carefully for a couple of seconds, but you didn’t notice any major changes in his expression. He met your eyes steadily and nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay…” you breathed as well. And you looked at each other for a few seconds as your worry continued to grow, and you felt like you were already making a mistake, and you couldn’t think of a single thing out of the many you wanted to share. “You start!” you blabbed.

The photographer didn’t back down. He bit his lip, frowning as he reflected on the situation. And he hummed in the back of his throat. “Very well…” He thought about it a little longer. “Truth, huh? Well, truthfully… The photos were just an excuse for me to come here. I knew you’d be alone. I wanted to see you.”

He said it all so confidently. And it’s not like it was something that would have never crossed your mind; if you read between the lines it was obvious. But hearing it coming from him was different. It was so much better. Just because something goes without saying doesn’t mean it doesn’t feel good to say it nevertheless. You liked that he admitted it; you liked that you weren’t hiding it anymore. Yoonji was right about being honest.

“Your turn,” he rasped, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Right.” You didn’t know what to say first, not wanting to dive right into the deep stuff. So you picked from where he left you. “I’m glad you came. It’s been a week and I was beginning to think you didn’t want to see me anymore.” Took in a breath, watched his eyes as he blinked at you. “I wanted you to want to see me again.”

Taehyung hummed, nodding along with your words. He scratched his chin. “I didn’t like that you left,” he came clean. “Not so much because one more day there would make any real difference, but I wanted you to choose to stay. I wanted you to want to stay with me.”

You gulped. And suddenly you remembered why you never did that whole honesty thing with people; it hurt when you were the one being held accountable. But you had started it and you weren’t going to back down now. So you nodded to his words as well, looking away for more comfort. “I understand,” you mumbled. “I wanted you to ask me to stay.”

Taehyung shifted in his place, leaning back to lay on the couch with a position that would normally look snugger, but at the moment looked more loaded with pressure. The palms of his hands rubbed his thighs. “Well, I guess then that’s on both of us for not communicating properly, huh?”

You chuckled- it was more of an attempt to relieve some stress from your voice. “This is why I said we needed to talk.”

He was immediately leaning forward again, right in your face. “Okay, what else do you have to say?” You balked. “What about when you said you wanted to pretend what happened there, never happened, and to forget about it right after we left… but now you’re telling me you were waiting for me to come to find you?”

Your lips stuck out in a pout. Why were you being attacked like this? And what were you even supposed to reply to that? You didn’t know either! “I-” you stammered. “I don’t know. I say a lot of things.” Then you looked down between your thighs where your hands were having a fight with each other. “I mean, I even said I hated you so many times. Did you believe that, too?”

It didn’t sound like your best answer, but when you heard the boy laugh, you relaxed a bit. “No, I didn’t,” he confessed. One hand landed on your knee to rub you sweetly. “But it’s hard to always know what you mean and what you don’t.” You chewed on your lip, not taking the liberty to keep the conversation going, mostly just focused on his hold on you. You knew he was trying to meet your eyes, but wouldn’t let him. And then he sighed. “So, what you’re telling me… is that… You don’t want to pretend nothing ever happened? You don’t want to let this go?”

Your eyes flew to the side, trying to find him, but you turned back down before exposing yourself. “When I said that, I meant it… I didn’t want this to be a thing.”

“And what about now?”

But you found the spite to turn the question toward him. “What about you?” you asked as you finally raised your head to look at him. “You said you don’t do relationships. Don’t you want to leave it all behind?”

His eyebrows twitched into a frown. “Are you saying you want to be in a relationship with me?”

“No!” you were quick to counter. And once again, your eyes fell on the floor. Spite short lived.

He clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “I thought we agreed to be honest.”

You huffed, rolling your eyes because he was right but you hated it. “All I’m saying is that…” You felt like you were on the spot, didn’t like admitting to feelings even after you had made up your mind that it was the best way to go about it. You were really trying, it’s just that this wasn’t something you were used to. So you squirmed around, seeking to put your chaotic thoughts into a sentence. “Well, I don’t know what I want. But I do know that it hurt me when you basically said you could never see this more seriously.”

The photographer hurried to shake his head, his hand on your knee gripping you tighter. “I never said I don’t see this seriously. It’s always been serious to me, Amy. From day one.” His words caused your stomach to flip. And you dared look into his eyes one more time. And they were glistening. “Even if it was just having some meals with you, being your friend, kissing you, or even more, I always treated it with seriousness.”

You pressed your lips together. “But you don’t do relationships,” you reminded him of his own words. “It’s only serious for a couple of days that it lasts?”

“I don’t- I don’t do relationships because I’m not good at them, Amy,” he let out with a sigh. And he looked at you with hurt in his stare. “You of all people know that very well. You’ve been a good reminder of the fact.”

“Me?” It was a rhetorical question since you knew exactly what he was referring to. And you chewed on your lip, nervous about the conversation and about how you didn’t know how to react. Taehyung just kept staring at you, his expression not much changed, as if he had come to terms with this a long time ago. But you hadn’t. “That… I didn’t…” You really didn’t know what to say.

“It’s fine, I get it,” Taehyung relieved you of your duty to reply. “I’m not the best boyfriend. I try to improve, as we all do, but I know I have no right to ask you to give me a chance like that. I still try though, perhaps for the next person in my life that hasn’t heard about my terrible reputation by some miracle. Perhaps I can one day woo someone like that, and perhaps I can even be a decent partner for them, too. I know I won’t make the same mistakes again.” The hand that was lying on your knee moved to touch your own, holding it slightly, as if he was too scared to hold it more. “Just because I say I can’t be your boyfriend doesn’t mean I don’t take you seriously, or that I don’t like you, or even that I don’t want to. I liked every second we spent in that Manor together. But I’m willing to leave it all behind if that is what you want.”

There was a deep frown set on your features as you took in all that he said. Word after word, you analyzed it while you stared right where your hands were linked. And then you looked at him and spoke with the sweetest voice you could muster. “Taehyung, that’s all bullshit.”

It was almost funny how his whole jaw dropped. “What?”

“I asked you to tell me exactly what you’re thinking, exactly how you feel,” you began to explain with a louder, more confident voice than before. “You haven’t said one thing that is actually about you; just keep saying what you assume I think of you or I want to hear.” He closed his mouth then, perhaps because he saw truth in your statement. “When I say I want you to tell me what you want, I mean it. Tell me exactly what you want right now.”

There was a low growl in the back of his throat before he looked up to the ceiling and released your hand. He exhaled deeply. Because he had always been better with words than you, but that didn’t mean he was any better at showing his true feelings. “Well-” he finally began when you guessed he put his own messy mind into some order, “-just like you, I guess I don’t know what I want, either.” He turned to look at you and had a tiny smile on his lips. Perhaps from satisfaction he would say it out loud. “I don’t know how I want this to go from here on, not exactly. For now, all I know is that I would like to kiss you again. Right this moment, even. And after that, I guess I’ll find out.”

Even though you got flustered, you somehow managed not to look away. Keeping your eyes in his to take in all of the rest of his emotions that he wasn’t saying, but much like you in those pictures, he still couldn’t hide. And it was clear it was now your turn to speak. You sighed with a smile that had started to grow and was hard to fight back on your lips. “I get that,” you told him with a whisper. “I think I feel the same way. I’m not sure how I want this to end, but I know I don’t want it to end just yet.”

Both of his hands found yours right away, turning his body until he was facing you more properly. And in classic Taehyung manner, he smirked at you. “So… Does that mean I have permission to kiss you even outside that old Manor?”

Your smile reached its peek, giggling slightly as you leaned in and placed your lips softly on his. Both of your eyes fluttering closed. Taehyung’s hands coming up to cup your cheeks. And the butterflies in your stomach throwing a whole ass rave at his mouth on yours once again. But you pulled back before it got too heated. He searched your face worriedly, afraid he had done something wrong. Though you just wanted to say your thoughts out loud, like you had promised you would.

“Fuck that Manor and the rules we had in there. You have permission to do anything you want to me, Kim Taehyung,” you purred, before throwing yourself back in his embrace.

Epilogue

[drethanramslay]

Without You

Pairing: Logan x MC (Lexi Cahill)

Masterlist

Word count: 2.5 K words

Warning: Just a little cursing, here and there and Angst

MC is actually not present in this fic, this is Logan's POV, four months after he had to leave LA

Author's note: I decided to take part in @rodappreciationweek so here is my submission :)) 

Thanks to @choicesarehard @brightpinkpeppercorn and @client-327 for hosting this 💙

Thanks to @mvalentine for pre-reading it❤️❤️

Title inspiration: Without You by Avicii (ft. Sandro Cavazza)

Song: Gone by Blake Rose

Forgive me if I make any mistakes.

The rays of the sun spilled through the crack in my curtains, making the white walls a yellow hue. My eyes were bleary and red rimmed. It had just been moments since I woke up and my hangover struck me like a train wreck, a familiar electric pain behind my eyes.

I shouldn't have drank so much.

I moved my head to only see an an empty bed side. Of course she left. Who would want to stick around after a one night stand?

The hazy memories of last night filtered through my head, making me wince. Another night, another rave, another tray of shots and another chick to bang.

You could call it saturday shenanigans but, this was different.

Everything was different since I left her.

All my days just seem to melt away into a haze of alcohol and drugs... Today, tomorrow, yesterday seems to fuse into this neverending torture, an ache which no matter how much I drink or how many girls I fuck, never fucking ceases to hurt. The only thing which can fix this gaping wound in my heart is Lexi.

But she is not here.

And never will be.

So this is how it has been for the past weeks. Me getting inebriated to new extremes just to numb the pain and to temporarily erase the loneliness before I become sober again.

Because when I'm in those intoxicated wastelands, I'm so out of it that I can almost hallucinate her dancing with me. I can almost smell her strawberry shampoo, tickling my nose. I can almost hear her tinkling laugh.

And in my alcohol induced sleep, I dream of her in my arms the both of us fitting together, like two jigsaw puzzles.

I despise being sober. Because when I am In my senses, the entire load of loss weighs down on me, crushing me and suffocating me. The 'could have been's' and the regret are all a heavy burden on my shoulders.

A small part of me is often wishing, praying and hoping that things could just go back to normal but, deep in my gut I know, that nothing is ever going to be the same again.

Nothing is ever going to be the same, now that she was gone...

How much time does it take to get over people?

It may be a day, a week, a month or a year. There is no definitive time span for getting over someone you loved, someone you cherished or someone who was close to your heart.

I think it depends on how much of an impact the said person had on you or how much of a void that person left in you.

I was the wild and carefree guy, with no strings attached and never saw myself being the one to fall in love because... Let's admit it, love is a vulnerability, a weakness which people don't hesitate to exploit.

But fast forward to four months later, I am in the same category as those emotional pussies crying over a breakup.

Being brought up in foster homes made me grow up quickly. Some houses were good and caring whilst some were harsh. And knowing that I am the most cursed person to walk the earth, I was always was stuck with the shitty households.

Don't believe me? I still have those scars from the fights and the beatings.

Growing up in such a hostile environment, taught me that there is no room for weakness or error and that love and feelings are just some fairy tale myth which is made by philosophical fools to give you a sense of hope.

But, hope is a dangerous thing, two side of the same coin. It can make you and break you.

I don't think I would have survived my childhood but... That's when I fell in love with cars.

It holds a special place in my heart.

The way my adrenaline spikes as the pointer on my speedometer achieves unattainable speeds, the way I feel the purr of my engine resound through my entire body and they way it's just me, my car and the open road... Nobody could ever compare to that sensation of freedom.

Well, that was before I met her.

Lexi Cahill.

I admit it started off as a way to recruit her as an informant, a tool to stay out of prison, another heart to break.

But little did I know that life would pull the fucking reverse uno card on me. But, I'm low-key glad it did.

It's been 4 months since that scum bag was thrown into the jail.

Four months since the crew went its separate ways.

Four months since I walked away from her.

I don't want to let you go...

Those words were on a repeat in his head, like a broken tape recorder and her teary eyes and broken expression is forever burnt into his brain. It was so hard to let her go. The one time I found a reason to stay, a reason to fight for, a reason to stop running, life just fucked it all up.

It was a tussle, a war between what my heart wanted and the logical side of me which just left me exhausted.

In conclusion, heartbreak sucks.

I reach for my phone and switch it on to check the time. But my eyes fall on our prom photo which I had made as my wallpaper. It's really stupid how head over heels I'm in love with her.

But it's the truth.

There is a saying that life gives you only one great love and that many people go for years without that.

I was one of the few lucky people to get that at 18.

But life is not sunflowers and unicorns shitting rainbows. It's rough, it's hard with its a mix of ups and downs. But it seems like mine is set to be on the all time low.

Staggering to the bathroom, I heavily leaned against the counter, my muscles flexing as I gripped the edge. My eyes lifted to see my reflection staring back at me.

I look like a hot mess.

This isn't you Logan... My inner conscience said, which eerily sounded like her.

God, I really must be losing it, huh?

Slowly and painfully I started my morning chores, my body on auto pilot. My mind kept on wandering to Lexi. She would be in Langston by now.

Would she be in that off shoulder sweater of hers, her feather tattoo peaking from underneath the sleeve? Would she be highlighting and colour coordinating her notes like she always did?

Would she have made new friends? Or dare I say a new boyfriend?

Logan stop hurting yourself. I said to myself as I visibly cringed at the thought of someone else having their arms around her.

The idea of someone else kissing her soft lips or someone else holding her hands or someone else running his hands along the curvature of her naked back made me equal parts angry and sad.

Angry for you know, obvious reasons but sad for the life I had to leave behind in LA.

God I hate this existential crisis shit... It's to early to question life.

I dragged myself in the direction of the kitchen, the smell of bacon waking me up. I was shirtless and wearing a pair of sweatpants because I was too fucking tired to wear anything else.

"Look who has decided to grace us with their presence."

"Shut up Carl, it's too early for your bullshit." Raven said as she slapped the top of his head.

I shot her a look of gratitude as I sank into my seat and reached for the plate of pancakes.

Carl and Raven were the closest thing to parents for me. Carl was a tough man with huge muscles, around six feet tall but, he was as goofy as a child. Raven was his girlfriend who was hella intimidating. The kohl lined eyes and the floral tattoo on the side of her shaven head made her look fierce. Both of them were in their early thirties and ran the Detroit Central crew.

We three were in a different crew when I was 15 and they really took a liking for me. They taught me everything I know and they are the family that I always came back too.

I dug into my breakfast, eating slowly and savouring the sweetness of the maple syrup.

"Thank god you are atleast eating now." Raven said as she ruffled my hair and turned towards the sink.

I shrugged and Carl picked up the newspaper to read, settling into his seat. Suddenly, the bell rang which had all of our backs becoming as stiff as a rod.

"Were you expecting someone, darlin'?" Raven asked, trying to peak through the windows.

"Don't get up, I'll do it." Carl said as he picked up the gun on the counter and pushed it into the back pocket of his cargo pants.

I was frozen, terrified. I had been very careful in escaping but me being the reckless fool and getting drunk seven ways to Sunday may have tipped them off.

I'm such a colossal dumbass.

I could hear Carl's gruff voice talking but I couldn't peek at the person on the other side of the door. I just sank further into my seat, hoping that it was some lost person and not the FBI.

"Boy this one's for you." He moved aside and the person I least expected to see walked in.

"You look like shit."

"Good morning to you too, asshole." I rolled my eyes.

Colt walked into the kitchen, wearing his trademark leather jackets and dark jeans. His combat boots made a thud sound with each step which made my headache worse.

"Will you be okay, Lo-lo?" Raven asked, her eyes flitting to the jerk standing in her kitchen.

Colt snorted at the nickname but luckily kept his mouth shut.

"Yep Ra. Meet Colt Kaneko. Colt meet Raven and Carl." I spoke at I stood up and put my dirty dishes in the sink.

"Oh you are Kaneko's boy, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"We heard about what went down in LA. Our condolences. He was a great man."

He gave a nod. It was a sore subject for me as well. That night in the alley, I wished I could take it back. I usually am not one to regret what I spew but whatever I said to Kaneko is another burden I'm gonna carry all my life.

"Also heard about your crew busted the Brotherhood? You were the mastermind behind it right?" Carl said as he crossed his arms.

"As much as I would love to take the credit, it was Lexi who came up with the plan." Colt said his eyes darted towards me, gauging my reaction.

"The newbie? Heard she drives like the wind-"

Hearing her name felt like an iron fist clenching my heart. That name will always be the source of my happiness, my cherished memories and my melancholy.

"Colt let's take this to the backyard, shall we?" Logan spoke up, interrupting them.

He walked to the back door and Colt followed him wordlessly. It a sunny day but a cool breeze blew which provided some kind of relief.

I reached to take out two beers from the cooler and handed him one. Colt raised an eyebrow.

"Beer... At ten in the morning?"

I shrugged as I popped the bottle cap off mine. "It's 5pm somewhere else."

"That's true too. Cheers." We clinked the necks of our bottles and took a sip as we sat down on the patio chairs.

I turned towards him. "So what brings you to Detroit?"

"To see your pretty face?" Colt said sarcastically as he rolled his eyes.

I snorted. "Always knew you had a thing for me, pretty boy."

"Always knew that you had an ego the size of Jupiter, dickhead. Some things just don't change."

I sighed. "Can't say the same for me through. Everything is different now."

Surprisingly, Colt didn't mock him. He stared down at the bottle in his hands. "Yeah... I can understand. How are you holding up?" He asked as he turned to face me.

I took a huge gulp of my beer before responding, my eyes staring at the mango tree in my neighbor's back yard.

"Not too good. It's been hard for the last couple of months. Kaneko's death, leaving LA and maintaining a low profile... It's been tough."

Life without Lexi is tough.

"Yeah I can understand. I still imagine pops opening the door to wake me up. And don't get me started on the FBI... bunch of bloodsuckers." He muttered the last part.

I snorted. "I'll drink to that."

"Good thing they are off our backs now." Colt spoke eyeing him from the corner of his eyes.

I scoffed. "Bitch please. They are anything but lazy. They are gonna continue hunting us down till the end of time."

"I meant that we are not the top priorities at the moment. Sure Mona was sent to jail but, a little birdie told me that they are after this 'world class' thief at the moment."

"That's a relief I guess."

"Do you know what this means?" He asked taking another sip of beer.

"It's too early for my brain to function. Come to the point, asshole."

"We are rebuilding the crew, dickhead."

My eyes widened. "No way."

"Yup." He said popping the 'p'. He downed the remainder of his beer before standing up. "I'm done repairing the garage. We have a job in two months and I need a crew for that. I already have Ximena on board and now I'm gonna go over to Toby's."

My mind was swimming. Mercy Park Crew was coming back for good.

I looked up at him, suddenly nervous. "What about Lexi?"

He rolled his eyes. "When I said I'm rebuilding the crew, I also meant recruiting Lexi, dumbass."

Oh god.

She is going to come back.

I was frozen in my place once again. I had often asked myself how I would react if I got the chance to meet her again. I always imagined that I would let out the loudest cheer and dance like a mad man.

But this is reality and my thundering heart was a reminder of that.

"Why are you sitting there with your mouth open like a fish? Go! Get your girl."

And that was it. I rushed to my room, put on some decent clothes and haphazardly stuffed my things into my satchel. Grabbing my keys and yelling a quick good bye to Raven and Carl, I was out and in my 2005 Devore GT.

Reving the engine I took off on the roads of Detroit, heading for the highway.

The window was open and the breeze threaded through my unruly hair, making me feel alive. My hands clutched the wheel and my foot pressed down on the accelerator, speeding through the empty streets.

For the first time, in a very long, the roads which felt like a never ending maze for me, were the very ones which were the path to my freedom.

The path to my happiness.

The path to my Lexi.

I hope you liked it 😊

Logan x mc: @kaavyaethanramsey @openheart @skylarklyon @shadowycreatorpaperopera @pixelberryownsme @magicalshepherdtreeprofessor @anotherbeingsworld​

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[estrxlar]

The Ghost Of You

03 - Music Room 3007

Chapters songs:

*Dagger; Slowdive

On The Level; Mac Demarco

F song; Strawberry Guy

^^^ when including * in chapters next to a song, that means it is a song that will be performed in the chapter.

———

— Y.L. Perspective

      "Sunshine girl is sleeping. She falls in dreams alone," sings Toruku in a calming tone into a microphone, along with the strumming of a guitar. "And me, I am her dagger. Too numb to feel her pain."

     "The world is full of noise, yes. I hear it all the time. And me, I am your dagger. You know I am your wound." I join in, adding onto his

      The words we sang were truly upsetting. About a boy, a lover, who is aware he's hurting the girl he loves. I couldn't compare any relationship I'd ever been through to those lyrics.

      Although one had always caught my eye: "I didn't really lose you, I just lost it for a while." It was easy to automatically think of the boy I was duetting with when we covered this; for some time now, Toruku has had small feelings for me.

       One of the things that repelled me from a relationship with him was the idea that it would end horribly, and that it would potentially ruin our relationship.

      Not to mention how much drama that would cause for two other unproblematic teenagers who were only trying to make a living off of their talent: Hikishi and Giki.

      But today wasn't about what would happen between the two of us— today was her day.

     "I thought I heard your whisper, it happens all the time." And with that, the song is brought to an ending, followed by my gaze met with the blonde boy.

       "That was, once again, better than before. But I feel as if it's missing something." He explains, as he removed the wooden instrument from his arm and leaned it against the bean bag he sat in.

       Music room 3007 contained the following: I couple of bean bag seats, a coffee table, a vending machine, almost every instrument in existence in an extra storage room, tools used to record and analyze music, and posters + records we kept throughout the years.

       Truth is, music room 3007 wasn't even really a part of the school anymore. Sure, it was still on maps and the district still paid the electricity, cable, and water bill. But barely any students or teachers paid much attention to it, for it was stuffed behind the gyms, which were two large buildings that would block out any view of the smaller one that stood behind it.

      'I hope Sugawara won't have any problem with finding this place.' I think to myself, as I stand from the chair to turn the camera and microphone off.

      We would set up different amps, microphones, and cameras when recording a cover of a song. This time, it was a basic acoustic from 1993, named 'Dagger' by Slowdive.

     After turning it all off, I plop back onto the cushion. "I think we've don't this quite enough times already, 'Ruku. We should upload it already and get on to the second song. I mean, we've been here a whole hour trying to perfect 'Dagger'." I say, removing my uniform's blazer, and throwing it across the coffee table. Next came my tie, and I unhooked the first two small buttons of my white collared shirt. The music room got hot when so many electronics were in use.

     "Maybe you're right. We should probably get onto another song." He replied, running his hands in the bridge of his nose and down his neck.

      I quickly stand up from my chair and stand behind him, leaning onto his shoulders. "I think you're just tired. Are you sure you wouldn't wanna go home?"

      Toruku runs a hand up my arm, patting my shoulder, then sighs heavily. I couldn't imagine how tired he must be after today. His thoughts must've been wearing him down. "Yes, I'm sure. Besides, I don't wanna leave you all alone."

      "No need, Sugawara will help me get home, remember?" I ask him, followed by a moan of protest. It worried me that Sugawara and Toruku most likely wouldn't get along, especially since both seemed so compatible at first.

      Both his hands leave mine and lay in his lap. "And what's with this Suga guy, Y/n? Is he your buddy?" His voice echoed through the band room, stabbing the back of my brain while I think for an answer that wouldn't sound suspicious. I would say no, but who knew what the future could hold.

"I dunno. But he means no harm! At least I think so.." Tired from squatting, I lift to stand on both feet properly. Toruku slides his hand away from my figure and brings it towards his face. It covers his mouth as he once again sighs. "You seem tired after today, Ruku. Is it because of Moku?"

Hopefully, I hadn't overstepped any boundaries with what I had said. Hopefully, I was remotely correct about why he looked so down. "Yeah, it is. I won't act as if it doesn't bother me because I know it bothers you too. Although it's been three years, I still feel very guilty for going on without her."

'At least he knows I'm here with him.' I thought, moving to the bean bag I had been in just a few moments ago. By her, I meant Torukus passed girlfriend, and my best friend: the reason I practically stopped living at the age of fifteen. Honestly, Toruku and I weren't even really that close. I knew her as her boyfriend and he knew me as her best friend. And as close as we were to her, we were never friends. Moku's death only brought us closer to each other, stirring up the beginning of a rock band.

      "I know what you mean. I do. Thankfully, this birthday of hers went better than the last two, wouldn't you say?" I ask, leaning on my elbows that sat on my knees.

      "Definitely. The previous ones all ended up in fights and long makeups. I guess we're just more laid back about it now," He explains, getting up from his seat, and browsing the instruments that were hung on the wall. His fingers wrap around his belt loops as he stands. "I feel bad for getting over her so quickly."

       "I know exactly what you mean. Never forget that I'm right here next to you, Toruku. That we've gotten through this together instead of alone. Although I wish you had talked to me more when it had first happened, I was all alone!" I chuckle at the last part, even if it wasn't funny at all. "I think the life we made out of our relationship has turned out for the better. Look where we are now: moving to American in about a year to sign to a label. Wouldn't she be proud we've gotten so far?"

      "Maybe you're right," Toruku says, leaning against the back wall. His hair danced over his eyes barely, as they stared right at me. "Maybe you should hit up Toru and Hajime, ask how they're doing. They went through this too, you know."

      "Yeah, I know. I haven't because I'm afraid of what they'll say, or if they even say anything at all. They're both a part of a very different social class after all. If anything, I'll probably get a simple thumbs up on my message." My voice grows low, expressing my tiredness from this conversation already.

      Toru and Hajime were two other people that used to be in my friend group with Moku throughout our childhood. Both were loud and expressive and played volleyball, but they were also very kind and friendly towards Moku, Toruku, and me. Once middle school had started, the five of us grew closer and closer by the second. We joined volleyball clubs, hung out at our houses practically every day, and grew popular throughout the years. But once Moku had passed, we all fell apart. She was what held us together after all.

       Both Hajime and Toru decided to go to another high school, and Toruku and I went to another. After that, we hadn't heard a single word from them.

      "It's worth a try, Y/n. We wouldn't want to seem inconsiderate." Toruku says as he pulls out a pack of cigarettes from his pockets, as well as a lighter. After lighting one, the smoke leaves his mouth slowly, as he continues. "I wish you would at least try to make amends between them. You were closer to them than I ever was."

     "I'll try. Just not now."

———

       After another hour of practice with Toruku, the two of us stood silent on our phones while we waited for Sugawara. Something told me that he had gotten lost. Either that, or he just forgot about me, which I wouldn't blame him for.

       But right when I was about to tell Toruku that we should go home, a message from an unknown number had shown up on the top of my phone screen that alarmed me.

      [Text Message: ###-###-####]

Hey, I can't find the music room. It's not on the school campus. Either that, or it's the most invisible classroom ever brought to this school.

     [Reply to ###-###-####]

I'm assuming this is Sugawara? Sorry, I don't have your number saved. If otherwise, the wrong number.

       After the second the message gave me a preview, I fully entered the screen. It had a profile picture, but not a contact name. Although, that was my very first-year-like of me to be irresponsible. [Sugawara] read the title after I'd edited it, and nothing more. Only a few brief messages that we had just sent to each other.

Sugawara

  

Hey, I can't find the music room. It's not on school campus. Either that, or it's the most invisible classroom ever brought to this school.

I'm assuming this is Sugawara? Sorry, I don't have your number saved. If otherwise, the wrong number.

Actually, right number! But seriously... I have no idea where the hell you are. Is it off-campus? I might just cry if I don't figure this out. I've been at it for a solid ten minutes.

Ten minutes?? Damn boy, you could've just asked to meet me in the cafeteria or something. Toruku and I have been waiting here for a while as well.

Sorry!!

No need to apologize.

- you have started sharing your location with {Sugawara}-

Thanks. See you in a bit.

      After discussing where I was hanging, I decided to look more into this saved contact. 'Had I really been so close to him as to have discussions with him?' I think as I decide to read a few more messages above our most recent convo. They only consisted of homework answers, tutoring questions, and a few more comments about school festivals and such. A good ten invites to a volleyball game were stored in there as well. I hadn't realized how much he had meant to me just two years ago. Time flies, taking most of your memories with you.

      A few more moments went by before a knock came upon the room's entrance door, as well as the voice of someone behind it. "Uhm— hello..? Is this the right room?"

     "No, go away," Toruku replies in a deeper, scarier voice as he shuffled towards the door to reveal Sugawara standing there alone with a frightened expression.

      Suga sighed, putting a hand over his chest while he smiled. "That gave me a heart attack." He says, fixing his eyes towards my sitting figure. "Ready to go?"

     I nod, lifting from my seat and stretching out my arms while yawning loudly. "God, I'm tired," I mumble to myself, gathering my bag and the tie and jacket I had taken off, before slowly walking over towards Sugawara. "Isn't it after practice? Shouldn't you be all tired and worked out?"

    "Oh, no. Today was only focused on the new players, which honestly didn't go so well." He explained, finishing with a soft chuckle. Though I could tell it was filled with disappointment, for the way he looked down on the floor was purely depressing.

      But quickly steered the conversation another way to distract him from it; that was the least I could do. "Oh, well, today it was just Toruku and me. But thankfully we just recorded some extra vocals so we didn't have to record the rest of the teams' jobs."

     Sugawara distracts himself, taking small glances around the room as I explain to him what we did. He observes the different colors and pictures on the walls, the furniture we helped ourselves to, and the instruments gathered onto the wall. "It looks quite comfortable in here. To be honest, I'm surprised that the school even lets you decorate this place all by yourselves."

       "They didn't, they just don't know about it. It's quite convenient if you ask me.." I mumble, shuffling from one foot to the other. What I said was no lie, we were truly blessed to have had a room to ourselves here on campus. If it wasn't for the band teacher who had shown it to us, we probably would've spent our practice time in a garage where there's no AC or comfortable floors.

      Meanwhile, Toruku explained to Sugawara the reasoning behind each decoration, I check the timing. It was 6:00 PM, just in time for my mother to get home from work.

      "Should we get going?" I ask the grey-haired boy, as he's brought back to reality. He and Toruku sharply turn, pausing their supposedly intriguing conversation, as he nodded to my question.

       "I guess so. Well, thank you for showing me this place, I never would've discovered it if it wasn't for you two." Sugawara states, bowing towards the blonde boy with a cigar.

      "Alright, I'll catch you later, Y/n. And it was nice meeting you today, Sugawara." After I have a small hug to Toruku and said my goodbyes, Suga and I were out the door.

      Our walk began with the two of us climbing down a few stairs, and jogging towards where the sidewalk actually began. From there on, it was easy getting towards the main part of campus, and walking home would be a piece of cake. For Sugawara, I mean.

       "So, do you walk home every day?" I ask, tightening my hands around my bento box. The silence between us rested heavily on my chest; not a single word left his mouth.

       But it may have been because he was stuck in his own little world, for soon after my question, he blinked his eyes a couple of times and cleared his throat. "Oh, no— not really. I only walk after practice when I stay late. But on free days, like in the morning, I ride the bus."

       Nodding, I explain my way of getting to and from school as well. "Me too. Well, usually my mother would drive me before school even started. Either that or I would ride my skateboard and hide it in some gutter. You know how angry the school gets about skateboards." I laugh, hoping he'd approve of joking with school rules. But knowing Sugawara, he probably already knew I bend some.

       "Ah, yes. That's convenient. But how far did you live before moving into [Neighborhood]? Surely not too far, right?" He questions, looking down at me for an honest answer.

        I widen my eyes at this, making my answer to his questions obvious already. "Uhm.. no! Just a mile and a half away, not a big deal.." My head turns the other way while I giggle at Sugawara's shock. It wasn't a big deal for me at all, I didn't mind getting the few extra steps in the morning. As for him, he must have not had to walk that far every day to understand. I didn't blame him for being so surprised. It wasn't every day you find someone who voluntarily walks that far.

      "Oh— that's.. that's a lot! I'm sorry that you had to do that. It must have been hell! But thankfully you have someone to join you on transportation, right?" Sugawara gives me side-eyes, as a smile appeared on his pale face.

      "Yeah.. you're right." My sentence runs low in the cold, shaking as I shift from the sidewalk to the road. The pavement felt hard and slippery due to the transition from winter to spring, yet it was still freezing outside.

      "You know... it was strange bumping into you today. To be honest, I feel like I'm fifteen again. I think that's just how you make others feel, you know?" My words come out abruptly, but I didn't mind. After today's long day all I wanted was one honest conversation.

     Thankfully, Sugawara felt the same I did. "Spending time with each other must have brought back lots of memories, even if they were small." He says to me, observing the way my feet jumped from the curb to the street.

      The feeling he brought was like a scent from years ago when you're a little kid. Whether you're reading by a window, or running through a meadow, you'd forgotten it ever even tickled your senses.

     "It's kind of strange. Even if we weren't best friends, you still meant a lot to me. I'm wondering whether or not you're still the same, and if that could be brought back." I explain, drawing out my arms to make a tree-like pose while I played hopscotch with the roads. The keychains that hung on my badge made a 'clunk!' noise against the ID, meanwhile, I discussed. "We've both changed so much, Sugawara."

       "You're right, we have. But for the better, you know? I think at the moment I'm mentally healthier than in the past year. And as for you, I think anyone can see that. I don't mean that your time of grief was a mistake, but I'm happy that you've been nicer to yourself."

       "Yeah, me too." My words stutter, interrupted by the loud engine behind me. Sugawara and I quickly turn towards the noise, widening our eyes at how close the vehicle was. Suddenly, an ear-piercing honk is signaled from the driver, and I'm quickly pulled from in front of the car to under a streetlight in one's arms.

       The action is hasty and happened in just a split second, but enough to save me from being run over. Barely comprehending what had just occurred, I freeze in place just like the slippery road. And as the car honks off, I'm left, once again, alone with Suga. Only this time, uncomfortably in his arms.

     Lightning travels down my back once I realize I was being held by a stronger, warmer body. Both my arms were being tightly held by his, and my body barely being separated from his by an inch. I stared right into his eyes, as he did so as well.

     "Y/n, you. you've got to be careful. Be careful."

      Sugawara's words ring in my ears, as I rapidly blink to regain consciousness. Immediately after, a scatter to search for my school bag, which was thrown only a few feet away from me. After retrieving it, I quickly stand onto my feet and turn to Suga, who's already prepared to continue our walk.

      "I'll be careful."

      With that, the two of us continue our journey towards home in silence once more.

      I've gotta be careful with Sugawara.

——

Thanks for coming back to read :) I know my story is crappy but I've only been writing for a little so you could understand why. Please please vote for my chapters, thank you.

- star

[completemalum]

You're My Favorite Place

Or alternatively, Four Times Calum Almost Kissed Michael and One Time He Did.

Genre: Fluff, some angst

Rating: Everyone

A/N: This oneshot is basically a collection of mini stories that all kind of connect to each other. Title based off Favorite Place by All Time Low.

2006, Age 10

It was another Michael and Calum Weekend Sleepover, and Michael had woken up crying due to one of his night terrors. Calum was currently cuddling Michael with Michael's face buried into Calum's neck. It wasn't unusual for them to cuddle like this. They usually ended up forgoing their sleeping bags and sharing a bed together. Plus, they were best friends. They saw nothing wrong with sharing a bed. But for some reason, this felt...different to Calum. Calum was no strangers to Michael's night terrors and was always willing to help calm him down. But for some reason, this time he felt like he needed to protect Michael. Which was weird, as Calum was scrawnier and quieter than Michael and Michael was pretty much Calum's bodyguard. And with the way Michael's hand was bunching up Calum's shirt and his nose pressed against Calum's neck, he had a strong urge to kiss Michael. But he told himself no, boys can't kiss other boys. And boys especially can't kiss their best friends. Plus, he liked girls...right? At that moment he wasn't quite sure if he had ever had a crush on a girl. But he didn't want to spend all night contemplating if he liked girls or not. What mattered was that he was there, with Michael. He opted for a quick kiss on the top of Michael's head once he was sure Michael had fallen asleep and cuddled close to him before falling asleep himself.

2008, Age 12

Calum knew two things: 1. He had a huge crush on Michael. And 2. He was bisexual. He learned the term "bisexual" after his older sister, Mali, came out to him about her secret girlfriend. And honestly, he was very comfortable with that label and quite proud about figuring out his sexuality. But of course, Michael didn't know. He couldn't know. Calum was so scared that him telling Michael that he likes boys would scare Michael off because what if Michael somehow found out about Calum's crush on him and didn't want to be friends anymore?? Calum couldn't bear the thought of that. So he kept his thoughts to himself, occasionally sneaking glances at Michael and smiling at the way Michael stuck his tongue out in concentration whenever they played video games together.

Calum was yanked out of his thoughts when Michael announced "It's hot in here, can we go watch TV downstairs or something?"

Calum shrugged "We could go outside and play football."

"Noooo, playing football with you isn't fair, you always win!" Michael whined, flinging himself dramatically onto Calum's bed.

"Now you know how I feel playing racing games with you." Calum retorted with a grin

"Fiiiine." Michael groaned as he got off the bed. Calum grinned and followed Michael downstairs, grabbing the football by the door before stepping into the backyard. "Same goal spots as usual?" Michael asked

Calum nodded and put the football on the ground, gently kicking it with his foot. "Same goals." He grinned before taking off with the ball towards the goal.

"Hey! No fair!" Michael yelled, chasing after Calum. Calum laughed as Michael started catching up with him. But Michael, being clumsy as he was, tripped over his own foot, sending him and Calum tumbling. When they landed, Michael had Calum pinned to the ground. Michael grinned at Calum "Totally meant to do that."

The thought of leaning up and kissing Michael crossed Calum's mind, and he blushed before quickly pushing the thought out of his head. "Uh, let's go inside and grab a snack." Calum hoped Michael wouldn't notice that they only played football for like two minutes.

Luckily, he didn't notice, as he shrugged and said "Okay." Before climbing off Calum and heading inside. Calum groaned softly to himself before following Michael in. Having a secret crush on your best friend is hard.

2011, Age 15

The band 5 Seconds of Summer was officially together, and while they were just a small YouTube channel with a couple hundred subscribers, they were happy to be doing what they were doing. They were about to start band practice at Michael's house. Calum was the first person there as usual, sat in the basement where they rehearsed tuning his bass. Michael came downstairs to join Calum, nervously picking at his nails. Calum looked up and noticed Michael's anxious habit. "You only pick at your nails when you're nervous. Are you okay?" He asked gently.

Michael nodded as he joined Calum on the couch "It's just...I need to tell you something. But you can't tell anyone. Not even Luke and Ashton. I'm not ready to tell them yet." Calum nodded with concern on his face but gestured for Michael to continue. Michael took a deep breath. "I think I'm gay. I've known for a while now...I just finally came to terms with it recently and I'm still having a hard time wrapping my head around it. I just...really hope this doesn't change things between us. I don't want to lose my friend because I like boys." Calum felt his heart leap with joy. He had a chance. Maybe. Michael liked boys so it's a start at least.

He put his hand on Michael's arm "Mike...nothing could change between us. You're my best friend and it'd be dumb if I didn't want to be friends with you anymore because you like boys. I'm really happy for you, thank you for telling me." Calum saw relief wash over Michael's face and he gave Michael's arm a comforting squeeze. God, how bad he wanted to kiss Michael right then. He opened his mouth to give Michael his own confession but right then Luke and Ashton came barreling down the stairs, arguing over some new video game. Calum squeezed Michael's hand before getting off the couch and grabbing his bass. How he wished he had the courage to tell Michael how he felt.

2015, Age 19

Michael was hurt. Bad. A fire cannon had malfunctioned during one of their shows and hit Michael in the face, catching his hair on fire and burning the left side of his face. Calum had gotten burned too while trying to help Michael, but once they were at the hospital he had insisted he was fine, so they put some cream on his arm to soothe the burn and wrapped it up. Ashton was outside making phone calls and Luke went downstairs to the cafeteria to get food. Calum had told Luke that he wasn't hungry and wanted to stay with Michael. Him and Michael sat in comfortable silence for a while before Michael spoke up.

"Cal?" He asked. Calum looked up and his heart broke. Michael's lip was quivering and tears were gathering in his eyes. "What if I have a scar on my face because of this? What if people think I'm ugly?" His voice shook as tears fell from his eyes.

"Mikey..." Calum said softly, standing up to sit on the bed. He put his hand on Michael's cheek and wiped away a tear with his thumb "You could never be ugly. Not to me, at least." Michael smiled softly, leaning into Calum's touch.

"Thank you for being here with me. And holding my hand on our way here. You're the only person able to keep my grounded."

Calum smiled and intertwined his and Michael's fingers and kissed his hand "I'd do anything for you." He still hadn't confessed his feelings to Michael yet, but he had become bolder with his physical affection for Michael and he knew Michael wouldn't think anything of the hand kiss. Before either of them could say anything, Luke came back with food, causing them to part. Calum cast one more longing glance at Michael before helping Luke get the food out.

2018, Age 22

5SOS was in the process of finishing up their 3rd album, Youngblood. They only had a few songs left to record and were recording the song "Why Don't You Love Me" and Michael was singing his solo in the song. All four of them were in the studio that day, but Calum was watching Michael for most of it. But he could've sworn that Michael was staring at him for most of his solo. After Michael finished, their producer suggested they take a break to get lunch. They all started to file out of the room, but Calum gently grabbed Michael's arm to stop him. He shoved his hands in his pockets before saying "Who's the song about, Mike?"

Michael looked taken aback "I-I don't know what you mean..."

Calum scoffed "I know you better than that. Every song you write involves some aspect of your life. You dont just casually write a song like that. And I noticed you glancing over at us. So, who's the lucky guy?"

Michael dropped his head and said in a voice that Calum almost didn't hear "You."

Calum's heart stopped "What?"

Michael sighed and lifted his head "The song is about you. I've been in love with you since we were 16. I wrote this song a few years ago. I'd hoped getting my feelings out would help me get over you, but-"

Michael was interrupted by Calum lunging forward and pressing his lips to Michael's. Michael made a noise of surprise before kissing back. The kiss was desperate and filled with years of unspoken words. Calum's fingers were tangled in Michael's hair and Michael was desperately gripping Calum's shirt. Calum didn't want to pull away, but he finally did when he needed to breathe. He rested his forehead against Michael's as they both panted, trying to catch their breath. After a few minutes, Calum whispered "I've dreamt of kissing you every night for ten years." Michael smiled and rubbed Calum's sides before whispering "I love you, Hood."

[autisticburnham]

Emissary: Parts 1 & 2

Text crawl??? This is the wrong Star Franchise

Yes hair no beard Sisko is always strange. Better than no beard Riker, but still strange

I wish this Bolian had come back as a friend for Benjamin later on

Did Jennifer die in this ship's version of Ten Forward? Why are there so many windows?

Who is this BABY playing Jake?

To be clear, that last point is about the flashback. Actual Cirroc Lofton is also baby though

Ah, Benjamin and Jake looking at ds9 and how I know it's gonna parallel with Nerys and Jake looking out from it 😭😭😭

Here it is, the slowest theme song in the universe. RIP to y'all who think Faith of the Heart is bad, how do y'all stand this?

That said, my love for ds9 makes this theme song feel like coming home, no matter how slow it is

Love that Miles is wearing the ds9 uniform and Benjamin isn't. Miles is the one coming from the Enterprise

I know Quark has Rom's nose in this episode bc they hadn't finished making his yet, but still, everytime I rewatch the episode I'm like "Does Quark have Rom's nose??"

32°C? I didn't realize they set up the temperature difference between Cardassians and humans in the pilot

KIRA'S HAIR

Nana Visitor, every Star Trek fan owes you their life for cutting up that wig

Is Odo's face meltier than usual?

Nog! Baby!

Odo may be a fucking cop, but at least he says no guns

I forgot the Ferengi hissing in the early seasons

Oh, I'm not used to seeing the Enterprise conference room not in HD

Benjamin, I know you're traumatized, but it's not Jean Luc's fault

"I've come to know the Bajorans" sir, you have one Bajoran officer and you nearly didn't allow her to wear her earring

I do like how Benjamin is doing his absolute best in the job and making long term plans even though he's planning on leaving

Odo, don't act like you wouldn't despair if Quark left

This hair does make Nerys look significantly more like Laren, which I guess is what they were going for

Opaka! Ma'am, I miss you

Remember how in the original script, you felt someone's pagh through their foot instead of their ear?? I hate Star Trek

Love when Benjamin just Yells. Emissary and Our Man Bashir show Supreme Acting

I wish we had gotten to see more of Jennifer. She seems so lovely

Morn! Didn't realize he showed up in the pilot

There are so many Bajorans not wearing earrings in this episode

Julian, the stuttering is cute, but please calm down

"He knows I'm a Trill, he finds it fascinating," that's bc he's an alienfucker

Love that ds9 immediately says "This whole 'Final Frontier' stuff is bullshit. People live here"

Didn't Curzon get fucked to death on Risa? How is he on the same operating table as Jadzia?

Dukat, no one cares what makes you happy

Benjamin: We'll try to keep the dog off your lawn. Dukat: What the hell is a dog?

Forget latinum, Kira's smile is the most precious resource in the universe

The inside of the wormhole looks like the time travel closet in Halloweentown 2

I know it's just supposed to show how much turmoil Benjamin is in, but the fact that the Prophets see Jadzia's internal view as this pretty garden is really interesting considering the inferiority complex Curzon washing her out of the program gave her and how much she is presumably struggling to find a balance between Jadzia and Dax given how much her personality changes over the first couple of seasons

Me trying to watch Benjamin in the white void the Prophets put him in:

How the fuck did Avery tolerate filming this?

Listen, I know I don't understand science, but I really don't understand how they make the station lighter. Please don't try to explain it to me

Damn, Odo, you've got such interesting potential as a character. I wish you weren't a fucking cop

Love the Prophets and how extremely different they are from any other species we meet

Miles, don't be rude to the computer; she's trying to help

"In a linear existence, we can't go back to the past to get something we left behind, so it's lost" well, now I'm emo about the finale title

Benjamin is being remarkably patient trying to explain the concept of time

He looks so uncomfortable trying to explain kissing to them

Listen, I don't have like One Big Event that causes my trauma, but even still, the phrasing of you existing in your trauma really Hits

Dukat enters the wormhole and the Prophets immediately go "oh, no, fuck this"

The Prophets are me trying to understand sports

Man, fuck the concept of a Picard speech, Sisko speeches are where it's at

Does Kira have a different nose than usual? I feel like it doesn't normally have that line down the mide

"I can't believe the Cardassians would ever attack a Federation outpost." Julian, hon, I love you, but how are you so clueless about very recent, very significant galactic events?

Avery Brooks is so fucking talented

I fucking love Kira

I know we joke about Julian being in ops when he should be in sickbay, but honestly, why did he not leave as soon as they started taking hits?

Benjamin and Jake hugging gives me life

In The 7th Rule podcast, Cirroc says that Avery wanted him for the role bc he was the only kid who called him "dad" and I'm so 😭

Love the contrast between the two meetings with Picard and how much better Benjamin is doing already just from acknowledging his trauma

Love Kira threatening Quark

Very good episode, but I think it's probably difficult for new viewers to follow, and has a bit too much action for my taste 7/10