#also big fan of the way i drew luke’s hair

[sunlight-moonrise]

Satisfied Curiosity (Reid Imagine)

Summary: Bartender!Reader does everything she can to get the cute FBI agent’s attention. 

A/N: This wasn’t suppose to be so long or late, but my mind got the best of me. Big Thanks to @spencer-reid-in-a-pool and @reidetic​​ for being amazing Betas (you guys are precious!). This story would be utterly unintelligible without them. Also thank you to everyone who showed love to my first fic. I didn’t expect for it to receive half of the attention it was given. I’m super grateful and I hope to provide more for you all. Enjoy!

Category: Smut

Content Warnings: Sexting, Oral (Male Receiving), Fingering, Penetrative Sex, Rough Sex, Degradation

Word Count: 9.1K (sorry, not sorry)

Masterlist

I’d like to think that I’m able to read people pretty well. Since working as a bartender for the past five years, I can examine an individual and have their personality down pat. Facial expressions, body language, posture, gestures. All these things are basically words to a story that I am able to put together.

My thought process was cut off when I noticed these two guys sitting at the end of the bar. I regarded them momentarily. They don’t look like the typical bar patron, their clothing a little too unseemly for a place like this. They were surveying the area as if looking for something. 

I got a side profile of the tan Hispanic man. He had dark curly hair and trimmed facial hair. He was talking lowly to the man he was sitting with, their eyes still skimming all over their surroundings. I couldn’t get a good look at the other guy since his back was to me.

They sat tall, their bodies alert to any movement. It was as if it was their first time at a bar, but I know they were not uncomfortable here. There were no jittery movements from what I can see; no telltale signs that they were nervous. They also were not paying much attention to the people around them, focusing more on random spots within the place. Weird. Are they inspectors? Nah, that can’t be. Drew always gives us a heads up when visitors come. Plus, we got checked a few weeks ago.

The two finally turned towards my direction, and I was able to see the other guy. Wow, he was hot. Like very hot. Loose brown curls sat wildly on his head, looking as if he just rolled out of bed. He had a light stubble going on, highlighting the sharpness of his jaw. Damn, I bet I’d cut myself just touching it. He had a beautiful pair of pink lips. I quickly turned my attention to his left hand, noticing the lack of a ring. No wife, good. Now I need to make sure he doesn’t have a girlfriend or fiancée waiting for him at home.

I trailed my eyes upward, noticing that he was staring at me as well. I felt my face heat up when I saw him smirk. Damn, he caught me checking him out. His companion was also looking at me expectantly. They probably have been trying to get my attention for a while now, most likely to order some drinks. I made my way towards them, smoothing my hands over my jeans.

“Evening fellas, would you like to see a menu?” I asked as I placed some napkins in front of them.

“No thanks, but my partner and I would like to ask you some questions…” said the Hispanic man with a small pause. He quickly looked at my name tag before looking back at me “…(Y/N)”

The fuck? Partners? I didn’t think they were a couple. I did a quick glance over at them. Two Alpha males in a relationship rarely ever work out. They were not physically close to one another either. Sigh, you always fall for the ones you can’t get.

I didn’t answer them, still mentally distraught over this taken man. I’m sure they took my silence as confusion because the Hispanic man went on to explain, “I’m Luke Alvez and this here is Dr. Spencer Reid,” they flashed their badges, showing me some credentials. “We’re with the FBI.” Oh. I glanced toward Dr. Reid, a smile tugging on my lips. Score, we’re back in business.

I figured I might be here for a while so I got myself comfortable. Well, as comfortable as I can get standing behind a bar. I leaned towards them, my hands resting on the bar top. “Well, in that case, fire away.”

“Have you noticed any males here who arrived by themselves? This man likely sits alone, only interacts with women. He presents himself as a charming gentleman. His head would be facing downwards if he were sitting at the bar and he would probably wear some kind of hat to shield himself,” asked Luke.

“That’s roughly 50% of my male patrons, you’ll have to be more specific.”

“Yea, I should have figured that is not much to go by.”

I turned my attention back to the doctor who has yet to say a word, noticing that he was once again looking at random spots around the bar. “Your friend here is awfully quiet.”

At my comment, Spencer finally looked at me. I am sure that time stopped as his honey-colored eyes stared deeply into my own. If it wouldn’t come off strange, I’d stared at them all day.

He eventually turned away from me, “This place has a lot of blind spots.” He pointed to one corner by the back and another near the billiards table. It took a moment for me to comprehend what he was saying since I was distracted by the sound of his voice. He could probably recite Shakespeare and I’d think it was erotica.

He continued talking, oblivious of my swooning. “The man we are looking for does not want to be seen, he’ll know where to be so that the camera can’t spot him. He’ll likely bring the woman he’s talking to there or even over there,” he pointed to another spot, this time it was a small crook partially hidden behind a wall.

“The area by the restroom entrance also has no camera at all so he’ll possibly spend some time there as well,” he finished.

“I’d think I’ll notice some creep hanging near the bathrooms all night,” I remarked. “However, we have a security room in the back if you want to look over some footage.” I pointed to a door opposite the kitchen’s entrance.

“That’ll be very useful, thanks,” Luke reached into his pocket and took out his phone. He turned to Spencer saying “I’ma call Garcia, see if she can run some facial recognition on this guy.” With that, he walked to the security room.

I focused my attention back on Spencer, hoping he’ll stay here a bit longer. “May I ask you a question?”

“You just did,” he said, the damn smirk on his face once again. Smartass. 

“Haha, I’m serious,” He didn’t say anything, which I took as my cue to continue. “What exactly does someone like you do in the FBI?”

“Someone like me?” he repeated.

“Well, you do not look like a typical agent,” I stated, and he just raised a single eyebrow at me. “Not to say that you’re probably bad at your job. I’m sure that you’re amazing at whatever it is that you do. I’d just like to know exactly what it is. Like what does your job entail…” Great, out of all times for my motor mouth to talk off, it chose this moment.

Spencer didn’t say anything and the awkward pause was killing me. I wanted to grab his gun and shoot myself in the foot. He probably thought I was insulting him. He continued to watch me as I fidgeted under his stare.

Finally, he decided to show me some mercy. “I use psychology to profile and find people,” he put it simply.

“That’s it?” I questioned.

“Pretty much,” he stated evenly, focusing his attention on the napkin in front of him. His body was slightly tenser than before, telling me that he was uncomfortable. I decided to drop the topic.

I scanned his being in an attempt to find something, anything that would allow me to continue talking to him. He beat me to it. “Which Sherlock portrayal are you a fan of?”

I was momentarily confused as to how he knew I was a fan. “Um, I started watching BBC’s Sherlock but I find the books to be much more interesting than the show. Are you a fan?”  

“Of the books, yes. I haven’t had the chance to watch any of the series or films. I always find that reading offers a better experience. That’s a nice pin you have by the way.” 

Pin? I looked down and remembered my “I am Sherlocked” pin clasped next to my name tag. Gosh, I feel like an idiot. Just when I was going to reply, I saw Luke stepping out of the security room. 

I turned back towards Spencer, who was digging his hand into his pocket. He pulled out a card and gave it to me. “The number of the precinct we are helping is on here. If you have any further information, you should contact them.”

What, no. I don’t want him to leave yet. “But what if I want to talk to you more?”

“My number is on the back.” I flipped the card around and was greeted by a ten-digit code sprawled out in blue ink.

A smile adorned my face as I looked back at him. “How did you do that?” There’s not even a pen near his hands. Unless he carries all these cards with his number on it, which I severely doubt.

“You ask a lot of questions,” he stated.

“I’m a naturally curious person.”

He paused for a moment to dart his tongue across his lips. He made sure to look into my eyes before saying “You know that curiosity killed the cat.”

“But satisfaction brought it back.”

He gave a low laugh, “Touché.”

Just then Luke walked back to us, his phone to his ear. “C’mon man. The team needs us back at the station. There’s been another victim.” 

“We’ll talk later,” Spencer said to me. My heart skipped a beat at his words. I felt like a kid who had a childhood crush.

Spencer got up and with one last glance at my direction, the two of them headed out the door.

Well, there goes the best part of my day. I’m being selfish wishing that he would have stayed behind. The man is here to find a criminal, not get his dick sucked. I folded the card and slid it into my pocket before grabbing a rag. These shot glasses aren’t going to clean themselves.

●The Next Day●

I spent the last few hours debating on whether or not I should text Spencer. I tried to distract myself with mundane activities. I watched TV, did my chores, even attempted to read a book, but nothing kept my interest. I grabbed the card that was sitting idly on my dresser, pondering on what to do.

You shouldn’t. But I’m bored and he’s cute. He’s an FBI agent for crying out loud. He got important things to do. What’s the worst that can happen? You could get arrested for obstruction of justice. Or I can get closer to him and find out more about him.

It is settled. I added Spencer’s number to my contacts and perched myself on my bed before sending a short text.

‘Hello Dr. Reid.’ I waited a minute, then two, then three, anxiously hoping for a response back. This was a bad idea, he’s probably at another bar trying to catch this guy. I should just delete his number and make myself a sandwich.

Right when I was going to do just that, my phone vibrated. I never opened my messages so fast in my life.

‘(Y/N). Is everything okay?’

A smile broke across my face as I pondered on what to send him. Should I keep everything cute and sweet? Nah. That’s boring. Should I send some salacious texts? No, he’ll probably think I am some kind of skank. Perhaps I should go for the playful persona?

I finally decided to type out a message, not wanting him to wait any longer. I don’t need him thinking that I’m in actual danger because I don’t know how to respond to a simple text.

‘I’m more than okay now that you’re here.’

I didn’t have to wait long before his next text came in. ‘Is there something that you need?’

Oh Spencer, if only you knew. However, what I want cannot be attained at the moment. I quickly typed across my keypad, ‘That’s a loaded question.’

Apparently he did not like that since his next reply was, ‘I don’t have time for this. I am working right now.’

Well shit, should I stop? Hell no, we are in too deep. Besides, he could always choose to ignore my messages instead of responding. And he did give me his number instead of just leaving me with the precinct’s. With that in mind, I typed out a text and quickly pressed send before I started second-guessing my choices again.

‘So you don’t want to talk to me?’

Again, I didn’t have to wait long for his next message to come through. ‘You should only contact me if you have information pertinent to the man we are looking for.’

That’s bullshit. Why give me your number if you didn’t want me to talk to you? ‘You said we’ll continue the conversation later. It’s later.’

‘Later, When I am not working.’ he clarified.

If I were a smart girl, I would have left this alone so that he could work peacefully. But I’m not. ‘All work and no play makes for a grumpy doctor. Don’t you want some entertainment?’

‘You’re acting childish.’

I couldn’t help but grin at his statement. If only he knew. Well, I could drop him a hint or two. ‘I’ve been compared to a brat before.’

‘I’m not surprised.’

‘I’m a glutton for punishment, agent.’

‘Do you want me to deliver?’

My breath caught in my throat. Could it be? Does Dr. Reid have a darker side to him? Or maybe I’m reading too deeply into this. I don’t care, I’m having too much fun at the possibility of this man having a more unhinged side to him. I wanted to see it. I decided to be cheeky with him, ‘You’d like that, wouldn’t you Sir.’

‘What are you trying to get at?’ One step forward and two steps back. I guess profiling and mind-reading are not one and the same if he has to ask me this. Or maybe he isn’t used to someone asking him to dick them down without outright saying they want him to dick them down.

‘I said it already, I just want to talk to you.’

It took a couple of minutes for his reply to come through. ‘We’ll talk later.’

I decided to give Spencer a break. I got what I wanted with his earlier comment. I ended everything with an ‘I’ll hold you to that,’ and put my phone down. I looked at the clock on my bedside table and saw that an hour had passed. I guess time really does fly when you’re having fun. I might as well start getting ready for work.

●●●

Four hours into my shift and the crowd near the bar was barely manageable. I’m not a big fan of working Friday evenings. I easily get annoyed with the sloppy drunks who think they could hook up with any of the workers but the tips usually make up for it at the end of the night.

I was grabbing some bottles of beer when all of a sudden I got a twisted feeling in my gut. I felt the hairs in the back of my neck stand up, and not in a good way. Call it a sixth sense, but I suspected that something was wrong, very wrong. I placed the bottles down and looked at the countless customers littered around the bar top. My eyes landed on this man who was giving off some creepy vibes.

I’d like to think I had a pretty good memory and this guy was definitely new. He was hunched over, eyes looking at the menu on the table. He was rapidly tapping his finger on top of the table, so I assumed he was feeling uneasy. Every once in a while, his head would peek up, as if he was searching the crowd for someone. He had a baseball cap on, the hat pressed tightly down on his head, his blond hair barely peeking through.  

From what I can see he was attractive enough. A full-on beard decorated his face. He had on a leather jacket and a fitted shirt; seemingly trying to give off bad boy vibes. I started making my way towards him, “Is there anything you’d like to order?”

“That depends, are you on the menu?” Ugh. Gag. If I had a dollar for every time some Casanova wannabe used that line on me, I could pay for two months of my rent. He had a smile on his face that could be charismatic but I just found it downright disturbing.

“Food and drinks only. Sorry to disappoint.”

“That’s fine sweetheart, I’ll have whatever beer y’all got on tap.” As I walked away, I could feel his eyes leering at me. Should I text Spencer? No, I dealt with creeps before, this is nothing new. 

I turned back to where Mr. Creepy Guy was previously sitting but he was no longer occupying the seat. Fuck. I took a look around the crowded pub, hoping to spot him. Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on how you see it, I did. He was near the bathroom entrance talking to some girl who hardly looked like she could keep herself up.

Shit, I should get Spencer right now. I pondered on whether I should call him but figured that he wouldn’t be able to hear me over the volume of the crowd. I hurriedly pull my phone out of my pocket, trying my best to send the message as fast as my shaky hands can manage.

‘I’m pretty sure the man you’re looking for is here. You should bring some officers ASAP.’

Come on, Come on, Come on, have your cell on you. My phone vibrated, alerting me of a message. Oh thank god yes. ‘Are you serious?’ it read.

What the? Does he think I’m pranking him or something? I angrily typed on my screen, ‘This isn’t exactly something I will joke about Spencer.’

‘We’ll be there soon’ came his simple response. Okay, good. Now I just need to make sure that this guy doesn’t try to escape.

I looked back up and saw Mr. Creepy Guy still near the restrooms. One of his hands was holding on to the girl’s arm and I just knew he was trying to get her out of here. Spencer and company won’t arrive fast enough. I have to do something to make him stay longer.

I turned to my co-bartender, Manny, “I am going to take a 10 minute break.” I didn’t give him a chance to respond before I opened the small door dividing us from the crowd and made my way to Mr. Creepy Guy.

Once I got to the two of them, I spewed the first thing that came to mind, “Uh, excuse me. You um, forgot your drink. You know, the beer. That you ordered. At the bar earlier. About 10 minutes ago.” God, I looked like an idiot, but I couldn’t risk saying something that made him apprehensive.

Mr. Creepy guy sneered at me, “Yeah. I didn’t want it anymore.” Well, who shit in your cereal, mister. Oh right, that would be me. I gotta keep him a bit more distracted.

“Well if you order something, you gotta pay for it. Bar’s policy.” He continued to glare at me upset that I was being a cockblocker. Or more appropriately a murderblocker. Realizing that I wasn’t going away soon, he pulled a bill from his pocket before throwing it at me.  Wow I wonder where his pleasant attitude disappeared to.

I turned my attention to this poor girl and noticed she wasn’t looking too good. I assumed she was drunk but she looked way off it; as if she had been drugged or something.

Fucking hell, she probably has been. She can’t stand on her own two feet and she could barely stop her eyes from drooping downwards.

“Your friend here doesn’t look too good,” I commented, my hand already going towards the arm he wasn’t currently holding on to.

“She’s fine. We were just about to leave, right Sarah?” he asked the girl. ‘Sarah’ didn’t say a word, too busy trying her best to not crash down on the floor.

“Nonsense, we can’t have you leaving in such a state, it would look bad on us,” I improvised. “We’ll give her something real quick to help sober her up.” I hastily scanned the room, spotting Hannah, one of my coworkers, a few feet away.

“Hey Hannah,” I shouted, garnering her attention. I gestured for her to come here and she started walking over. When she stood in front of us, I pried ‘Sarah’ out of Mr. Creepy Guy’s hold and gently ushered her into Hannah’s arms.

“This is Sarah and she’s not feeling all that well. Can you tell Manny to give her the Queen’s special?” Hannah instantly knew what was up. The Queen’s special is our code name for helping those who we believe are in an uncomfortable or dangerous situation. Most of the time, the person is coherent enough to ask for help, but for these kinds of scenarios we’ll have to rely on our own wits.

The two walked, or in Sarah’s case, stumbled away. Hannah managed to give Mr. Creepy Guy a glare which he openly returned in my direction. I gave him a small smile, hoping he didn’t get suspicious and try to leave.

“She’ll be right back, would you like that beer while you wait?” I asked. 

“No, you did enough,” He jeered, taking slow steps back. I could have sworn he muttered ‘fucking bitch’ as he disappeared in the crowd, no doubt hightailing it out of here.

Crap, I should follow him. At least I’ll be able to tell the cops what direction he went or what his license plate number is. I started walking to the exit, shoving my way through the sweaty mass of people.

Once I got to the door, I pushed it open feeling the cool air hit my face. I looked around, trying to see if I could find Mr. Creepy Guy but to no avail. I walked a few steps down, searching to see if he went down an alley or something.

The place was eerily quiet and my nerves were starting to get the best of me. I suddenly felt a hand roughly grab my shoulder and let out an ear-piercing scream. I whirled around, my hand already in a fist to punch the living daylight out of this person.

Right when my hand was going to make contact, a hand closed around my fist. No problem, I’ll just kick you in the shin. My leg was about to leave the ground when I heard a stern “Calm down (Y/N).”

I know that voice. For the first time, I looked up and saw that it was Spencer behind me. I never realized beforehand how easily he towered over my form. He released my hand and I leaned my body against the wall next to me. The adrenaline from earlier leaving me.

“What the fuck Spencer, a little warning next time,” I angrily shouted at him. “You could have said my name before grabbing me or just tapped my shoulder. I don’t like being manhandled.”

“I severely doubt that,” he whispered. Wait, what. “Is the man still inside?” he asked in a louder voice than before.

“Um no. That’s the reason why I came out here. I was trying to find where he went.”

“And you decided to check an alleyway.” I casted my eyes down, paying attention to a piece of gravel on the floor. The tone of voice he was using made me feel as if I was in trouble. “Do you know what kind of danger you just put yourself in?  What if it was him behind you instead of me just now?” he chastised.

“I was fighting back,” I retorted.

“And you were losing that fight. You had no weapon of any kind to help defend yourself. You are no match for a fully grown male who sees girls like you as nothing but property,” Spencer snapped.

I felt miffed that he was scolding me about my safety but a pathetic part of me was turned on as well. I decided to switch this conversation back to what was important. “He’s a Caucasian man. About 5’9 with dirty blonde hair and facial hair. He had a Salem Red Sox cap and a faux black leather jacket. Burgundy henley shirt with black washed jeans and white Adidas,” I recounted from my memory.

He recited everything word for word into his radio. “Go back inside, we’ll take care of it from here.”

“You’re fucking welcome by the way,” I sarcastically stated. Before I could blink, Spencer slammed his hands on either side of my head and was staring intently into my eyes. I felt my heart rate pick up instantly. I didn’t know whether to be scared or horny so my body decided on both.

He had a carnal look in his eyes and I felt a light shiver run down my spine. His tongue darted out, wetting his lips. It was as if it happened in slow motion, my eyes hungrily following the movement. He opened his mouth to speak and I was eagerly anticipating his words.

“Reid, come in. We need you for backup.” What the..? It was then that I noticed his comms were still on and one of his team members was trying to get his attention.

“Go back inside,” Spencer repeated, “We’ll continue this later.” Yeah fucking right. This is the third time you’ve told me this in the thirty hours I’ve known you. Nevertheless, I obeyed but it wasn’t because he told me; it was because I got paid by the hour and I was already gone for over fifteen minutes. At least that’s what I kept telling myself as I walked back inside.

I turned around to get a glimpse of his retreating form but he was already gone.

●●●

It was past midnight and I had about forty-five minutes left until my shift ended. The place was a lot emptier right now, which is pretty shocking. However, I’m guessing no one wanted to be around and get wasted when the cops were roaming about barely an hour ago.

I was pouring some shots for this couple when I felt a vibration in my pocket. I finished serving the duo before fishing my phone out, opening my messages straight away. ‘We caught the guy.’

I didn’t bother reading the name, knowing already who it was. Is it wrong of me to be a bit upset? I’m happy there’s one less criminal on the streets but I wanted to see Spencer some more.

Hmmm. There’s still a chance to make something happen, but I can’t mess it up. I quickly typed, ‘I should get a reward. I did help you catch the guy.’

I assumed that I’d have to wait a few minutes for him to respond but that was not the case. ‘And what is it that you want?’ It’s now or never.

‘You.’

I’m guessing he had his phone glued to him right now because his reply was immediate. ‘You don’t know who you’re dealing with.’

‘I’m not scared Spencer.’ If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he didn’t want me. But all the heated moments we had shared thus far had to have meant something.

‘You should be, I’m not the man that you need.’ was his reply.

I decided to be a bit cheeky, remembering that it gave me some results when I was messaging him earlier today. ‘You’re a man and I am in need, that’s more than enough for me. Save the rest for the pillow talk.’

I didn’t even get to put my phone down before his next text arrived. ‘This isn’t a good idea.’

Damn, this man is a hard nut to crack, but he has made me stubborn for him. I guess I’ll have to use my ultimate weapon.

Taking note of my surroundings, I dimmed the brightness of my phone and made sure to keep it close to my body. I don’t need any of the customers or coworkers to have a sneak peek into my secret album. I opened the app that holds all of my inappropriate photos, pondering on which one I should send to Spencer.

My eyes landed on one I took pretty recently. I’m not trying to sound conceited or anything but I looked fucking hot. It was erotic and sensual, but not overly so.

I was lying on my bed, one hand holding onto my chest while the other held the phone up. My fingers were spread apart, allowing for the taunt nipple of my left breast to peek out. The dim lighting of the lamp helped accentuate the curves of my body. The picture includes the lower half of my face, where I was biting down on my lower lip. I was wearing a white lacy thong that barely left anything for the imagination.

I quickly clicked on the photo and made it so that he’ll have to download the image before seeing it. I added the caption Warning, it’s a bit NSFW, before hitting send. Crossing my fingers, I hoped for a reply soon.

I waited and waited but my phone did not notify me of any new messages. Five minutes have passed and I was shit out of luck. Welp I tried. Now I gotta pick up my pride from the floor.

Suddenly, I felt my phone vibrate and I felt happiness immediately taking over. At first, I thought it was a text message, except the vibrations kept going and going. Realization hit me, it’s an incoming call. I grabbed it quickly, a small squeal leaving my mouth when I saw Spencer’s name appear. I accepted the call and put it towards my ear.

“Hello Dr. Reid, to what do I---“

“When does your shift end?” he interrupted. Well hot damn, no waiting around now huh.

“20 minutes,” came my simple reply.

“I’ll be outside,” and with that, he hung up the phone. Wow, I can’t believe that actually worked.

The next 20 minutes were by far the slowest time has ever went. I kept glancing at the clock, watching as each minute passed at a pain strikingly slow pace. Once it was 12:58 A.M, I already had my bag on my shoulder with my hand on the dividing door.

I made a quick mental check on the inventory I had in my purse. Wallet, check. Phone charger, check. Travel toothbrush, check. Bobby Pins, check. Condom, check. Deodorant, check. Extra panty, check. Yup, I’m ready. I’ve had too many spontaneous sleepovers to not be prepared for evenings like this.

I looked at the time and saw that it was finally 1:00 A.M. I zipped right out of here, making sure to shout my goodbyes as I made my way to the exit. Once out the door, I turned towards the corner and immediately spotted Spencer waiting for me.

I made my way towards him with the biggest smile on my face. “Hi, Spencer.”

“Get in,” he demanded.

“Why the haste?” I asked with a teasing tone behind my words.

“I’ve wasted enough time when it comes to you.” That’s a good enough reason for me. He got in the driver seat while I made my way to the passenger’s side, placing my bag on the floor near my feet.

“My house is a 20-minute drive,” I informed him. “You’ll just have to make a lef—“

“No,” he cut me off. “The hotel I am staying at is 10 minutes away from here.” And this is why I always pack the necessities.

“Alright, you’re in charge, Sir.”

Spencer didn’t respond to my little quip, choosing instead to turn the car on. Fine, play that game of yours. As soon as I put my seat belt on, he pulled out and started driving.

We’ve only been in the car for a couple of minutes before I got a bit antsy. I never did like quiet rides. I turned to him “What took you so long to get Mr. Creepy guy?”

His eyes fleetingly dashed towards my direction before focusing back on the road. “Who?”

“The man that you were looking for,” I clarified.

“We had to be sure it was him,” he stated.

“My description wasn’t enough for you.”

“It was helpful but we had to be certain. He eventually confessed to the crimes while under custody.”

“Oh,” I said. “Umm do you have a girlfriend?” A girl gotta make sure that she wasn’t becoming a homewrecker.

“A. What,” he asked. I’m pretty sure he heard me but I repeated myself anyway.

“A girlfriend. Or a boyfriend. Somebody waiting for you at home?”

“I do not. I am not in a committed relationship.”

“That’s cool. Neither am I if you’re wondering,” I said. “So did you like my picture?” Apparently, my mouth does not know when to stop. Although I must admit, I’m curious to know what he thought of it.

We stopped at a red light and he gazed at me before saying “I was with my team when I got your little message. They were wondering why I got quiet all of a sudden.” I would have laughed if he didn’t have such a dark look on his face. “I did not appreciate their curiosity as to what was going on.” The light turned green, and he started driving faster now. Do FBI agents get speedy tickets for booty calls?

“Does that mean you did not like it?”

Spencer didn’t respond and I was about to ask him something else when I realized the car was parked. Oh we’re here, that was fast. He got out and went to open my door for me.

“Wow, what a gentleman.” Still no response from him. I picked up my bag and hopped out while he closed the door behind me. He made sure to lock it before grabbing my hand and leading me to the hotel’s entrance.

I couldn’t even appreciate the interior of the place since Spencer was dragging me to the elevators. He finally spoke after pressing the button for the doors to open. “I’m giving you one more chance to turn back.”

“And miss out on the fun, no way.”

The doors to the lift opened and we stepped inside. They didn’t even close fully before he pushed me against the wall and crashed his lips against mine. Fuck, the moan that left my body was embarrassingly loud; I am sure the receptionists heard it.

I went to put my arms around Spencer’s neck but he grabbed my hands and pinned them to the wall before my fingers could even touch his shoulder.  His knee drew my legs apart, resting in between my thighs. A shudder ran through me, which caused him to tighten his hands around my wrists. I liked that he was releasing the wilder side of him; the side that he kept hidden from others.

He sucked my bottom lip between his and bit down on it. Instinctively, I opened my mouth which he took as a green light to plunge his tongue inside. It was sloppy, it was raunchy, but I loved it.

I was about to start grinding my pelvis against his knee when the elevator doors dinged open. As quickly as he came upon me, he pulled apart. Spencer grabbed my hand once again and tugged me down a hallway. After a few steps, we stopped in front of the door and he went to grab his key from his pocket.

I took the moment to admire him. He was still wearing what I assumed to be his work clothes. His hair looked even more messy than usual. I’d like to think that he was running his hands through it while debating on what to do with me. His eyes seemed darker, no longer the honey orbs I was captivated by the day prior. Nonetheless, they were still beautiful. His lips, my god those lips of his. Puffed out and more pink than normal. I just wanted to kiss him again.

Spencer opened the door to his room holding it open for me. Once we were inside, with the door fully closed this time, he pulled me into another hungry kiss. One of his hands held my face as the other landed on my waist. I dropped my purse on the floor, my hands promptly losing themselves in his hair.

My mouth immediately opened up, wanting to feel his tongue pressed alongside mine once more. He used the hand that was holding my waist to pull me closer until I was flushed against his body. I felt hot. Too hot. I wanted to rip off my clothes and his at this very moment.

Suddenly his face pulled away, much to my disappointment. We were trying to catch our breath as we looked at one another.

“I want you on your knees,” he rasped. I’d love nothing more but we wouldn’t be here if I were obedient.

“And if I say no?” I asked.

“Don’t pretend you’re some kind of bad girl because we both know that is far from the truth.”

“Your profiling skills need some work if you think I am a good girl who follows the rules.”

He tightened his grip on my waist. “I never said you were a good girl.”

“Then what am I?”

“You’re a cock hungry dirty whore who is going to get on her knees or be bent over mine. Your choice.” Well, who am I to argue against such logic. Although the idea of being spanked by him is exciting, I rather see him come undone by me. And on me.

I slowly sunk down to my knees as Spencer started removing his belt and unbuttoning his slacks. I helped him drag his pants and boxers down, low enough to unveil his hard dick. My mouth salivated at the sight of him and I pressed my thighs closer together. Maybe I am a cock hungry dirty whore.

I placed one hand on him, feeling the heated skin against my cooler palm. His dick gave a slight twitch at the difference in temperatures. I closed my hand, delighted by the fact that I couldn’t fit my whole first around his cock. Leaning forward, I placed a small tentative kiss on the head. I glanced up, seeing that he had his poker face on.

Now that wouldn’t do, I want to see Spencer Reid lose control because of me.

I pulled my hand back and brought it to my face. I licked the length of my palm before placing it at the base of his cock again. My opposite hand settled on his thigh to help balance myself. I leaned forward once more and lightly licked the tip before placing it inside my mouth. I sucked gently while firmly grasping the base. He rewarded me with a small grunt.

I moved down, slowly taking him inch by inch. I made sure to get him as wet as I can while gliding my lips against him. My hand pumped the remaining length that couldn’t fit in my mouth. He started to become more and more erect.

“You like this don’t you?” Spencer groaned out, “You’re such a filthy slut for me.” How is it possible that the sound of his voice is making me aroused? He placed his hands on my hair, fisting his fingers among the locks.

I moaned at his words, bobbing my head up and down at a faster pace. I moved my hand to cup his sac, giving him a gentle massage between my fingers. He gave out a choked sound as he started to slowly thrust his hips.

I drew back and kissed my way down his cock until my lips met my hand. I placed my mouth on one of his balls and gave one a light suck before running my tongue around it. “Fucking hell,” Spencer loudly exclaimed, as I returned the same ministrations to the neglected one.

I pulled away with a small pop and dragged my tongue from base to tip. My eyes looked up at him, and the sight was sexy as fuck. His mouth was opened as he was trying to catch his breath, his face slightly flushed. There was a light sheen of sweat on his forehead and the veins on his neck were more prominent.

I made sure Spencer’s eyes landed on mine as I wrapped my lips around his now full length. He started thrusting more earnestly this time as my hand went back to massaging his balls. I continued eye contact as I bobbed my head up and down on his cock.

He tightened his hands on my hair harshly, which made me more wet. Great, on top of being a cock whore, I am a pain whore. This man is bringing the worst out of me and I’m loving it.

I made sure to hollow my cheeks and swirl my tongue around his head every time I returned back up. I didn’t think I’d have this much fun with a cock in my mouth. Once I dipped my tongue against his slit and firmly clasped my hand over his sac, it was over for him.

Spencer took over and held my head in place as he started to thrust within me. I tried my best to maintain eye contact, despite the tears swelling up. My other hand clutched at the skin of his thigh, raking my nails over him. His groans were a sweet symphony to my ears. Just when I thought he was about to release himself, he stopped and pulled away from me.

“Why’d you stop?” I pouted, my lips feeling very sensitive as they moved against each other.

He panted heavily and loudly, “I don’t want to cum yet.” I couldn’t stop myself from smiling at the sight of him. He was a mess and it was all because of me.

“But I wanted to taste you.” My hand went back to grab him but he stopped me with a sharp tug of my hair.

“Behave or you won’t get a reward for sucking my dick so well,” he said flatly.

Ohh, I’m curious as to what a reward from Spencer Reid entails. He pulled me up and I had to place my hands on his chest for balance. As my legs were regaining feeling, he was staring at my face. I can already imagine what he sees. Tear stained face with puffy eyes and swollen lips. Apparently, he liked the sight because he pulled me into another kiss.

This one was much more tender than our previous kisses. His lips were soft, as if afraid they would irritate my already swollen ones. His hands cradled my head, gently tilting it up so he has better access. His tongue swirled against mine and I was surprised he wasn’t repulsed by his taste on me. So many guys would find this to be disturbing.

Spencer slowly pulled away from me. He looked into my eyes as he said, “I want you to strip then bend over the bed.”

“What if I don’t?” His once gentle hands on my face are now gripping my cheeks, making my lips pucker. He continued to stare at me and it took everything within me not to moan at his actions.

“I think you know what would happen if you don’t, do you really want that?” As much as I would have loved to mess with him some more, I did not want it at the expense of my orgasm. I’m too horny to be acting recklessly. 

I started stepping away from him, doing as he requested. I would have taken my time removing my clothes, but I was too impatient. As I pulled down my panties, I noticed how damp they were. This man has made me wanton and soaked without even touching me yet.

I went over to the bed, placing myself in the desired position. The bed was tall enough where my feet were still firmly on the floor but I didn’t need to bend my knees to keep my stomach flat against the mattress. 

I watched Spencer strip out of his clothes, making note of the mismatched socks he had on. Aww cute. Once he was bare, he walked up behind me and placed his hands on my hips. For a few seconds, he did nothing while I was readily anticipating his next move.

Finally, I felt his hand cup my mound and I gasped at the feeling. “You’re so wet. All of this because you had my cock in that dirty mouth of yours.” I shuddered at his words, the hairs on my arm rising up.

He started rubbing at my lower lips, spreading the arousal that has already formed all over me. “You have nothing to say now that I got my hands on you huh,” he continued, stroking his fingers against my core.

Just when I was about to say something, he sunk a single finger inside me. I inhaled sharply and buried my head into the sheets. I tried my best to move against him but the hand resting on my hip kept me at bay. He was methodical with his actions, pressing his finger against my walls as he moved in and out.

“Your pretty little cunt is taking my finger so well. You think you can handle another one?” I still couldn’t reply to him, too busy trying to even out my breathing. He then entered another finger. I moaned as he started diligently working those dexterous digits inside of me. My pussy was throbbing while he was working wonders.

A loud moan was torn out my body as Spencer’s fingers curled against my G-spot. “Oh you liked that, dirty girl,” he growled out. He curled his fingers once again and I let out an equally loud whine. He continued this every time he returned his fingers back inside of me; my throat releasing a moan whenever he did so. You’d think with all the time I spent staring at his hands that I’d be ready for him but that’s a big no.

My body was warming up and I could feel the heat pooling within me. I was a goner when a third finger entered me. He tightened his hand on my hip and I prayed that it would leave marks. I wanted to admire the bruises when this was all over.

I closed my eyes and tried to focus on the pleasure racking my body. I was so close to finding my release. The way I was pulsating around his fingers was a telltale sign that I was upon my release.

“You want to come, dirty girl, you want to come all over my hand?” he fiercely whispered. All I could do was nod against the comforters, my voice long gone by now.

I felt myself pulse and tighten around him. With just one more curl of his fingers, I was about to climax. But he suddenly pulled out and released me.

“What the fuck?” I screeched, voice coming back with a vengeance. “You said I was going to get rewarded you teasing bastard.”

“And you are. Now shut up before I change my mind.” For once, I stayed quiet, only because I really wanted an orgasm. It is the least he could do after making me all hot and bothered.

I turned my head back, wanting to see what Spencer would do next. I whimpered when I saw him put his fingers in his mouth, licking my essence off of him. I watched as he took his time, my pussy continuing to throb at the sight.

“You taste pretty good for such a whore,” he remarked once he was done. I saw him walk towards the nightstand and grab a foil packet. Excitement coursed through my veins, my body barely staying still.

He was behind me once again, and I was ready for him. I felt him rub the head against my lips, pressing down when it met my clit. He continued doing this, moving up and down against me, making sure to coat himself in my arousal. I started to wiggle my hips against him, hoping to gain some more friction.

A loud moan was torn out of my throat when Spencer suddenly grabbed my hips and buried himself inside my pussy. He let out a groan as he stilled within me. We had a moment to adjust to one another before he started rocking against me. He was hitting me deep, touching places that I didn't know were possible.  

“Spencer, you feel so fucking good,” I mewled out, enjoying the feel of his cock against my walls.

He kept a steady rhythm, making sure to pull halfway out before pushing back in. Small moans left my mouth as I tried my best to return his thrusts. His hands on my hips did not allow for much movement, reminding me that he was the one in charge of my pleasure.

My body moved rhythmically against the bed, my sensitive nipples rubbing against the sheet, adding to this blissful feeling. I was burning up from the sensations wrecking my body.

“I want you to touch yourself,” Spencer growled out. I let my hand trailed down my stomach but paused when they got to my lower abdomen. I felt a bump form at my lower abdomen every time he entered me, which only added to my desire. I tightened around him and he let out a groan before giving me a powerful thrust as a warning.

My hand continued its descent to my clit, fingers rubbing against it once they met. Spencer increased the pace, slamming his hips against my ass. My legs started to tremble, my orgasm looming over my body. My hand continued to play with my clit while the other gripped the sheets tightly. I bit down on the comforter, trying my best to quiet down my moans.

One of Spencer’s hands grabbed my hair and pulled my head up. “None of that, I want to hear you. I want everyone in this hotel to know what a filthy little bitch you are. My filthy little whore,” he grunted out.

It was all too much for me. His voice, his cock, his hands. I felt wave after wave of pleasure as my release washed over me. I cried out his name; submitting to the ecstasy my body was experiencing. My muscles went limp as I attempted to return air into my lungs.

I heard Spencer grunt as my pussy pulsed and creamed around him but that did not stop his relentless pace. “Keep touching the clit of yours, I want you to come one more time.”

“I can’t,” I whimpered. I was still recovering from the powerful orgasm I just had. I won’t be able to have another one so soon.

But Spencer Reid was nothing if not diligent. “You can and you will.”

His hand that was in my hair joined mine between my legs. His fingers were so much better than mine. He pressed firmly against my clit, keeping a steady motion against me. He snapped his hips harder, the slight pain making me feel that familiar coil in my stomach.

“I know you have one more in you for me. I want you to give it to me” he uttered. I’m not sure how he is able to do it, but I felt my body start rising again.

“Sp-Spencer. Please.” I didn’t know what I was begging for as I stammered those words out. His hand between my legs pressed harder and his rhythm against me started wavering. I knew he was close to his release, but I was right there with him.

When he pinched my clit firmly against his fingers, I mewled out his name once more. The coil snapped and I couldn’t help the way I trembled once more. My body quaked against his as the shock waves overcame me. I felt as if lightning was running across my nerves.

Spencer thrusted three more times before tensing against me. I felt him jerk and spill himself inside of me. He dropped down, pressing his chest against my back and whispering my name in my ear. We both tried to catch our breaths as we came down from our high.  

After a few minutes, Spencer pulled out of me and walked to a door which I assumed led to the bathroom. I’m guessing he went to dispose of the condom. I continued to lie on the bed, trying my best to catch my breath. My body was still on an all-time high, still reeling from the aftershocks of my climax. I fought against the drowsiness of my eyes, wondering how the hell I am going to stay alert on the cab ride home.

“How are you feeling?” I couldn’t even jump in surprise. I had no idea he returned and was standing right next to me. “I wasn’t too rough?”

“Best. Sex. Ever,” I drowsily responded. Spencer picked me up and maneuvered my body so that I was lying on my back. He grabbed a bottle that was standing on the nightstand; squeezing some cream into the palm of his hand. He rubbed his hands together and started massaging the lotion onto my legs. He focused his attention on my knees and thighs.

“Do you want some water? He asked. I nodded my head and he immediately went to the snack bar area. He grabbed a bottle and what looks to be a granola bar. He uncapped the bottle and gently fed the water to me.

“Do you want some food,” I shook my head at his question. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“Cuddles” came my whispered response. Spencer smiled at me before settling on the bed next to me. He draped the blankets over our bodies and wrapped his hand over my waist, pulling me close.

“Goodnight Spencer.”

“Goodnight (Y/N).”

The last thing I felt was the press of his lips against my neck as my body surrendered itself to the sweet bliss of slumber. 

[rickriordanfandam]

opinions on riordanverse ; my edition

a lot of people have been doing this so i decided why not right. probably gna lose some followers or smth but anyways. pls respect my opinions! if u disagree, thats fine, but please be polite. unless any of my opinions strikes u as morally wrong then pls point it out to me respectfully. thanks!

- i actually liked drew. im so sorry to everyone who hates her but full offence, why. think about it this way ok, first of all drew became hc because silena died. silena was the traitor, the one who betrayed chb, yet after she died campers celebrated her as a hero? and then drew suddenly has to replace her and live up to idk that legacy she left behind,, when all of a sudden this girl named piper swoops in and takes her place. idk abt u but i wld be salty abt that too. not only that, but as an asian, the chances of drew having faced racism/bullying as a child is pretty high (she studies at brooklyn academy). which means that when she finds out shes a demigod, and arrives at chb where most of the campers are white (this is an assumption btw), she’d obviously be scared of being bullied for her skin color right?? so the first thing she wld do before the campers get to bully her is to bully them before they can do so. (sentence structure here is wack i apologize) ofc this might not even have happened, drew could have had a perfect childhood && was a b1tch for no reason, BUT EVEN THEN HER ROLE AS A BULLY WAS PRETTY VITAL BECAUSE THAT FURTHER SHOWED THE CONTRAST BETWEEN HER AND PIPER,, HIGHLIGHTING PIPER AS A HERO//GOOD CHARACTER,, AND THEREFORE MAKING READERS LIKE PIPER MORE. anyway stop hating on drew please. ALSO WHY IS THIS SO LONGA SDFJHG

- jason isnt bland, the fandom just kinda erased his backstory (thanks to @pjohoo-memes for the phrasing lol)

- reynabeth wouldnt have lasted/would have broken up several times. idk i just see them as two extremely powerful characters who have firm opinions and will definitely clash at some point. in a platonic relationship,, i can see them as really good friends but as lovers? idk i just think theyll break up

- PIPABETH

- i dont really like jercy,, i see them as better friends than lovers. also idt jason and percy were that close..?

- the dam and not my type jokes are srsly cringey and were never funny. ik that seems hypocritical since my username literally makes use of the dam joke but honestly i dont actually like the joke. its not funny to me and has never been funny

- the seven were not best friends. they definitely argued,, and honestly probably werent as close as the fandom makes them seem. like ure dumped with 6 other people, out of which u only know a few. my introverted ass would have jumped off the argo 2 quicker than leo valdez could bomb camp jupiter up. also leo was a dick to frank. so what if frank is bigger sized?? thats not a valid reason to tease him

- the fandom needs to stop hating on octavian while worshipping luke. if u hate luke and u say u hate octavian too, then okay. but if u tell me ure a luke stan but u despise octavian?? imma disagree w u. luke was worse than octavian im sorry. first of all, octavian being a dick was kinda justified. hes been after the praetor position for so long, and everyone keeps saying to “wait for jason” when suddenly this dude, whos a son of NEPTUNE (neptune wasnt liked much by romans), and the camp decides to make him praetor?? dude i would be pissed off big time. and then afterwards, he finds out that greek demigods are real and the dude they made praetor is greek. AND THEN GREEK DEMIGODS COME TO CJ AND ONE OF THEM BOMB IT UP?? octavian has been told all his life that greeks are scum and this dude called leo valdez attacks cj. sure it was an accident, but did octavian know that? no. so it was honestly justified that he was such a salty prick im just saying. also some of yall be hating on octavian for cutting a teddy bear open and thats the funniest shit ive ever heard i swear 

- luke didnt go to elysium

- travis and connor stoll r way too underrated. the two have been head counselors of the hermes cabin since luke was revealed as a traitor, can u imagine the stress? luke, the person they probably looked up to as a brother, betrayed them. and they didnt even have time to process this when they were  thrown the roles of being hcs. that would have been so stressful and i would probably have broken down if i were them. the stoll brothers taking turns to wake up at ungodly hours because a new camper is crying and homesick and terrified, the stoll brothers having to comfort and take care of new campers, having to deal with the amount of people in that cramped space because not enough campers are being claimed fast enough. having to resolve issues between campers in the hermes cabin all the time. the stolls arent just comedic relief, and we need to stop treating them as such

- tratie shldve been canon idc idc

- demigods of the demeter cabin arent talked about enough and i love the fact that meg was demeters kid. like she isnt the child of one of the big three yet shes so powerful.

- we need to hype clarisse up more her character arc was phucking amazing 

- rachel is overhated. sis found out greek gods exist and regularly come down to earth to fuck around and went “ok cool”. queen shit behavior methinks

- the floor 19 crew of mcga is srsly underrated. like do u even remember halfborn gunderson, mallory keen, tj, etc??? bc i feel like we only remember samirah, magnus, alex, and sometimes blitz and hearthstone

- sadie (tkc) was kinda annoying at first. i like her more now tho but i rmb not liking her for a phat while

- tkc and mcga need more love

- carter kane and jason grace arent boring. theyre just really sweet boys who are too good for this world and yes yes yes 

- hazel and frank (especially frank) need to be hyped up more. i hardly ever see anything about them. also yall seem to forget that frank was literally made praetor and that even hecate admired hazel and was willing to fight beside her because of how powerful she was

- frazels age gap is kinda sketch but i still think theyre really cute

- nico definitely had trauma from going to tartarus on his own

- GROVER IS PERCYS BEST FRIEND

- annabeth isnt smarter than leo but neither is leo smarter than annabeth. ive seen a lot of discussions about who is smarter and heres my hot take on it: neither. theyre equally smart, just in different ways. leos a genius mathematically speaking. he has no issues solving math problems meant for people much, much older than him. annabeth on the otherhand, is great at strategies etc. she can make an army of 1000 more powerful than the enemy, even if theyre outnumbered. so in my opinion, both are equally as smart//u cant compare their intelligence, because their talents lie in two different areas.

- while i do agree rick riordan isnt a god and that hes bound to make mistakes,, AND that hes given us a lot of representation,, if the representation offends the people its sposed to represent, then theres a problem. im talking about piper as a poc and wearing feathers in her hair. im not a poc, so i cant speak for them on whether or not its wrong, because i dont know either. HOWEVER, i have seen multiple posts BY pocs talking about how they didnt really like rick’s representation of piper, and thats an issue. pocs have been and are still oppressed and discriminated against by many. as a white cis man, we cant really blame him for not knowing (tho he could have done a research,, asked some pocs,, idk), but by representing pocs in that manner, hes influencing impressionable kids/teens into thinking “oh pocs wear feathers in their hair all the time” etc, which isnt true. the pjo/hoo series is extremely successful, and kids who read the books will probably start forming inaccurate opinions on pocs. the amount of fan art that depicts piper with feathers in her hair dont help either. “but rick said so in the books, so its canon” yeah well rick isnt a god and he can get some things wrong at times. im not saying we should cancel him, im saying we should start educating ourselves and not spread false info like pocs wearing feathers in their hair all the time. also that snake song shit where she sang Summertime was just- yeah. bc heres the thing you can be racist, and still include minorities, but portray them in a racist way. And even then, ignorance isn't a thing to admire. Getting those facts wrong still has a major impact. It continues to perpetuate racist stereotypes.

“ With the feather thing, I looked it up myself; it takes less than five minutes to figure out that Cherokees don't braid feathers into their hair. I didn't grow up in the country where my parents are from. I have many other first/second generation American friends who have also been through that, with a bit of a disconnect from their culture. But something that most of us have in common is that when we didn't know something, and when our parents weren't that big of a help, we looked it up. We sought out resources online and through other people from our culture to be able to connect more with where we came from. Some of that took a Google search. So I find it hard to believe that Piper, a girl who Rick's trying to portray as someone who is attempting to connect with her culture and is totally against racist stereotypes, wouldn't know that eagle feathers aren't supposed to be braided into your hair casually. She may be disconnected from her culture, but she's also shown to want to connect back to it. Piper wouldn't be casually braiding feathers into her hair while also telling off people for being racist. It makes no sense.” - reddit thread (down below) 

for those of yall who wanna know more please please read this, it has a lot of things i wanna add in here : https://www.reddit.com/r/camphalfblood/comments/gy3gl2/piper_mcleans_portrayal_is_innacurate/ 

as well as https://finding-my-culture.tumblr.com/post/189422373260/maxie-ratties-and-cattie-finding-my-culture 

i will be posting screenshots of these in future posts so if ure viewing this on ig and u dont have tumblr,, dont worry 

- the fact that most of the strong female characters in the series refuse to be “girly”, and ngl i dont really like that. just because ure girly doesnt mean u cant be strong. 

- piper would have been a great way for him to start making the strong characters act girlier, but instead he went with the “I’m not like other girls” trope which is quite obnoxious to hear constantly, and I don’t think it’s necessarily great for younger girls to read that idea growing up.  the closest we've ever had to a strong female character who was also into "girly" things was Silena. when I was younger I admired Piper's "I'm not like other girls" thing, but then I got older and realized that the whole mentality of "not like other girls" is super obnoxious, and a little bit toxic

i have a heck load more that i cant rmb rn but yeah feel free to add more 

[heartbreakgrill]

Serious; Luke Hemmings (Pt. 1)

a/n: I cannot tell you where this came from, but it IS ACTUALLY REALLY GOOD OMG. please enjoy, there WILL be more parts probably tomorrow. (Also omg I’m dying my hair, should I post a selfie? I’ve never done a face reveal lol)

description: he came with the falling of the leaves, and left with the cold breeze of winter. maybe this time, he’d stay.

The gentle cracking of a leaf breaking under your weight snapped your eyes to the sidewalk below. Your boot-clad feet ran into another leaf, a smile pile, and a dozen subway-like cracks caused by years of distress. You looked back up, afraid to run into anybody who wasn’t walking on the opposite side of the sidewalk. Luckily, you did just in time, because you dodged a group of girls jogging at a steady pace.

Your brows drew together; They weren’t in workout clothes. You looked for fear on their faces, but they passed quickly, without a hint of what you weren’t hoping for. Your head followed them, pace slowing, as you scanned their outfits. Some of them were dressed cute, in fall outfits similar to yours, but two or three were merchandise from a band- 5 Seconds of Summer.

You stopped completely. Your feet drew you to the wall behind you, as if they knew you were going to get ran over if you didn’t move. Your mouth fell agape slightly, and your heart raced. Fingers reached for your cellphone, hesitantly opening the contacts and scrolling past ABCDEFGHIJK...

L.

A sweaty thumb hovered over the sideways call button, tongue circling dry mouth for some kind of coping mechanism. Suddenly, it was ringing, but not from your actions.

Luke Hemmings.

You quickly answered, the hand that was still in the pocket of your jean jacket curling. “Hey,” a breathless tone, a feeling of desperation.

“I’m in town. I wanna see you,” he mumbled into the line, unable to speak much louder due to who all must be around him.

It’d been a year, a year since 19 year old Luke came crashing into your world like a hurricane. The leaves had been falling then, too, harsh winds whipping through until a calm autumn Sunday recruited your attention, the eye of the hurricane. It was a one night stand, fleeting kisses and dodging eyes when a phone number was hastily left on your bedside table.

You’d called. He’d answered. And after a month of relentless calls and texts, the winter winds took his blazing blue eyes and washed them out with read receipts and unopened Snapchats.

Of course you’d fallen for him so quickly. You were vulnerable, empty at that point in your life. Now, you were more stable, but you couldn’t resist seeing him.

You needed him, craved, as if some Pavlovian affect took hold as soon as the temperature dropped below 40 and midterms wheeled themselves into your schedule. It was Thanksgiving break, now, two weeks off from stressful deadlines, so you had time.

And, God, you were so willing to give it all to him.

“How long are you in town?” You muttered back, afraid someone on the other side would hear you.

“Week and a half. Five shows, 7 days off. Free today.”

Your eyes flickered between the people passing you, the crosswalk ten steps ahead. “I have plans for lunch, with a friend, but come over at 4. K?”

“Okay. See you soon.”

You hung up, taking control of the situation in the slightest. You wanted to grip onto the wall, your body flailing through space in his head and your own heart. There was no gripping the sand between your fingertips.

You went ahead to lunch, fingers tapping relentlessly on the tabletop, your inner thigh when you noticed Sheila glaring at the rhythm. Eventually, after you’d gulped through two ice waters and a sand which, she cleared her throat. You looked up from the floor, suddenly realizing how dry you’d been the last forty minutes.

She spoke, “okay, what is up with you?”

You and Sheila had been roommates last year, still were this year, too. Only, she was leaving today to visit family for the holiday. She’d been out running errands for before she left, and wanted to see you before she wouldn’t for half a month.

Your mouth was dry already, but you swallowed again to try to salivate it. Provide clarity to your words. You shrugged, knowing how embarrassing this would be, “Luke’s back.”

Sheilas eyebrows rose high, her arms crossing over her chest. She leaned back in her chair, tongue clicking in bashful anger. “Oh, really? For what? To apologize?”

You dryly chortled, though you didn’t smile. “No. He has some shows to do. I completely forgot. I haven’t even seen him post on Instagram in forever.”

“Y/N,” Sheila reached across the table and tightly gripped your wrist. She loosened the hold when you met her eyes. “You’re going to get hurt again.”

“I know,” you shrugged. “I just can’t say no, ya know? It sounds stupid, but maybe this will provide me closure. Or maybe this time he’ll stay.”

“You know he won’t.”

Her words didn’t hit you that hard: She was right.

The last time he’d been around, he was still with Arzaylea. You were a getaway for him, his escape from the flashing lights, the public state of his relationship with her, and the screaming fans. You promised him to never, ever tell anyone about the incident. the public would hate him, his fans would be angry, and he’d lose listeners.

“I don’t.”You denied her, though it was true, in the edge of an argument.

Sheila opened her mouth to speak, and you could tell by the breath she took, that she was going to reprimand you. You suddenly reached to the ground, hand snapping from her fingers, and tugged your back over your shoulder.

“I gotta go. He’s coming over in two hours. See you when you get back.”

Sheila sat in stunned silence, eyes barely following you as you bounced out the door. Your glare stared hard at the concrete beneath your feet, more and more leaves crunching below.

Soon to be an analogy to your heart.

-

You showered when you got home, brushed your teeth, washed your skin with glittering lotions and rose-scented body washes. He didn’t deserve all of this, no, but the way he’d make you feel for the next few days did. You should just move on, but your mind had been on him for the last year, and, yes, you would make sure this would be closure.

Or a new beginning.

A knock on the apartment door came firm and sharp at exactly 4:01. You were sitting on the edge of your couch, ignoring the text messages from Sheila, and the group chat with your other friends. Your knee was bouncing and you hoped to God he wouldn’t smell your anxious sweat.

You wiped your brow before standing and moving in shaky legs to the door. You shut an eye, peering through the peephole. There he stood, in all his rockstar glory, a leather jacket and black skinny jeans holding clenched fists, pouty pink lips framing the frantic look on his blue eyes. God, had they always been that pretty?

You opened the door wide, allowing him to move in beside you. You shut it, turning to face him.

And it all came back naturally.

Luke reached out to your waist, pulling you flush against him in a warm hug. You held his neck between your arms, fingers tucking themselves into his curls, which were much longer now.

“How are you?” His accent had faded much more, but it was still there to haunt the goosebumps on your skin.

You tugged away, fingers splaying across his leather jacket. “Okay. Uh, nervous,” you shared a laugh before he moved his hand to cup your cheek.

Your eyes melded into his own, his blue pupils flushed wide open with intoxicated lust. “Don’t be. Just me.”

You pressed your lips to his own, feeling the same balloon pop in your chest. And, some time later, you were flush against the bed, Luke’s body collapsed on top of yours. Your heaving chest puffed up with each deep breath to meet his own before he rolled over beside you.

You squeezed your eyes shut, opening them as he moved his arms around you. You turned to face him, eyelashes now fluttering against his chest.

“You’re so beautiful,” he smiled softly at you.

“Your hairs gotten longer,” you replied. You reached up and curled the strands around your pointer finger.

“Yeah, decided to grow it out after I broke up with...” he trailed off, “well, you know her.”

This was the first you were hearing of the breakup. Your eyes lit up, but you surpressed your grin. “Oh. I didn’t know.”

Luke shrugged, “S’okay, though. I’ve been better without her. Hell, even Petunia is happier. I got my own place in LA, living with Ash and Cal now.”

“How are they?” You asked him, letting your head falling into the cavity between his breasts.

He drew across your skin, “Good. Yeah, Ash has a girl. Kay, is her name. Cal’s still single, but he’s good. Michael’s still with Crystal. They’re living together now.”

You hummed. “And you?

His eyes met yours and he smiled sadly. “Still getting over it. But, I think this could help...”

He kissed you again. You held on, unwilling to let go until his phone started to ring. He answered it, other arm still holding you close to him.

“Yeah, I’ll be there in an hour.”

Your bottom lip poured, moving with Luke was he sat up. He stood and began to put on his boxers, but left the rest of himself naked. You admired his chest, more defined now that he was somewhat taller and healthier.

Maybe you didn’t regret being the other girl if she had really taken that big of a toll on him...

Luke hung up the phone with a goodbye and sat on the edge of the bed. You wrapped your arms around him from behind. Your lips grazed the skin beneath his ear and his head fall back against your shoulder.

“Everything okay?” You kissed.

He nodded, “Gotta get back for some celebration shit.”

You sighed as he turned to face you. He hugged you better, forehead pressing against yours. “Hey, pretty girl, I’m not going anywhere for another hour.”

“Another week, right?” You smiled. His head rocked forward. “Good.”

“We talked about me some, let’s hear about you.”

Luke got more comfortable after handing you his T-shirt. He leaned up against the headboard, allowing you to lay your head in his lap. His hand fell in your hair, the other splayed across your stomach.

Your fingers played with his. “Not much has changed, Lu. I’m better, I feel better. But it’s still just college, work, internships here and there. Can’t wait to graduate and just travel.”

“You look better,” the hand in your hair traced your jawline. “You look healthier and happier. I could see it in your walk.”

“I got a therapist,” you giggled.

He applauded you jokingly before his hands found their spot again. “I’m proud of you. I remember you telling me how nervous you were for that. But look at you now. Beautiful as always, but happy with yourself. That makes you the most beautiful.”

Your cheeks flushed and you looked away. “Yeah, well, thanks.”

“Where do you think you’ll go first?” He continued to inquire.

You shrugged, “I wanna go to France. Or LA.”

An awkward beat passed. Would he think you were asking to come visit? Was he going to pull away then, did he still wants no strings attached?

You cleared your throat and Luke’s tongue clicked in response. “LA’s beautiful. Not as good as home, though.”

Was that an invitation?

“Australia?” He hummed at the question. “Id like to go. See an ostrich or a kangaroo.”

He laughed, “Out of everything there is to see.”

“What do you want me to say? ‘Oh, gosh, I can’t wait to go to Australia and meet Liz Hemmings! She is the real star here.’”

You laughed loudly at the joke and Luke joined you until silence took over again. You felt him shrug. “I think she’d like you.”

“Who?” Your brows furrowed.

He traced them, feeling down to around your chin and brushing the hair away from your neck. “Mum. She’d like you. You’re kind, bubbly. Like her.”

You blushed again. “I’d like to meet her.”

“I...” Luke trailed and never picked up from it.

It was nearly 9 pm now, and your eyes were beginning to fall close. You hadn’t realized how stuck on a schedule you were from college until your body relaxed completely into Luke’s lap. Your hand held tightly to his, though, fingers threaded with them.

He glanced at the clock on your bedside table, methodically rubbing circles into your hairline. His lips puckered and he leaned to place a firm kiss onto your cheek, nose, forehead.

He gently set you onto the bed, pulling the sheets out you. He tugged in the muscle tank top he’d work under his shirt, his leather jacket, jeans, and boots before tucking away his phone. He would bear the cold for you to sleep in his shirt.

Luke kissed your forehead again, causing you to stir. You groggily opened your eyes, meeting the electric blue right above you.

“Gotta go, pretty girl. I’ll see you tomorrow? Maybe you could come to a show,” Luke squeezed your wrist.

You pursed your lips and he pressed a kiss to them. “Okay. see you.”

He was gone with the click of the lock in the door and you rolled over, wide awake.

TAG LIST: @mantlereid , @boxofteenageideas @dinosaursandsocks , @ashhdaniellee95 @stephaniemelville-blog @zhangyixingxing1 @verlaneswiftie13

[sarcastically-defensive17]

There’s going to be a part three to benefits right? Like I don’t think I can live without knowing the end of the story.

Conclusions? - C. Hood

Final part of the ‘Benefits?’ Series.

I had planned to release this when my hiatus ended but I have made y’all wait too long, and I was far too excited. This is my fav set of fics that I have done and I’m so glad that people liked them!

I hope you enjoy! Thank you all for reading, you have my love.

Xoxo - Cas

Original story by sarcastically-defensive17

Against her better judgement, Y/N had listened to Youngblood as an album on repeat for weeks after it dropped. The songs were powerful, perfect even. She had relished in the sound of their voices, the way they worked their instruments perfectly. She longed for her friends every time she listened, and the pain became addictive. Yet, she found comfort in ‘Moving Along’.

Things had been extra tense since her conversation with Calum. Another week had passed, and they were in another state, the men jumping around on stage, singing their hearts out, putting on a show for all of the people who came to see them.

But... Calum wasn’t himself. He shied away from the flashes of the camera. He still sounded perfect in all of the songs, yet he was dejected. Turned in on himself almost. Shy, hurt.

Per the fans requests, she snapped many shots of Calum, adding them to the plethora of shots of the other guys. She was paid to take photos, after all. She may as well earn her money, even if she struggled to look at Calum without feeling hot tears burn at her eyes.

Moving Along started and she smiled slightly. She especially enjoyed the song, moving her feet to the high energy chorus, ignoring the sting the lyrics left in her heart.

What she didn’t expect, was to turn to take another shot of Calum, and have his eyes staring straight at her.

His verse came, and he tore his eyes away from her faster than expected, and her photo turned blurry.

“Is it bad that I’m hoping that you’re broken? Is it bad that I’m wishing you’re so broken?” His voice broke, crackling as the words danced off of his tongue.

It was subtle, not noticeable to those who didn’t know Calum. Who didn’t know his little quirks, the little aspects of his being that alluded the general public. Y/N knew.

From her position at the front of the stage, she could even see the tears threatening to fall from his eyes, and the way he rubbed his face on his shoulder, disguising it as an adjustment of his ear piece.

It was the second last song of their set, the collaboration with the Chainsmokers being their last, and then Calum would be off stage.

Watching Calum sing the lyrics struck a chord inside of her. The first verse was full of such anger, but as it progressed, Luke’s verse portrayed sadness. Regret. Everything Calum had been trying to tell her the other day.

The feelings were overwhelming. She was furious. She knew that there was another song for Calum to write, having heard many parts of the other songs the guys were working on, but the pieces worked themselves together in her mind.

She had her speculations, but chose to divert her thought pattern. Every time she cast her eyes on him, she felt a ache in her stomach.

For so long, she had near constant emotion flooding her eyes. She couldn’t disregard her anger.

The songs moved quickly, and she climbed on stage to get photos of the group performance to close the pre-show. Andy had already agreed to take the pics for the Chainsmokers, knowing the tenseness of the past week for her. Y/N was looking forward to escaping to her hotel room and mulling over her thoughts.

For 5 days she had been contemplating whether or not she should stay on the tour. She had savings, enough to rent an apartment in another state. She could find photography work elsewhere.

But, she also couldn’t stand to be away from Calum again. There was a sense of hopefulness existing between them. She was far too scared to grace the topic again, and history had told her enough that Calum wouldn’t attempt to converse with her about it again, but still - she had hope that she would work up the courage to move past her anger and the sadness of her broken heart.

She was looking for a new excuse to forgive him every day, and she found them. Yet, she couldn’t bring herself to talk to him. To tell him that she was sorry for leaving.

She couldn’t bring herself to apologise, when he pushed her away.

She worked up the courage and booked a flight. It was a week away. They had no concerts scheduled for the next two weeks, taking a small break in between states.

She had only told Andy, Alex and Drew about her news so far, knowing they would be the most relaxed. Her relationship with Drew had been near non-existent. She had been using him, but when Calum came back into her life, she could barely be in Drew’s arms without comparing them to Calum.

It was cruel of her to do so, so she made the shift to simply friends. Neither of them missed the benefits connection all too much, and their relationship was already friendly enough.

The days moved along faster than expected until she was three day’s out from leaving.

She had planned to break the news to everybody the next day, but she found that the hardest part was already done when a knock sounded on her door.

Calum was bleary eyed. It had been rare for him to be seen without blood vessels visible in his sclera, and he looked no less worse for wear now as he stood at her door.

She stood in shock when the opening revealed his figure. He looked heartbroken, the same as he did in Ashton’s hotel room a few weeks back.

She fought with herself not to embrace him.

“D’you mind if I come in?” His voice was small, making her heart feel smaller.

Her voice wouldn’t work, instead she moved her body aside to make way for his large frame. He was shrunken. His shoulders sagged slightly, his hands clasped together. A clear sign of his nervousness, to Y/N.

She could often read him like a book, and she could see that he was hurting.

She had been looking for a resolution before she left, and she couldn’t help but think that this could be it. Her stomach was vibrating from the force of butterfly wings, and she watched Calum sit carefully on the edge of her bed.

She watched how his eyes fell over the bed, settling on a familiar green blanket. He had gifted it to her a few years back, knowing she hated to use hotel linen. She adored the soft fabric, taking it everywhere when she was in unfamiliar dwellings.

She forced her eyes away from him, clearing her throat to kick her voice box into the right gear.

“What do you need-“

“You’re leaving.” He said, more of a statement than a question. Her eyes grew in size slightly. She had planned to tell them all the next day, so she couldn’t understand how he had come upon the information. “Andy is a big mouth. He can’t keep a secret to save his life. You should see how he acts when he has content that he can share. He’s as giddy as a kid on Christmas.”

He refused to meet her eyes.

“I was planning to tell you all tomorrow. My planes booked for a few days time.” She hadn’t realised that she had folded her arms, her right hand rubbing along her left elbow. “I didn’t want to leave without telling anybody. Without telling you...”

“Like you did last time?” The words were intended to be venomous, but the sniff that followed told her exactly how he was feelings.

However, her anger still flared, “You know why I did what I did.”

He nodded softly, pawing at his eyes gently, turning his head to look out the window of her room. The sun was setting, the horizon mesmerizing.

“When you first left, I was so angry.” His hands were wringing together again. “I started to hate you. I wanted you to be as broken as I was - as I am. But then...” he blinked, a tear slipping down his face as the light of golden hour washed over his sun kissed skin. “Then I wanted you back. I would get drunk, I would sit there with my phone in my hand and want to call you. I wanted to apologize every day that you were gone, but, I didn’t deserve you. Hell, I still don’t deserve you. I’m the one who said those horrible things to you.”

She stepped closer, watching the way his eyes locked on the scenery outside of her window. The picture in front of her was reminiscent of the night in Ashton’s room, except this time Calum is the one who can’t bear to look at her, for fear of breaking.

“I wanted to talk to you before I left.” She spoke honestly, brushing hair away from her eyes. No matter how hard she fought herself, she wouldn’t look away. Who knew when she would see him again, and she was falling in love with the lines of his face all over again. “I wanted to tell you why I was leaving, but... I don’t know, I was scared of telling you why I can’t stay, and finish discussing what we did that night. I couldn’t start the conversation. I guess I am now, because I can’t keep fighting with myself anymore.”

His brows furrowed, his head slowly turning towards her. “What do you mean, Y/N? What conversation?”

Surprising herself, Y/N felt the butterflies disperse. The man in front of her was Calum. Her Calum. Her best friend for years, the man who knew her inside and out. The man who broke her heart, and who pushed her away.

The pain she felt couldn’t be amplified any more. She knew she could live without Calum, but she also knew that every day would be a new kind of pain. She had decided in that moment that she couldn’t make their situation any worse than it was.

“I mean, I love you, Calum. I love you so much that being around you hurts me.” There were no tears, and her eyes were locked on his. The way his face contorted in pain, and the droplets that’s fell down his round cheeks broke her heart, but she couldn’t let her facade fall. She needed to get this out before she left. “What you said the other night, about loving me - I have wanted nothing more than to hear that for so long. But when I finally told you, you rejected me. You did more than that - you made fun of me.”

He was on his feet, face red, eyes bloodshot. “If I could take back every word I said that day, I would in a heartbeat.” His voice was cracking again, she could feel the emotion dripping from him. “Nothing hurts more than when you’re not around. Everyday since we met up again, I wake up and hope that I can do right by you but I know I can never take back what I did. The things I said to you... I hate what I did. I hate that I destroyed something so perfect. Somebody so perfect.”

She felt tears prick at her eyes once again. She wanted to fight it. She didn’t want to spend another night crying over Calum, but the tears weren’t for Calum. They were for the loss she felt. The way she sobbed at night when she wanted nothing more than his presence.

“Don’t, Cal.” She cleared her throat, stepped back. She was retreating in on herself. “Being here, with everyone, it hurts. I spent so long looking for you in somebody else, and now that you’re here, I can barely focus. Every day is like an old wound being reopened. I hear the words you said to me, remember how much it hurt. I just- I can’t be around it anymore,” her voice was a bit higher than a whisper. Neither of them dared to look at the other any longer.

“Moving Along is about you, Y/N,” He sobbed.

It was agony to see him so broken.

He had taken steps towards her and refused to pull her eyes from his face. She wanted to check for any semblance of a lie in his facade. She could read him like a book, and she needed to know his intentions before she chose her next words.

“I have loved you for as long as I have known you, Y/N. I love the way you know nothing about Star Wars, how you’re not afraid to speak your mind. I love you so much that I write countless songs about you. I cant even fucking sleep without thinking of you before. I can’t do anything without remembering the way you smell, the way you smile, the way you fucking do any little thing,” he sobbed again, breathing between his words. “I would do anything, if it means I could have you back in my arms. I would give up all I had, just to see you smile at me again, to tell me that you love me too.”

He walked up to her, hands on either side of her face, forehead against hers. Their heaving breath mixed together, and Y/N fought to keep her cries in.

“Please, Calum,” he felt her tears fall onto his hands. “You can’t want this.”

“I would give up everything, I would leave the band, the public eye, the fans for you. Y/N I would do anything you asked, just to prove to you how much I need you.” He opened his eyes, gauging her reaction. She had pulled back slightly to look into his eyes.

She knew it was a horrible decision, but she kept the thought in her mind that she couldn’t make things worse and she pressed her lips against his.

Their tears fell still, the kiss soft and sad. Calum held her face as if he would slip away if not for the feeling if her skin. Her fingers clung onto his shirt so tightly, afraid that he would push her away again.

He pulled away first, eyes still closed. “If you want to leave, then I don’t want to stand in your way. I just need you to know that I have loved you for so long, Y/N, and I will love you for the rest of my life. Nobody will ever mean as much to me as you do, even if you’re not with me.”

It was as if all of the pieces fell into place. She knew what she wanted, and she knew that they had the time to do it. Once again she reminded herself, what could go wrong?

“Come with me.” She stated, more than asked.

“Sweetheart, I can’t-“

“I’m going back home. There’s just over a week until the next show. Come with me, spend some time, just us. If things go well... I’ll one back.”

“And if they don’t? What happens if we can’t get back to us?” He looked hopeful but the fear was hiding deep beneath his chocolate eyes. “I can’t lose you again, Y/N.”

She offered a small smile, raising her smaller hands to wipe the tears still on his cheeks. “Then I guess we will have to make things go well.”

~~~~~

Despite the comfort they shared in her hotel room, the first few days in L.A. were odd. Tense, but Y/N had never felt more at ease than she did in Calum’s house, her spirits hopeful and a smile on his face whenever his eyes fell on her.

By the fifth day, they were dreading returning to the tour. Y/N had decided that she would go back. They had already booked their flights to Chicago, their next stop.

For now, Y/N sat on Calum’s lounge, her eyes glued to the television as she finally allowed herself to watch Star Wars. They were on the third prequel, and Y/N was fighting back tears as she watched Anakin surrender to the dark side.

Calum was laying on his back, his head resting in Y/N’s lap, his gaze focused on her face.

He was following the curve of his nose, the slight swell of her lips as she unconsciously poured at the television. She was mesmerizing.

He couldn’t bring his eyes off of her. He knew that she was going back to the tour with him, but the thought of losing her again was terrifying. She was his oxygen, and he had spent almost a year struggling to breathe.

“If you keep starting at me, I’ll poke you in the eye. This movie is actually decent, stop distracting me.” She grumbled, pouting further when Obi-Wan and Anakin we’re battling.

“I can’t help it. I’ve missed you,” he said without thinking. The past few days had been about honestly, rekindling and catching up. He saw no reason to hold the truth back now.

His words elicited a smile from her, a slight blush peppering her cheeks. “Suck a dick, hood.”

He snorted, “But that’s your job.”

Her fingers were running through his hair absentmindedly; her heart beating fast. This was Calum. Her Calum. The same Calum that knew her inside and out, yet, he still made her nervous.

The last year has been a rollercoaster, but now, she loved him, and he knew, and he loved her as well. He was free from his fear, knowing that nobody else could amount to the woman that Y/N is.

“I love you,” she whispered, casting her eyes down on him. Her smile was small, adorable and it forced a grin to split across Calum’s face.

“I love you,” he answered. He pulled her hand from his head, pressing a kiss to her fingers. “What do you say to getting some Mexican food and binge watching Friday the 13th with your favourite guy tonight?”

She deadpanned, blinking at the tv screen. “How can I do that? Ashton isn’t in L.A.”

“Fine, no Mexican food for you,” Calum huffed, sitting up and crossing his arms in protest.

Y/N pouted, latching onto him like a koala and peppering kisses onto his cheeks. “Baby, I’m sorry! I need Mexican food!”

It was safe to say, Y/n got Mexican food that night.

Friends with benefits relationships are always the most dangerous. It is so easy to develop feelings, sharing such an intimate part of yourself with a person, both as a friend and a lover.

Sometimes things are rocky; but other times, the benefits outweigh the negatives.

Tag list: @starshonerose @mantlereid @another-lonely-heart @theanswertoeverythingisl0v3 @poetnstuff @snookiebrookie @oyesmendes

[allsassnoclass]

Prompt: 28, 10 and Lashton

You said lashton in an art gallery.  I said Off-Screen circa 2017 (aka Luke’s Utah Era).  this might feel a little out of context, because it is. the theoretical prequel that I'm writing would explain more of the surrounding circumstance, but the most important thing to note is that Luke moved in with Ashton in Utah after the end of the SLFL tour.  This takes place in January of 2017.

lashton: “Where are all of my hoodies? Did you borrow literally every single one of my hoodies?” + art gallery

The last guest has left when Luke arrives, the gallery technically beginning to close for the night.  Ashton is tired, all of the frantic energy from the past few months building up to this evening of schmoozing and revealing the deepest parts of his soul to be judged by the art community, and he feels empty now that it has passed.  There’s a glass of some sort of fancy alcohol in his hand, but he hasn’t had the chance to drink it all night, and his suit feels like it doesn’t fit his shoulders correctly.  It’s been bothering him, but he’s been too focused on smiling genially and making nice with every single person who passed through the doors to look at his art to do anything about it.

The sound of the main doors opening is loud in the quiet of the space, and Ashton tenses where he’s talking to the owner of the gallery.  He relaxes once he sees that it’s not another art snob or a random person who got lost, but Luke.  He stands at the threshold awkwardly, fiddling with the hem of one of Ashton’s college hoodies, beanie stuffed unceremoniously over his hair.  It’s getting longer, and he’s been letting it curl more instead of spending hours styling it and trying to get it to sit right.

He looks just as breathtaking as ever, and Ashton is almost overwhelmed with how lucky he feels to be one of the only people to see famous rockstar Luke Hemmings with his guard completely down.

“Luke,” he sighs, relief too obvious.  Luke just smiles and wanders, stopping short when something in a painting catches his eye.

“Friend of yours?” the gallery owner asks, and Ashton turns his attention back to her.  It’s too easy to forget that anyone else exists the moment Luke enters a room.  Ashton needs to get a grip.

“Yeah, that’s my housemate.  Do you mind if we look around for a bit?  He couldn’t make the normal gallery times.”

He logistically could have, because Luke doesn’t have responsibilities here in Utah, but Ashton knows that the idea of him having to look nice, be in a crowd of people, and possibly be recognized almost sent him into a panic attack.

“Sure.  I’m locking up by 10, though, so be out before then.”

Ashton thanks her profusely, and the look she gives him is a bit too knowing for his taste.  Still, she heads towards the back with an artistic grace, and Ashton joins Luke where he’s staring at one of Ashton’s paintings.

“Hi,” he says quietly.  Luke leans into him in a practiced move, shoulders brushing together.  Luke has always been familiar and comfortable, despite how little they see each other.

Ashton knows he should feel bad that Luke felt so lost in LA that he had to come all the way to Utah and Ashton to try and find himself, but selfishly he’s glad.  For a few months, he gets Luke to himself, curled up on his couch and eating at his kitchen island instead of off traveling the world and meeting adoring fans.  Besides, having Luke here helps.  Ashton can’t take care of another person if he’s drunk every night, and meals are easier to prepare when there are two people to eat them.  It’s easier to fall asleep if someone else is breathing slowly next to him.  It’s easier to keep the loneliness at bay with Luke stepping into the gaps in his life.

“Was it a good showing?” Luke asks.

“It was,” he replies, resisting the urge to do something inappropriate like pull Luke closer and tuck his face into his neck just to breathe him in.  “I even sold a few paintings.”

“You did?” Luke lights up.  “Ashton, that’s amazing!  Which ones?  Wait, I want to see them all anyway.  Walk me through them as we go.”

Ashton does, trying his best to remember the thought process and inspiration behind each of the paintings hanging in the gallery.  For the earlier works it’s easier, because objects inside are more defined and they have clearer stories.  For recent creations featuring bold strokes and swirls of color and more ambiguous shapes, the inspirations shift towards ideas.  Some of them he created while drunk, and he has to check the title cards to figure out what he was going for, because while drunk Ashton isn’t good for much, he at least always writes titles in his notes app when he paints.

His professors made him include some of those works, saying that a few are profound and mesmerizing and probably your best work.  It makes Ashton feel like he can’t create anything if he doesn’t have a few drinks in him.  It’s a mindset he’s trying to move away from, but it’s hard.  At least he has endless inspiration with Luke in the house.

Luke looks at a piece entitled Longing for a few minutes, and Ashton prays that he doesn’t ask who or what he was longing for while painting it.

“Come on,” he says when the swirl of blues and purples (with just that shimmer of gold to represent the person of desire, possibly forming a hazy constellation of Luke to anyone who knows what to look for) becomes too much.  “I want to show you the synesthesia section.”

“Section” is a generous term, because it’s actually just four paintings on the same wall.  He has many more paintings for various songs and albums back home, most of them on smaller canvases he can get from the craft store, but there are a few songs that evoke such strong, beautiful visuals that he had to paint them properly.

The first painting has a primarily blue background, mixing with black in short strokes by the edges.  Traveling diagonally across the canvas are an assortment of other colors, mostly yellows and reds until they meet strokes of white in the middle.  The paint is thick, creating textured mountains where the colors meet, and that’s Ashton’s favorite part about painting, really.  He’s not very good at 3D forms, but paint never lays completely flat.  He likes how dynamic it is because of it.

“Gravity,” Luke croons as he looks, “is working against me.”

Ashton loves hearing him sing.  He was worried for those first few weeks Luke came to him, because he rarely heard it, but now he can count on random melodies filling the house at all hours.

“John Mayer makes nice songs to look at,” he says.  Luke smiles at him, then they move on to the next one.

This painting has a bit more variety in color.  Ashton remembers mixing them on his pallet, unbothered by the streaks it caused in the brush strokes, knowing that it was necessary to capture what the song makes him see.  A dark background gives way to a curve of reds, purples, pinks, blues, ending in some greens and yellows and a hint of orange.  He splattered white and black on afterwards, just a little bit near the middle of the curve, and Luke leans forward to see all the small dots.

“This one really does look like ‘Karma Police,’” Luke says.  “Even I can see it.”  He straightens and gives Ashton another grin, and he knows that he can’t capture that smile in a painting (he’s tried, so many times), but he still wants to attempt it again.

“I can’t believe how talented you are,” Luke says.  “It’s almost unfair.”

“Thanks,” he says, ducking his head.  Luke nudges him with his elbow and moves on to the next painting.  This one follows a similar pattern to the other two, a dark background with color in the middle, but it’s messier.  Blue and purple feature the most, but there are hints of orange and yellow, and white overtakes the painting in peaked chunks and thin streaks.

“You’d think that for a Prince song, there’d be a bit more purple,” Luke says, tilting his head.

“Maybe he should have written more purple songs, then,” Ashton shrugs.  “‘Joy in Repetition’ has more blue.”

“Wait, is “Purple Rain” even purple?” Luke asks, alarmed.

“Yes, that one fits the title.”  Luke looks reassured at that, and they continue to the last painting.  Ashton feels nerves clench in his stomach.

He didn’t submit any of his photographs or colored pencil sketches of Luke, not even the really good one of Luke sleeping in his bed with an arm over his face that Ashton drew one night when the insomnia was hitting him hard, but this painting could be just as damning.  It’s different from the other three because it’s slightly bigger and oriented differently, vertical instead of horizontal.  The background is also based in white instead of black, primarily creating a pale blue to match the cautious optimism of the song.  More blue meets with seafoam green, peach, and white in the middle, dripping down the canvas until all the colors fade into just the green.  The lines of this one are smoother, blended together evenly, but there are bursts of gold in the middle and near a few edges that he bought a specific brand of metallic paint for.  Ashton watches as Luke’s eyes trace the painting before he turns to the name card.

“Luke?” he asks when a few moments have gone by with him completely frozen.

“Really?” Luke asks, voice cracking.  “This is what you see?”

“Yeah,” Ashton says.  He knew he was going to end up painting the song as soon as he first heard Luke’s voice singing about tasting the ocean.  “It’s mostly “Outer Space,” but I incorporated some of what I saw for “Carry On” at the bottom.”

“Oh,” Luke says, then turns and tucks himself into a hug, squeezing Ashton tight enough that he feels short of breath.  Ashton wraps his arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer and letting Luke cuddle into him in a way that he’s almost getting too big for.

“I take it you like it?” he asks, just to be sure.  Luke nods, and when he does finally pull away he swipes at his eyes with the sleeve of Ashton’s sweatshirt.

“Can I buy it?” he asks.

“Luke, you can have it for free.”  Luke shakes his head vigorously.

“No, you’ve already given me too much.  I want to buy it from you.  You should be paid for your art.”

“Okay,” Ashton says quietly.  Luke’s eyes are still fixed on the painting, and Ashton comes back to slide a hand around his waist again.  “We can negotiate a price later.”  He presses a kiss to Luke’s temple, because that’s something he can get away with still.

“Don’t try to give me a discount.  I’ve already stolen your food and half your clothes.”

“Speaking of,” Ashon says, “I’m absolutely positive that this hoodie was the last one in my closet.  Where are all my hoodies?  Did you borrow literally every single one of my hoodies?”

“Yeah,” Luke says sheepishly.  “They’re comfortable.  They smell like you.”

Luke is going to kill him like this.  Ashton can’t even be upset, because what a way to go, but things like that are not helping him keep a lid on how absolutely head-over-heels he is.

“I’d be more upset if you didn’t look so good in them,” Ashton says before he can stop himself.  Luke’s breathing stutters, but he doesn’t do anything besides lean a little closer.  Ashton’s heart feels like it’s going to beat out of his chest.

“Come on,” Luke says.  “I still want to see the rest of your pieces, then we can go home.”

Home, Ashton repeats to himself.  Luke thinks of your house as his home.

They wander their way through the last few canvases, then stop briefly in the photograph and colored pencil room before stepping out onto the street.  Their hands brush as they walk, and Ashton wonders if he can get away with grabbing Luke’s.  This night feels significant in so many ways.  Something has shifted, and he’s not sure if it has to do with his art career or the man beside him.  He wants it to be both so badly he aches with it.

When they have two more blocks to go before reaching the house, Luke reaches over and threads their fingers together.

A/N: I don’t have synesthesia, but the first three song paintings really exist and can be found here. the one for os/co was made up by me.

[tirednotflirting]

couch cuddles - l.h.

school is kicking my ass and I miss my friends like mad so yes, I projected all of that here at around 2am after yelling about this sweet pic of Luke with @castaway-cashton​. 

hope everyone is finding ways to manage all of the time indoors these days. I’ve been thankful for the community on here during all of this. much love and happy reading (and pls send me thoughts, I’m still new to this and horrible at editing).

wc: ~1.6k

They were nearing the end of their third week in quarantine. Three weeks of being locked up inside (aside from a brief gloved trip to the grocery at the beginning of week two). 21 days of zoom meetings with her graduate advisor and radio interviews on facetime, of creative pasta dishes (the one thing had randomly stocked up on even before this all happened), of afternoons in the backyard watching Petunia run in circles until she stopped in front of their chairs, her sad eyes practically begging to be taken to a dog park that was unfortunately closed until this was all over.

They had settled into a routine pretty quickly. She wouldn’t start her work before 9 and unless he had some international interview he had to take part in, Luke would do the same. She would plug in her laptop and stick her phone on do not disturb at 6pm sharp. Luke would keep his stuck in the deep pockets of his sweats, always eager for a sporadic facetime from a tipsy Calum asking to let the dogs say hello or Ash calling for him to listen to a new melody he had thought up or Mike sending him another twitter meme. They switched back and forth on who made dinner, Luke had been enjoying trying things from the beginner’s cookbooks his mom had sent him sometime during the last year. They watched a lot of movies. She read a lot of books, he spent a good deal of time playing around with different songs they had been trying in the studio during February. With everything going on, she figured there were worse ways she could be living than doing what she could for her research and TAing from the comfort of her sweet boy’s kitchen table.

She had started to pick up on his cabin fever when their day began at around 5am with Luke shifting around in the bed so much it almost felt like he was doing something choreographed. After 15 minutes of his dance, she sat up on her elbow and reached for her phone to check the time. She didn’t remember exactly what the bright digits displayed across a picture of Luke and Petunia with flowers tucked behind their ears she had snapped a couple months prior were other than too early.

‘Honey, are you feeling alright?’ she asked quietly, her throat dry from sleep, as she leaned back from the bedside table. Her hand moved back to cross his chest as his own wrapped around her waist.

‘Yeah, just can’t get comfy,’ he huffed, obviously frustrated by the random early morning energy. ‘Gonna go let Miss P out for a minute. Go back to sleep, angel, you need your rest.’

While she wanted to further investigate what was up with her tired eyed boy, she immediately felt herself yawning. She lifted her head from his chest and pressed her lips to his jaw before letting her head fall back to the pillows as she felt his weight lift from the mattress.

When she woke up next, it was to the sound of her alarm and an empty bed. She padded out to the kitchen and was greeted with a kiss to the top of her cheek and her coffee. (‘I think I got the sugar to cream ratio right this time but please give me feedback, lovie.’) She shrugged off the morning, brushing off his odd early jitters with the fact that they had both been getting a lot more sleep than normal given the new situation.  

She had been busy throughout the day. It was a Thursday, her busy day, even with the quarantine. In the morning, she zoom called her advisor to check in with her more personally but also to update her on where she had gotten that week with the data she had been sifting through (being stuck outside of the lab made for good reason to finally do some data work). She did a meeting after lunch for the undergrad course she was TAing this semester. Though that discussion section had basically turned into everyone just talking about their pets and families more than talking about evolutionary theory (they needed to see faces though so she didn’t mind the chatter). She held virtual office hours after that for a couple hours (more chattering with a little bit of explaining how that equilibrium equation worked again).

So by the time her 6pm switch to do not disturb rolled around, she was more than looking forward to spending a few hours on the couch with a glass of wine and the new book she had ordered that arrived that morning.

She’d been settled on the couch for about 15 minutes and was raising a stemless glass of pinot grigio to her lips, when she looked through the big window in the living room that gave a nice view of the yard only to see Petunia wandering around but no sign of her golden boy. She looked to check what page she’d reached, mentally marking her place before getting up to look for where Luke had wandered off to, when she heard socked feet shuffling into the living room behind her. She turned her head to find the sweet face she hadn’t seen hardly at all since she was handed her morning coffee so many hours earlier. His normally bright eyes looked worried and his dimples hidden by a pouted frown.

‘Sweet pea, what’s the matter?’ she questioned, the hand not holding her novel reaching for his once he’d wandered close enough to where she sat on the couch, her left leg still folded up while her right rested against the floor, ready to get up to hug the droopy boy. She doesn’t get a chance to though as he moved to sit beside her, his fingers playing with hers almost nervously.

‘Miss the guys,’ came a quiet voice that sounded like it was coming from a tight throat. ‘And like, we’re so lucky here. And the album is doing well and the fans have pushed so much on this release. And we’re healthy and everyone we love is healthy but,’ he blinked really hard before continuing, ‘I just wanna see them. Like actually see them.’

She leaned forward to leave her book on the coffee table before moving her hand to rub at the back of his neck, her fingers working through the knots in his curls there, trying to get him to release some of the tension in his shoulders. ‘And I love being here with you and we would never normally get this much time together during an album release and I know I shouldn’t be whining and-‘

He stopped short when she pulled her hand from his and placed it against his cheek to turn his face towards her. ‘Babe, you don’t have to apologize for feeling right now,’ her thumb stroked against the top of his normally rosy cheek. ‘You’re allowed to be upset and you’re allowed to miss your boys. You’re never gone from them for this long, it makes sense.’

He opened his mouth to respond but then just nuzzled against her palm when she shushed him. ‘And I love being here with you too but that doesn’t mean I’m not bummed that my sister canceled her trip out here and that I don’t miss seeing my students every week.’

Across the room, the clatter of Petunia’s paws against the tile in the kitchen sounded out as she trotted towards the couch. Luke sniffled a little bit, and the girl he’s practically sitting on top of felt a tear against the thumb still running across his cheekbone. Petunia must have sensed the sadness coming from the couch as she jumped up and pushed herself against Luke’s legs, looking up at him for pets.

Luke blinked back tears again, his head leaning back to face the ceiling and the hand at the back of his neck moved to scratch between his shoulders. ‘I know it can’t make it go away but how about cuddles for a bit and then we can facetime everyone after dinner? See what they’re up to maybe?’ she whispered, suddenly aware of the stillness of the room.

His lips pouted a bit as he nodded and turned to her. ‘Can I lay in your lap so Petunia can get cuddles too?’

She let herself giggle softly at his request, not being able to help herself as she leaned forward to brush her lips against his pout. ‘Of course, sweet pea.’

He maneuvered his long limbs so Petunia was tucked against him (easiest access for tummy rubs) and laid his sleepy head in his girl’s lap. As one hand returned to the glass of wine beside her, the other combed through the bleached curls, softer than usual from the hair mask she convinced him to do with her earlier in the week. Though her heart ached that she couldn’t give any better of a solution to the way her sweet boy was feeling, she knew something was right by the way he quickly fell asleep, his lips pouted against her leg as he rested. She returned the glass to the side table and carefully picked up her book again, moving slowly so she didn’t disturb the sleeping boy in her lap. However, one hand did stay tucked into his hair as even in his sleep he would start fidgeting some if he couldn’t feel the lazy patterns she drew through the curls.

Later that night, as she finished rinsing their wine glasses from a late dinner, she heard his loud, bright laughter followed by ‘Baby, you gotta come see the costumes Mike and Cal got for the dogs! And bring your laptop, we need to find a pink Power Ranger costume for Petunia!’

She chuckled as she set the last glass down on the drying rack. Yeah, they were gonna be alright.

//

[bluebellhairpin]

Out of Goodwill [2]

The Hobbit X Reader

Part One || Part Two || Part Three

A/N: Oops. I’ve wrote this instead of other things. Someone give me a badge for best procrastinator? But this part is a bit longer than my usual quota, have fun! - Nemo

Summary: The night ends, and a new day begins. And now you have to leave seven in your house. Let’s pray they won't break anything while you and Bard go out into the real world for the day.

Masterlist  

The time spent after dinner was… A little wild. 

First you needed to figure out where you’d place everyone when they slept, which was harder than it would’ve been considering everyone wanted to make sure you weren’t kicked out of your room or sleeping on the floor.

Eventually arrangements were made; Thranduil and Legolas would share the master bedroom, also known as your parents room for when they visited. You didn’t like how big it  was, even if you did use the walk-in wardrobe. In all truth you thought Legolas would get kicked onto the floor with some pillows and a blanket, but that was for those two to decide. 

Balin and Dwalin got your room, and you felt very lucky that you just cleared everything out to re-decorate, so it wasn’t like there was anything embarrassing left in there aside from your clothes. You trusted them not to snoop.

Thorin and Bard got your spare room, which held two single beds which usually housed your siblings when they visited, and you shoved a double mattress from under the master bed between the two singles for Fili and Kili. 

You dared not tell them that you’d be sleeping in front of the fire with another single mattress, you didn’t even pull the mattress out from its place before you knew they were all asleep. You wouldn’t hear the end of it if they didn’t believe you were just going to bunk next door. You didn’t care if they found out tomorrow, you just needed rest.

The next morning, you found, reluctantly, that Bard was an early riser. Like, five in the morning early riser. He was also very curious, and you gave away sleep to answer every question that came your way. 

He asked of the food you ate, the clothes you wore, what jobs you had, your family, your economic system, and everything else in between. To your surprise and thankfulness, he was a good listener, and a quick learner. By the time you discussion was over, he knew how to work the microwave and kettle. 

Thranduil emerged from upstairs at six thirty, and you shoved a mug of coffee in his hand as soon as he opened his mouth. He looked down at the mug, then tentatively took a sip, scrunching up his nose at it. You took the mug back and proceeded to make him a cup of tea, which he seemed to like more. 

Balin and Legolas were the next to wake, and luckily they woke at your weekday alarm of around seven. Balin also had plenty of questions, and he seemed to be drawn to your collection of books. He was eyeing them last night, and you told him he was welcome to read them as long as he didn’t damage them. He picked up The Hunger Games first, you felt obligated to tell him it was fiction, and that your encyclopedia would be a little better to get to know your world. He kept reading The Hunger Games instead. 

Legolas followed you around, watching what you were doing as you got ready for work at the distance a cat would watch it’s owner at. You caught him trying to copy your actions, but when you asked him if he wanted to be taught he said he didn’t need to know. 

Thorin and Dwalin emerged from their respective rooms as you were about to go into yours to pick out your clothes for the day, and Dwalin straight-up asked you where food was. You told him to ask nicely, or harass Bard, of which had been informed all about the kitchen earlier, which drew a short laugh from Thorin.

Fili and Kili both woke right as you were almost ready to leave for work. They were shuffling on their feet and still half asleep, but they both wanted to know where you were going anyway right as Bard appeared at your side asking to come with you. 

“I’m going to work.” You told the brothers, and even now you only just realised how huge they were. Human-sized dwarfs were scary huge. “And…” you looked Bard up and down, “No, you can’t come. You’ll stick out like a sore thumb.” 

“Can’t you get me other clothes?” he asked, and you had to think for a second. You had clothes from pretty much everywhere seeing as you picked out clothes based on what they looked like and how comfy they were. You even had a men’s suit tucked in your wardrobe because there wasn’t anything stopping you. Now that you thought about it, your dad did leave one of his suits behind last time he visited. 

Ten minutes later, Bard emerged from the bathroom with his former clothes folded in his hands and your father's grey three-piece suit. You had to admit, Bard looked good. 

“What is he wearing?” Thranduil asked with a quirked eyebrow, already on his fourth cup of tea. 

“It’s called a suit, and he needs it because it’s just about the only decent menswear I have that’d fit him.” You explained, taking the cloths from Bard to place them down on a side table and then shoving him down into a seat. 

“Hey! What are you-”

“Calm down, I need to fix your hair.”

“What’s wrong with my hair?”

“What isn’t wrong with your hair would be a better question.” Thranduil mumbled into his cup, clear not happy that Bard was shoved into the seat across from him. 

“Legolas, slap your father for me, would you?” You said, calling over to the other elf who was making a messy work of frying eggs as Kili looked on with a grin. Legolas snapped his head over to you, shock written on his face as Thorin and Dwalin laughed at Thranduil’s frozen posture. “What? It’s not hard to keep your mouth shut, Thranduil.” You said, finishing with Bard’s hair and you had to admit, it was an improvement, even slightly. 

You made your way back to the front door, calling back to Balin. 

“Balin, you’re in charge, if anything goes wrong… Legolas!” 

“Yes (y/n)?”

“You remember how to use that phone, right?”

“I think so!”

“Balin, if anything goes wrong get Legolas to call me. Whatever you do,” you said, leaning back into the lounge to address everyone, “Don’t go outside. You’ll cause a riot.” They all seemed to understand, and you looked to Fili and Kili. “You two hearing me?” 

“Yes (y/n).” They said, looking at you with eyes that made you want to believe them.

“Don’ worry lass, I’ll keep an eye on ‘em.” Dwalin said, TV remote in hand and offering it to you as if you ask you to turn it on. You shake your head with a smile.

“You’ll figure it out, just don’t break anything.” And with that you left, Bard on your heels towards your work. You just really hoped no one questioned what Bard was doing with you, or why he was going to be lurking around the library archives all day.

Your first stop was a cafe, since you needed it, and because you always brought in a couple drinks and pastries for those you worked with. It was what you became known for. 

While waiting around for your items, you looked over at Bard.

“We’re gonna have to give you another name.” You said.

“Why?” he asked, tilting his head slightly. With his head movement you noted a couple girls behind him staring.  You let out a sigh, deciding not to address it. 

“Because ‘Bard’ isn’t exactly a common name.” 

“So what do you suggest to call me instead?” he asked,shifting his  weight from one foot to the other and crossed his arms.

“Ben?” you suggested, and got an upturned nose. Ben was a no. 

“Beau?” 

“Getting better, but no.”

“You understand that this is only a name to use in front of others, it’s not like we’re completely changing your name.” you said, as your name was called. You went to collect your paper bag of food and tray of drinks, then returned to a slightly pouting Bard. “Okay, what about we try one more name, and if it doesn't even spark the slightest joy in you, we’ll give it up and you can stick to Bard?” 

“Alright, hit me.” he agreed, moving to open and hold the door for you.

“Okay, let me think,” you started, Bard now rejoining you and taking the cup from th tray that was marked ‘HC’ for hot chocolate (you decided to start him on something less caffeine-infused), “Bryce?” 

He looked up at you, his expression unreadable, and after a fe walking strides shook his head. 

“No. That’s not right either.” He said, continuing in step with you as you let out a puff of air.

“Oh well, I guess you’re just destined to stick out as ‘Bard’.” You joked, sipping from your own drink as you turned the final corner to the library that sat on top of the cities archives. 

When it came to getting Bard in the archives without a library card was a little difficult, but Bard flashed the girl on security a smile, stole one of your doughnuts to give her and he was in. 

Your workmates, both avid book fans, saw Bard and their jaws practically dropped to the floor. When you introduced Bard as ‘Bard’, you think one of them almost fainted. 

“Man, (y/n)” Harry said, pulling you away to gather his drink as Jazz talked to Bard, “How’d you get Luke Evans to come visit you at work?” 

“That’s that thing, Haz,” you laughed, “It ain’t Evans.” 

“What, you just managed to get a man that looks, sounds and acts like ‘Bard’?” Harry hummed, clearly not believing you as he took a sip of his latte. 

“No, that is Bard.” he shook his head.

“I don’t believe you.” 

“I have seven more at home.”

“What, Bard look-alike?” he snickered, and you noted that Bard and Jazz were both looking your way.

“No, Hobbit characters.” 

“Wait, like Legolas?” Jazz asked, bounding over to tug at your sleeve.

“And Thranduil.” Jazz gasped, seeing as she was a heavily elf fan, her next request didn’t surprise you, and made you laugh more than anything else.

“Can I see them?” 

“After work!” And with that she was off, setting back to asking an amused Bard all sort of questions.

You thought he’d be there for a while, and a while he was. 

It was only after your lunch break that you caught Bard wandering through the rows of shelves and files to try and find you. 

“That Jazz is a bit of a character,” Bard started, making his way to you as you put away some files from earlier, drawing a smile to your face, “She’s… Very talkative.”

“Yeah, sorry if she gets a bit too ‘in your business’, she’s like that with everyone.” You say, glancing at him to see he was also smiling.

“Good to know I’m not as special as I thought I was.” he said, starting to pick and choose at the files on the opposite row. “You know, this world would be worth staying in, if I didn’t have people back home.” he said softly, almost a whisper.

“Damn,” you said, breathing in sharply, “We need to get you home.” you ran a hand along your face and lent against the filing cabinet. 

“It’ll be okay, I know people in Laketown will only start missing me after a week or so. I was meant to go to Erebor for a while, they won’t be any wiser.”

“Why were you going to Erebor?” you asked, raising your head to look at him properly. 

“That,” he started, voice still soft, “That’s a long story (y/n).”

“I have all afternoon, so start talking.”

----------

Series Taglist: @irisv-x 

[wldthoughtz]

Man.

AJ Styles (Smut)

(I don’t own the gif!!)

“1…2…3! Ding, Ding, Ding.” AJ let out a breath of air he didn’t know he had been holding as he saw her smile brightly as the ref handed her, her belt and raised her hand in victory. He had been on edge the entire match, cheering whenever she had the upper hand, wincing or cursing whenever she got hurt, and trying to keep his anger in check when Finn or anyone else made an inappropriate comment about her. He had kept a close eye on her the entire match, from the beginning when he saw her walk out in her sexy little ring gear until now as she basked in the cheers of the crowd.  

“Wow that girl is talented,” Karl mumbled, everyone around the table nodded their heads in agreement as all their eyes were still glued to the monitor watching as she climbed the top rope, championship in hand as she celebrated her victory. She had been the main event tonight, defending her championship against Sasha Banks. Everyone had stayed around just to watch the exhilarating match, and they hadn’t been disappointed at all.

“You can say that again,” Finn stated in disbelief as he stood up. “That match was insane,” he whistled out as they watched the replay of her hitting the perfect moonsault on Sasha. “And damn does she look good!” He groaned causing other men in the room to call out in approval, making AJ’s jaw clench and his fists bawl. “Let me go personally congratulate her,” Finn chuckled raising his eyebrows at the group of men as he exited catering and made his way to gorilla for his promo against Brock that would end the show. AJ let out a grunt of disapproval at the thought of her with Finn.

Praises and approval of the rest of the superstars and staff filled the room as the discussion of the match continued. AJ watched silently in adoration as she walked up the ramp, high-fiving fans and hugging small kids with a big smile on her face. He noticed the room quiet, as he turned, he saw Sasha walk by catering without acknowledging anyone, her makeup was smeared, and her hair was a mess. She was holding the back of her neck with one hand while the other wrapped around her stomach. He watched Bailey call out after her friend as she followed her down the hall.

AJ turned back in time to the screen just in time to see a confused look on her face as Finn’s music played through the arena followed by loud cheers from the crowd. A sour look crossed AJ’s face as he saw Finn strut out with a devilish smile as he lifted the microphone to his lips.

“Congratulations Champ,” Finn called into the microphone causing the crowd to chant ‘You deserve it’ over and over again. She sent Finn a beautiful smile as she walked up the rest of the ramp and he wrapped her in his arms. AJ’s body tensed and his jaw hurt from the pressure of his teeth clenching. He saw her pull back and he managed to read a ‘thank you’ from her lips. Just as she stepped away from Finn. Finn circled his arm around her waist pulling her back into him, AJ saw pure red as Finn pressed a kiss onto her cheek almost touching her lips. The crowd went crazy with cheers and wolf whistles as Finn pulled back and she sent him a small smile as she pulled away from him. The look AJ had on his face was murderous as he watched Finn’s fingers slowly slip from hers. AJ looked away from the screen as his jaw muscles clenched and unclenched. He knew that if he starred at that screen a moment longer, he would be running down that ramp and beating Finn to a pulp.

The room seemed to suddenly light up as she entered catering in all her glory. Looking up his mouth went dry at the sight her, even though she was fresh out of a long match she still managed to look absolutely stunning. Unlike Sasha, her hair was still sleek and pin straight, without a hair out of place. Her makeup was also still intact, and she looked like a complete angel, but gazing at her body he knew she was anything but. He couldn’t believe that her ring gear was approved for being on a PG show. AJ gulped deeply he saw her laced up sports bra flaunting her cleavage, and her breasts looked like they could just ooze out. He imagined his face buried deep between her beautiful breasts as breathy moans left her lips. His eyes gazed down to her toned and curvy stomach that was completely on display, the dip in her waist was his favorite place. Whenever he would get the chance to hug her or take a picture with her, his hands were always there. His eyes skimmed down to her tiny ring shorts that somehow still managed to cover the place where numerous times he pictured being deep inside. “Fuck,” He cursed out softly, reaching down he adjusted his straining bulge when she turned around to give Alexa a hug, and giving him a full view of her plumb round ass that barely fit in the tight shorts. Trailing further his eyes locked on her deliciously curvy and toned thighs, the same ones that he had dreamed about being wrapped around his waist as he pounded into her sweetness. He groaned out in frustration as he noticed all his friends and the rest of the people in catering surrounded her, obscuring his view in order to congratulate her. He leaned back in his chair and ran a hand down his face. His self-control was hanging by a thread and he knew he shouldn’t be having such impure thoughts about her. She was younger than him, way younger, but no matter how hard he tried to avoid his feelings, he never could.

After what seemed like forever, he realized the crowd had thinned down to where it was only Karl, Luke, and Alexa.  Standing up he made his way over to the group where she was standing with her back towards his. Luke and Alexa saw him coming towards them and they shared a knowing smirk. Luke elbowed Karl and tilted his head in AJ’s direction as he made his way closer to the group. Now all three had their eyes on him with devious smirks.

A surge of confidence came over him as he reached her and he wrapped his arms around her waist, causing her to jump slightly. “Congratulations sweetness,” AJ whispered softly into her ear, smirking when he felt her shiver in his arms.

“AJ!” She squealed happily as she turned in his arms, wrapping her hands around his neck as his found their place in the dips of her waist. “Thank you so much!” She muttered against his chest. He glanced up and smiled when he saw Luke and Karl flash him a thumbs up as they backed up, followed by Alexa who raised her eyebrows at him teasing.

He let out a small sigh of content as he circled his arm around her waist pulling closer to him. The feeling of warm and comfort circled his body and he knew this is where he was happiest, with her in his arms. “You’re welcome darling, you deserve it.” He smiled pulling away slightly to gaze at the beautiful smile on her face. “You were really stellar out there,” he beamed tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Thank you. It means so much coming from you!” She fawned as her fingers played with the hairs on the back of his neck causing him to release a small groan. This is how it’d always been, harmless touching and flirting, even though both of them wanted more.

His smile turned into a deep frown as he pulled away from her causing her hands to fall from around him and she sent him a confused look. “So, you and Balor a thing now?” He asked in his deep southern accent.

Her brows furrowed and unfurrowed in realization, “No, we’re not. He was just being friendly and congratulating me.” She told him as she pulled off her championship and set it on the table before looking back at him.

AJ shot her a ‘really’ look as he plopped down into a chair, “Trust me Balor doesn’t want to be just ‘friendly’ with you.” He grunted with annoyance clearly audible in his voice. “And hell, you were all smiley with him too.” He snarled softly as he crossed his arms on his chest.

A look of disbelief crossed her face but was immediately replaced with a smile, he’s jealous she thought happily as she strode over to him. “And why do you care?” She asked softly standing between his parted legs. “I’m single,” She stated in a serious tone, but she knew what game she was playing. Truth was that yeah, many guys had been after her like Dolph, Drew, Joe, and yes even Finn. But she’d always had deep feelings for AJ, and quiet frankly she didn’t care one bit about the age difference. He did though, and she hated it, but seeing him jealous sent shivers to her core, and she was determined to make him cave. “Maybe I liked Finn kissing me and maybe I want to be more than friendly with him too… what’s so wrong with that?” She asked him accusingly. “It’s not like I’m your girl,” she stated flatly.

AJ’s eyes went dark as they gazed up at goddess that stood between his parted legs, there was nothing that he wanted more than to pull her down to her knee and make her suck him off with that smart mouth of hers. A loud squeal left her lips when she was suddenly pulled down onto his lap. His arms wrapped tightly around her waist keeping her breasts pressed flush against him, “We both know you don’t want Finn,” He breathed out calmly watching the desire burn in her eyes. “You want a real Man… and we both know I’m the only one man enough to put you in your place.” He stated flatly as his hand slipped to her ass and began palming it.

“And where is my place?” She breathed out resting her forehead on his, as their eyes locked together.

His hand slipped up to the back of her head and tread through her soft hair until his palm encased the back of her skull, and bringing her face closer to his, their lips almost touching. “Laying under me… as I pound myself deep into that sweet, tight, little pussy of yours,” He growled softly when she let out a soft moan.

He stood up abruptly with her in his arms causing her to gasp in surprise, he turned set her down on the table. “My room tonight,” He whispered almost against her lips. She nodded softly unable to speak as she gazed into his lust-filled eyes. He turned his face slightly and surprised her with a kiss right where Finn had kissed her earlier. Pulling away he had a hard time containing himself from taking her there as he gazed into her desire filled eyes.

He took a few steps back before turning and walking to the door, “Sweetheart,” he called out not turning around. She turned her head to glance at him and saw him barely look over his shoulder, “I’m going to make you ‘my girl’ tonight… and you’ll never question who you belong to again” He mumbled deeply before continuing down the hallway.

_____________________________________

His hotel room

He opened the door and could only stare in shock at the beautiful woman standing in front of him. “Hey,” She whispered softly as she sent him a sweet smile, making his heart flutter at the sound of her smooth sultry voice. As much as he fought, he couldn’t help his eyes wander down her toned and curvy body, which had been sculpted from the countless hours spent in the gym. Looking down he let out a cough as his eyes trailed up her smooth long legs, the same legs that he had pictured wrapped around his waist or shoulders countless times. His eyes reached her succulent thighs that he wanted to suck on and mark up. She was wearing tight spandex short shorts that strained against her full ass. Moving further up he could see the midriff of her toned stomach and caught sight of the sparkling jewel on her bellybutton that hadn’t been there earlier but boy did his tongue and mouth itched to play with it. The cropped white T-shirt she wore stretched tightly over her breasts that were undeniably the perfect size for, well, just about anything a man could think of doing with a large pair of breasts, and right now, he could think of quite a few things. Holding back a groan he saw her pin straight hair was long and shiny as it cascaded over her shoulders and back. He could see the glint of diamond earrings through luscious curtain of hair that he would love to see spread out over his pillow as he hovered over her. Her eyes were what had captured him the first day he laid eyes on her. They were sparkling unnaturally hazel eyes, that many times he found himself lost in. And her lips… Fuck, her full glossy lips had been the cause of many of his self-inflicted orgasms as he pictured them wrapped tightly around him.

“Hi,” he said after a few seconds of unashamed staring, feeling like an idiot when his voice cracked. Dammit, he was not an inexperienced teenager, he was a grown ass man. Sure, he had been with many women in his years of travel, but none of them had had an effect this powerful on him. Was he really going to do this? He cleared his throat, removing all of the questioning thoughts in his head and started again. “Come on in, Darling.” He said to her as he steps to the side, giving her enough room to pass. Sending him another sweet smile she walked past him and into the room.

Once the door clicked shut, he realized that there would be no turning back, not that he wanted to anyways... with a sharp breath he turned and faced her. His breathe caught in his throat when he took her in and noticed just how naturally beautiful, she truly was as she stood in the dimly lit room. Letting out a shaky breath he finally stepped closer to her.

Once in front of her, he breathed in the sweet smell that surrounded her of sweet lavender. Reaching up with one hand he cupped her cheek softly, “Close your eyes sweetheart,” he breathed out and watched her eyes flutter shut. Be began tracing a line around her face with his thumb touching her nose, her eyelids and her cheeks softly. His hand stroked down the side of her neck and followed the curve of her collarbones to the other side. His hand slipped around her shoulder and down her arm until he held her wrist between his fingers. He basked in the delicate, and soft feeling of her warm skin. Looking up he noticed her lips slightly parted, as she let out soft breaths. He let out a soft groan when he glanced down and noticed her nipples were hardening under her top and clenched his jaw as he realized that she wasn’t wearing a bra. His mouth watered at how magnificent they looked under the thin cotton t-shirt she was wearing. Glancing up at her glowing, lust-filled gaze his hand reached for her waist as he pulled her to him. His eyes locked onto her shiny lips that were decorated in a cherry-colored gloss that he wanted to lick off, just to see if it would in fact taste like cherry. He felt himself strain at the thought of being between those glossy lips and he let out a soft groan.

She stepped closer to him, breaking his lingering gaze as she slid her arms around his waist and looked up at him. “Are you going to kiss me?” She whispered breathlessly up at him watching his eyes lock with hers before returning to her lips.

The precarious hold he had had over his self-control snapped and he pushed one hand through her hair, feeling the thick smooth locks caress his hand. He knew that he shouldn’t be doing this, she was almost half his age... heck he was old enough to be her...Not allowing the thoughts to continue, his other hand reached out and cupped her face and tilted it towards his. He looked in her sparkling eyes and noticed the desire and lust they held. The beautiful smile on her lips almost made his knees week... more than they already were.

Lowering his head, he touched his lips to hers feeling a tingling warmth spread through his body. Just like cherry he thought to himself, grinning his lips pressed themselves further into hers savoring the delicious taste of her lips. He parted his lips slightly allowing his tongue glide along the seam of her lips. They opened for him like a delicate flower, but he didn’t take the invitation just yet. Instead, he spent time nibbling on that juicy bottom lip, tugging it lightly with his teeth and rubbing his mouth gently against hers. She let out a soft whimper which finally had him slip his tongue inside warm mouth. She moaned into his mouth as his tongue licked and probed at the soft, smooth inside of her mouth, tasting her and instantly becoming addicted. He deepened the kiss coaxing her tongue into his mouth. He kept it there for a while, suckling on it rhythmically, until she moaned in need. The kiss grew more heated, he was already so hard, and he had not even touched her yet.

His hand left her cheek to trail down the side of her neck, continuing further and just grazing the side of her breast lightly. He cupped the dip of her waist, right where his hands longed to be. He stroked down further, over her hip and her ass, his hand hooked the back of her thigh and he lifted. She caught on immediately wrapped her legs around his waist. He pressed his denim-clad erection against her, rubbing it erotically, letting her know how much he wanted her.

“AJ,” She moaned out against his lips arching back slightly to press him against her harder.

“Fuck!” He groaned out as he parted their lips, breathing hard. His hands cupped her ass and lifted her higher as he started to towards the bed. “Baby,” He groaned when she rubbed herself against him again, causing him to walk faster toward the bed.

He sat her down on his bed softly and stood back reaching for the band of his sweatpants. Pulling them down he kicked them off, now standing in front of her in his tight boxer briefs. A look of desire covered her gorgeous face as she looked up at him, her bottom lip nestled between her pearly white teeth.

“Why don’t you get you out of those clothes for me darling,” He mumbled breathlessly.

She nodded as she pulled the tight T-shirt over her chest exposing her full firm breasts to his hungry eyes. “Damn baby,” He growled as he wrapped his arm around her waist while his other hand reached up and cupped her breast firmly. Leaning down he captured the nipple in his mouth and worked it with his tongue back and forth causing her to throw her head back with a moan. He moved to the other breast and groaned at how good her breasts felt against his hands and in his mouth. He released her nipple with a pop as he stood up to admire her. “Fuck, you’re so damn beautiful baby,” he whispered cupping her cheek before placing his lips onto hers softly.

Pulling away he cupped her shoulders in his hand and pushed her to lie on her back. His hands reached down and wrapped around the band of her shorts before he pulled them down with a hard tug. “Fucking hell darling,” He growled out once he realized that she hadn’t worn panties. With a smirk she opened her legs baring herself to him and she heard him suck in a big breath of air as he knelt between parted legs. He wedged his shoulder under her legs to hoist them over his arms. His tongue making lazy circles against her skin of her thigh, moving slowly up towards his goal. She let out a frustrated groan as he moved to the other thigh and continued to tease her.

“Easy, sweetheart,” he murmured against her skin. “We have all the time in the world…” he breathed out in his sexy southern accent.

 He found a sweet spot on her soft skin of her thigh and suckled it until he left a dark hickey. He loved the look of his mark on her, he especially liked knowing it would be there, visible to everyone whenever she wore her ring gear or shorts.

She was panting by the time his mouth hovered over her sex. He breathed cool air over her watching her shiver, then with the tip of his tongue he gave a single lap over her slit, starting at the bottom and ending with the lightest touch on her clit. “AJ,” She breathed out pleadingly as she gave out strangled moan. He backed off, taking his tongue back into his mouth to savor the taste of her.

“Fuck sweetness, you taste delicious,” He groaned at her sweet taste and immediately wanted more, so he drove right back in. Burying his face deep inside her as he began running his tongue over her repeatedly. She was making little mewling sounds of pleasure that turned him on even more. He moved his face up and began playing with her clit; flicking it hard and fast, sucking it into his mouth, and nibbling on it with his lips, causing her to cry out with every action. He loved how she reacted to him as he opened his mouth wide, covering as much of her slit as possible, and sucked hard causing her to release a single scream as she came hard. Not giving her time to recover he slid a finger into her, and she quickly became a whimpering mess. The room filled with the wet sounds of his fingers sliding in and out of her dripping sex mixed with her soft whimpers and moans, and his satisfied growls and grunts. Her responsiveness astounded him as he slid in another finger and started working her harder and faster. It didn’t take long for the pressure to start building up again, but he didn’t let her finish, pulling away just before she peaked again.

“No,” she gasped when he stood up. “You can’t… can’t leave me like this… AJ please!” She pleaded as she sat up in the bed.

“Don’t worry darling,” he said, pulling his boxers down his legs before kicking them off. She almost moaned at the sight of his thick cock standing up straight against his abs. “I’m gonna take care of you like a real man should,” He breathed out softly as he watched her lay back with a sultry smile.

He climbed back over her with a smirk, resting in between her parted thighs. He bent down over her face to press a long, lingering kiss on her soft and still glossy lips. Before he pulled away to admire her as she laid completely bare beneath him, just like he had pictured her in many of his fantasies.

“You are magnificent,” he breathed out softly, “I can’t even begin to explain to you how long I’ve wanted you just like this darling. It takes my breath away, looking at you like this.” He stated almost breathlessly.

“Baby,” She whispered softly as she cupped his cheek, stroking his prickly beard. She sent him a beautiful smile as she marveled at his words, “Kiss me,” she whispered softly. With a sly smile he bent his head down to capture her lips. Their kiss was intimate and deep as his hand reached down and cupped one of her soft breasts, admitting a moan from her lips. He slid down her body and almost moaned at the sight of her perfectly round breasts right in front of his face. He leaned down and bit into one of her nipples before he licked and sucked the soft skin of her breast, while his hand squeezed and fondled the other. He switched breasts and repeated the same actions that had her moaning and withering as she threw her head back in pleasure. He took one of her nipples, biting on it lightly causing her to cry our before he soothed it with his tongue, before suckling it into his mouth and tugging on it roughly before moving back to her other breast.

“Fuck. I need you,” he groaned out as he pulled away from her breasts and admiring the deep hues of red and purple that now covered your breasts. “I’ve held back to long. I have to have you, sweetness,” He breathed out longingly.

“Please,” she whispered breathlessly, her arms went around his neck, holding him close. He let out a grown as he held his hard shaft by the base and slid it towards her awaiting cunt. He slid his shaft against her dripping folds and teased her clit with the head causing her to throw her head back in pleasure. Finally, he positioned it in the right spot, and pressed forward slowly. She released a breathy moan as the head slipped inside and he stilled his movements when he felt her wince. He groaned put softly at the extreme tightness while giving her time to adjust. She squeezed his shoulders, “AJ,” She moaned softly while he groaned when he moved again, sliding in an inch at a time before withdrawing again slightly. She was breathing very fast, her walls tightening against him as he stretched her out.

“Fuck darlin! You’re so tight…,” he said through clenched teeth as he held back from ramming straight into her. She whimpered as she clutched his shoulders, burying her nails in his skin. He slid out then slid inside again, finally hallway inside her, before easing back slightly. She was so damn tight and wet he didn’t know how much longer he would last. He eased back almost all the way out and pushed forward with a smooth, hard thrust causing her to cry his name out loud at feeling of him finally fully in her. “Fuck!” He growled at the delicious feeling of her tight walls suctioning him, he almost felt like he could come then and there.

She was perfect, her body accepting him as he sheathed himself in her slick core. She clutched tightly onto him as she felt the delicious burn between her legs as he stretched her to new width, “So good,” She whispered breathlessly. He groaned at the sound of her straining voice as he held there for a minute, letting her get used to his length and girth, and giving himself time to calm down a little. “AJ,” She whispered desperately as she pushed against him, signaling him to move.

“Fuck Princess,” He groaned as he began to move, slowly at first, but eventually picking up speed as he went. He quickened his pace stroke by stroke, heartbeat by heartbeat until she was flinging her head back against the sheets, desperate for release.

“Who do you belong to?” He growled as he circled a hand around her hip, tilting her up towards him for deeper penetration.

“You!” She cried out as she devilled in the forceful and powerful thrust, he was giving her.

He groaned in approval as they settled into a rhythm of fast hard strokes, deep, long ones, and grinding ones. She was gasping as he pressed her further into the mattress with his force, as the headboard smacked back and forth against the wall. He growled at the sight of her beautiful breasts bouncing freely. He bent his head to suck one nipple into his mouth causing her to release a loud moan. Keeping his mouth on her breast, he reached down with one hand and found the sensitive spot on her clit, rubbing it hard and fast. “Baby!” She cried as her breathing hitched. He bit down on the nipple hard and she came with a surprised gasp, as her walls were clenching around him tightly causing him to release a deep groan as he pulled away from her chest.

“That’s right baby, cum for me,” He snarled as he watched her fall apart before him and the way her walls contracted around him caused him to release an animalistic growl as he plowed hard into her with hard and powerful strokes. She felt so good he didn’t want to leave, ever. He wanted her just like this every single day, just for him. He trembled and then lunged deep inside, feeling the familiar tingle that started at the base of his spine. The orgasm rushed through him, hard and wet and disorientating him with its strength. He felt the wet gush of his cum shooting into her waiting pussy. Her slick walls were gripping him so hard it was almost painful. He shot the last of his cum deep into her, coating her walls and bringing them both the ultimate pleasure. “Fuck!” He breathed out hearing her small whimpers.

Breathlessly he collapsed on top of her, carefully holding himself up with his forearms so he didn’t crush her. They lay there breathing hard before he got the energy to pull out of her with a shudder, watching her wince as he rolled off her. He flopped next to her with a harsh breath and reached down to pull her into his arms. “You alright sweetheart?” He asked her concern audible in his voice as he gazed at her flushed face.

“Perfect,” She hummed softly as she sent him a sweet smile before pecking his lips softly.

He smirked when he took in the satisfied look on her face and pulled her into his chest. “Good,” He breathed out, his breathing finally slowing. His smirk turned into a serious look as he pulled up her chin, so she was facing him looking completely confused. “No one gets to every touch you again, but me,” He stated firmly, as a dangerous look crossed his eyes. “You are my girl, and my girl only,” He breathed out eerily calm. “You got that?” He asked, gazing deeply into her eyes.

“Fuck yes,” She breathed out connecting their lips in a fiery kiss that was sure to leave them both breathless.

Like this? Check out my other Stories!

Mine: Roman Reigns (Smut)

“I got you baby”: Seth Rollins

Congratulations: Seth Rollins (Smut)

“She’s mine”: Seth Rollins/ Finn Balor

Believe: Finn Balor

Love: AJ Styles

Home: Finn Balor (Smut)

Promise: Seth Rollins

Your Girl: Finn Balor (Smut)

Hurt: Finn Balor

[marshmallowgoop]

Studio Trigger Live Drawing with Tetsuya Sakurai (02/20/19): Transcript (Non-Verbatim)

Studio Trigger streamed their third Twitch live drawing at 18:00 JST on February 20, 2019. The stream features inbetween animator Tetsuya Sakurai drawing Satsuki Kiryuin from Kill la Kill, as well as producer Hiromi Wakabayashi and translator Tatsuru Tatemoto. A full video of the stream is available on Twitch here.

I’ve put together a transcript of the stream for anyone curious about the Q and A. While the transcript is not verbatim, all the meaning should still be captured.

Transcript

Tatsuru Tatemoto (Tattun): Sakurai started one year earlier than the last live drawing animator, Sato. Sakurai’s first work at Studio Trigger was in DARLING in the FRANXX. He’s been with Trigger for about two years.

Sakurai is an inbetween animator at Studio Trigger. Today, he’s going to draw Satsuki Kiryuin from Kill la Kill. He had some time to practice, so we’ll see what he has for us today. He’s a bit nervous, but he’ll give his best. I hope you enjoy the live drawing.

The producer just came in right now, but he’s going to use the restroom before he comes in.

Let’s get started with some questions on Patreon. This stream is made possible with the support of all our Patrons on Patreon. Thank you. Every bit of support is appreciated. None of the money gathered on Patreon is used as revenue for the studio. All goes to projects or staff and is much appreciated. Thank you very much.

If you would like to participate with questions, we do Q and As with the live drawings. Also, Patrons can vote on who the live drawers draw. We don’t have a link to our Twitch page on Patreon, but we will add it. The Twitch page isn’t too difficult to find and is on other social media, such as our Twitter and official site.

We do have our producer now, Hiromi Wakabayashi. He’s a regular MC for our streaming sessions.

Our first question is from Luke Roberts: “How long does it usually take to draw one frame, and how are the drawings kept so consistent with different people drawing them?”

Sakurai says that it depends on the cut. However, it generally takes about one hour to draw one inbetween frame.

Wakabayashi says that the drawings are consistent along the frames because there’s an animator—I think the direct translation is “animation director”—and they are the ones who kind of direct each frame to make sure there’s consistency throughout the series. There are episode directors who do this work.

We generally try to answer off of the questionnaires, but sometimes, we receive some questions that we obviously cannot answer for various reasons. “Can we expect a global theater release for Promare?” is an example, but I’ll ask for the hell of it.

I was not expecting such a thorough answer! Hiromi says that he would want a worldwide release if possible. There have been multiple announcements about Promare. If the opportunity allows, they want a worldwide release. Hopefully, they will get it.

We were just talking about Kill la Kill, the subject of the drawing. There was a close match between Satsuki and Nonon for this live drawing session. Nonon was just short of three votes for winning. I was secretly voting for Nonon with my own account. It’s unfortunate for the Nonon fans. Sakurai was low-key rooting for Satsuki, though, so I guess it worked out for him.

So, we’ve asked Sakurai what he usually works with. He usually likes to work digitally. When he draws for fun, he usually uses digital. When Sakurai doodles, he likes to color the illustration as well.

The next question is from Manuel Armando Marquez Gonzalez. I’m sorry if I mess up your names. The question is, “How is Trigger involved in the development of Kill la Kill the Game? And how did the project start?”

The answer was pretty long! Hopefully I can answer. Kill la Kill the Game initially started with the character designer at Arc System Works, Mori, who is the designer for BlazBlue. Mori watched Kill la Kill. Early after the airing of Kill la Kill, he pitched the idea to Arc System Works about doing a game. The idea was approved, and the idea was given to Studio Trigger’s production committee. That’s when the game project started.

The offer for the game was given pretty soon after the series ended. It’s been the works for a long time. Trigger’s involvement in the game process is to review character models and the stories. Trigger aren’t professionals when it comes to gameplay, though. Arc System Works are the professionals there because it’s their industry, so Arc System Works does the majority of that work. I hope that was a good answer for our questioner.

I was talking to Sakurai now. I get a lot of opportunities to watch animators draw, and I find it interesting that everyone has their own operation on how they draw their characters. I noticed that Sakurai kind of leaves the characters bald and draws hair later. Sakurai says that that’s just kind of how he’s doing the illustration now. There are times when he draws the hair with the face.

I questioned if Sakurai had ever drawn a fan illustration of Kill la Kill before. Sakurai drew fanart of Satsuki and Ryuko right after the final episode aired. He uploaded the piece on Twitter, so maybe you can find it. However, he makes his Twitter private, so it might be difficult to find the picture.

Wakabayashi and I asked Sakurai what his preferences for drawing are. What characters does he like to draw? Sakurai said that he preferred drawing female characters. He likes drawing female characters in long coats, like a long double coat. I guess that’s his kink!

Sakurai explained that he doodles original characters in his free time.

The next question is from Paul Schmidt, who asks, “Sakurai-san, what is it like being a Douga-man? Is it a lot of work? In a typical half-hour episode, how many frames/cuts do you have to draw? I submit anime staff credits to Anime News Network’s encyclopedia as a hobby, and I discovered your name was not in the database (at least not credited).”

I’ll split the question up.

Sakurai says that he currently enjoys being an inbetween animator, but when he first started working, he wasn’t used to the environment and wasn’t too comfortable with it. Sakurai thinks that the workload is pretty average.

Sakurai explained that it’s very difficult to calculate or put out a number for how many frames he works on per episode because each episode can be drastically different. He can maybe say how many frames he works on a week, which is maybe 50-60 frames because he does about 10 frames a day.

We asked our tech guy to pump up the volume for Sakurai’s microphone.

There’s a question that asks, “Is the iPad good for drawing?” I can’t pronounce the questioner’s name.

The third-generation iPad is very good for drawing. Today, we were planning to use the latest model of Cintiq 16 from Wacom for drawing, but it was broken when we tried to test with it. We had it fixed for stream, but we didn’t have enough time to set it up, so we’re using Intuos 5 today. Fortunately, Sakurai likes working with Intuos 5, and it’s his personal item that he brought with him today. He’s working in a preferred environment. We’re not forcing him to work with unfamiliar equipment.

There are a lot of questions regarding Inferno Cop season 2 on the chat log right now. Hiromi says that Studio Trigger wants to do it! However, the issue they’re having right now is that they have so much actual animation work to do. Inferno Cop is an animation as well, but there’s so much on Trigger’s to-do list that they haven’t gotten around to Inferno Cop yet. Ideally, Hiromi says, they only want to work on comical series, but to keep the studio going, they have to do actual work.

It has been a while since the studio has done anything with Inferno Cop, so Hiromi has talked to the studio about doing some more Inferno Cop along the line, though.

Sakurai is struggling with the shoulder parts of Satsuki, Wakabayashi says. Satsuki’s shoulder pads are difficult to draw! When Studio Trigger was designing the character, there were parts put in that Wakabayashi thought would cause a lot of problems for animators.

Wakabayashi says that they had some slight hope that some animators would find it entertaining to draw Satsuki’s shoulder pads. They would have to think about how the shoulder pads would move and work at different angles.

Our previous animator, Mr. Sato, likes drawing mechs and robots on top of characters. I was curious if Sakurai likes drawing mechs as well. Sakurai doesn’t like drawing non-organic objects, though he does like drawing the little details in clothing. Sakurai likes drawing the arm portion of coats, like the creases and stuff. He likes the little details.

There’s a question from Oscar Manjarrez, who asks, “How are the figures made? Do you reach out to Good Smile or other companies to make them, or is it the other way around? Just wondering if a Ryuko Figma would be made in her street clothing.”

Wakabayashi says it works both ways. Trigger does approach the figure companies in the pre-production portion of production. Trigger pitches that they’re making a certain kind of animation or series and asks if the company would be interested in making merchandise. If the company is interested in making merchandise, they can start making merchandise earlier and release the figures during the airing of the series.

What usually happens is that the company watches the studio’s animation and series and has their own interest. If the series is publicly well known, a company might make an attempt to make a figure. They want a profit as well, so they might ask to make a figure of one of the studio’s characters.

It’s not a Figma, but there was a jacket version of Ryuko from Medicom Toy. It’s a very big and pretty pricey figure.

There was a question from a user named by nora_soncho in our Twitch chat log. They ask if Promare will get a lot of figures and figurines.

The answer is “hopefully.” However, Wakabayashi doesn’t see a lot of figures being made for original movie titles. They’re pretty confident with the title, and they can only hope, and they wouldn’t be too surprised if figures were made possible.

We asked Sakurai if he likes collecting figurines or buying them. His response is sadly that he has just a few; he doesn’t really have an appreciation for figures. For hobbies, he likes playing games. He likes both console and PC games. He appreciates indie titles on Steam more.

Wakabayashi was curious if Sakurai knew about Indivisible. One of Trigger’s lead animators worked on the opening sequence for the game. Sakurai knows about the game and the company.

JxSam asks, “How did you guys pick Raemz to do some promotional Trigger art last month? It’s pretty inspiring to see someone non-Japanese be featured like that!”

I don’t think Raemz is the first non-Japanese person we’ve asked to do the Studio Trigger illustration of the month. I think we’ve had others. To answer your question, several of our staff, myself included, liked her art. I just approached her in the Comic Market, or maybe a different event. We were fortunate enough that she agreed to draw for us.

Apparently, Sakurai has finished doing the roughs. Now, he’s working on the final draft of the lines.

Evandro997 says, “Do Trigger receive a lot of portfolios from overseas? If yes, what do you think about them?”

Wakabayashi says they receive overseas portfolios from time to time, but he doesn’t think that they receive them often. They obviously do review these portfolios when they get them, though.

We asked Sakurai if he streams drawings on his private time. He says that he draws for fun, but he’s never streamed before. He’s a little nervous and uncomfortable because people can see all the little mistakes he made. People can see his in-progress illustration, which he thinks is kind of embarrassing.

Sakurai is using an Intuos 5 tablet today, the medium size.

Wakabayashi asked Sakurai about how he feels about Patreon and other financial support that Trigger receives from the fans. Sakurai responded that he appreciates Patreon and the financial support; it feels good.

Wakabayashi says that something like Patreon is a very foreign culture in Japan; there’s no culture of tipping in Japan. People don’t give money because they appreciate others’ work. Simply put, Wakabayashi is happy that they receive so much support from everyone.

There’s a question from Patreon, from Bill Erak, who asks, “So, how much power do producers have on a show? Like, oftentimes I see that there were decisions made by writers, others by directors, and others by producers. Writers and directors I kind of understand, but if producers have too much power, wouldn’t that make them straight-up directors, too?”

Wakabayashi says the answer to this question depends on the project. For example, a particular project might be started up by producers. A producer might go and find a director that they want their particular series directed by, as well as the staff that they want. In that case, the producer obviously has an agenda that he wants to pursue. He will probably comment here and there on how he wants the series to be executed. There are times when producers might have absolutely no say, though. A project might be very creative driven, where the director and scriptwriter will basically choose every finer detail of the project, and the producer is just there to make the process as stress free as possible.

Wakabayashi says that he can’t speak for other studios. However, with Studio Trigger, not any one person (scriptwriter, director, producer, etc.) has too much power. That’s just Trigger, though. The situation might be different in different studios.

Wakabayashi says that at Studio Trigger, they also feel that you don’t have to be a director, scriptwriter, producer, etc. to provide input. They welcome input regardless of position.

Sakurai is explaining that he’s making a lot of mistakes right now. However, that’s the benefit of drawing digitally. You can make as many mistakes as you want, CTRL+Z, and it’s gone. That’s not the case in physical drawing. You have to erase, and the paper gets worn out.

I explained this a bit earlier. One of our Twitch viewers asked in Japanese if Sakurai wants to work with… I guess digital tablets? I don’t know the correct term in English, but they asked if Sakurai was interested in working with a tablet like Cintiq.

Sakurai was interested initially. We bought a Cintiq 16 one for this stream and tried to test it out. However, when we tried to test a few days ago, there were problems with the equipment. We had to get the tablet repaired. As such, Sakurai is instead using his own tablet, the Intuos 5, which is what he usually draws with.

What time is it in Ukraine right now?

Would Studio Trigger accept donations and have Twitch stamps? We don’t have plans at the moment, but to be honest, we haven’t looked into it too much.

For people living in the east coast, west coast, or wherever where it’s like 3:00 or 5:00 am, please don’t deprive yourself of sleep. There should be a VOD enabled, so you can watch later.

We had a question if this is the studio that worked on Evangelion. Wakabayashi says not really! They’re the sidekick, like the Robin to Batman!

Wakabayashi says that he’ll maybe look into making a stamp. However, if they have to make it, that’s a lot of work that has to go in. They’ll look into it.

It looks like Sakurai has finished the face and is working on the body.

Wakabayashi was the creative officer for Kill la Kill. He commented on Sakurai’s drawing, saying that it looks just like Satsuki!

Wakabayashi is curious about what Sakurai wants to do in the future. Sakurai obviously wants to move up to a key frame animator. Then, he wants to do episodic directing, which is meaty directing on individual episodes. He wants to create something that is highly influenced by his own creative touch. He possibly wants to do a one-man ending sequence where all of the frames are executed by him.

Sakurai doesn’t ultimately want to become a director. He wants to take big steps and go up the ranks of the animators in the industry.

Wakabayashi says that it’s good to have a goal. It’s a motivating factor.

Studio Trigger is a lot more open to ideas, Wakabayashi adds. They try to provide opportunities to the staff. So, if animators keep saying that they’re interested in something and keep telling executives of their interest, sooner or later, it will happen. Wakabayashi says to keep trying.

Blademaster223 asks, “Will Trigger hire more foreign animators if the language barrier problem is solved?”

The question is a little broad, so Wakabayashi’s answer might not be the exact answer you’re expecting. The reason that Studio Trigger can’t hire foreign animators and staff is for a multitude of reasons. Trigger does work with a lot of foreign creators, like with Little Witch Academia and Promare. They don’t come to the studio, but Trigger works with a lot of overseas staff.

There are language barriers, but there are also financial issues. Visas cost a lot of money to obtain. Trigger isn’t big enough to sustain the money for visas.

Again, we covered a similar question in our previous stream as well. In today’s day and age, with all these technologies, you don’t have to be living in Japan to work with a particular entity. You can work online. That’s how Trigger does a lot of transaction with overseas creatives. There are staff like myself, who help with online translations all the time.

I think everyone is too concerned that they have to live in Japan to work with a Japanese studio. That might have been the case like 10 years ago, but I don’t think that’s the case today.

Hiromi asked if Sakurai watches overseas animation. Sakurai watches Disney and Pixar. Sakurai is very excited for Spider-Verse, which is coming out very late in Japan.

It’s very difficult to create those kinds of stunning visuals in Japan, Wakabayashi says. They’re interested in seeing what the movie is like.

Has Sakurai received any influence? Does he like Japanese animation? He likes Evangelion, specifically the reboot. He likes the newer, theatrical Evangelion and appreciates it more because it’s the first Evangelion he saw. The title was Rebuild of Evangelion. The fourth installment is in production right now. Sakurai is curious to see where it goes!

Sakurai doesn’t really have a favorite director, but he does appreciate Mr. Anno’s work. He did appreciate Shin Godzilla as well. Sakurai’s preference is more serious. He likes more serious anime over more comical ones.

Sakurai thinks that Studio Trigger’s method of direction or artistic touch is very American. [Wakabayashi laughs.] Wakabayashi says that is very exclusive to Imaishi’s work.

Are there any favorite Japanese anime series aside from movies that Sakurai likes? He likes the works from Kyoto Animation, though he doesn’t have any particular titles.

I asked Sakurai if he tried applying for Kyoto Animation before Trigger. Sakurai said that he only applied for Trigger, and I asked why. Why wouldn’t he want to work at the studio he likes most? Sakurai explained that he wants to keep what he likes… I don’t know if I can translate well. He wants to be able to enjoy his favorite thing as a hobby and not make it work.

The reason why Sakurai chose Studio Trigger over other studios is because he felt that the art direction seemed like it would be the most interesting to work with. It was the catchiest to him.

Hiromi explained that Sakurai has an interesting perspective. Instead of going to a serious studio and being serious there, it might be good to go to a less-serious studio so that you kind of stand out there.

We asked Sakurai how frequently he draws for fun. He says he draws for fun pretty much every day. At work, he draws in his free time. At home, he draws digitally as well.

This is a question from Zack Gould for Wakabayashi. He asks, “At Anime Expo 2018, you mentioned that if you work on any kind of project along with Imaishi, you would want to do something in the same vein as Panty and Stocking. I personally am also incredibly interested in seeing more hyper-sexual/hyper-violent works from you two, so I need to ask: has there been any discussion about it further than the mention at Anime Expo?”

This isn’t a direct translation, but Wakabayashi says Imaishi likes very orthodox series. He likes working on series like Gurren Lagann and Kill la Kill. He likes throwing in a sucker punch like Panty and Stocking and Luluco and taking turns between the two. Wakabayashi says that he would think that Promare is very orthodox. Promare’s genre is super-lit-mega-action-rescue-human drama!

I’m not going to translate what Wakabayashi just said. I’m sorry! I don’t think it’s possible. It’s too difficult. There’s a lot of play on words that I don’t think is possible to translate. If you can translate it, kudos to you. I’m not going to try, though!

I’ll translate what Wakabayashi said now, however. Promare is made for an all-ages audience. They’re not really goofing around this time. Everyone can enjoy the movie.

Hiromi was curious. Sakurai said earlier that he’s interested in animating his own worldview and making his own directed scenes and such. Hiromi was curious if Sakurai wanted to do concept art as well because that’s kind of exporting your own image into a visual illustration. I guess Sakurai is potentially interested in doing concept arts in the future.

Sakurai doesn’t really draw backgrounds or board-like illustrations in his free time, but he is currently studying how to at the moment. Sakurai explained that he’s not used to drawing and talking at the same time. I can’t even draw with my full attention, so I don’t think anyone can blame him for struggling to talk and draw at the same time.

I guess Sakurai’s self-pitch for his illustration of Satsuki today is that he gave a lot of effort to the shoulder parts, so once he’s finished drawing, check out the shoulders! It would be much appreciated.

“Tattun, are you an animator, too?” I wish! I wish I could draw. I wish I could draw all the time so that I could draw lewd pictures, but that is not the case.

This is a question from RYUUy that asks, “What are your favorite drawing exercises that helped you the most getting better?”

Sakurai says to watch a lot of other anime. Watch a lot of other creators’ illustrations and try to figure out what you appreciate and like drawing the most. When you figure out what you like and appreciate to draw the most, then that helps your own process with getting better at drawing.

Apparently, it’s Shiny Chariot’s birthday today. She’s one year older. I’m not sure she appreciates that!

Hiromi was curious. He just found out today that Little Witch Academia is that kind of series where you choose all the characters’ profiles. That’s not the case for Nakashima’s work like Gurren Lagann and Kill la Kill. That’s because Nakashima doesn’t want people to have a biased opinion of the character because their birthday is on a certain date. He wants the viewers to view his characters in the purest form.

I’m getting a lot of comments regarding the dice for the birthdays. I think I used a Dungeons and Dragons-type template to come up with the birthdays for the Little Witch Academia characters. Some of the birthdays were changed intentionally by the producer, obviously, but some birthday dates are completely random.

This is a question from Familiar Stranger_: “If you could remake any non-Japanese cartoon however you wanted, which cartoon would you do?” Hiromi says that it’s not a cartoon, but he would like to work with Star Wars.

Sakurai explains that he’s not too familiar with western cartoons. He doesn’t have any franchise that he would like to reboot under his name, but he would like to see Powerpuff Girls with Yoshinari’s touch. I agree that this would be nice!

We’re planning to stream for another 90 minutes. That’s how long we have the room for. However, if there are no other people booking the room after that, we might be able to extend if Sakurai doesn’t finish in an hour and a half. So, we maybe have an hour and a half to go!

This is another question from Patreon. It’s from Kikoman589. The original question was from Thorn14. The question is, “Are there seasons (winter/spring/summer/fall) that are easier or harder on anime studios?”

Wakabayashi says that Trigger doesn’t really have a laid-back season. Obviously, this would depend on the studio as well, though. As a studio, they have the most free time available when they finish a series. There’s an interval time between two projects.

Wakabayashi personally wants a project that doesn’t go over New Year’s Eve. He wants days off. The end of the year is one of the very few times that Japanese people get legitimate times off from work. They just want to take a break when allowed to.

We recently announced that we’re selling a Studio Trigger custom suitcase. There’s a question if we’d sell the suitcase to overseas audiences. I believe the suitcase we’re selling is sold through Good Smile Company? Obviously, the shipment is going to be nasty, but I don’t see why not. We’ll look into it! We don’t have whoever’s in charge of that with us right now. Since we’re not using any IP, I don’t think there’s a problem with selling the suitcase overseas, but the price of the shipment would be high.

I think the question was, “Will Trigger ever do Isekai—is that the term in English?—genre?”

Wakabayashi’s answer is that Trigger has so many other things that they want to do that they don’t have any plans to do that kind of series in the near future. If they do an Isekai, they’ll probably do their own original Isekai series, though, not an adaptation.

There was a question in Japanese. “How was the opening and ending song determined in this particular series?”

Wakabayashi says that if the creative staffs for a particular series want to throw in their own opinion or two cents for what opening or ending will be used for a particular series, then they might make a request to the production committee, which usually has a production label company within it, who would be the sponsors for a particular series. The creative team might make a request to the label company, saying that they want this type of music or soundtrack, and the label might try their best to accommodate the request to the best of their abilities.

In the case that the creative team doesn’t really have any preference, the music production label company usually will make the decision themselves. For Studio Trigger, it depends on which production group is involved as well.

Imaishi or Hiromi Wakabayashi’s creative team does usually make specific requests to label companies. What Wakabayashi generally sees from the director is that the director is usually more interested in choosing who is in charge of the soundtrack for the series than the opening/ending themes.

Sorry! I’m taking a one-minute absence from the keyboard. My throat is drying up, and I need to buy some kind of drink.

Sorry, I’m back. I believe they’re talking about the program Sakurai is using right now. He’s using Sai. I’m not sure if that program is well-known among the western community, but Sai is a pretty popular program in Japan. People generally use Sai or Clip Studio in Japan. Sakurai explained that in Sai, it’s easier to paint. He usually finishes all his process of illustration in one program.

Sakurai’s reason for using Sai over Clip Studio Paint is that Sai isn’t too demanding on the hardware. The user interface is pretty simple, too. Sakurai has also been using the program for a while.

This is our third stream. All of our animators so far have used a different program! It’s an interesting showcase. Yoshinari used Photoshop and Painter. I think Sato used MediBang Paint. Sakurai is using Sai. I think we’re only missing Clip Studio Paint now.

If you’re interested in getting into drawing digitally, you can check out our archive on YouTube and see how each individual program functions. You can choose which program works best for you.

We asked what creative artists Sakurai respects a lot. He said Minamino Aki. I guess this particular creator was in DARLING in the FRANXX as well, as an outfit designer.

Sakurai also likes mebae and Uki as well. Uki is obviously known for Cencoroll. Wakabayashi says that Cencoroll is one of those frontiers. It was a title that was early for its time. Uki kind of made Cencoroll by himself. There were other creators mentioned as well, like Shinkai, who is probably very well known by now but who is still working pretty much solo.

Sakurai didn’t really read manga prior to becoming an animator, but if he had to choose a title, it would be Danjon Meshi. I’m Googling for an English title. I guess it’s Dungeon Lunch.

When we asked Sakurai what games he likes, he said Breath of the Wild for Zelda. I asked Sakurai what other Zelda games he played. There was this one Gameboy title. I don’t know what it’s called in English… it’s The Legend of Zelda: Link’s Awakening. The game is being released on Switch soon. I guess Sakurai is playing Splatoon and Smash Brothers a lot as well. Sakurai’s favorite PC game is Cave Story.

There’s a question from maxie721: “Does Studio Trigger have any after-activities after work? Sports, Mario Party, etc.? Or only Nomikai???”

Sakurai says he occasionally goes drinking with his colleagues. Hiromi apparently goes straight home. Hiromi hangs out enough with his colleagues because his work hours are unfortunate for him.

I guess Sakurai doesn’t play games with his colleagues. His taste of games is different from the rest of the crew. He also likes playing the same game for hours. His colleagues like trying out different titles more. At Studio Trigger, Switch is popular. Everyone is playing Smash Brothers.

Maybe we’ll do a Kill la Kill stream once the game is released. I believe it’s available for PS4 and Steam at the moment.

There was a comment saying that we must be playing FGO. I guess Sakurai doesn’t play any mobile games or app games anymore. Hiromi plays a lot of Granblue. I hate app games with a passion and don’t play any of them.

Hiromi is saying that the selling point of the app games is that you can pick them up any time and enjoy them whenever you want. You don’t have to go through the hassle of turning them on and stuff. It’s an easier version of “plug it in and play.”

I won’t name it, but one of my favorite titles was ruined by app games, so I don’t like app games!

I guess Hiromi was saying that the more passionate gamer tends to hate app games. Sakurai says it’s an interface issue. You feel like you have to get the controller-in-hand feel better.

My favorite game ruined by apps wasn’t Diablo, by the way. I gave up on Diablo after Diablo III.

This is a question from Patreon, from Alex B, who says, “Tweeners are the most interesting job! So excited to have an inbetweener doing this! The real heroes in anime! How did you get into the job? What about it do you find interesting? Would you prefer to have a different role in the animation production process?”

We’ve covered a little of the question already, but I think it’s interesting to ask why Sakurai was initially interested in applying to Trigger.

Sakurai wanted to be an inbetween animator or become an animator because he wanted to get better at drawing. He initially started drawing in his high school days. He was trying to draw his favorite character from a social app game, and things got out of hand from there.

When you’re an inbetween animator or an animator in general, you’re not always drawing what you want to draw. There’s also a high level of skill required because you have to draw a lot of different angles, etc. Being an animator is the right place to be to get better at drawing.

We got confirmation that our room is extended for five more hours. I don’t think this stream will take that long, though. I don’t want to keep you guys deprived of sleep for that long, either. I think Sakurai will finish in maybe another 30 minutes or so. Sakurai is adding highlights and shadows now, so he’s prepping to finish up the job right now.

We’re explaining now that even younger animators these days are getting really good. The level of technique that younger animators have now is unmatched to what we saw when we were younger. When Yoshinari was younger, Hiromi doesn’t think animators were as good. It’s like the Olympics. 30-40 years ago, the demonstrations at the Olympics were still outstanding feats, but you can see how much humanity or mankind has improved since then.

There’s a comment being made right now saying that the animation budget was higher in the 80s. Hiromi claims that this is not true. Budget doesn’t really equal quality, I guess, if that’s the right term. There might have been a high-budget project here and there, but the general consensus is that the budget was the same in the 80s as it is now.

There’s a lot to put into consideration, though. There’s a lot more staff working on a project now compared to in the 80s. There’s a different amount of budget allocated at a different time. What determines the quality of the project more is the passion of the creators. Passion has a lot more to do with the quality than the budget, Hiromi says.

However, I would like to note that more budget will obviously help. With more budget, Studio Trigger can maintain a larger staff, which helps with quality. What ultimately affects how fun and entertaining a project is is how involved the staff is in the production.

axelsaurus asks, “Sorry to ask again, but can we hope for some Trigger ‘Parallel Works,’ like the TTGL ones? KLK spin-off shorts are in my wet dreams.”

If you’re looking for a spin-off of Kill la Kill, Hiromi believes that the game, Kill la Kill the Game: IF, will satisfy your thirst for a parallel work. It’s going to feature Satsuki as the main character. It’s a “what if” story examining if Satsuki was the main protagonist for the series. If you’re interested, Hiromi thinks it is well worth the money. The script is also done by Nakashima himself.

There was a question regarding how artists keep themselves motivated in drawing. Sakurai explains that keeping an old archive of all of your artwork and trying to compare it with your more recent work to see how much you’ve improved is a good way to see if you’re making any progress.

Also, Sakurai likes posting on the Internet and receiving feedback or praise. That’s always a plus.

There’s a question from syworks: “Is there any secret to keep your wrists from overstraining from working so long and so many hours?”

Sakurai says that he doesn’t really have any secrets for that. If you work too much in a single day, his hands do get sore. He has to take breaks in between and relieve the stress in the middle. He doesn’t really have any secrets.

We asked Sakurai if he has a Twitter or pixiv account he would like to share with the community. He says he doesn’t want to show it and is a little uneasy right now, but maybe one day, he’ll make it public.

Another question is, “How great is Studio Trigger’s snack/bar pantry? What delicious treats do staff have access to?”

I guess that Studio Trigger doesn’t really have a bar/pantry. They want one. People do receive snacks or gifts from fans that is available for anyone in the studio to take in the middle. As such, there’s not something specific that they always have.

Studio Trigger do want a kitchen or bar. In the studios that Trigger was able to tour overseas, they found that every studio had some kind of pantry, even if it was just a cereal buffet. Wakabayashi thought it was cool and wanted one in Trigger, too. Maybe when Trigger has more money.

Hiromi is saying that, knowing himself very well, even if there was a pantry, kitchen, or bar, he’d probably get bored of the menu or whatever is available pretty quickly. He’d probably only use it once or twice.

I disagree, though. I know Hiromi likes coffee. I would use the snack/pantry if we had one!

We probably can’t do a studio tour stream. It’s probably not possible. We’d have to tear down a lot of the studio to avoid anything being leaked!

Maybe we could put the GoPro on a Hot Wheel and have a quick, short tour, but it probably wouldn’t happen. There would be too much risk!

There’s a question from luluraoul in Japanese: “Are there any plans for future streams?” We usually communicate with our Patreon for our streams. The goal is to stream once a month. That’s a goal, but we don’t always do a good job on it. We have had three streams, and the Patreon has been active for longer than three months. We do a stream about once every 2.5 months. We will have a stream in the future, and we’ll continue to do so until our Patreon dries up.

We actually have our next participant chosen, an outside creator. She’s kind of not Trigger, but she works with us very frequently. She’s Mago, the character designer for Space Patrol Luluco and our mascot characters. She was supposed to stream this month, but there were schedule conflicts, so she’ll stream next month. Our fourth stream is very, very soon. We’ll make an announcement about that stream early next month.

I don’t know Mago’s Twitter account off the top off my head, but I think it’s magodesu. She’s pretty active on Twitter. She’ll probably come up easily if you search. Yes, it seems magodesu is her Twitter.

I guess Sakurai is using a very unique method of adding this lighting gradation.

There’s a question from EiGi696969 that asks, “Recently, the Studio Trigger documentaries have been focused more on the voice actors and less on the artists (Kill la Kill or LWA or Kiznaiver and FRANXX). Have you guys switched the documentary production team? Would you mind in the future if you can make sure there’s more into the art stuff in these documentaries?”

Hiromi is saying, just FYI, at least half of the documentary for FRANXX was focused on the artists. The focus on voice actors is… they want to focus on their creative process more, but it’s straining to the studio if there’s an entire camera crew filming all the time. It’s detrimental to the schedule. That’s maybe why there is less footage of the creative process portion. I guess it’s something that we want to focus on more, but we might not have been able to. It didn’t really come up to our minds until it was just mentioned now, Hiromi says.

Wakabayashi says that a lot of the staff don’t like being recorded or photographed. Also, the documentaries are more entertaining if the camera crews come in without respect of the creators. That kind of footage is more entertaining, but we can’t do that because our creators are delicate individuals. Personally, Hiromi wants more documentaries focused on the creative process, though.

Sakurai apparently finished his illustration. We’re asking him to zoom in a little bit right now.

That was it for the live drawing. For those who are interested in the Sai composition files for this illustration, if you’re part of our Patreon, you’ll have access to this and our previous illustrations as well. If you had a great time, feel free to support our studio and creators. We much appreciate it!

Thank you, everyone! There are about 1,200 of you at this weird, awkward time on a weekday. Our next stream is with Mago in early March. Thank you for joining our stream! We’ll be wrapping up our stream now.

[cadladefed]

Judgement Day Storyline Buildup

Judgement Day Match One

W1

The Revival are backstage bragging about winning the Smackdown Tag Team Championships. They are dressed like to impress. Bullying some low level talent at catering. They mouth off to the room but don’t leave until knocking a coffee over Drake Maverick.

The Revival are watching the match.

#1 CONTENDERS MATCH to the SD! Tag Team Titles

THE CLUB vs DANIEL BRYAN & ERICK ROWAN – 22 minutes

Nice, long match to put over the strength of our tag division. Main Events show.

Underhanded play from The Eco Warriors in heat, fixating their attacks on Karl Anderson’s left knee.

Luke Gallows breaks up 3 double team manoeuvres on Karl Anderson. Gallows sacrifices himself to take out Rowan. Anderson gets a reversal small package, 2 count, Bryan hits his running knee… one, two thr-KICK OUT. Bryan sells shock for a movement before immediately applying a figure four… but before fully applied, the pressure is reversed onto Bryan. Rowan stops the ref for seeing Bryan tap to this.

Anderson breaks the hold. Turns ref. Bryan bumps ref.

Magic Killer. No ref. Chair shots from Rowan. KEVIN OWENS returns. Hits Rowan with chair. Hit’s Bryan with chair. Pulls Anderson on to Bryan. 1,2,3.

Owens walks up the ramp after the bell saying “That’s for Sami asshole”

W2

Further bullying from The Revival to Drake Maverick.

Handicap Match

THE REVIVAL vs DRAKE MAVERICK

With an assist from The Club, Maverick somehow is able to steal a victory.

W3

In ring promo and stand off.

W4

WILDER vs GALLOWS

DW over

DAWSON vs ANDERSON

KA over.

JUDGEMENT DAY –

SMACKDOWN TAG TEAM TITLE MATCH:

THE CLUB vs THE REVIVAL (18)

Your winner and new tag team champions, The Club.

MATCH 2

Build:

W1 - Daniel Bryan comes back to TV by attacking a returning Sami Zayn. Bryan puts Zayn’s famously damaged arm in a chair and stomps down.

Since Daniel Bryan was beaten for his WWE Championship, he has become hell bent on earning back his respect. He is feeling belittled and undermined, something he cannot abide with given his belief that he is the WWE’s moral compass. He thinks it is unjust that because Kofi had to relinquish his title, that Bryan is no longer eligible to a rematch.

W2 –

#1 CONTENDERS MATCH to the SD! Tag Team Titles

THE CLUB vs DANIEL BRYAN & ERICK ROWAN – 22 minutes

Nice, long match to put over the strength of our tag division. Main Events show.

Underhanded play from The Eco Warriors in heat, fixating their attacks on Karl Anderson’s left knee.

Luke Gallows breaks up 3 double team manoeuvres on Karl Anderson. Gallows sacrifices himself to take out Rowan. Anderson gets a reversal small package, 2 count, Bryan hits his running knee… one, two thr-KICK OUT. Bryan sells shock for a movement before immediately applying a figure four… but before fully applied, the pressure is reversed onto Bryan. Rowan stops the ref for seeing Bryan tap to this.

Anderson breaks the hold. Turns ref. Bryan bumps ref.

Magic Killer. No ref. Chair shots from Rowan. KEVIN OWENS returns. Hits Rowan with chair. Hit’s Bryan with chair. Pulls Anderson on to Bryan. 1,2,3.

Owens walks up the ramp after the bell saying “That’s for Sami asshole”

W3 –

KEVIN OWENS vs DANIEL BRYAN

Kevin Owens beats Daniel Bryan after a botched interference from Erik Rowan. Post match Bryan and Rowan attack Owens. They take a chair and place it on his arm as they did the week prior with Zayn. Only they think better of it… and in turn place it around his neck! They force Owens’ neck into the ring post and Owens is carried out on a stretcher.

W4 - The week after Bryan is promoing in the ring about how fickle and hypercritical the WWE Universe are. He is very aware that he is not in a particularly rich vein of form, but assures all that he is not to blame. He turns to Rowan and presents him with a kendo stick. He puts all of his recent failings on Rowan and proceeds to punish him with a series of weapon shots. Backstage Rowan is in the doctor’s office having shards of wooden plucked from his back.

W5 - Bryan protests to Triple H for an opportunity at the vacant WWE championship. He makes it clear that every quality you seen in AJ are evident in him. He also alludes to suing for discrimination in the work place dating back to the days of the ‘Yes Movement’. AJ intervenes and happily accepts Bryan’s challenge.

Bryan bars Rowan from attending ringside.

AJ Styles beats Daniel Bryan when a heavily taped up Sami Zayn prevents Bryan from cheating. Sami’s intervention stops Bryan from using a weapon and Bryan turns immediately into a Styles Clash. Bryan has been beaten again.

Rowan storms to the ring and chases Sami away.

* AJ is alone in the ring when Brock storms and F5’s his opponent for Judgement Day

JUDGEMENT DAY –

DANIEL BRYAN vs SAMI ZAYN (16 MINUTES)

Bryan gets his first win since losing the WWE Championship despite a stellar effort from a badly injured Zayn. Another botched interference from Rowan leads to a very believable falsey for Sami shortly before being caught in the LeBell lock.

Post match Bryan and Rowan again beat Sami down. They once again set Zayn’s arm up in a chair as they did previously, only for Kevin Owens music to hit. Bryan and Rowan scarper. Owens extends his hand and helps Zayn to his feet.

An alliance has formed.

MATCH 3

Build:

Several contests between all competitors, over multiple weeks, all fighting for the spotlight on a new look Smackdown.

High action, Indy scramble.

Winner of the below six man, qualifies for a spot in the MITB match.

JUDGEMENT DAY –

MONEY IN THE BANK QUALIFYING SCRAMBLE:

REY MYSTERIO vs ANDRADE ALMAS vs ANTONIO CESARO vs

CEDRIC ALEXANDER vs DOLPH ZIGGLER vs DREW MCINTYRE

(10 MINUTES)

Rapid pace back-and-forth. Cesaro takes the fall from Cedric Alexander.

MATCH 4

Build:

W1 - The double champ Becky Lynch is ruling the roost. Her biggest foes have not been seen since she beat the pair at Wrestlemania.

Beth Phoenix has her first singles match on Smackdown since returning as a full time athlete. She beats Mickie James in a bout that reminds all of how good she was.

W2 – Fatal Fourway #1 Contenders match for SD Womens Championship

Becky makes her way to the ring. She promos saying why she will beat whoever is the victory of this bout:

“Bayley is a precious flower, who ultimately can’t step out of Sasha’s shadow.

Nikki Cross is a mental.

Renee Young has no business being in the ring with me… huh… oh Alexa Bliss, is it… same thing these days. Except one of them headed up the much praised Talking Smack... and the other is linked to the tragic Moment Of Bliss”

Beth Phoenix paved a way for The Man to be The Man, but that was then and this is now so maybe go back to playing Florence Nightingale for your husband because I’m not convinced you’ve got The Glamazon in you anymore.”

She remains ringside for the match.

Beth Phoenix wins beating Nikki Cross with the Glamslam.

Becky & Beth stand opposite one another.

W3 – BECKY LYNCH & BETH PHOENIX vs THE IICONICS – WWE Womens Tag Titles.

The Iiconics lose via DQ. Tensions raise between Lynch and Phoenix.

JUDGEMENT DAY –

SMACKDOWN WOMENS TITLE:

BECKY LYNCH vs BETH PHOENIX (12 MINUTES)

Beth gives it her all but unfortunately for her, the better man wins the day. They square up post match before Beth raises Becky’s arm. Beth leaves Becky to reap the adulation of the crowd. Becky is on the stage when suddenly CHARLOTTE FLAIR returns, jumping the barricade. Becky is thrown off the stage.

MATCH 5

Build:

Samoa Joe is showing more and more aggression after Wrestlemania. He is sick of being overlooked and is taking it out on Smackdown’s newest asset, Finn Balor.

W1

FINN BALOR vs ANTONIO CESARO – 20 mins

Finn over in what is hopefully a worldy.

Backstage an exhausted Finn is making his way back to the locker room when he is jumped by Joe and throws him through a pain of glass.

W2

Joe is promoing in the ring. Finn is not around because he’s recuperating from last week’s injuries. REY MYSTERIO returns and mocks Joe for losing his US title before Rey could even get his rematch. He also calls Joe a coward for his actions. “Interesting…would a coward do this?” Joe jumps Rey but Rey is able to counter the brawl into headscissors followed up by a dive.

After commercial we have REY MYSTERIO vs SAMOA JOE – 15 mins

JOE over clean.

W3

JOE vs CEDRIC ALEXANDER – 10 mins

Joe over quite strong.

Post match Joe promos and says if Finn isn’t physically capable of defending his belt, the workhorse Intercontinental title, he should be a man and relinquish it.

The lights go down and a message appears on the title.

“The man may be hurt.

But when a man is weak

He can draw strength

From his demons.”

Lights come up and The DEMON FINN BALOR is in the ring.

John Woo shotgun dropkick. Cue-de-gra.

JD –

INTERCONTINENTAL TITLE:

DEMON FINN BALOR vs SAMOA JOE (16 MINUTES)

After a flourish of high risk offense, Samoa Joe dominates this physical strong style bout. Finn is clearly still hurt following his attack some weeks ago. After enduring a heavy hit ‘murder, death, kill’, Finn is able to roll up Joe.

SEGMENT

Build:

Series of hype videos build to the arrival of Matt Riddle. Video packages get across the history of Riddle’s lineage in UFC and clips of him in PWG, Progress, etc.

The Friday night prior to the show, on Instagram The Miz announces he will be hosting a very special version of Miz TV at Judgement Day when he promises to once again, give us all “must see TV…. Bro”

* Miz TV segment * (12 mins)

Miz interviews new Smackdown recruit Matt Riddle who hopefully feels like a big deal. He has not been called up with everyone else, he has been saved and amped up accordingly.

The fans begin a deafening “bro” chant at Riddle and The Miz shut’s it down.

“I don’t care about your history. I don’t care about what you’ve achieved in the minors. This is the big leagues Matthew and as far as I’m concerned you’re reputation is built on defeating those not worth my time. I don’t care how legit you are with your flowing hair and sandals, you’ll never be The Miz, you’ll never be must see and you’ll never...” Riddle pump knees Miz.

Miz feeds in for a second strike. Riddle gee’s up big. Powerbombs Miz through a table in the ring.

As Riddle is showing out his music starts. McGuiness describes Riddle as “an incredible specimen, with the world at his bare feet. Truly a legend in wait.”

RKO OUTTA NOWHERE!!!!

Orton stands over Riddle.

MATCH 6 - MAIN EVENT

Build:

W1

TRIPLE H is in the ring and explains that Smackdown is sans a WWE champion. He says this state of flux looms not solely over the blue brand moreover, WWE as a whole. “For too long as a business, we have rested on our laurels. We have monopolised the industry and have taken our foot off the pedal. Whilst the talent on Smackdown is exceptionally high, we have been guilty of not nurturing that talent. Management is guilty of failing to build the stars the WWE Universe deserves and that the roster is capable of becoming. We need a revolution. But a revolution calls for leaders.”

Triple H invites AJ STYLES to the ring. “AJ you are a once in a generation talent. You have against the odds attained success where no one thought possible. You are the standard bearer.

I need you! We need you! To be our leader. To be the leader this show, this company, Hell this industry needs!

Do this not because I deserve better. Not because the McMahon’s deserve anything. But because they do.”

As Triple H extends his hand BROCK LESNAR’s music plays. He storms the ring and kicks seven colours out of AJ.

W2

Paul Heyman is promoing in ring about Brock’s creditials.

“We are in no need for reinvention. This is the era of Brock Lesnar. The most dominant, legitimate competitor this industry has ever known. Yet, because of his superiority, you as a fanbase, aren’t entertained. Brock has no interest in being and entertainer because he is a fighter and you people, you who claim to be fans of combat sports and belittle sports entertainment are nothing but a collection of uneducated, opinionated hypocrites.

Triple H’s music plays and he storms down to the ring to correct Heyman.

“The fans haven’t turned their backs on Lesnar because of his performance. They’ve done so because of his work ethic. The man may be my father-in-law, but Vince McMahon made the biggest mistake he ever made, when he tied your client up to the contract he has. Lesnar may well be dominant but when your schedule is as relaxed as it is, is it any wonder? An industry leader and generation definer doesn’t show what he’s made of 10 times a year but does it every Tuesday on television, all week on house shows and every PPV he’s scheduled to compete in.”

Heyman and Trips continue to bite at each other. Heyman states he finds it ironic that the man complaining that Lesnar has forged an easy way to the top, is the same man who slept his way into a position of power! Heyman jabs at AJ for not being in the same league as Brock, and for not having the edge it takes to truly define a generation.

AJ sneaks into the ring and strikes Heyman with an unprotected Chair shot. Heyman is left a bloodied mess.

W3

AJ Styles is promoing in the ring. He’s confronted by former Paul Heyman Guy – Antonio Cesaro.

AJ STYLES vs ANTONIO CESARO (18 mins)

AJ over. Cesaro goes to use a chair after AJ kicks out of his Neutraliser. AJ ducks, rolls through into the Calf Crusher and taps Cesaro out.

Post match AJ goes to use the chair again but is stopped by Triple H.

Triple H confronts him and says he cannot go around attacking staff with weapons. If he lets Cesaro go, he will get Brock at JUDGEMENT DAY and in a NO DQ match he can have Heyman next week. AJ smiles, throws the chair out of the ring, and hits Cesaro with a Styles Clashes.

W4

Heyman has been protesting since the announcement that he is unfit to compete. Triple H forces him to do so.

PAUL HEYMAN vs AJ STYLES

AJ is toying with Heyman (who is in a neck brace). Until Cesaro gets involved. After receiving a few chair shots (conventional), AJ hits Cesaro with a Styles Clash through the announcers table. Heyman is begging in the ring when Brock slides in and hits AJ with an unprotected chair shot an F5.

Heyman pins AJ.

JUDGMENT DAY –

The vacant WWE CHAMPIONSHIP (28 mins)

BROCK LESNAR vs AJ STYLES.

The bell rings AJ runs at Brock, ducks his clothesline and immediately dives to the outside, crushing Paul Heyman.

Aggressive match to not only crown a champion, but tent peg a new era.

All the shenanigans: Heyman distracts the ref, ref bumps, chair shots, etc

AJ incredibly kicks out of multiple F5 efforts. Brock attempts to F5 AJ from the top to the outside only for AJ to counter with a second rope Styles Clash.

He crawls on top… “ SHOCK… THE SYSTEM”

O’Reilly, Fish and Strong appear on the stage, Triple H makes his way to the walk way only for Adam Cole to make his way through the crowd and land a Panama Sunrise on AJ. Lesnar hit a final F5, Cole throws in the referee.

Your winner and new WWE Champion… BROCK... LESNAR

[sarcastically-defensive17]

Negatives? - C. Hood

Hello my lovies! This is the anticipated second part of “Benefits?”!! Didn’t think we could get angstier but here we are!! I apologise in advance!

Masterlist will be updated soon! Hope you enjoy! More requests will be filled very soon!

Original story by sarcastically-defensive17

9 months. 9 months of longing, of pain, of loneliness. 9 months of being cooped up inside of his own head because he was too ignorant and rude to admit that he hadn’t buried his feelings for Y/N.

Drew made Y/N smile, but he knew that he could do better. He made her laugh, yet she laughed heartier when Calum would joke with her. Drew kissed her, yet Calum knew he would do better.

But he didn’t deserve her. Not in any way, shape or form. He had ruined his chances with her the minute he told her she wasn’t good enough to be with him.

Every interaction between the former friends was cold. Y/N looked as if she were fighting back tears and Calum often had to leave the room as his own fell. The band knew what happened between the two; they had been there to pick up the pieces for Calum as Y/N called their manager to quit and took off. She was determined to prove Calum wrong, and everybody knew it.

She kept Sierra up to date with her whereabouts, and job prospects. The two had grown closer as the older woman comforted Y/N. Sierra, in turn, kept Luke updated, and he the rest of the band - except Calum. Whenever he heard her name, he would get angry. It took him months to realise that his anger wasn’t directed towards Y/N, but himself. He let her get away. He was scared to open up. He got defensive, rude, nasty. He broke her heart and stomped on it as he left. All for what?

Drew knew nothing of the relationship between the two, just that they were once friends. He didn’t pry, nor did he try to figure out why the two didn’t talk, he simply made sure to comfort Y/N in anyway after a long day.

Things came to a head very quickly as they hit their 12th show of the tour. The entirety of the trip had been tense. There were very few photos of Calum captured, blatant ignorance as Calum tried to speak to Y/N and many outbursts of anger from the pair. Ashton and Michael had enough.

One fine, aesthetically pleasing Tuesday afternoon, the two broke the ambient air with their shouting. All because of the lack of Calum content on the band Instagram.

“If I see one more comment asking for more Calum, I might scream. There’s enough me content. We don’t need him,” Michael whined, scrolling through Instagram on his phone as Y/N sat next to him, back leaned against Drew, laptop on her lap.

“I think we might need to get some more pictures of the man up there, Y/N,” Luke said, his voice soft, eyes softer. He sent her a sympathetic smile, knowing exactly why there is an acute lack of the Maori man.

Calum scoffed from the other side of the room. They were all situated in Ashton’s hotel room, empty pizza boxes on the tables and floor in front of them. “Why would she do that?”

“Cal,” Luke warned, only to be interrupted by his other friend.

“Sorry, I didn’t think I was good enough to take pictures of you,” Y/N spat, not looking up from her device. “Do it yourself. After all, any genius could do it, right?” The venom made everybody recoil, bar Calum.

He made an interested sound, walking closer to where she was sitting. “Tough words, careful. You might up and run away again, Y/N.” He was mad. She had left them all. She didn’t even give him the chance to talk about it when he wasn’t angry. She blocked his number as soon as she left. She cut him out of her life.

Y/N slammed her laptop shut, standing faster than anybody expected. Her and Calum were practically face-to-face at this point. Ashton was on his feet, surprised at the speed of escalation. “My time of taking photos of narcissistic, degrading assholes is over. Go find somebody else to toy with, Calum.”

“Still playing the victim, are we-“

“Enough!” Ashton had hit his point. For too long, the pair had been making the trip uncomfortable. It was putting a strain on the performance of everybody, and now causing issues with the fans. “Y/N sit down. Calum you sit over there and shut your damn mouth for a minute. Everybody else, get out.” It was rare for Ashton to lose his cool. He was the most composed of all of them, and often played the part of the most mature band member. It was a well known fact that when Ashton had enough, it was time for things to be sorted before shit hit the fan for good. As he ordered, everybody filed out except for the two in question. Y/N sat with a scowl on her face, arms folded across her chest as she chewed at the inside of her cheek. Calum sat on the bed across the room, facing the other direction for fear of lashing out again.

“Ashton what is going on-“

“Zip it, sugarface,” he raised a finger to Y/N silencing her with the gesture. “Enough is enough. This shit keeps going on and it is affecting all of us.” His brow was furrowed deep, jaw set and red hair mirroring his mood adequately. “Calum, you fucked up big time. Y/N you ran off and cut all contact. We have 7 hours until our show, and our sound check starts in 4 hours. You have two and a half to sort this shit out, or we will sort out other arrangements.”

“Ashton, this really isn’t necessary-“

“I don’t care. I’m leaving now and you’re stuck in here. I suggest sorting this out because we have all had enough of it.”

Y/N nodded, watching Calum closely across the room. He stayed silent, back still turned towards his friend and the woman he loved. This was his chance to explain everything, but it could also be his change to ruin things more than they already are. Given his track record, he wouldn’t be surprised if the tables shifted in favour of the latter.

The door closed behind Ashton, silence enveloping the room and making the air more heavy. Y/N felt the discomfort settle on top of the air, weighing it down on her skin until she felt as if her head were spinning.

Half an hour passed. They sat on either sides of the room still, both holding their words in out of spite.

“Why did you leave?” The words fell from his lips before he could think about them. It had been playing on his mind for so long. After a few days, when he had cooled down, he wanted to call her. He wanted to tell her that he was scared and angry and frustrated at himself. That he didn’t want somebody like her to be ruined by him and the life he lived.

“What?” She snipped, not looking up from her phone.

“Why did you leave?” He repeated.

A humorless laugh left her lips, much like the night he saw her last. “You’re joking, right? How could you expect me to stay after that?”

He finally turned to face her, she looked disinterested. Her attention was on her phone - probably messaging drew, he thought - and definitely not on the conversation they were meant to be having. Even after so long, she was still so beautiful in his eyes. Her temper was overwhelming, but she never showed anger towards another unless she had been wrong, and boy, did he do her wrong.

“I tried to apologise, Y/N. I called you, texted-“

“And I waited, Calum.” She was mad, yet calm. Her eyes were burning with fury, jaw clenched hard as she gritted words through teeth. “I waited two days. I got nothing from you, you ignored my calls, and I had enough.”

He huffed, a heavy breath leaving his nostrils, “So because I ignored you for a few days, you left? You left us without a photographer, without a friend, just to go screw around with the Chainsmokers?” He was angry. So was she. He was standing. She was sitting, phone clenched between white knuckles.

“I left,” she was on her feet now, almost chest-to-chest with him and radiating far more anger than he had ever seen, “because you not only degraded and embarrassed me, you criticized my career. I was terrified to open up to you. I knew you wouldn’t feel the same because I was hold never be good enough for you, but I tried. I tried to be open and all I got was made a mockery out of and told that I was practically worthless in my position working with the band.” She stepped closer to him, now at a point where they could stare at one another. Her phone had been thrown aside now, flung from her fingers as she stood. “I spent seven years with you all. I was there for you through everything. I fell in love with you, Calum. And you destroyed it within an hour.”

Her words were venomous, cutting deep along Calum’s heart and allowing the reality to finally, completely, sink in. He caused this. He made her leave because he treated her confession as a joke. He is the reason she is with Drew now, no longer his friend, or his lover. Or even his coworker. It is all his fault.

He slumped down onto the seat next to him, holding his head in his hands and trying to compose himself. He couldn’t even apologise, for he didn’t trust his voice.

“I gave you everything, Calum, and you threw it back in my face. How could I stick around?” She couldn’t look at him. Whether it was out of anger or sadness, or even fear of him making a fool of her again. She couldn’t bring herself to do it, so she turned around, staring out of the window of the hotel room.

They had a nice view, and she allowed it to distract her eyes from harboring tears.

She heard the rustling of fabric behind her, along with the creak of the chair beneath Calum. The soft padding on carpet told her that he was walking closer to her.

“I-“ he started, taking in a breath. She could hear the emotion. “I can’t begin to tell you how much I hate myself for what I did to you that day, Y/N.” He had tears streaming down his face, she could see so in the reflection in the window. “I don’t know why I said those things. I should never have told you that you weren’t good enough, or insulted the career that you built for yourself. I’ve been replaying that day over and over since it happened, Y/N. I knew that I loved you four years ago, and hearing you say it, after I tried my hardest to push down those feelings - I don’t know why but I got so defensive-“

“Shut your mouth.” She hissed, turning and allowing her anger to resurface. “For fuck sakes, Calum. Don’t try and play with my head again. You didn’t love me, not like that.”

“I loved you more than I have loved anybody else, Y/N.” He whispered, voice steady and his eyes not leaving hers. He was telling the truth, and they both knew it. “I fell in love with you so many years ago. I didn’t want to do anything to ruin this, but then you told me what I had been dying to hear for so long.” He sniffed, brushing tears away aggressively as he pressed his palms into his eyes. “I’m an idiot.”

“I can’t help but agree with you.” Y/N turned away from the window, the view no longer appealing as her own reflection became far too evident, along with Calum’s.

Another few minutes passed, both now situated in the seats they previously occupied. Y/N had her knees pulled up to her chest, picking at her fingernails. Calum was staring at his feet.

“I’ve found that if I close my eyes, I can sometimes pretend that Drew is you,” Y/N whispered. Her voice was full of pain. She was still processing the information that Calum had fed her. Still trying to figure out what to say to him. She figured the truth was better than anything. “I want - I wanted a future with you, Calum. I wanted to be able to wake up knowing that the man I loved, loved me back. That the man who knew me better than anybody else, was there with me. Hearing you say those things to me was the worst thing I could have experienced.”

“Y/N, I-“

“I hate to say it, but I still love you. I still wish that every time I fell asleep with Drew, it was you beside me. It’s easy to pretend.” Her own tears fell. “I can’t forgive you so easily. I can’t just forget everything that you said. I can’t forget how much I want to be with you.”

“Just one more chance, Y/N, please?” Calum was focused solely on her. He was ready and willing to be down on his knees, begging to have her in his life again. Not even for love. He would be fine to simply be able to watch a movie with her, joke with her. Love her like he did before. “I know I can’t make up for it right now, but I love you so much. I would spend the rest of my life showing you how sorry I am, if you would let me. You deserve far better than me.”

For possibly the millionth time, Y/N was at a loss for words. Calum kept his vulnerability from many people, but Y/N could often read him like a book. Unfortunately, he could do the same for her.

“You don’t need to give me an answer right now, we have a few more months of the tour left. Whatever you decide, I’ll be fine with. You never want to see me again, I’ll stay away. You want to give me a second chance, and I will spend every day of our life together making up for all of the years that I kept my mouth shut and the horrible things I said to you and the pain I caused you for the past nine months.”

A sob tore from her throat, her eyes clenched as she let his words hit her soul.

Thankfully, the door clicked. It opened cautiously, a head of red hair poking through, Ashton eyeing the pair warily.

“I can’t do this right now, Cal,” Y/N blurted, taking the chance to rise to her feet and push past Ashton and the other guys. Drew watched after her with confusion, as did Luke and Michael.

Ashton glared at Calum, “You suck at apologizing.”

Tag list: @starshonerose @theanswertoeverythingisl0v3 @mantlereid @another-lonely-heart

[deannawads]

Meet Michael from MURDER MOST LOVELY, a book co-written by Hank Edwards & ME!

I’m so excited to officially announce that Hank Edwards and I wrote a book together!!!

It will be coming out early next year! It’s entitled:

MURDER MOST LOVELY

Lacetown Murder Mysteries: Case One

It’s weird and awesome how things turn out sometimes, and when you least expect it. I’m so happy that I’ve had the chance to go on this fabulous journey with the super talented Hank Edwards. Writing with him has been so effortless that it’s a bit surreal. Our styles mesh so well, sometimes I can’t remember which of us wrote what sentence LOL

It all started on February 3, 2018 at 9:26 PM, I sent Hank these DMs on Facebook:

“Full disclosure: I’m drinking tonight lol…..but I think we should write a book together #justsayin”

“It would be EPIC!”

Hank thought it would be epic fun too, though he’d never co-authored a book together. I have, though it still remains unpublished. I’ve long been a fan of Hank’s books and our humor is so similar, I thought it seemed like a grand idea to co-write something together.

And it wasn’t just the whisky talking LOL.

We both belong to the Michigan LGBTQ Writers—though I’m the Michigan-born Ohio-raised exception in the group, and we see each other often at local Pride events. We always have a ton of fun when we are together, so I assumed we would easily be able to write together.

But what to write?

That it would be a gay romance was a no-brainer, but the sub-genres were endless. We’ve both written YA, historical, contemporary and paranormal, so our options were broad to say the least. I suggested even writing a book based off Billy Joel’s song Uptown Girl and calling to Uptown Boy, LOL

Through a few more chats, Hank had this pearl:

“I think, just knowing our writing styles, we could write the ever-loving fuck out of a contemporary rom-com. What do you think?”

Well, I totally agreed!

So with a genre decided, we needed a game plan. Thinking we should come up with a central setting, I spewed off a laundry list of settings—gay bar, funeral parlor, casino, a sexy house cleaning service with happy endings, a real comic book super hero. Hank narrowed it down and I loved the idea!

“Hello! And I like the idea of a central setting. Would be awesome if it became a series. I like your suggestions, and I think the beauty salon idea is great since you’ve got some really good knowledge about that area. I know nothing about it, but funeral parlor really jumped out at me and made me laugh. What about a beauty salon AND a funeral home in a small Midwest town, like OH or MI? Like, would someone from the beauty shop be hired to work on the bodies at the local funeral home?”

  And so MURDER MOST LOVELY was born….

  We have had a blast writing our Lacetown Murder Mysteries that we would like to involve you in a part of our writing process. With our setting decided, we needed to create our mortician and our hairdresser. I thought it would be good if we each just created one character then we put them together and see what happens. Though my day job is a cosmetologist, Hank created our hairdresser hero and I happily made up the mortician.

It was so much fun making up a character then sending it off to Hank as I excitedly waited to see whom he had created. It was almost like I was a matchmaker for my character but I had no idea who Hank was sending on his blind date!

  Meet Michael Fleishman, age 42

  Michael is a mortician who runs the Fleishman Funeral Parlor in Lacetown, Michigan, and he has been the county coroner for 13 years. He is quiet and awkward Jewish man, and he doesn’t date a lot or have many fiends besides his gregarious grandpa who still calls him Mikey, and his fat black-and-white tabby cat Mr. Pickles Furryton the Third—the latter goes with him to the funeral parlor every day.

I envisioned Michael looking like a geeky version of Luke Wilson, but with glasses. He is fastidious in his attire, and always polite yet very reserved. He’s awkward in his own skin, but as we all know, still waters run deep. That’s why I made Michael a Virgo, the most uptight of all horoscope signs IMO, but also the biggest freak between the sheets. Which you can imagine, led to some fun options for our—at the time—unwritten MSS.

Michael is an avid mystery reader and often fantasizes about solving a mystery like his favorite fictional character Brock Hammer. Not that such a thing would ever happen in the sleepy Lake Michigan village of Lacetown. The most exciting case Michael’s ever been called on to work was when Mrs. Briarwood caught her husband in bed with Abigail Smithers from the Marathon Station, and shot him with a crossbow in the scrotum.

  Please enjoy the first half of chapter one of MURDER MOST LOVELY—Lacetown Murder Mysteries Case One. For the second half of the chapter and a chance to learn how Hank created Michael’s soon-to-be paramour visit this link: https://www.hankedwardsbooks.com/2018/10/06/murder-most-lovely/

Murder Most Lovely

Lacetown Murder Mysteries: Case One

  Chapter One

Mr. Pickles will be so excited when I get home, Michael Fleishman thought.

Well, he wasn’t really sure if the taciturn cat would care if he had ten of his Brock Hammer novels signed by the author, but Michael would be excited.

He parked his tan Camry in the last available angled parking space on Main Street, unable to believe his luck finding a place to park. He ordinarily would’ve walked, living so close, but he wouldn’t risk getting any of his paperbacks or the two hardcovers wet in the rain.

Lacetown was crowded for the Great Lakes Literary Fest. Today was the first day of the three day festival, and sadly the tail end of a late-spring storm front. The festival kicked off the busy tourist season for their lakeside village and, despite the rain, the streets were busy with fans and visitors hunched under umbrellas visiting all the authors at the afternoon signing event. The lesser-known authors were trying to stay dry under tents in the town square, but most of the big name authors had been moved indoors for their signings, the bars and restaurants serving as makeshift bookstores.

And in Michael’s mind, there weren’t many big names in fiction that he wanted to meet more than Russell Withingham.

He’d checked the festival website before leaving the house and knew Mr. Withingham would be inside Kelsey’s Bar & Grill. There was a small line forming outside already so Michael grabbed his bag of books and his umbrella, and then hurried to join them.

A woman he didn’t recognize in line in front of him smiled and he nodded politely. There were always strange faces in their little Lake Michigan lakeside town during the summer. Tourists mostly, and this weekend literary fans.

The crashing sound of waves drew Michael’s attention behind him. Main Street ended at Route 412 and on the other side a boardwalk overlooking their unswimmable portion of Lake Michigan. Large waves crested, crashing in places over the spacious boardwalk stretching the length of town. He spied a few unfortunate tourists who didn’t have the wherewithal to see the obvious safety hazard of being out there when the lake was unhappy.

Hoping no one would be hurt, he adjusted his bag on his shoulder and tried to keep his umbrella from poking the lady’s in front of him. Fleishman Funeral Home only had gigantic golf umbrellas for services, and he was glad for it when the rain picked up and a gust blew mist onto his glasses. He shoved them in his front shirt pocket, knowing there would be no use keeping them clean until he was inside.

“Shit, I thought this rain was supposed to let up this afternoon,” a deep masculine voice from behind Michael said.

Michael turned and drew up short.

“Whoa there, pal, you could take an eye out with that thing.”

For a heartbeat Michael froze and just stared.

The man in line behind him had a long face and wheat colored hair swept back from a low brow and into a ponytail. Eyes the color of cognac had just enough sparkle to make Michael smile and conjure thoughts of mischief and long summer romances.

And you’re staring at him like a ninny!

Michael hastily stepped back so as to not poke the gorgeous man in the eye with his umbrella. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

“Hey, watch it,” the lady in front of him snapped. “You’re soaking me!”

Michael jumped when he realized his big umbrella had slipped beneath hers and was funneling water right onto her.

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry,” he said at once, stepping back the other way.

“Whoa, whoa,” ponytail guy said again, reaching up to take hold of the eye-level pin on Michael’s umbrella. “How about I just join you?” And then he stepped under the huge umbrella with Michael.

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Michael managed, squirming a little. “There’s plenty of room.”

The man used both hands to brush a few wayward strands of blond hair off his face, his tanned skin glistening from the rain. He wore a ring on a long well-manicured index finger. Smiling, he held out a hand. “I’m Jazz Dilworth.”

What a strange name. Sounds like something in a mystery novel.

He quickly shook the proffered hand. “Michael Fleishman.”

Jazz flipped a thumb behind him. “I work across the street at Misty’s Makeover Palace.” He furrowed tidy brows. “Fleishman, like the funeral parlor?”

“Eew,” the lady in front of him said with a distinct Valley Girl attitude.

Michael maintained his polite mortician smile. Sadly, he was used to the reaction.

Hence his lackluster love life.

Expecting Jazz to make some equally grossed out remark and leave the safety of the umbrella, Michael looked back at him.

But Jazz was smiling, his white teeth radiant and even. “That explains the planet-sized umbrella. Only ever see those at funerals and on golf courses.”

Michael’s facial muscles softened, and the smile he gave Jazz was more genuine, relaxed. “Yeah, they come in handy.”

Jazz grinned, “I bet they do.”

This man was gorgeous. He had to be younger than Michael. But more importantly, he had the potential for being gay since he was a hairdresser. Well aware of his stereotyping, Michael was nonetheless hopeful.

Michael wasn’t the best flirt, but sharing an umbrella with an attractive man in front of a bar acting as a makeshift bookstore felt like the opening of a rom-com, so he was ready to give it the ol’ college try.

“Are you a fan of the Brock Hammer novels too?” he asked, glad his glasses were in his pocket. Jazz stood so close Michael didn’t even need them to clearly see his handsome face.

Jazz scoffed. “Used to be.”

“Oh.” Michael’s heart fell. So much for common interests. “Did you know this line is to meet him?”

“I know, all right. The fucker’s been ducking my calls for weeks.”

Michael flinched at the man’s crass remark. “You know Russell Withingham?”

“Married to him,” Jazz said. “Separated.”

So he is gay… Michael shook his head. “Wait, what?”

Those warm brown eyes met his, and Jazz smiled. “Separated,” he said again. “Permanently. He’s supposed to still be making my car payment, and I just got a call from the bank. He hasn’t made the last two payments.”

Michael didn’t know if he was more disappointed to find out his favorite author was a jerk, or excited to know the man under his umbrella was gay and single.

Well, possibly single.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Michael offered.

Jazz shrugged. “Nothing for you to be sorry for,” he quipped. “In fact, I should be thanking you for sharing your umbrella with me. Nothing worse than running into an ex with your hair all soaking wet, looking like a hot mess. I wanna look good when I tell him off. You know, make him regret losing me.”

Michael couldn’t help his involuntary head-to-toe sweep of Jazz’s solid body. Any man who would give up all that hunkiness had to be nuts.

Oh the things Michael would do with him if he could. I’d drip hot candle wax on each of his nipples while I rode….

Awkward, Michael cleared his throat when he realized Jazz was staring right at him. Michael’s face heated. Thankfully the guy couldn’t read his thoughts. “I’m sure he’ll regret it. You look great.”

Jazz’s grin widened and he tugged a little on the vest he wore over a white V-neck T-shirt. “Thanks.”

Still feeling warm in the face—among other places now—Michael smiled back. “You’re welcome.”

“I used to love Russell’s books. Was totally a fan girl.” Jazz leaned in and spoke softly. “The first dozen were great, now they’re crap, if you don’t mind my saying.”

While Jazz was only whispering closely so the other fans might not hear, Michael relished his nearness. “Yeah, that’s why I only brought the first ten to get signed.”

“Ten?” Jazz’s brows shot up.

He worried his upper lip. “Is that too many?”

Jazz laughed, a free, easy sound. “Oh, Russ will be thrilled. Trust me.”

Granted Russell Withingham might be a bad husband, but Michael loved his books and didn’t want to annoy the man.

Looking for something to discuss besides Jazz’s ex, Michael said, “Your boss Misty does work for me sometimes. She took care of one of my clients for her funeral yesterday.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“She doesn’t like it,” Michael confessed.

“I know,” Jazz agreed. “I heard all about it.”

“You did?” He had no idea Misty disliked styling his clients so much that she might be complaining about it.

“Yeah, creeps her out,” Jazz said. “I don’t know why. You stay in this business long enough, eventually you get a call to give a client their last doo. I don’t know where they’re going in the next life, but I’ll be damned if any of my clients get to the other side with their hair a wreck.”

“You’ve cared for the deceased before?” Michael asked, pleasantly surprised. Most people were freaked out by what he did for a living. Running the largest funeral parlor in the county, and being appointed County Coroner, should have brought him prestige and respectability, and he supposed it did in some circles. But working with dead people left most folks unsettled, rather than endearing anyone to him.

“Sure,” Jazz said with a casual shrug. “I don’t see the big deal.”

Grinning wide, Michael fished in his pocket for the leather business card holder he never left the house without. He flipped it open and withdrew a card. “If you’d like some extra work, I’d love to have you.” He heard how that sounded, and quickly added, “Um, have you do some styling for me. I mean, for my clients.”

Jazz smiled as he took the card. “I know what you meant. And Misty will be thrilled.” Then he dug in his front pocket, the jeans just tight enough in all the right places, that when his hand filled the denim it accentuated his nice package. “Here’s my card. You can get my references from Misty, if you want.”

Michael was still smiling as he took the card and carefully placed it into his card holder. “I’m sure that you’re more than qualified. You said you’ve been in the business a while.”

“Knocking on thirty years.”

Michael scoffed. “Did you start in preschool?”

“Hardly,” Jazz laughed. “A good hair colorist and access to the finest beauty products all culminate for the perfect illusion.” He leaned in. “I’m forty-one.”

“Me too,” Michael said. “But you don’t look a day over thirty-one.”

Jazz put his hand on his chest. “Oh, you flatter me.”

The line inched closer to the door.

“Jazz, is that a nickname?”

“Short for Jasper. I can be a little jazzy, and I love music, so there you go. But I can’t play or read music.”

“Me neither. No artistic talent whatsoever.”

Jazz frowned. “Your work has a bit of art to it.”

He shrugged. “Maybe. But I’m rubbish with the hair. That’s why I need Misty for my female clients.”

“Good thing you met me today.”

Now he was grinning like a fool, but he couldn’t help it. “Yes. Good thing.”

Far too soon for Michael’s liking, they reached the door and stepped inside. He had to close and shake off his umbrella, which sadly ended whatever private and possibly flirtatious moment he’d been sharing with the gorgeous Jazz.

Jazz scanned the bar, jaw set.

Helping him out, Michael pointed to the back corner, where a middle-aged man with thinning blond hair, a black velour blazer, and burgundy ascot sat behind a table with mounds of books. “He’s over there.”

“Thanks,” Jazz said, his shoulders relaxing. He gestured to Michael’s umbrella. “Mind if I hold that till I get up there?”

Michael realized Jazz wanted it to hide from his ex until he got closer. And while not wanting to get involved, Michael liked the idea of having a chance to spend more time conversing.

Jazz held the umbrella over one shoulder and turned so it blocked his profile from Russell’s view. Michael stood behind Jazz and watched as drops of rain ran down the side of his neck. He longed to let his tongue follow the rain down beneath the neck of Jazz’s T-shirt. But that wasn’t something he did, and not only because he was a Lacetown business owner. He needed to work on relaxing and letting go of his inhibitions. At least that’s what all his exes had told him. One even went so far as saying Michael’s clients had more warmth than him.

Ouch.

“So you’ve lived here all your life?”

Michael blinked. “What? Oh. Here in Lacetown?”

Jazz grinned. “No, here in the bar.”

A blush heated Michael’s cheeks. “Sorry. I was woolgathering.”

“I like that.”

“What?”

“Woolgathering. It’s not used that often anymore. I like it.”

“Oh. Well. Thank you. And, yes, I was born and raised here.” Michael cleared his throat and looked away, then back. The bag of books suddenly seemed very heavy, and he switched shoulders. Jazz held his gaze, warm brown eyes locked onto Michael’s.

“So what happened between you two?” The words were out before Michael could run them through his mental filter to see if they were appropriate.

Jazz’s forehead furrowed. “Me and Russell?”

Panic zinged through Michael. “I’m sorry. That was a very personal question, and we just met. Forget I asked.”

“No, it’s okay.” Jazz took a step closer and lowered his voice. “Russell likes his side dishes.”

“Side dishes?” Candied yams popped into Michael’s mind.

“You know.” Jazz glanced at the woman in front of them who seemed to be leaning back and listening. He moved fast, putting a hand on her shoulder and easing her forward and away from them as he said, “Careful there. Looked like you were about to tip over. Wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself before you get to meet Russell Withingham.”

“Oh, no… I wasn’t… I wouldn’t…” The woman’s cheeks flushed and she took a step forward.

“There you go.” Jazz turned back to Michael with a grin. “Where was I?”

  READ THE REST OF THE CHAPTER HERE: https://www.hankedwardsbooks.com/2018/10/06/murder-most-lovely/

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Chapter One

  Mr. Pickles will be so excited when I get home, Michael Fleishman thought.

Well, he wasn’t really sure if the taciturn cat would care if he had ten of his Brock Hammer novels signed by the author, but Michael would be excited.

He parked his tan Camry in the last available angled parking space on Main Street, unable to believe his luck finding a place to park. He ordinarily would’ve walked, living so close, but he wouldn’t risk getting any of his paperbacks or the two hardcovers wet in the rain.

Lacetown was crowded for the Great Lakes Literary Fest. Today was the first day of the three day festival, and sadly the tail end of a late-spring storm front. The festival kicked off the busy tourist season for their lakeside village and, despite the rain, the streets were busy with fans and visitors hunched under umbrellas visiting all the authors at the afternoon signing event. The lesser-known authors were trying to stay dry under tents in the town square, but most of the big name authors had been moved indoors for their signings, the bars and restaurants serving as makeshift bookstores.

And in Michael’s mind, there weren’t many big names in fiction that he wanted to meet more than Russell Withingham.

He’d checked the festival website before leaving the house and knew Mr. Withingham would be inside Kelsey’s Bar & Grill. There was a small line forming outside already so Michael grabbed his bag of books and his umbrella, and then hurried to join them.

A woman he didn’t recognize in line in front of him smiled and he nodded politely. There were always strange faces in their little Lake Michigan lakeside town during the summer. Tourists mostly, and this weekend literary fans.

The crashing sound of waves drew Michael’s attention behind him. Main Street ended at Route 412 and on the other side a boardwalk overlooking their unswimmable portion of Lake Michigan. Large waves crested, crashing in places over the spacious boardwalk stretching the length of town. He spied a few unfortunate tourists who didn’t have the wherewithal to see the obvious safety hazard of being out there when the lake was unhappy.

Hoping no one would be hurt, he adjusted his bag on his shoulder and tried to keep his umbrella from poking the lady’s in front of him. Fleishman Funeral Home only had gigantic golf umbrellas for services, and he was glad for it when the rain picked up and a gust blew mist onto his glasses. He shoved them in his front shirt pocket, knowing there would be no use keeping them clean until he was inside.

“Shit, I thought this rain was supposed to let up this afternoon,” a deep masculine voice from behind Michael said.

Michael turned and drew up short.

“Whoa there, pal, you could take an eye out with that thing.”

For a heartbeat Michael froze and just stared.

The man in line behind him had a long face and wheat colored hair swept back from a low brow and into a ponytail. Eyes the color of cognac had just enough sparkle to make Michael smile and conjure thoughts of mischief and long summer romances.

And you’re staring at him like a ninny!

Michael hastily stepped back so as to not poke the gorgeous man in the eye with his umbrella. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

“Hey, watch it,” the lady in front of him snapped. “You’re soaking me!”

Michael jumped when he realized his big umbrella had slipped beneath hers and was funneling water right onto her.

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry,” he said at once, stepping back the other way.

“Whoa, whoa,” ponytail guy said again, reaching up to take hold of the eye-level pin on Michael’s umbrella. “How about I just join you?” And then he stepped under the huge umbrella with Michael.

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Michael managed, squirming a little. “There’s plenty of room.”

The man used both hands to brush a few wayward strands of blond hair off his face, his tanned skin glistening from the rain. He wore a ring on a long well-manicured index finger. Smiling, he held out a hand. “I’m Jazz Dilworth.”

What a strange name. Sounds like something in a mystery novel.

He quickly shook the proffered hand. “Michael Fleishman.”

Jazz flipped a thumb behind him. “I work across the street at Misty’s Makeover Palace.” He furrowed tidy brows. “Fleishman, like the funeral parlor?”

“Eew,” the lady in front of him said with a distinct Valley Girl attitude.

Michael maintained his polite mortician smile. Sadly, he was used to the reaction.

Hence his lackluster love life.

Expecting Jazz to make some equally grossed out remark and leave the safety of the umbrella, Michael looked back at him.

But Jazz was smiling, his white teeth radiant and even. “That explains the planet-sized umbrella. Only ever see those at funerals and on golf courses.”

Michael’s facial muscles softened, and the smile he gave Jazz was more genuine, relaxed. “Yeah, they come in handy.”

Jazz grinned, “I bet they do.”

This man was gorgeous. He had to be younger than Michael. But more importantly, he had the potential for being gay since he was a hairdresser. Well aware of his stereotyping, Michael was nonetheless hopeful.

Michael wasn’t the best flirt, but sharing an umbrella with an attractive man in front of a bar acting as a makeshift bookstore felt like the opening of a rom-com, so he was ready to give it the ol’ college try.

“Are you a fan of the Brock Hammer novels too?” he asked, glad his glasses were in his pocket. Jazz stood so close Michael didn’t even need them to clearly see his handsome face.

Jazz scoffed. “Used to be.”

“Oh.” Michael’s heart fell. So much for common interests. “Did you know this line is to meet him?”

“I know, all right. The fucker’s been ducking my calls for weeks.”

Michael flinched at the man’s crass remark. “You know Russell Withingham?”

“Married to him,” Jazz said. “Separated.”

So he is gay… Michael shook his head. “Wait, what?”

Those warm brown eyes met his, and Jazz smiled. “Separated,” he said again. “Permanently. He’s supposed to still be making my car payment, and I just got a call from the bank. He hasn’t made the last two payments.”

Michael didn’t know if he was more disappointed to find out his favorite author was a jerk, or excited to know the man under his umbrella was gay and single.

Well, possibly single.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Michael offered.

Jazz shrugged. “Nothing for you to be sorry for,” he quipped. “In fact, I should be thanking you for sharing your umbrella with me. Nothing worse than running into an ex with your hair all soaking wet, looking like a hot mess. I wanna look good when I tell him off. You know, make him regret losing me.”

Michael couldn’t help his involuntary head-to-toe sweep of Jazz’s solid body. Any man who would give up all that hunkiness had to be nuts.

Oh the things Michael would do with him if he could. I’d drip hot candle wax on each of his nipples while I rode….

Awkward, Michael cleared his throat when he realized Jazz was staring right at him. Michael’s face heated. Thankfully the guy couldn’t read his thoughts. “I’m sure he’ll regret it. You look great.”

Jazz’s grin widened and he tugged a little on the vest he wore over a white V-neck T-shirt. “Thanks.”

Still feeling warm in the face—among other places now—Michael smiled back. “You’re welcome.”

“I used to love Russell’s books. Was totally a fan girl.” Jazz leaned in and spoke softly. “The first dozen were great, now they’re crap, if you don’t mind my saying.”

While Jazz was only whispering closely so the other fans might not hear, Michael relished his nearness. “Yeah, that’s why I only brought the first ten to get signed.”

“Ten?” Jazz’s brows shot up.

He worried his upper lip. “Is that too many?”

Jazz laughed, a free, easy sound. “Oh, Russ will be thrilled. Trust me.”

Granted Russell Withingham might be a bad husband, but Michael loved his books and didn’t want to annoy the man.

Looking for something to discuss besides Jazz’s ex, Michael said, “Your boss Misty does work for me sometimes. She took care of one of my clients for her funeral yesterday.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“She doesn’t like it,” Michael confessed.

“I know,” Jazz agreed. “I heard all about it.”

“You did?” He had no idea Misty disliked styling his clients so much that she might be complaining about it.

“Yeah, creeps her out,” Jazz said. “I don’t know why. You stay in this business long enough, eventually you get a call to give a client their last doo. I don’t know where they’re going in the next life, but I’ll be damned if any of my clients get to the other side with their hair a wreck.”

“You’ve cared for the deceased before?” Michael asked, pleasantly surprised. Most people were freaked out by what he did for a living. Running the largest funeral parlor in the county, and being appointed County Coroner, should have brought him prestige and respectability, and he supposed it did in some circles. But working with dead people left most folks unsettled, rather than endearing anyone to him.

“Sure,” Jazz said with a casual shrug. “I don’t see the big deal.”

Grinning wide, Michael fished in his pocket for the leather business card holder he never left the house without. He flipped it open and withdrew a card. “If you’d like some extra work, I’d love to have you.” He heard how that sounded, and quickly added, “Um, have you do some styling for me. I mean, for my clients.”

Jazz smiled as he took the card. “I know what you meant. And Misty will be thrilled.” Then he dug in his front pocket, the jeans just tight enough in all the right places, that when his hand filled the denim it accentuated his nice package. “Here’s my card. You can get my references from Misty, if you want.”

Michael was still smiling as he took the card and carefully placed it into his card holder. “I’m sure that you’re more than qualified. You said you’ve been in the business a while.”

“Knocking on thirty years.”

Michael scoffed. “Did you start in preschool?”

“Hardly,” Jazz laughed. “A good hair colorist and access to the finest beauty products all culminate for the perfect illusion.” He leaned in. “I’m forty-one.”

“Me too,” Michael said. “But you don’t look a day over thirty-one.”

Jazz put his hand on his chest. “Oh, you flatter me.”

The line inched closer to the door.

“Jazz, is that a nickname?”

“Short for Jasper. I can be a little jazzy, and I love music, so there you go. But I can’t play or read music.”

“Me neither. No artistic talent whatsoever.”

Jazz frowned. “Your work has a bit of art to it.”

He shrugged. “Maybe. But I’m rubbish with the hair. That’s why I need Misty for my female clients.”

“Good thing you met me today.”

Now he was grinning like a fool, but he couldn’t help it. “Yes. Good thing.”

Far too soon for Michael’s liking, they reached the door and stepped inside. He had to close and shake off his umbrella, which sadly ended whatever private and possibly flirtatious moment he’d been sharing with the gorgeous Jazz.

Jazz scanned the bar, jaw set.

Helping him out, Michael pointed to the back corner, where a middle-aged man with thinning blond hair, a black velour blazer, and burgundy ascot sat behind a table with mounds of books. “He’s over there.”

“Thanks,” Jazz said, his shoulders relaxing. He gestured to Michael’s umbrella. “Mind if I hold that till I get up there?”

Michael realized Jazz wanted it to hide from his ex until he got closer. And while not wanting to get involved, Michael liked the idea of having a chance to spend more time conversing.

Jazz held the umbrella over one shoulder and turned so it blocked his profile from Russell’s view. Michael stood behind Jazz and watched as drops of rain ran down the side of his neck. He longed to let his tongue follow the rain down beneath the neck of Jazz’s T-shirt. But that wasn’t something he did, and not only because he was a Lacetown business owner. He needed to work on relaxing and letting go of his inhibitions. At least that’s what all his exes had told him. One even went so far as saying Michael’s clients had more warmth than him.

Ouch.

“So you’ve lived here all your life?”

Michael blinked. “What? Oh. Here in Lacetown?”

Jazz grinned. “No, here in the bar.”

A blush heated Michael’s cheeks. “Sorry. I was woolgathering.”

“I like that.”

“What?”

“Woolgathering. It’s not used that often anymore. I like it.”

“Oh. Well. Thank you. And, yes, I was born and raised here.” Michael cleared his throat and looked away, then back. The bag of books suddenly seemed very heavy, and he switched shoulders. Jazz held his gaze, warm brown eyes locked onto Michael’s.

“So what happened between you two?” The words were out before Michael could run them through his mental filter to see if they were appropriate.

Jazz’s forehead furrowed. “Me and Russell?”

Panic zinged through Michael. “I’m sorry. That was a very personal question, and we just met. Forget I asked.”

“No, it’s okay.” Jazz took a step closer and lowered his voice. “Russell likes his side dishes.”

“Side dishes?” Candied yams popped into Michael’s mind.

“You know.” Jazz glanced at the woman in front of them who seemed to be leaning back and listening. He moved fast, putting a hand on her shoulder and easing her forward and away from them as he said, “Careful there. Looked like you were about to tip over. Wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself before you get to meet Russell Withingham.”

“Oh, no… I wasn’t… I wouldn’t…” The woman’s cheeks flushed and she took a step forward.

“There you go.” Jazz turned back to Michael with a grin. “Where was I?”

  ****To read the rest of the chapter and learn more about Jazz, go to HankEdwardsBooks.com****

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from Meet Michael from MURDER MOST LOVELY, a book co-written by Hank Edwards & ME!

[wizardsnwookies]

FOC012418 - Jail Break

Luke stared up at the ceiling and tried to find his focus. His time with Ben was brief, but he had learned that much at least. Focus was perhaps the most important asset in a Jedi’s arsenal, and nothing was possible without it. Of course, that was easy to say when you weren’t locked up in cell that had just barely been hosed down enough to mask the stench of it’s previous occupant, only a few hours away from being forced to fight for your life to the amusement of a hutt.

He knew hutts all too well, he was from Tattooine after all. Graakus was different some, he had an air of superiority and intellect about him. He thought himself above the others, whether that was true or not was yet to be seen. Meanwhile, his friends in the rebellion were in the middle of the Mid-Rim push and depending on how tomorrow went, he may not survive to give them the help they needed. Wasn’t this how this all started after all? Retrieving Ben’s journals, following whatever trails they left, so that he could better aid the Rebellion? Well...that plan sure went south fast.

TAP TAP TAP

A faint tapping sound drew his attention away from his own self-pity and to the transparasteel window. It was too early to be fed. Wait...was that...was that a droid? Yes. A small spy droid, something he had only heard of in his farmboy life. Small and agile and almost completely silent. Ever since they came on the market, paranoid spacers would spread wild theories that these droids were all over the place. Secretly weeding out those who spoke out against the Empire.

It had written something on his window with...was that scat? Luke stood and walked towards the door for a better look.

OUT?

He should have thought it over more, he knew that, but his eagerness to get back to the fight got the better of him. Luke locked eyes with what he could only assume were the optics of the tiny drone, and nodded.

---

“He’s in.” Rugor handed the controls back over the Vrssl and smiled. It was his first time handling the droid and he had managed to fly circles around his companions own skills as a pilot. “Whoever he is, I hope he can fight.”

“I have my theories on that. There’s no way he’s in there because he’s a rebel.” Vrssl frowned and looked at the controller. How did he managed to be so precise? “If that was all, he would have sold him up the river the minute he found him.

“I’m thinking he’s ‘gifted.’ Like our friend Jan.”

GRAAAAH ROOONK

“Don’t take it personally. I don’t fully understand it myself, but I do know it’s pretty much random on who is and who isn’t.”

“OK, so we have a heavy hitter on our side and a way inside.” Kara bit into her yeast cake and brushed the crumbs off her chest. Before making contact with the rebel in his cell they hand managed to map out every inch of the lower complex. Past the slave chambers and staging area for the arena was the massive dirt pit itself. Along either side of that ran long curving corridors for maintenance and access to the bestiary on the opposite side.

They watched as the Gamemaster entered and tended to what they could only assume would be tomorrow’s main event. No one was quite sure what it was, but they knew it wouldn’t be anywhere near a close fight between this monster and the young mane, gifted or not. Roughly the size of a Rancor, it was covered in horns and spines shooting out its shoulders and back, red beady eyes stared out between the bars, and a biotech arm gripped the steel as it waited for its master to feed it.

The Gamemaster talked to it soothingly for a few moments before reaching over to a panel on the side of the cell and with a hiss a small door opened on the side and a medium sized cattle animal scurried into the bedding. Thankfully Vrssl flew the drone into the opening before the bloody feast had begun, but it still could be heard over the audio sensors.

Beyond this hatch was their way in. A large freight elevator led upstairs to a loading dock on the side of the complex, where a single security pad protected from unauthorized entry.

“Without some kind of security access we aren’t going to get far.” Kara gestured to one of the many doors within the complex whose access required a fob. Their drone had managed to slip in unseen as attendants and Magna guards made their way back and forth, they wouldn’t have the same luxury.

“Aisha said the Gamemaster was a slave too right?”

“Yeah?”

“So, we just bring him in on the fold.” Vrssl shrugged.

“One problem, how are you going to talk to him?”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got a plan.” Vrssl grinned.

---

“Excuse me Sirs, but I’m afraid that’s for staff only.” The tongruta working the counter seemed to be the only staff today, it was already approaching evening, and the bets would not open for tomorrows battle for hours now. She was used to the addicted and the desperate to roll in asking her for insider info, but this strange pair did not so much address her as they made way confidently towards the lower level door.

“Oh, it’s fine sweetie.” Vrssl put on his smarmiest smile and put a hand up to wave her away. “I’m with the big guy here, you can get his autograph on our way out.” He heard her fumble with her words behind them, they had not so much broken their stride and Graalbar’s hair hand already had a firm grip on the handle.

“I’m...sorry, but that area is closed at the moment. We are busy preparing for tomorrow’s battle.”

“We won’t be long, I just need to tell the Gamemaster he’s going to have to step up his game if he wants my client in the arena again.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

Vrssl let out an exaggerated sigh, impatiently tapping his foot on the tile floor. “The last fight was pitiful. I mean, come on, a Rancor? That was nowhere near up to snuff for his abilities am I right?”

Graalbar made a show of yawning, flexing his chest so the oiled Rancor leather of his armor groaned.

“So, we’re going to sit down and work something out together. Really give them a good show. You think you made some money last time, ho ho. I’ll show you some serious credits.” The togruta watched as small bird-taloned fingers rubbed themselves together. But she still had no idea how to handle the situation, she was just a counter girl. Her job was to maintain the counter, take the usual delivers of dirty credits for laundering, and shoo away the riff raff.

“Perhaps I should call someone.”

“Oh, by all means.” The little man threw up his hands in frustration and began to pace before stopping to reach for a comm in his pocket. “No, you know what allow me. Lets call your master Graakus and see what he thinks about this.”

Vrssl carefully watched the girl for her reaction, he had to be sure of two things. One, that she was thoroughly intimidated enough to let them through without checking out their story. Two, make sure she was not a slave they needed to rescue. He wouldn’t like himself very much if they had to put a bolt through a slave’s head if things went south. A willing employee on the other hand...

Her eyes narrowed in confusion at the word “master,” but it was quickly replaced by panic at the mention of the hutt. “Oh, n-no please, that’s not necessary. Let me notify the Gamemaster and see if he has a few moments to spare.”

“Finally, some cooperation.” So, not a slave. Good to know. She looked shaken enough too that Vrssl let his hand drop from the hidden blaster. He went through the plan through his mind one more time while they waited, here more than any other job they pulled, the consequences for things to go very bad were particularly nasty.

He and Graalbar would get the Gamemaster on their side, he was a slave after all and freedom was their best bargaining chip. Barring that, get the key off him by any means possible. Free the slaves and move them through the maintenance halls that ran alongside the arena. Once in the bestiary they free the giant monster in waiting to cover their flee out the loading dock and to a waiting service van driven by Kara outside. Meanwhile, Rugor monitored the entire events over the spy drone watching their backs, and in case things got really bad, keep the ship warm and ready to jump.

Behind them the door opened and a tall human stepped out wearing flowing red and purple robes, his face partially obscured by a mask and cowl, but his eyes spoke volumes. He was flanked by a pair of two magna guards who clanked to a rigid stop, their metal feet making heavy clicking noises against the polished floor.

“What is this? I’m busy.” The gravely voice was cold and impatient to match the intensity of his eyes. He had immediately recognized Graalbar upon opening the door, taking the briefest of moments pause before moving attention to the small creature next to him.

“Ahh finally! How you doing? We’ve got to talk you and me.” Vrssl leaned up on his toes to slap the man on the small of his back, the highest point he could reach, but also one of the more likely places to hide a blaster. He felt only well toned muscle and sinew.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m a big fan of your work. Really, you’re like an artist down there. But I think you’ll agree my client isn’t your typical fighter, and therefore he can’t be expected to perform at his best with your typical fighter’s challenges.”

“...excuse me?”

“No need to get salty, like I said, it’s no criticism on what you do. If anything, it’s his fault for being too damn good, am I right?”

Graalbar flexed his muscles proudly, the Gamemaster could only stare at the two of them.

“Go away. I’ve got a big day tomorrow. Make sure to place your bets.” He had taken no more than two steps towards the door before the Gamemaster found himself being pulled down to the small creature’s level. He was small for such a size, and the grip when he wrapped an arm around his shoulder was not one of a business man trying to close a deal. What was this?

“Now hand on, don’t be hasty. We’ve got an oppertunity to really draw in the crowds. You want to make your master a lot of money don’t you?”

There it was, the emphasis on the word “master.” There was more to it than just an intimidation tactic. Slowly their eyes met and the human felt breath on his neck as a whisper was passed to his ear. “Or maybe you’d prefer your freedom?”

The magna droids clicked and roughly pulled the two apart, pushing Vrssl up to the wall and taking an aggressive stature with their staffs. They were still unlit, but on their own the metal rods could still do some damage. Straightening, the Gamemaster never broke eye contact with the small alien. Instead he held up a hand and spoke a firm command.

“Stop.”

Immediately the droids stood to attention in the places. Vrssl knew these droids fairly well, had actually hoped to get his hands on a few himself someday. They were intimidating and dangerous, yes, but they followed commands as opposed to a processing chip. It didn’t matter that two shady characters were suddenly demanding to see the Gamemaster, and then roughly grabbing at him. When the command to stop was made, they asked no questions on the matter.

“We should have a chat. Follow me.”

---

The glow of the monitor window was the only light in the lounge. Rugor found it easier to concentrate that way. The cockpit was much too full of lights and readouts. The engines had been fired up and idling ever since the door to the Slavemaster’s private room had closed.

The audio sensors on this thing weren’t great as is, and then they had to go and talk in hushed whispers even when in private. Based on the body language it seemed to be going well enough. The Gamemaster was relaxed, attentive. He sat hunched over on his cot, elbows resting on his knees while Vrssl talked. He was still getting nervous however.

This was taking too long. He looked at his chrono. Vrssl must have gotten to the gist of things by now. It would stand to reason that anyone enslaved to a hutt would jump at the chance for their freedom. So then why-

The Gamemaster stood, his posture changing immediately. His knees bent just slightly, feed firmly planted, arms tense at his sides.

Slag.

The door behind them opened up without either of the three touching the inside panel. In the doorway he could see the outlines of several Magnaguads, electrostaffs lit and crackling, and a pair of human guards with blasters. Rugor lunged for the comm.

“Kara!!! They’re blown, I’m on my way but you’ll be able to help them before I get anywhere close.”

“What? Wait-”

He didn’t wait to hear her objections. The old adage of “no honor among thieves” came to mind, and was quickly cast aside. Saving your own skin was all well and good, but people forget the part where you have to live with the skin your in afterwards.

The speeder wove through the traffic effortlessly, heeding no mind to laws of speed or safety. He wasn’t even sure it was designed to go this fast and hold together. He’d have to find out, because he wasn’t slowing down for anything. Checking his chrono made his stomach feel empty, there was no chatter on the comms since he had called Kara.

Streaming headlights gave way to the growing glow of the approaching complex. Still no word. What was going on in there? Rugor gripped the wheel, if they were in trouble they needed a distraction. Draw the attention away from then.

He got an idea. It was not a good idea.

Rugor tugged on the safety straps holding him into his seat and made sure they were nice and tight. His legs moved away from the sides and the front well. Hands held firmly at 10 and 2. Take a deep breath now, this is going to be loud, this is going to hurt.

Civilians watched in horror as a blur of color and sound dove from the air at an impossible speed. A deafening crash filled the night air and shards of transparasteel fell like rain. They could smell burning plastisteel. The front lobby towards Graakus’s arena complex was a puzzle of durasteel and concrete. It was hard to tell that a speeder existed within the twisted and dented wreckage. But what amazed them most was the emergence of a living being from within.

Rugor stumbled out onto rubble and shattered transparasteel. Everything around him had an eerie silence about it. In a single instant there was an overwhelming explosion of sound and a terrible jolt threw his body against the straps. And then, nothing. Silence. Stillness. It would take a moment for him to even remember what was happening. Right...I crashed.

He took only a moment to assess the damage to his body. He’d life, a few scratches and banged up limbs, otherwise everything was intact. Wobbly legs brought him to his feet. Checking his chrono he saw only a broken face and frozen hands. It didn’t matter. He was here, he had made quite a lot of noise. He would just have to face whatever awaited him downstairs.

Graalbar had definately been here. Broken pieces of Magnaguard droids scattered the floor. Arms gleefully ripped from their sockets and tossed to the side, innards trailing and leaking oil. Despite this, all was quiet. Not a sound could be heard down the hallways. Rugor wasn’t sure if it was just him or not, maybe he was still in shock from the crash.

He leaned his head into the doorway of the Gamemaster’s private quarters and found a pile of robes crumpled on the ground by the cot, a large sticky pool of read forming beneath him. Good, they at least made it out of the room in one piece. He followed the carnage, it wasn’t difficult. It seemed that at least a dozen droids had fallen in their pursuit of his companions, and yet not a single drop of blood was to be found outside of the Gamemaster’s room. Maybe he acted too quickly. Had they already come and gone? No. Kara or someone would have contacted him. So where were they?

His answer appeared around the corner. Just barely fitting in the cramped corridors, Graakus sat on his spindled robot legs, a single muscular arm holding up Graalbar by the throat. His hair feet dangled mere inches off the floor. Vrrsl was standing to the side, eyes fixed on the scene before him. Around them all, nearly two dozen more Magnaguards stood with shockstaffs charged and ready.

“Ahhh, there’s the last rat. Come join us, please.” Graakus had no smug smile on his face. The slug had a fiery anger in his eyes, a fury that seemed to just barely contained.

“You want to talk about rats Graakus.” Vrssl stood defiant and fished inside his pocket. “Let’s talk about your precious Gamemaster.”

His hand returned and held out what looked like a small signet ring made of polished durasteel. It looked innocuous enough, it didn’t even have any carvings on it, only a small notch in the side. Graakus opened his mouth to speak but was quickly silenced when Vrssl reached out with his free hand and slide the notch along the circumference of the signet disk. What was once solid durasteel proved to be closed shutters. With a slight grinding sound the shutters slide away to reveal an engraved gear. The unmistakable emblem of the Galactic Empire.