#and in turn a lot of the other muse focused groups are getting absolutely left in the dust and it’s just funny because of reasons

[9w1ft]

https://www.tumblr.com/9w1ft/747233578463690752/saw-a-tweet-saying-that-believing-taylor-is-gay-is?source=share

...do they believe... that gaylor means gay swiftie??? we've been over this before 😭

they believed gaylor should mean someone who interprets taylor’s music through a queer lens, and should not (necessarily) have anything to do with taylor’s sexuality.

anyway i just think it’s amusing to think about it in terms of the state of the anyone-but-karlie gaylor community. maybe some people out there feel the same sort of amusement

[legends-live-in-memories]

Picture Perfect

AYO! its me back with more content for the second time this week while i ignore my other wips again. this is a lil gift for @queen-o-leen who i promised wholesome content for! I hope you like it!

Timinette/Timari Oneshot 1.9K words (not related to my other timari oneshots)

Summary:

“Tim spends a nice day in a park in Paris and takes a picture of a pretty girl.

He somehow gets an almost date out of it.”

no warnings this time. completely family-friendly. I know i surprise myself with this one too.

without further ado

He would be the last to admit that Jason was right and that time away was what he needed at this point in life but it can’t be ignored that, for the first time in possibly three years, Tim was having a wonderful day. He was having a wonderful week actually. After one too many unsuccessful cold cases and the simmering anxiety of off-world missions, his family, primarily Jason, for some reason, demanded that he take some time off and away from his unusual brand of normal. How that meant being sent across the Atlantic Ocean to Paris of all places, he wasn’t entirely sure. Alfred probably had a hand in that decision given that, as part of his forced vacation, Tim was not allowed to actually plan any of it. Him. Timothy Jackson Drake. The guy who stalked and manoeuvred his way into Batman’s house and team. The guy who tracked and found said man when the universe thought he was dead but was actually drifting through time. Yeah, Tim was not pleased about being led blind on his vacation. 

At least Paris was a nice city. And he brought his camera. He figured he could use this time to get back into old hobbies and what better hobby to start up again in the city of love than photography? He’s taken pictures of every tourist attraction worth visiting by his second day and began to take candid shots of people and animals. Would Damian like the animal pictures? Maybe, if they came from someone who wasn’t Tim. Is he going to try and give them to him anyways? Absolutely not. He liked his liver where it is, thank you very much. They would serve as great bribing material however. But that’s a thought for another day. 

Right now he was working on capturing what could possibly be described as the stereotypical outing with friends. He’s sitting along some bushes near the entrance of a park and staring at a group of teens his own age hanging around. He spots a brunette with thick curls of hair animatedly speaking with a guy in a vibrant cap. She’s waving a camera herself, and he appreciates her taste in equipment. Her eyes spark with fox-like mischief while the cap guy has a peaceful aura about him; like an old turtle. Next he sees a blonde, her hair is in a ridiculously high ponytail and she’s in a deep conversation with a red head off to the side of the whole group; her words are rushing out of her and she’s a buzzing bee with excitement. Another blond is in the area, but he sits in a broad patch of sun possibly napping with an open book on his chest. Very cat-like Tim supposes. He barely pays them more than a second of thought however. No. 

His focus is on the quaint beauty directly in his line of sight. She’s poised up against the giant tree trunk with a sketchbook in her lap and pencils surrounding her. Her hair hangs by her shoulders in twintails and it’s a colour so dark it seems to absorb the shade of the tree. She’s scribbling furiously on the page before her and her tongue is slightly peaking out to the side. Her forehead is creased with stress lines and her shoulders hunch slightly over her frame. She’s the vision of deep concentration and dedication and Tim would be a fool not to capture her. He’s gotten wide shots of her companions but now he wants to focus on her. 

Looking through the lens of his camera he zooms in on her profile. When his camera focuses, he spots a constellation of freckles across her cheeks, barely there, almost blending in with her complexion but Tim is nothing if not hypervigilant. He goes to take another photo when a bug flies into view. It’s a ladybug. It lands precariously on the tip of her nose and it’s just the thing that breaks her out of her work-induced trance. Tim is watching her now, long forgetting to click the shutter. Her eyes cross as she stares intently at the black-spotted creature and its presence seems to amuse her. She’s giggling to herself, as if sharing an inside joke with the bug and reaches a slim finger to swipe the insect gently from her nose. She inspects it and smiles a smile so soft that not even a feather could compare. He feels like an intruder. More so than one who takes pictures of cute strangers in public. 

Coming back to his senses, he takes another picture, the final picture, and lowers the camera from his face. He looks back at his temporary muse and finds that she is already looking at him. Her head tilts in confusion. Apprehension. Possibly a bit of fear. Which is valid given that Tim was pointing a camera at her from across the public park. What should he do though to quell her fears? 

He felt his face lift into a grin; he didn’t need to look at himself to know it was awkward and forced. A shrug of his shoulders and a flimsy wave of the camera in his hand was the only thing he did. Before he could begin to stumble over himself in apology, however, she surprised him. With a cautious hunch, her shoulders brought up to her ears, and an embarrassed smile to match his own, she slowly flips her sketchbook around and he comes face to face with, well, his face. It was a portrait of him. She had drawn a portrait of him. And she was showing him. Feeling embolden, he flips his camera to show her the screen but she’s too far away. He gets up on unsteady legs, cramped from his uncomfortable position, and begins a slow stride towards her. She meets him in the middle.

“Hi.” He barely speaks those words. They’re more like an exhale or a sigh of relief that he hadn’t scared her off. 

“Hi, I hope you don’t mind the drawing.” Her voice is high and light. Like a spring breeze. She’s daintily waving at him and he sees that her fingers are rough, and calloused. Unexpected but he finds it rather charming. Before he could get another word in, she’s off like an engine. “I just saw you there, and you had your camera so I figured you were taking pictures of us and thought that if you were then you wouldn’t mind me sketching you in kind but I should have asked and I’m sorry for breaching your privacy—” 

“Wait, slow down.” He fears that if he hadn’t interrupted her when he did she would run out of oxygen. Did she even breathe during her spiel? A voice in his head, that sounds like Cass, utters a soft ‘pot, kettle’ and okay, he sees a lot of himself in her mile-a-minute style of speaking. 

“No need to apologize. I’m flattered, truly. You were right, I was taking pictures of you. And your friends!” he hastily adds that last part. He turns his camera so the display screen faces her and he feels himself hold his breath in anticipation. 

A blush rises to her cheeks, red like the ladybug that interrupted her. He quite likes that colour on her. His eyes drift to the sketch and he’s further impressed by her skill. She has an eye for detail. He notices a bird in the background. It’s a robin. That piques his interest and lights a flicker of fear within him. 

“May I ask,” he begins slowly, unsure of what that little addition could mean. Did she know? How could she? Was his identity compromised?

“Why did you draw a robin in the background? It’s lovely but I’m curious,” he finishes. He’s going to play dumb until he has more information. She seems taken off guard by the question and raises her shoulders to her ears again in an embarrassed hunch.

“Well,” she starts, but she seems unsure and the words die on her tongue. She tries again.

“I just saw it fly by and then it landed behind you. So I thought ‘why not?’ and drew it. It seemed fitting.” She wasn’t looking him in the eye and now he felt kind of felt like a jerk for baselessly accusing some random girl. Of course it was just a coincidence. This bat-paranoia was going to be the end of him one day. It’s by sheer miracles and luck why it hasn’t already. 

“Oh, no worries. It just surprised me because it’s my favourite bird.” Right. Lie to the pretty French girl. But what else could he do? Tell her the truth?

“Then it’s a cool coincidence, huh?” She seems encouraged by that tidbit of information.

“Yeah, pure luck on your part.”

“What?” She seems more startled at that than Tim thinks she should be but before he can think deeper into it she speaks again and he would be a fool to not give her his undivided attention.

“Why did you take a picture of me with the ladybug? If you don’t mind me asking.” That stumps him because, to be honest, he does not know why himself. It just felt right. So he tells her as such.

“Well that would be another coincidence because ladybugs are my favourite insects.” She gives him a full smile alongside that statement and the brilliance of it almost blinds him. He wants to capture that smile for eternity. 

The thought strikes him. He doesn’t want this moment to end. He knows by the Friday of next week he’ll be flying back to Gotham where it’s business as usual and Red Robin won’t have time for commitments and puppy love. But right now? Right now Tim Drake is on vacation with a week and half left and all the time in the world to entertain the idea of a spring romance. Making the decision, he goes for it and takes the chance.

“I was getting a bit hungry. Do you know anywhere that’s good to eat at?” It’s an offer, open to interpretation. If she just lists some place, he knows where her interests lay. If she offers to escort him somewhere, then she’s taken the bait for exactly what it is, an invitation for more; whatever more is. He hopes she takes the bait. 

“Yes I do actually! My parents own a bakery just outside the park.” Her enthusiasm is uplifting and the offer of a place so personal is a good sign in Tim’s book. “Let me show the way, and I could join you if you would like.”

“Perfect. That’s wonderful. It will be my treat since you’re going out of your way on my account.”

“Nonsense. Like I said, it’s my parents’ bakery. They’ll be more than happy to give some complimentary snacks.” She loops her arm around his and begins to drag him to the park gate. She’s strong and her grip is firm and Tim feels lightheaded at the ease with which she pulls him. He can’t help but be swept up in the tides that is this girl. 

“I’m Tim, by the way. Tim Drake.” He offers his name, something he should have done at the beginning.

She looks back at him over her shoulder and he’s caught up in the oceans of her eyes. They’re alight with joy. 

“Nice to meet you, Tim. I’m Marinette Dupain-Cheng.” 

“Nice to meet you too.”

They’re almost by the bakery now, he can smell the fresh baked goods from here, and he can’t wait to sit down and get to know this girl better. Maybe get her number by the end of their lunch.

Yeah. Tim was having a wonderful day.

[katyamorrigan]

‘A Hotel on the Board is Worth Two on the Geldstraat’ - Chp. 1!

Gang banner by @verdiris​

A Hotel on the Board is Worth Two on the Geldstraat

A trunk of contraband items ends up in the hands of the Crows, but the item that piques their curiosity most is the large box labelled “MONOPOLY”. Kaz is out of the Slat for the time being, so of course they decide to play it. Was there ever a mission more likely to fail than six criminals with lethal skills and undeniable emotional ties all trying to build a make-believe empire without killing each other in the process? Answer: yes - all of the above while attempting to pull off a heist at the same time.

Turns out board games weren’t the only interesting items shipped into Fifth Harbour that afternoon, and now the Razorgulls are interested. It will take all of the gang’s effort to break into two buildings full of rival gang members, regain possession of the contraband, and make it back to the Slat in one piece. And that’s without the inherent strains of playing at business negotiations with a group of decidedly underhand friends.

Join the Crows as they cheat, steal, lie, and bribe each other, all before the heist has even begun.

I am so excited to finally get to share the fic that I have been working on for the @grishaversebigbang​ over the last few months - A Hotel on the Board is Worth Two on the Geldstraat! Getting to take part in the Grishaverse Big Bang 2021 has been so much fun, and I have had the honour of working with an absolutely incredible gang of artists and the loveliest beta reader. It’s been an absolute blast, and this is one of my favourite things that I’ve written. Thank you so much to everyone that I’ve worked with, and I hope that you enjoy reading and admiring the story and art that we’ve created!

Here is everyone in my gang, with links to the work that they’ve created (some art may relate to chapters of the fic that haven’t been posted yet - the fic will be posted in its entirety within the next 3 weeks and the art will be linked within the fic on the relevant lines, but also there’s nothing that will spoil the story for you, so don’t worry!):

Corporalki: @davonysus​ (who is the most wonderful beta reader, thank you for everything that you contributed to this story!)

Materialki: 

@ciph3rrr​ with hilarious Crows-minus-Kaz Monopoly shenanigans from Chapter 1

@j-wirth​ ​with this brilliant Inej and Wesper moment inspired by Chapters 2 and 7

@bloodysusher​ with a gorgeous group moment in Chapter 7

@verdiris​ with some amusing Kaz geniusness from Chapter 7

@maximumbluebirdpatrol​ (link still to come)

@emmaxtw​ (link still to come)

There are 7 chapters in total, so I shall be uploading a new one every Tuesday and Saturday until 25th September. Look below the cut for an excerpt from Chapter 1, and if you want to read the full thing (and check out the collection of all the other incredible pieces created for the GVBB) then click either of the links. I hope that you enjoy!

AHOTBIWTOTG Chapter 1 Excerpt:

The front door of the Slat opened with a loud clatter, and slammed shut on itself seconds later. It made Inej jump in her seat as she sat going over ship documentation - which, as it turned out, there was a lot of - in the front room. Nina gave her a look, and Inej wrinkled her nose back at her; the Wraith didn’t startle easily, but equally, there was usually less banging of doors while she tried to organise her finances.

“Honeys, I’m home!” Came Jesper’s voice. “And I brought treats!”

“It had better be more exciting than that time you came back from Cilla’s Fry with meat pies,” Inej called back. “That was underwhelming.”

“Speak for yourself,” Nina chimed in. “I was more than happy to finish up those.”

“We know.” Matthias gave her a knowing look, and Wylan sniggered as she raised a single finger at him in response. 

The bickering that came from everyone trying to work on separate projects at the same time was one of the many reasons that Inej hadn’t made it past the first page of her sailing license. That being said, she joined in the chuckling at Nina’s expense.

“Oh, it’s definitely better than Cilla’s pies, but you’ll have to take a look for yourself.”

Jesper rounded the corner, a large trunk tucked under one slim arm. His face was bright from the brisk, cold air of the streets, and a bead of sweat dropped from his chin as he deposited the luggage on the table beside Inej. She sighed heavily as the wad of pages in front of her jumped with the sudden extra weight.

“Sorry,” Jesper grinned. She just rolled her eyes fondly in response.“Come on, who wants to see what I’ve got?”

Nina, Matthias and Wylan all got up from the neighbouring table and crowded around Inej and Jesper. It was uncomfortable having so many significantly taller people stood behind her while she was sitting, so Inej scooped up her papers and deposited them on the floor, taking their place on the table so that she could get a good look at the trunk.

“Where did you get that?” Matthias asked.

“Well, our dearest Kaz decided to put me on shipment duty and I had to wait around at the Exchange for a boat full of contraband to come in. It took hours, so as soon as I saw something that looked interesting, I used my innumerable skills to swipe it so that we could take a look inside.”

““Innumerable” is a long word for you,” Nina quipped. 

A bubble of laughter rose up amongst the group, and Jesper stuck his tongue out childishly. “Fine, no contraband for you.”

“No, I want to look!”

“Be nice, then. I get first dibs on anything cool because I found it.”

Matthias snorted. “What happened to the ancient rule of “finder’s keepers”?”

“I found the trunk, therefore I found anything that’s inside it by proxy.”

“Can we just open it up?” Wylan said impatiently. “I feel like we’re building expectations by arguing like this – it’s probably smuggled whiskey or something.”

“Shouldn’t we wait for Kaz?” Inej asked. The others gave her a look of incredulity. “Where is he, anyway?”

There was a brief moment of looking at each other for answers, before Jesper answered decisively. “If he was so worried about what came in on the boat, he would’ve gone himself. And if he isn’t here now, then he’ll just have to accept whatever is left over from the spoils.”

“We aren’t actually pirates, you know,” Inej said.

“Not yet,” Jesper stage-whispered in reply, and Inej found herself grinning, pleased. “Gather around, then.” He beckoned everyone closer like a ringmaster at the centre of a performance. 

Inej was surprised to find that her heart was actually beating faster with the thought of what might be inside. Wylan was probably right that they were getting themselves worked up over nothing, but all the same, she couldn’t help hoping that they found something rare or exciting. Perhaps it was gold? Guns? Something dangerous? You could never know when it came to the imports of Ketterdam, and for once Inej was glad for the intensity of life in the city. It could very well be something extraordinary.

The catches on the front of the trunk lifted easily, but there was a thick knot of string around the middle as well. Jesper struggled to untie it, so Inej slipped a knife from her sleeve and cut it off with one flick of her wrist. Giving her a mischievous look, Jesper dug his fingernails under the lid and with a crackle of flaking rust, the trunk opened.

On top there was a loose gauzy scarf clearly intended to keep moisture out of the trunk on the long sea voyage, which had definitely served its purpose; the red print had blotted itself onto the inside of the lid, and there were water stains on it where it had protected the rest of the cargo. Matthias and Nina went to grab it at the same time, but it ended up in Nina’s hands regardless as he passed it to her with a shy smile.

“I thought you would want it, so I was making sure no-one else got there first.”

Wylan made an exaggerated gagging noise, and Matthias’ expression quickly reverted to his familiar scowl.

“Aha!”

Jesper reached forward and pulled out two pistols, both only a little rusty and with a single blue gem stamped into the body of each. With impressive speed he turned around and mimed firing two shots at the wall before holstering them beside his favoured revolvers.

As Matthias pulled out a slim soft-covered book, Inej realised that she was far too focused on the discoveries of her friends and was going to miss out on finding her own treasures otherwise. Lifting up two more scarves – this time green and blue – she found another couple of books which she handed to Nina. Her friend’s focus was pulled away from adjusting her hair under her newly matching scarf to flicking through the pages and wrinkling her nose hard.

“I don’t recognise the language, but I can understand it well enough,” Nina mused.

“Where did the boat come in from, Jesper?” Wylan asked as he opened a small wooden keepsake box full of golden rings in varying levels of ornate decoration.

“Kaz didn’t say, and I’ll be honest, I didn’t pay much attention.”

Nina tutted and continued her reading with Matthias peering over her shoulder. With fingers now covered in rings, Wylan pulled out a long fur coat that smelt of mould. Removing its furry cuffs from the case, Inej reached into the trunk for what seemed to be the last item: a big box made of thick card, with a green cover and the word MONOPOLY emblazoned on the top. The lettering was incredibly clear, but it didn’t look as though it had been done by hand or with a printing press. It had an odd shiny feel to the outside as well, like it had been coated in order to keep out the damp.

Inej sat it on the table and lifted the lid. It came off easily, and revealed a large square of that same thick card in bright red that unfolded into a larger board with regular markings on it.

“What in the Saints’ names is that?” Nina remarked, putting down her reading material.

“I have no idea. It was at the bottom of the trunk.”

“Is it a map?” Wylan suggested.

“Doesn’t look like it,” Inej murmured as she put the board down and looked at what was left in the box. 

Underneath that map-like object was a tray divided into several compartments, with little silver tokens collected in one, some colourful playing cards of an unknown variety in another, and some appealing little houses done in an unusual material in both green and red. Beside those lay a rack of what looked like currency, in the same shape and thickness as notes of kruge. Jesper immediately started rifling through it all, mixing up the various collections and inspecting them all with irregular attention. Although Wylan slapped his hand away with a tut, it clearly wasn’t out of lack of interest.

“What is it?” Nina asked again. Taking the board in her hands, she began to stumble through the words written on it.

“Collect 200… something, looks like it could be a currency symbol because it says “salary” after that, as you pass GO... Old Kent Road, another amount of money… sixty? Community chest, Whitechapel Road, same amount of money as the other square…”

As she turned it over in her hands, a slim white booklet fell out onto the table. Inej started forward and managed to snatch it up before anyone else did, although the gesture was useless as she immediately handed it to Nina, who skimmed over the first few lines and let out a delighted noise.

“It’s a game! A board game! Seems like you play by going around the board which has place names marked out on it, and you buy up the land so that you can build houses on it. And you compete to earn the most money.”

“Who’s sending weird foreign board games to Ketterdam?” Wylan said incredulously. “Are you sure it’s not got something contraband hidden in there somehow?”

Inej laughed. “Does a game based on financial gain not strike you as the most Kerch thing in the world? I can well believe a mercher bought this to educate their children on the fun of working under Ghezen.”

Wylan cracked a grin at that, and Nina snorted. She pushed the box towards him.

“Take a look if you want.”

He lifted up the tray of items and ran his fingers along the underside, then looked inside each of the little model houses as if there might be gemstones wedged in the base like on Jesper’s guns. Wylan tapped along the top of the board, but there were no hidden compartments or secret openings. It seemed as though they had genuinely come across some kind of entertainment from another country.

“Shall we play it?” Jesper said with a broad grin at everyone. “We’ve got nothing else on, have we?”

“I’m meant to have applied for my sailing license by the end of next week,” Inej said weakly, but she wasn’t much interested in her own excuse. This bizarre-looking game they had stolen by chance had already caught her attention far more than boat permits and crew-hiring documents.

“I’m happy to,” Matthias said, and Nina and Wylan nodded fervently as well.

“Perfect! Let’s not disturb everyone’s things down here, we can take it into another room.”

“Nobody’s bedrooms are big enough,” Nina complained. “Kaz is too cheap to give us enough space to actually enjoy our stay at The House of Brekker.”

“His bedroom is, though.”

Read more here!

[pparkerpoetry]

Face Reality (Part 12)

Title: Secrets Fester (but they aren’t the only things that grow)

Summary: Tommy's hybrid half urges him to seek out his family. Sam is hiding something, but they don't know what. Tubbo learns about a part of himself he didn't know existed and is reminded of his past.

Part One

Part Thirteen

Masterlist

___________

Tommy woke up last a few days later to a soft trilling in the corners of his mind. He groaned- it was his turn for a thin day, apparently. He wasn’t surprised, he’d read that families tended to group their days close together. 

 He sat up and sighed. His thin days were always embarrassing, his stupid little bird brain always wanted to spend time with his family, and constantly wanted cuddles. Tommy didn’t want cuddles.

 Yes you do.

 Tommy huffed. No, he didn’t want cuddles. He wanted to get through the day without getting teased. Maybe he could just stay in his room all day. Yes, that was a good idea.

 Make a nest? His mind asked, getting excited.

 He rolled his eyes. Okay, maybe he could make a nest. That was relatively normal, right? His hands moved to grasp the blankets and shape them into a sort of circling wall, with enough space in the middle for him to curl up underneath his wings. He ignored the happy cooing that his mind wanted to release- he couldn’t just chirp and trill, that’d bring noise, and noise meant someone coming in, which meant embarrassment. He didn’t want that.

 Flock, The bird in him trilled sadly. Where’s your flock?

 “Busy,” Tommy grumbled, moving a wing to cover his face. “So shut the fuck up.”

 He stayed there, keeping the sounds at bay, for a long time. Too long.

 There was a knock at the door. “Hey, Tommy?” Ranboo asked. “Are you alright? It’s almost noon, and you never sleep in this long.”

 Tommy opened his mouth to say he was fine, but a distressed chirp escaped instead. He winced, hoping Ranboo didn’t hear it.

 “Uh, pardon?” Ranboo chuckled a little. “Can I come in?”

 He wanted to say no. But the part that wanted to say no was overpowered by his bird brain. Literally. “Yes.” He sighed reluctantly.

 When he walked in, Ranboo immediately spoke. “Aww, Tommy, is it a thin day?”

 He nodded miserably, forgetting that his wing was covering his face. 

 “Aw, Tommy, come on, most of us are in the living room.”

 His stupid bird sounds made him give out a happy trill, and then he cut it off with a grumble. “They’re gonna tease me.”

 Flock? Flock? 

 Ranboo lifted Tommy’s wing and stared at his face. “If I make them promise you aren’t going to say anything, will you come out? It’s not healthy to suppress this.”

 Tommy sighed. “Fine. But they need to promise to not take any photos for blackmail.”

 Ranboo left the room, which his mind didn’t like, but he sucked it up. Eventually, Ranboo came back and beckoned Tommy to follow him.

 When they got to the living room, he frowned. “Where’s Dad?”

 Flock? Where is the flock? Why is it not complete?

 “Prison.” Purpled sighed. “Something about making sure the prisoner didn’t die.”

 “That’s okay though,” Tubbo smiled. “We’re here! We’re enough, right?”

 Tommy’s frown deepened. “I guess.” He went over and flopped on top of whoever was on the couch. He wasn’t sure who, but someone started preening his wings and he let out a happy sigh that morphed into a purr. 

 All of them remained close to the living room for most of the morning, taking turns being near Tommy since his body radiated warmth and the house tended to be a bit colder (which didn’t make a whole lot of sense, since Sam liked warmth, but..). 

 Sam came back a little after lunch. 

 “What took you so long?” Fundy drawled, head hanging off of the couch and feet dangling over the back. “You got a secret girlfriend?”

 Sam had been drinking some water, and nearly spit it out. He was content to stick with choking on it, instead. “No,” He said weakly. “Nope, no girlfriend here. I just had a weird conversation with Dream and had to think about it a bit.”

 Everyone squinted at Sam for a moment, but Tommy interrupted by barreling into him. “Hi, dad.”

 “Hey, Tommy,” Sam smiled. “Your turn, huh?”

 Tommy chirped a bit, burrowing his head into Sam’s chest and letting his wings circle them both.

 “Who’s the clingy one now?” Tubbo mused from a chair. “Hint, it’s not me.”

 ________

 Sam was having an odd day. He hadn’t been lying when he said he’d gone to the prison, but Dream was being weird.

________

 “So, how’d those hybrid hunters end up?” Dream asked nonchalantly. 

 Sam turned. He was just about to leave, but… “You knew they were coming? And you didn’t warn us? I have the emergency contact button for a reason, Dream.”

 Dream chuckled. “I knew you wouldn’t have your device on, since you exploded, and well, I couldn’t be bothered to reach anyone else by now. Haven’t you learned, Sam, that I just don’t care?”

 Sam glared at him. “You’re lucky my boys took care of them. Tubbo and Purpled could’ve been killed, since humans are no use to the hunters.”

 “Humans?” Dream laughed again, before realizing Sam was serious. “Sam, no one on this server is completely human. I made sure of it.”

 “What?” Sam shook his head. “You’re saying they’re hybrids, too?”

 Dream was quiet. “I’ve already helped you enough. I think you’ve gotta give me something in return, if you want more.”

 “Alright. Be like that, then. See you next week.” Sam sighed, leaving the prison. His brain was muddled with thoughts.

 When were Tubbo and Purpled going to show their true colors? What hybrids were they? Was Dream even telling the truth?

 __________

 And, well… He took a detour before he got home, sure, but he hadn’t been lying when he said he didn’t have a girlfriend… but it felt weird keeping a secret, even if he’d been keeping it for a while.

 He had Tommy to think about before tonight… would he be able to leave the house? Tommy seemed pretty attached. 

 The day went by okay after he got home, to be fair. There was one incident where Tommy tried to get on top of the fridge to divebomb everyone since he was too tired to fly up, but Sam got him down. 

 Having a relatively tame Tommy was a nice change, but it was odd. Sam kinda wanted his energised son back, even if he was a little annoying at times. 

 At any rate, he’d made some half put together excuse as to why he needed to leave for the night, and planned on leaving through a hidden back door connected to his room once he was ready. He looked in the mirror and scrunched his face up. He hated wearing suits. He was more a sweatshirt type of guy, or he wore his mask when he was working, but never suits. Why was he doing this again?

 He patted down his- jacket? He wasn’t sure what it was called, but he straightened it (some part of his brain snorted at that), then fiddled with his tie.

 The door burst open before he could stop it, and then it was just Sam, in a fancy suit, staring at Tommy, both looking like deer in headlights.

 “Where you going, big man?” Tommy asked, less clingy than this morning as his human side was taking back more control. 

 Sam winced. He couldn’t lie to Tommy, even if he wanted to. Not directly. “I’ve uh, I’ve got a date.”

 Tommy lit up. “No kidding? Who’s the lucky lady?”

 “I’m gonna refrain from answering that.” Sam chuckled nervously. “Are you going to be alright while I’m gone?”

 “Are you crazy? We gotta tell the others so we can hype you up, and then we’re gonna meet our new mom!” (Sam didn’t know it, but Tommy’s mind was spamming flock)

 Sam’s eyes widened. “No, no, no, Tommy, I don’t think that’s a good idea-”

 It was too late. Tommy had already run down the hall, and Sam barely had time to sit down on his bed before the entire herd of his sons came barreling back, outraged that Sam had kept such a momentous secret from them.

 “Are you nervous?” Tubbo asked, towards the back of the group.

 Sam shrugged, “I mean, yeah, but-”

 Fundy grinned. “It’s gonna go great, dad. You’ve got nothing to worry about, she’s going to love you.”

 Sam cringed, “I, uh, I’m sure she will?”

 “Yeah! That’s the spirit!” Tommy cheered. “On the other hand, can we go meet her? I promise we won’t be weird.”

 “Can you promise that?” Ranboo teased. “But yeah, can we?”

 Sam sighed. “I mean, I guess,”

 “Do we have to put on suits?” Purpled complained, “Cause if we have to, I don’t wanna go.”

 “No,” Sam said, putting his head into his hands. “You don’t have to put on a suit.”

 “Hey hey hey,” Tommy said, sitting next to Sam on his bed, “Now is not the time to be sad. You are going on a date with a woman, and that is Pogchamp. Now is a time to celebrate. Let’s go, you’re going to be late, and you can’t be late if you’re going to absolutely win her over like I know you are.”

 “Thank guys,” Sam said, and he meant it a little. Now he had something to worry about other than his date. “You’re right, let’s go.”

 It was… an interesting walk. His boys were hyping him up, which he appreciated, but he was nervous. He had been hoping to wait a little longer to tell them. Of course they found out on one of his only dates after he’d adopted them all.

 Finally, after a stroll through the woods, they arrived at the place: a lovely little clearing with fairy lights that shone and twinkled as the sun set with a table in the center set in the middle. There was food, and candles, and it was all very romantic, but the boys weren’t focused on that. They were focused on the person who was standing by the table, in a suit, rose in hand.

 Purpled was the first one to speak. “Ponk?” He stepped closer and fell into a hug from the man who was, indeed, Ponk. “Is this really you?”

 “Yeah, Purp. It’s me. I’m sorry you had to go through all that you did alone.” Ponk said, surprisingly softly. “I wanted to see you, but Sam told me to let you heal a bit, first.”

 “Bitch.” Purpled said, but it was clear he was trying not to cry. “I missed you.”

 “I missed you, too. I thought you would’ve come to see me earlier.”

 Purpled shook his head, refusing to leave Ponk’s hug. “How could I? We just found out you guys were a thing today, I was too scared to visit you otherwise.”

 Ponk turned to Sam with an exasperated look. “Sam, I thought you said you were gonna tell them!”

 “Well, I had every intention to,” Sam said defensively, “but everyone kept getting hurt and it never seemed like the right time.”

 “Wait,” Tommy butted in, “How long have you guys been dating? I thought this was like, a first date type thing and that’s why he was so nervous.”

 “Aw, Sam! You were nervous?”

 Sam, in question, flushed a little. “I mean, how could I not be? You’re so amazing and all, I-”

 “How long?” Tommy asked loudly. “You aren’t answering my questions, and they need answering! Now!”

 “Well,” Ponk winced, “Sammy, you answer it. They should hear it from you.”

 “What do you mean we should hear it from Sam?” Tubbo asked. “How long has this been going on?”

 Purpled squinted at Ponk. “And why don’t you want to answer?”

 “A little over a year and a half.” Sam blurted out, and all eyes turned to him.

 “What?” Tommy cried out. “And we didn’t know? You’re our dad, you’re supposed to tell us these things!”

 Sam was at a loss for words. “I didn’t know you guys cared about my love life?” He tried as a weak response.

 “Of course we care,” Fundy argued. “We always care, and that’s why we came here to make sure that whoever you were dating was fit to be our other parent. We just… weren’t expecting Ponk.”

 “Who were you expecting?” Ponk asked, confused. 

 “Well, Tommy thought it was a girl.” Tubbo said, and Tommy tried to deny it.

 “You thought-” Ponk laughed. “You thought Sam was dating a girl?”

 “Sam didn’t say he wasn’t!” Tommy protested.

 It was quiet a moment longer, until Ponk interrupted it, arms still around Purpled. “Wait, Sam, your love life? You love me?”

 All eyes turned to Sam as he blushed furiously and scratched at the back of his head. “Well, I mean, you’re really funny and your smile is really cute, and I really like spending time with you…”

 Tommy glanced from Sam to Ponk, both blushing and looking at the ground bashfully, and groaned. “Oh, my god! We get it, you’re in love! Get a room.”

 The two adults both spluttered, trying to get a response, before Tommy spoke again. “Go ahead, say ‘i love you’ and all that gross mushy stuff. Pretend we’re not even here. I swear, we’re not gonna say anything. Just go for it.”

 “I mean,” Sam started, looking up at Ponk, “if you want to, of course I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, or anything...”

 “I love you.” Ponk blurted out.

 “I love you, too.” Sam responded breathlessly. “A lot. Like, probably too much.”

 Ponk hid his face a little, and held out his hand. “I, um, I got you a rose,” 

 “I saw. You’re adorable.”

 It was quiet, and Ranboo coughed a little. “C’mon, guys, they probably want us to leave. It’s their date, after all.”

 “Do we have to?” Purpled asked, “This is more entertaining than any movie we’ve watched, I wanna keep making them embarrassed.”

 “I agree with Ranboo,” Tommy said, “We should probably go. However, I also agree with Purp, because I want to stay.”

 Ponk shrugged. “I mean, I can woo Sammy here another day if you all wanna just go watch a movie, or something. Sam? You alright with that?”

 Sam had to admit he'd wanted a nice night with just him and Ponk, but part of his mind was worried for Tommy, since he was still going through a thin day. “Sure, I guess we can watch a movie tonight and do something else later.”

 So, they all walked back to Sam’s base, boys in front, politely pretending that they didn’t notice Sam and Ponk holding hands in the back. They didn’t want to notice it. They also pretended to not notice the little sweet whispers that the two exchanged, and the boys were starting to regret their decision to not leave the two alone.

 Despite that, they all watched a movie, huddled in a nest that Tommy had made. He stretched his wings around those that he could, but ultimately was content to just huddle up against Sam and sleep, instead of watching the movie. 

 Sam was curled up next to Ponk, which was a little odd considering the height difference, but they made it work. Sam wasn’t sure where the rest of his boys were in the nest.

 At some point that night, once it was late and it was just him and Ponk awake, he felt Ponk shift. 

 “Where are you going?” Sam asked sleepily, clutching the sweatshirt that he’d let Ponk borrow. “Why are you leaving?”

 “It’s late,” Ponk whispered. “I need to get home.”

 “No,” Sam pouted. “I don’t want you to go home. You should stay here for the night.”

 “I appreciate it, Sammy, but I really-”

 “I almost died a few days ago and you’re not going to do what I want?” Sam murmured, waking up slightly. 

 “Oh, Sam,” Ponk said, sadness weighing his voice down. “Don’t joke about that. You worried me, when you didn’t talk to me for a week, then I found out from Tubbo that the hunters were back. I was so worried that I’d get there too late, and you’d be gone. Hell, before I found out, I thought you were breaking up with me.”

 “I’d never do that. Don’t be sad.” Sam said tiredly, but Ponk wasn’t done.

 “And then, and then I found out this morning that you’d gone against some, some fucking god, and you won, and you’d adopted Purpled, and I found out all the shit that he’d gone through and how you reacted, and I’m scared.”

 “Of what? I’ll protect you, Ponkie.”

 “I’m scared that one day you’ll go up against some big bad villain and you won’t make it out alive, Sammy. You take on so much, and what if I can’t help you?”

 Sam looked up, and saw that Ponk was crying softly. “Oh, Ponk. I’m always going to come back, because I have a reason to. I’ve got you to come back to, I’ve got my boys. I’ll fight with everything I’ve got to make it out alive.”

 “But what if that isn't enough?” Ponk stressed. “I joke all the time, and I mess around, but I’m scared. I don’t want to lose you.”

 “You won’t.” Sam assured him, pulling Ponk back into a hug. “Stay the night?” He asked again.

 “Okay,” Ponk relented, sniffling. “But I’ve got to go home in the morning. Are you going to let me go?”

 Sam smiled sleepily and pulled Ponk closer, burying his head in his shoulder. “No promises. I love you.”

 “I love you too, you big sap.”

 _______

 Tubbo woke up last the next morning. His head hurt, like he had a headache, and his mouth was dry. He wasn’t aware that he’d woken up last, as he was still curled up in the nest and didn’t really want to do… anything. His head hurt too much.

 He let out a little whine, burrowing his head into the blankets as the light hit his face.

 “Tubbo? You up, man?” Who was that? That was Tommy, right?

 “Tommy?” He murmured. “My head hurts.”

 The voice chuckled. “Not Tommy. I’m Ranboo. I dunno, you need an advil, or something?”

 “I don’t know,” Tubbo groaned. “Make it stop.”

 He heard a slight humming. “Maybe I should go get Sam.”

 “No,” Tubbo pouted, curling up even more. “Get Tommy. I want Tommy.”

 Footsteps echoed away from him, and Tubbo moved one of his arms under his head. His fingers brushed against his ear, and-

 “What?” He sat up, poking at the back of his ear, momentarily blocking out the pain of his head. “What?”

 Sam walked into the room, “What d’you mean? Anything wrong? Ranboo said your head hurt, or something.”

 “Sam,” Tubbo started, hands still covering his ears. “Why am I growing fur?”

 A look of sudden surprise was painted across Sam’s face before it settled on a grimace. “Well, Tubbo, you’re a hybrid.”

 Tubbo looked up quickly, wincing at the pounding in his head. “I’m a hybrid? How do you know?”

 “When I visited Dream he mentioned it,” Sam mumbled a bit, before speaking a little louder. “Anyway, it’s probably going to hurt. I’ll send someone to go grab Tommy, since most of us were born with our hybrid features rather than growing them.”

 Tubbo thought Sam spoke more, but he wasn’t listening. His head was still hurting, and the pain was still increasing. He wanted Tommy. He missed Tommy, where was he?

 How had he gotten on the couch? Was he crying? Oh. His head hurt a lot. “Tommy?” He sniffled, too far gone to hate how vulnerable his voice was.

 “I’m here, Tubs. I’m here.”

 “What’s going on?” He managed, trying to turn to his side but yelping when the pain spiked.

 “You’re probably growing something.” Tommy said nonchalantly, putting a hand into Tubbo’s hair. 

 Tommy’s hands put pressure on the side of his head. “Ow,” Tubbo cried, and Tommy rushed an apology. It was quiet for a moment. “What am I growing?”

 “I can’t tell yet.” Tommy hesitated. “Your ears look pretty cool, though. They’ve gotten all long and furry.”

 “My ears are furry?” Tubbo didn’t quite catch Tommy’s reply as he fell asleep despite the pounding in his head.

 _________

 The next time Tubbo woke up, he was alone. He was still on the couch, but daylight streamed through the windows and the house was silent. Where was everyone?

 His head felt much better, but his mouth was still dry, so he pried himself off of the blankets and padded into the kitchen for a glass of water. He turned the faucet on and yawned as the water poured out, reaching up to scratch his head.

 His hand hit something smooth and solid, right above his ear.

 Tubbo turned off the faucet as his eyebrows furrowed, walking over to the bathroom, glass still in his clutches. No one was in the halls, and he frowned as he pushed the bathroom door open. 

 His gaze raised to the mirror, and the glass slipped from his fingers to shatter on the ground. He didn’t register the water that soaked through his socks, but he stared, unblinking, as his eyes filled with tears. He stumbled backwards, yelping as he fell into the tub and sobs racked his body.

 “Tubbo?” Tommy’s voice called from down the hall. “I heard a crash, are you alright?” The voice got louder and Tubbo’s cries did, too. Tommy’s head popped through the door frame. “Tubbo?”

 In the corner of the shower, Tubbo was huddling with his legs pressed against his chest and head ducked down. When he spoke, it came out soft and trembling. “We promised.”

 “What?” Tommy started, but was cut off by Tubbo.

 “We promised that you wouldn’t be the next Wilbur, and I wouldn’t be the next Schlatt.”

 “Yeah?” Tommy said, tilting his head, crouching down in front of Tubbo and holding his hands out, palms up. “And we kept it. We’re fine, okay? We’re safe, and nothing is going to happen. Let’s get clean-”

 “Then why have I grown horns?” Tubbo cried, tears streaming down his face. “I was finally able to move on, and now I’ve got a permanent reminder of him. He promised he wasn’t my father, Tommy, but what if he really did lie about everything?”

 “Oh, Tubbo.” Tommy said softly. “Schlatt’s not your father.”

 “How can you be sure?” Tubbo asked, but he moved into Tommy’s arm for a hug. His chin rested on Tommy’s shoulder.

 “Because,” Tommy reasoned, “Your horns aren’t the same. His curved around his ears, right? Yours stick up a little. And your ears!” Tommy smiled, and lightly flicked one of Tubbo’s ears. “You’ve got some yellow fur growing. I’d bet good money that you’re a moobloom.”

 “You bet good money for stupid reasons, though, Tommy.” Tubbo murmured, falling asleep again as Tommy’s wings wrapped around him.

 Tommy went to reply, but Tubbo had fallen asleep. “You’re lucky that you’re my best friend, bitch.” He grumbled, picking up Tubbo to move him to the couch again. He’d clean up the bathroom too, but Tubbo was more important.

 His best friend was more important.

 Family was more important.

 More important than anything.

[lifeofkaze]

When Stars Ignite - Chapter 13

HPHM Rockstar AU

A/N:

General Warning: This whole fic has a general warning of being NSFW / 18+. We will give specific warnings for every chapter in itself, but several adult themes will be more or less present in every chapter, may it be explicitly or in mention. These include sexual topics, drug abuse, (ab)use of alcohol, smoking and a whole lot of cursing.

Specific Warning: Language, allusion to NSFW content

~~~

Find the masterpost here, the previous chapter here and the next one here. The songs featured before every chapter can be found on this pretty badass playlist here.

~~~

This work is a collaboration with @the-al-chemist

Taglist: @slytherindisaster @night-rhea @carewyncromwell

Drop of a hat she's as willing as Playful as a pussy cat Then momentarily out of action Temporarily out of gas To absolutely drive you wild, wild She's out to get you

~ Queen - Killer Queen ~

After Lizzie had left on that day back in August, Orion hadn’t been sure whether her words would follow action and there would actually be a next time, nor had he been entirely sure he wanted there to be one.

Not because the night he had spent with Lizzie hadn’t been fantastic, or either of them was feeling uncomfortable with it; but she had been his close friend and colleague for so many years now and Orion valued her presence in his life deeply. Changing a pattern that worked smoothly seldomly proved to be a good idea.

He had been glad nothing seemed to have changed between them when they saw each other next; Lizzie had acted just the same as always, focused on their music, laughing with him during breaks, maybe a little flirtatious, but then again, that was just her way.

Orion’s resolve to consider the fling with her done and dusted lasted about a week. He had walked her home from the dinner they’d had with the rest of the band; when they’d reached her flat in Chelsea, she’d waited in the door to the house, looking back at him over her shoulder with an amused expression.

“What now? Are you coming or not?”

He had to admit, the second time round, this time with their senses all together, the sex had been even better than the first time. His concerns about what it might do to their friendship were melting away with every kiss Lizzie left on his body, setting his skin aflame and shutting off his mind with that deliciously wicked smile of hers.

When they’d found themselves in his flat for a third time, he felt the need to stop her wandering hands while he still could.

“Wait a minute, we should really talk about what we’re doing here.”

Lizzie looked up at him incredulously, her fingers hooking on the seam of his trousers, her fingernails grazing his sensitive skin. “What, right now?”

Orion tried to ignore his urgent wish for her to continue where she’d left off and sat up. “Yes, right now.”

“Fine,” she answered briefly and removed her hands from his body, but not without running her hand over him one last time, sending a shiver down his spine. He couldn’t deny how much his body yearned for her but he pushed the heat inside his chest aside and forced his thoughts to focus on what was on his mind.

“If we want this to continue we need to talk about where it’s going,” he managed to say a lot calmer than he felt as he watched Lizzie slowly taking in his undressed body, a salacious smirk on her lips.

“I can perfectly tell you where this is going right now,” she chuckled but Orion didn’t let himself get distracted.

“I’m serious, Liz. As fun as this is, we’re actively breaking the rules here. We are part of a greater thing; the whole unity that is Equinox is more important than every one of us on our own. I don’t want to do anything that could harm the band.”

With a sigh, Lizzie sat up straighter, her expression serious. “Neither of us would ever do anything to put the band at risk. This here is not a relationship, Orion; we can stop this any time.”

She shuffled closer to him on the bed and put a hand on his arm. Her smile was now nothing but warm and reassuring. “Don’t worry, this is just fun, no strings attached.”

He wasn’t entirely convinced, however. “Things like this end in disaster more often than not.“

“If it makes you feel better, let’s make a deal,” Lizzie suggested. “We’ll do this as long as it’s fun and we both want it. In the case that things change for either one of us, we’ll just stop and go back to how things were before. How does that sound?”

Orion sighed deeply. “Do you really think it will work just like that?”

“Just like that,” she smiled, her hand wandering from his arm onto his chest, giving him a slight push so he fell over on his back.

“You’re thinking too much,” she purred as her lips trailed down his chest and over his stomach, coming to rest where hands had let off earlier. “Let me help you relax.”

And just like that, what had begun as a simple drunk one-night stand had developed into something that wasn’t just a friendship, but was far from a relationship either.

Even when their tour had started, they hadn’t stopped meeting in the dead of the night, the risk of being discovered adding an additional thrill, which Orion would have never guessed he’d find himself enjoying. Working off the adrenaline a successful show set off in their bodies soon became his favourite way of winding down. It wasn’t long before he’d actually started showing signs of impatience - something that used to be completely foreign to him - when Lizzie took her time before leaving the backstage area, joking around with Skye or Charlie, deliberately teasing him.

The curves of her body became as familiar to Orion as the neck of his guitar, and he knew exactly how to play both to coax the sweetest sounds from them. Lizzie began to learn every story behind his many tattoos, her fingers tracing the delicate lines as he told her all about them.

The harmony that had existed between them from the get go solidified, unexpected but not unsurprising; it felt like a natural extension to their friendship, raising their connection and understanding to a higher level.

Now, almost ten months since their first night together, he couldn’t even remember what it had been like before.

Orion was violently broken out of his musings by Skye snapping her fingers in front of his eyes.

“Earth calling Orion, you still with us, mate?”

She eyed him critically as his eyes snapped back into focus. “What’ve you been daydreaming about?”

He slowly pulled her hand away from his face. “I have been reminded of something and indulged in the call of the past for a moment,” he answered serenely.

“The way you’re looking it must have been a good memory,” Lizzie said innocently. Her eyes were sparkling as if she knew exactly what he had been thinking about.

He inclined his head, hoping his face wouldn’t give him away. “A favourite.”

Skye shrugged. “Whatever, let’s get those damn pictures taken and get outta here, I’m hungry. You’d better focus on the job.” She stopped, looking thoroughly bewildered. “Can’t believe I need to say this to you of all people.”

Still shaking her head, she grabbed Lizzie by the arm and pulled her towards the set that had been prepared on the far side of the room. The photographer was already instructing Merula on where to stand, Everett looking on from the sidelines.

It took them ages to get all of the pictures Rita’s magazine wanted done. After all of them had their portraits taken, they continued with group shots in various combinations.

When it was the girls’ turn, Orion joined Everett on the sides. The mood between the two guitarists had improved a little since Everett felt he got the recognition he deserved, but still, the atmosphere lacked the carefree camaraderie of the past. Orion struggled to find something to talk about with him these days, not wanting to provoke any of Everett’s bad moods.

As it turned out, their frontman had no desire to talk to him anyway. He was watching Skye, Lizzie and Merula pose in front of the camera intently. He leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms in front of his chest, a small grin forming on his face.

“You can say what you want, but our girls are quite a sight to see, aren’t they?”

Orion didn’t answer, only raising his eyebrows slightly. Everett took his silence as a sign to go on. “I mean, look at them.” His grin widened, taking on a wolfish touch. “Look at Lizzie, for fuck’s sake. Shame she’s always running ‘round all plain and simple, what a waste.”

Orion had to fight the urge to roll his eyes. “Beauty comes from the inside, from embracing our nature as it is and carrying it to the outside. Lizzie is in tune with herself and that is showing. The way she prefers to keep it simple doesn’t dim her light, it enhances it.”

“I certainly wouldn’t say no to her glammed up like that, is all I’m saying,” Everett snorted.

Orion wasn’t surprised by Everett’s take on things, but he was astounded at how much his words were grating on him. Everett had been a flirt for as long as Orion could remember, but he had never objectified women the way he did these days. Ever since they had started their way to the top, the pressure they were constantly feeling had steadily increased. Everett was treating the girls admiring him just the same as he did anything else taking his mind off things; as a meaningless, replaceable means to an end.

He didn’t like hearing Everett talk about anyone like that, but especially not Lizzie.

However, Orion couldn’t deny that he had a point. As per usual, Andre had worked his magic on her for the shoot, creating a maximum effect with simple but well chosen measures. Lizzie’s light brown hair fell around her face in a heap of messy curls, her dark makeup accentuating her blue eyes.

The shiny leather leggings she was wearing were clinging tightly to her legs that were elongated by a pair of black heeled boots. A loose black shirt with the familiar logo of the Rolling Stones gave her the effortlessly nonchalant vibe that was so inherently her. She had tied it in a knot at the sides to shorten it, showing just the tiniest bit of her belly.

Yes, as much as he hated to admit it, Everett was right; Lizzie was a sight to see. Their eyes met briefly as Merula and Lizzie switched positions. Orion could see the smirk starting to form on her lips, like it always did when she caught him watching her.

She quickly regained control over her expression, flipping her hair out of her face and concentrating again. But her attention kept wandering back to him, a mischievous glitter in her eyes that Orion knew all too well.

When it was time for pictures of the whole group, he and Everett joined the girls in front of the camera again. To get a more compact looking picture of them all together, the photographer wanted him and Everett to sit on one of the sofas they had used for the interview, the girls grouped behind them, all trying their best to look as casual as possible.

Orion was sitting directly in front of Lizzie; he almost jumped when he suddenly felt her hand on his back, hidden from the others by her body that was very close to his. Her fingers tiptoed higher up until they found the exposed skin of his neck. Her nails were grazing his skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind at the unexpected sensation. Orion could feel the intense energy radiating off her and had to fight the urge to turn around and catch a glimpse of her expression.

Looking at her camera, the photographer, a beautiful young woman in a blue headscarf, frowned and shook her head. “This doesn’t look right yet. I’m missing the energy, the spirit of your connection.

She contemplated for a moment before her fine features lit up. “I know; Merula, could you sit between the guys? The other girls, one on each arm of the sofa, please.”

They changed as she had asked them to, Skye perching on the back of the sofa next to Everett and Lizzie now sitting closer to Orion than before. But still, their photographer wasn’t satisfied.

“Lizzie, could you lean in a little?”

“Sure,” Lizzie smiled innocently, leaning closer to Orion until their bodies were almost touching. He could smell her perfume and the sharp scent of hairspray. When he felt her hand on his back yet again, conveniently out of sight of the camera, he shifted his position a little, ever so slightly leaning into her touch.

Encouraged by him playing along, the corners of her mouth twitched, masked by a little tilt of her head for the camera. Her hand traveled down his spine to the base of his shirt where she lost no time to slip it underneath the seam, her cool fingers brushing across the bare skin of his back.

Orion exhaled slowly, trying not to laugh at the light sensation of her fingertips. Lizzie knew that he was ticklish in that particular spot. She was trying to play him, testing his control over himself, just as she had done after their first show in London.

He couldn’t believe the risk she was taking; touching him like that in a dark nightclub under a table was one thing, but during a photoshoot, with all eyes on them? He’d never thought she would be so bold.

Her ridiculous recklessness was intriguing, however; just like everything about Lizzie it was playing with fire and the reward of being close to a blazing flame never came without danger.

A movement at the edge of his vision drew Orion’s attention away from her touch. His eyes flicked over to the other side of the sofa and he thought he could see Skye looking over to them. His heart suddenly racing, Orion leaned against the back of the sofa, effectively forcing Lizzie to withdraw her hand.

He glanced over to Skye again, but she was looking straight at the camera, her moody rockstar expression edged onto her face. She paid him or Lizzie no mind whatsoever, and for a moment Orion wondered whether that frown on her face had been nothing but a trick of his mind.

[strawberryyllemonade]

Untitled Fanfic - Chap. 1

Ongoing - Sasha x Niccolo

I’ll be publishing this on Ao3 once I get my invite code on the 28th, but I’ll also be publishing the chapters here. I’m needing a title, feel free to suggest! This takes place during the time skip in which Niccolo and Sasha’s relationship presumably took place. They’re aged up a bit just because I find it easier to write characters closer to me in age, and I personally think they look a lot older than they are canonically. That being said this will be rated M for potential mature themes, though this first chapter is fairly tame.

Chapter: 1 - Word count: 2,474

Damn Eldians.

Niccolo didn’t even try to hide the scowl on his face as he stirred the large pot in front of him. He still couldn’t believe that in the span of just a few weeks, he had gone from a member of the Marleyan Navy to a prisoner on the Island of Paradis. He had always been taught that the Island of Paradis was home to the worst of the worst. Eldians alone were bad, but on Paradis they were the devils themselves. The Eldians in Liberio at least aimed to repent for the crimes of their ancestors.

When he had been assigned to a scouting naval mission to Paradis, he hadn’t expected to return. It was common knowledge that every ship sent to Paradis in the past couple of years hadn’t returned. Of course, Niccolo expected they had met a fateful end at the hands of the Island devils - not taken alive as prisoners. In a way, dying would have been better. Going from a Marleyan who spat at Eldians to a Marleyan who was being spat at by Eldians was a difficult transition.

Niccolo grimaced as he stirred, the sound of some stupid Eldian soldiers behind him frustrating him even more. They were talking like they had never seen seafood before. Were they really so uncivil that they had never even seen a boiled clam or crab? He wasn’t shocked. Their kind literally ate people in their true form.

He could hear Yelena behind him, explaining what the spread before them was. He couldn’t believe his time and talent in cooking were being wasted on these unappreciative savages. He looked over his shoulder. The group behind him consisted of Yelena, two young male soldiers, and a female one. The guys looked around 19, maybe 20 in age. One of them had sleek, light hair and a thin chinstrap beard. The other had a round head with fluffy, short hair on top. They looked nervous, and both of their eyes were on the female soldier.

The female soldier was plain looking, with brown hair pulled back into a loose ponytail and eyes of a similar color. Was that… drool in the corners of her lips? Niccolo’s interest was piqued. Was she just such a savage that she was unable to control her drooling? One of the male soldiers put an arm on her shoulder, almost as if he knew what was about to happen next, and was making feeble effort at preventing it.

The female soldier attacked a fat lobster on the plate in front of her. Niccolo was surprised that she even managed to pick it up - it had to still be ridiculously hot…

That didn’t seem to bother the woman as she tore the crustacean in half and began absolutely devouring it. Her comrades called out to her, urging her to slow down and leave some for the rest of them.

“Sasha! No fair, leave some for the rest of us!” the shorter soldier with the round head urged.

Sasha. so that was one of the names. It seemed almost too normal of a name for an island devil. He recalled going to school with at least two people with the same name. Well, whatever her name was, Sasha was absolutely destroying the food in front of her. The drool was gone, but there were crumbs and bits of food all over her face. It was a bit gross, and Niccolo felt weird staring, but by now her friends were also enjoying the food and weren’t focused on him or Sasha.

“Mister Niccolo!” Sasha called out, tears in her eyes.

Niccolo let out a mixture between a grunt and a gasp. Was she really… crying? Was it not good? The amount she had consumed in mere seconds begged to differ, but maybe she was just hungry.

“You’re a genius!” She sobbed, before continuing to eat, tears flowing down her full cheeks in streaks now.

Niccolo quickly turned his head back to his pot. He could feel his face heating up. A genius? That was a weird way of putting it. He knew he was good at cooking, he had always been good at it. But… a genius?

Niccolo continued to cook in silence as the Eldians behind him devoured the food he had prepared. Soon, the sound of satisfied eating was replaced by groaning and complaining. The trio had clearly eaten too much, but none more than that Sasha girl. When Niccolo finally did look over his shoulder, she was doubled over in pain, groaning louder than any of them.

“There’s no reason to eat that quickly. There’s plenty of food.” Niccolo grunted at the three, his eyes lingering on the brunette. She threw her head back in protest. “But mister Niccolo… it’s so good - I was afraid it would jump back into the ocean!”

Jump back into- that was ridiculous. She was clearly kidding. The compliment made him blush a bit, but he was still annoyed. Even if they were a bit more appreciative than he would have expected of some island devils, it was still a waste of good seafood. A lobster that size would have fetched a nice price at a restaurant back in Marley, but now it was wasting away in the stomach of this… Sasha girl.

The trio soon left, and as Niccolo cleaned up the mess they had left behind, he couldn’t help but notice that the Eldians had neatly stacked their plates and made sure to help the cleaning process at least a bit before they left, even if they had been doubled over in pain from overeating.

Hmph. Maybe they did have some manners after all. Not a lot, but some.

-- --

Of course, cooking lunch for some of the devils hadn’t been the end of his day's work. Niccolo’s food skills had earned him a spot as a chef for the military and other high ranking bureaucrats. It wasn’t ideal cooking for these ungrateful Eldians, but it was better than doing manual labor or other dirt jobs like some of his comrades got stuck with.

Niccolo scrubbed at a dirty plate, standing over the sink. It was near sunset by now, and at this point the sky was a shade of orange, filtering in through the windows and creating a warm ambiance. It was nice. He would never admit it out loud, but the sunsets here on the island of devils were some of the most beautiful he had seen. Maybe it was due to the Island’s century-long lack of industrialization and pollution, but the sky was always crisp and clean.

He slowed down his washing - by now he was mindlessly scrubbing an already clean plate -and looked out the window wistfully. He wondered what his friends in Marley were doing - what his parents were doing. Did they think he was dead? Another casualty among the hundreds that occurred among Marleyan ranks every day? They probably considered him as good as dead the moment he told them he had been assigned to a Paradis naval mission.

Niccolo clenched his jaw, and grasped the sponge in his hand tighter, causing suds and water to cover his hand. His life had been completely taken away from him. Just because he wasn’t thrown in some prison cell somewhere didn’t mean he wasn’t a prisoner. He was in the clutches of these stupid Eldian devils, and no amount of letting him cook or giving him a decent place to sleep would change that.

As Niccolo continued musing over his situation, he heard the front door to the restaurant open. The sun was nearly completely set now and that meant that some of the officers would be coming in to drink. He sighed, wiping his large hands on his apron and setting down his sponge and dishrag. It happened almost every night - the officers would come in, have one too many, and say things that were out of line. Comments on his heritage, comments on him and his people being at fault for the deaths of their comrades, comments on the price of booze, and more. He much preferred the cooking aspect of his role to the bartending aspect, but again, he was a prisoner so he didn’t have much of a say in the matter.

“Evening.” Niccolo said without looking over his shoulder, moving over to the booze shelf and grabbing a few glasses to start. At least he didn’t have to be kind and chatty for tips. They didn’t tip him, and even if a kind officer did try to slip him some money he couldn’t spend it. At the very least he had to be civil. Most of the Eldians that came in didn’t make much of an effort at small talk anyway. Not that he cared, the last thing he wanted was to talk to an island devil about anything other than when he could go home.

Niccolo shone the inside of some of the glasses with a rag, waiting to hear the familiar stomp of boots and the pulling back of barstools. When he didn’t hear those things, he looked over his shoulder. Instead of the familiar sight of Eldian military members coming in for their nightly drinks, it was that female soldier from earlier. What was her name again? Sasha. That was it, Sasha.

Sasha didn’t say anything, but she looked around curiously. He supposed she hadn’t been in here before. It was a fairly fancy place, reserved for higher ranking and senior officials.

“Can I help you?” He asked, scanning her up and down. She wasn’t with her friends this time. She seemed quite out of her element in a fancy place like this. If she hadn’t been a devil, he would have thought it was intriguing, maybe even cute, but that wasn’t the case.

“I was- uh… that food you made earlier. It was so good…” She muttered, taking a step forward. “I was wondering if you had any more left?” She inquired, still nervously looking around.

Niccolo raised a brow curiously. More? She had just eaten herself sick less than three hours ago, and she was hungry again? He wasn’t surprised that Eldians were bottomless pits. They were constantly soaking up resources in Marley, feeding them and housing them. It was no shocker that the case here was similar.

“No. I don’t. Seafood goes bad quickly, and besides, you guys ate it all. I don’t keep leftovers anyway.” Niccolo said, turning around, glass still in hand as he polished the inside of it. The look of disappointment on Sasha’s face almost got to him. Man, she had really liked his food, huh?

“You liked it that much? You’ve really never had seafood before?” He couldn’t help but ask. Had they just never had a lobster that big?

“Liked it?” She asked, her eyes widening and shining. “I loved it!” She lunged towards the bar, her hands grasping the edge of it as she leaned over. “It was the best thing I’ve ever tasted, mister Niccolo!” she insisted, resting her head on the bar. “I’ll be thinking about it for the rest of my life…” she pouted, closing her eyes.

Niccolo jumped back a bit, red creeping onto his cheeks as she leaned over the bar, only inches away from his face. The best thing she had ever tasted? Surely not - she didn’t even use any sauce when she ate it…

“Best thing you’ve- what do you normally eat?” Niccolo asked, caught off guard, a confused look on his face.

“Bread, potatoes… sometimes if I’m lucky I get some meat.” she said, grinning goofily. Bread and potatoes and sometimes meat? What was she, a hobo? Even poor people in Marley didn’t eat that bad. Maybe she hadn’t been exaggerating when she said the lobster had been the best thing she had ever tasted. If he had only had bread and potatoes most of his life, a lobster would be a breath of fresh air to him too.

“Hmph.” Niccolo conceded, reminding himself who he was talking to. He was talking to an island devil, that’s all they deserved to eat. He was frustrated he had even wasted a good lobster on them anyhow.

“Mister Niccolo, will you be cooking for us more?” Sasha urged, lifting her head as she looked up at him, her eyes wide as saucers. She looked so… hopeful. He couldn’t help but feel intrigued. She seemed to be really looking forward to even the prospect of his future cooking.

“Don’t have much of a choice, now do I?” he shot back, not overly sassy, but making a point nonetheless. It wasn’t a lie. If they told him to do backflips all day he wouldn’t have much of a choice, either.

Sasha flinched a bit at that, and he immediately felt a bit guilty. A small frown traced her pink lips. “I guess not.” She muttered, standing up, and moving away from the bar. “I’m sorry Niccolo. I know that this isn’t your home. I know what you think about us.” She said gently. “If it was up to me this whole war would be over and everyone would be home. I’d be somewhere in the woods hunting all the meat I wanted and not worrying about Marleyans, Eldians, titans, or any of that.”

Sasha put a hand on her hip and stretched her back a bit. “If it were up to me.” she repeated, looking up at him for a moment. Her eyes were childish and fun, but there was something darker in there. Niccolo didn’t have to look twice to know that she had seen more than the average person. The emblem on her uniform told him she was a member of the scouts. Before the invasion, the scouts killed titans outside of the walls. She had probably seen countless of her friends and family killed. He wondered if she had known the Marleyan warriors who infiltrated the scout regiment.

Niccolo had to shake his head. She deserved all of what had happened. Her comrades deserved it too. It was part of being an Eldian - if they wouldn’t willingly repent, they had to be forced. It was just how it was. He couldn’t look at her like a silly brunette girl with big brown eyes who loved food. He needed to see her and her comrades as descendents of murderers.

“If only it were up to you then.” Niccolo responded simply, his eyes darkening.

Sasha stood closer to the door now, her hand around the doorknob. “Well, I want to thank you either way, mister Niccolo. I hope I get to eat more of your food soon. You’re very talented.” She said, looking over at him, opening the door. Just before she closed it, a playful glint danced in her eyes.

“For a Marleyan.”

[tra-sh]

That paul lahote one omgggg do u ever do pt2? Bc i would absolutely cry if u do! I loved it too much tysm

Here you go! I really hope I did you justice with this part 2! 

This one has a little teeny sliver of angst, and more jealous Paul action because let's be honest, it's my favorite archetype to write. 

A few months had come and gone since you first met Sam Uley's pack. Because Paul's imprint had been so strong, he and Sam had requested you stay with Emily for the time being to ease the transition. It had taken a lot of convincing-- from Paul to you and you to your parents-- but eventually, you'd settled into your new life. You would often help Emily in the kitchen, prepping large meals for the hungry group. Bella would visit every so often to give you small updates and gifts from the Cullen's. You would never admit it to Paul, but you dearly missed your friends. You missed reading with Edward and painting with Alice. You missed Jasper's calming presence and Emmett's raunchy jokes. The wolf pack was steadily becoming family to you, but you couldn't help the aching feeling in your chest. Which was why the Cullen's sudden disappearance mid-September had come as an unwelcome shock. 

You weren't sure how to cope with the sudden loss at first. They hadn't sent you a text or sent Bella to see you. She had just shown up on the back porch in the rain, a drenched shivering mess. She'd collapsed into your arms, telling you she couldn't find Edward anywhere and that their house was empty. You'd comforted her to the best of your ability, trying your best to ease her pain. You could tell from the very beginning that she had a strong bond with the vampire; you couldn't even begin to imagine how distraught she was. The pack was not so quick to console her and made jokes about finally being rid of the nuisance family. You could tell that her sudden attachment to Jacob wasn't exactly putting her in their good favor. 

Emily had invited Bella to stay with the two of you, at least until she felt comfortable enough to go back home. She was unstable-- anyone could see that. You knew that Emily was not only being nice; she was worried to leave Bella by herself. 

This was how you came to your current situation, standing in the kitchen watching Bella mope over a mug of coffee. The brunette slowly stirred the lukewarm liquid, absentmindedly staring off into space. "Bells?" You ask. 

She doesn't move but glances over to you silently. Well, she wasn't exactly making this easy. 

"I think you've mixed it enough," you try to joke. 

She looks down before placing the spoon on the table. "Sorry," she mutters. You sigh and look away to the timer on the counter. Seven minutes. The muffins in the oven have seven minutes left, and then you can go into your room and finally have some peace. You loved Bella, you really did. But you felt like you were more of a babysitter than a friend at the moment. You were so busy trying to keep her from jumping off the nearest cliff that you barely had time to process the situation for yourself. You felt like you were holding back your feelings; both to console her, and to not set off Paul. 

Your mind begins to wander as you think of him. He was definitely the group hothead and sometimes got on your last nerve. Well, frequently got on your last nerve. But you really did care about him. He was sweet and gentle when the two of you were alone and true to his word he had been taking things slow for you. The two of you hadn't done more than hold hands and hug, which surprised most of the other members. They never knew Paul to be patient or calm; especially when it came to matters of instinct. Seeing him cradle you as if you were made of glass was definitely a new experience for everyone. A small smile dances over your lips as you get lost in thought. You fail to notice Emily as she walks into the kitchen and raises a brow at your vacant expression. 

"Excited for those muffins?"

You snap out of your trans and give her a sheepish grin. "Ah, sure," you say quickly. Emily gives you a knowing look before turning her attention to Bella. "How are you feeling today, sweetheart?" Bella simply shrugs and does her best to offer what she hopes is a convincing smile. "Alright," she mumbles. Emily gives her an apologetic smile and turns away to grab a pitcher from the cupboard. You clear your throat and shift your weight, turning your attention back to the timer. Only two minutes to go. You hear rowdy shouting and footsteps hammering up the steps to the kitchen door. "Well, it looks like the boys are back early," Emily mused. She mixes together some iced tea into the pitcher and moves to set it on the dining table. You turn away from the door to hide your embarrassment, focusing intently on the muffins. You didn't want to see the look that Emily would give Paul, and you certainly didn't need to be teased by him right now. 

The screen door slams open as the loud, sweaty group files into the house. You can pick out the different voices as the boys talk and laugh between themselves. Chairs scrape against the linoleum flooring as they choose their seats, waiting to be fed. The timer 'ding's just in time and you pull on a pair of oven mitts. As you bend down and open the oven door, you feel a pair of burning hot hands grab your hips. "Hey," Paul's deep voice sends a shiver down your spine as he greets you. You turn around and smack his bare chest with one of the mitts. "Don't scare me when I'm picking up hot metal," you scold lightly. He only smiles and brings you in for a hug, squeezing you tightly against his chest. He buries his nose in the crook of your neck and inhales, his muscles relaxing as he takes in your smell. You feel your face flush as you wrap your arms timidly around his waist. As much as you loved the attention, you felt awkward being so affectionate around the others. Especially with the new "recruits", Brady and Collin. They were younger than the others, and you felt weird letting them see this. Paul pulls away to head to the table, but not before planting a kiss on the top of your head. 

You try to ignore the hot blush on your cheeks as you turn back to take the muffin tray out of the oven. You look over to Emily and smile softly as Sam embraces her. You loved seeing them together. They looked at each other like the rest of the world had disappeared, leaving behind only them. You walk over to the table and reach between Seth and Collin to set the tray down. "Careful," you say lightly. It's really a joke to warn them; their body temperatures are so high that you sincerely doubt they would feel it if they burned a finger. In a matter of seconds, the tray is picked clean, each boy scarfing down on the warm treat. 

In moments like this, you feel like a mom of nine. You were always there to pick them up when they were down, to kiss their wounds and feed them meals. You smile to yourself as watch them crack jokes and shove one another. The smile turns bittersweet as you think about your parents. Were you going to leave? I mean, at some point Emily would surely want her guest room back. You couldn't stay forever. But with the Cullen's gone and Bella in a spiral, would you be able to return to your old life? You knew you could visit the reservation whenever you pleased, but something about the idea of not being here felt off. You didn't want to leave; this felt like home now. You glance over at Paul and snort as he tries to cram the entire muffin into his mouth before Jared can swipe it. Were you really ready to leave this behind? 

Paul noticed you staring and glances over. He frowns (as best he could with his mouth full) at the mixed expression on your face. He swallows thickly before standing up and walking over to stand in front of you. You blink into focus as your view is suddenly filled with a tan chest and look up to smile at him. "Hey," you say quietly. Paul's brow knits together as he looks down at you. "What's wrong?" 

You feel a swell of guilt in your chest as he looks at you in concern. "Nothing, I'm just thinking." He doesn't seem to like this response. He looks over his shoulder at the pack before leading you over to the guest room. His hand is hot against your wrist as he pulls you-- not too hard, for fear of hurting you. He closes the door to your room and turns to face you, arms folded over your chest. 

"You know you can't lie to me. What's wrong?" He presses, a frown settled in his features.

You sigh and walk over to the bed, sitting down on the quilted sheets. Paul moves to sit next to you and waits for you to speak. You can tell he's struggling to keep silent and his face gives away the underlying worry. Were you having second thoughts? Were you upset with him? You place your hand over his and squeeze gently to quell his anxiety. "I just," you pause and try to think of how to explain your current feelings without upsetting him. "I just haven't really had time for myself recently and I guess it's getting to me is all." 

Paul's nose scrunches and you feel his hand tense under yours. "You get time to yourself when we patrol," he points out. You shake your head and sigh. "That's not what I mean, Paul. Even when you guys aren't here, I'm taking care of Bella. I mean, I miss Edward too but--" Paul cuts you off before you can continue. "You miss him?" 

Your jaw sets and you give Paul a pointed stare. "You know that's not what I mean," you say, your tone a warning. Paul doesn't take this well and stands up from the bed. "What exactly do you mean?" He hisses. 

You grit your teeth and stand up, your hands balled into fists. "They were my friends, Paul! I'm not just going to pretend that I don't miss them just so you don't get jealous!" 

Paul's muscles ripple as a warning; showing you that he was losing his temper. But right now, you didn't care. "I changed my life for you! I moved here because your imprint was too strong for us to be apart! I stopped seeing the Cullen's because their smell was enough to set you off! Hell, I don't even see my parents anymore! Isn't that enough to make you trust me?" 

Paul's nostrils flare and he growls, stepping forward. "What do you care if you lose those leeches? They weren't doing you any favors; they left you!" 

You flinch as he raises his voice, practically shouting by the end of his sentence. Paul hesitates when he notices this. He looks away, but the anger is already coursing through him. Wordlessly, he storms out of your room and slams the door behind him. You hear snarling and run out of the room just in time to see the front door shut. The glass panels of the door shudder from the force and a howl echoes from outside. You avoid the prying eyes from the kitchen as the rest of the pack watches silently. Right now, you could care less about what they thought. You feel the familiar sting of tears in your eyes as you shuffle back to your room, locking the door behind you. You just wanted today to be over. 

It's later in the night when you wake up, groggy and disoriented. Your nose is stuffed and there's a dull pounding in your head from crying. You scoot over to the nightstand and check your phone. It was a little past midnight, and you had a few texts from Emily asking why your door was locked and if you wanted dinner. You sit up and swing your legs over the side of the bed as you peer out of the window. The sheer curtains do very little to hide the view of the forest. Though the gauzy material adds a blurry filter to your vision, you can still make out the trees and the bright outline of the moon. The thin glass allows the chirping of summer crickets to meet your ears and calm your nerves. You can’t help but wonder where Paul is. If he was still phased and running around the forest, or if he had finally calmed down and gone home. You felt bad for yelling, but you didn't regret what you said. You'd been holding it in for a while, and you needed to speak your mind. 

You sigh and stand up, making your way to the door. You'd fallen asleep shortly after the fight, so you missed lunch and dinner. Maybe eating something would help take your mind off of everything. You pad over to the door and turn the lock. When you open the door, however, you're met with a startled curse and a loud thud. You stare down with wide eyes as Paul falls into your room. "Paul?" Your voice is hoarse from crying. 

A string of curses falls from the teen's lips as he sits up and rubs the back of his head. Was he sleeping against your door? Paul looks around in a haze before realization hits him. He scrambles to his feet and turns around to face you, relief written all over his features. "Hey," Paul starts carefully. You can tell he's treading on thin ice, gauging your reaction. He's waiting to see if you're still mad. He takes in your puffy eyes and the way you try to hide your sniffling. You'd been crying. 

"Hi," you say curtly. 

Paul frowns and takes a hesitant step forward. You don't move to stop him, so he takes another step. "Baby," Paul calls gently. He tests the boundaries, reaching a hand out to rest on your waist. You look down at your feet and he pauses. "I'm sorry," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. "I know," you reply. You're not trying to be rude, but you still don't feel satisfied with how the argument ended. He can't just storm off on you every time he doesn't like the response he gets. 

Paul takes your chin in his calloused grip and turns your head gently. "Sweetness," he tries again. "Please look at me." 

Finally, you turn to meet his gaze. You feel the tears begin again at the loving look in his eyes. You wanted him to hold you. To promise to you over and over again that he was an idiot and it would never happen again. But you and he both knew that he couldn't promise you that. It would happen again, and he needed to work on that. But how many times could you forgive this behavior? It took its toll on both of you. Paul brushes his thumb over your cheek, wiping away the fresh tears that spilled over. 

"I'm sorry," he repeats, the hand on your waist pulling you closer. Your hands instinctively rest on his sides as he cradles you in one arm. You close your eyes as your lip trembles, threatening to release the sobs you were holding back. Paul's chest tightens as he looks down at you. "I'm an idiot," he adds. "And I don't deserve you." 

You let out a breathy laugh, which turns into a slight hiccup. "No, you don't," you agree lightly. He chuckles, the deep noise vibrating his chest. "I'm trying to," he whispers. You nod, leaning into the touch of his hand. "I know you are." 

You open your eyes and look at him, seeing the silent plea in his warm brown gaze. 

I'm not perfect, but I'm trying. I don't want to lose you. 

"I love you," you rasp, barely able to whisper. Your throat is tight as you squeeze out the quiet confession. 

Paul, unable to hold back, brings you into a tight hug. Your words are all he needs-- you've accepted him. You know it won't be easy, but you're willing to try. And that's all he could hope for. 

"I love you," Paul echoes. "I love you so much." 

He pulls back slightly, leaving a hair's length between you. He looks to you for silent permission and nearly preens when you nod your head. He dips down, slowly, carefully. You close your eyes and let out a shaking breath as his warm lips meet yours. 

The kiss is soft but wholesome. It carries with it all of the promises that Paul intends to keep. It's loving and loyal; much like him. You know this road won't be easy, and you know this won't be the last time you cry over this idiot. But when you pull away and meet his devoted gaze, you can't help but smile. 

There isn't anyone else in this world you'd rather be with. 

[jeon-googi]

Flower Boy

— pairing: (ATEEZ) San x Reader

 — genre: slice of life, Barista au

— words: 3k

— rating: SFW

— warnings: none~

— notes: HELLO! It’s been awhile, and I am so sorry for my lack of posting and writing. A lot of stuff has happened, from me graduating Uni early (whoo!), to a few deaths in my family, life has really gotten to me. It makes me very happy to see so many people still liking and reading my stories though, so thank you for all the kind comments and tags! I have a few stories in the works including a spin off of Soulmate! Until next time! (I rewrote a part of the ending and wanted to start off fresh with this so I hope you don’t mind!)

-

 You smiled triumphantly, finally finishing the last stretch of your midterm paper, stretching your arms out in front of you in your cramped work space. It was nearing Spring Break and that meant the amount of school work was becoming borderline atrocious. Luckily, you planned well enough and weren’t experiencing the detrimental study cram like your roommate Irene. 

“Irene c'mon you have to take a break!” You stood up, walking to her side of the dorm which somehow was even more destroyed than yours. Irene groaned as she rubbed her face, leaning back into her chair.

“Yeah a break would be nice…” she mumbled, her eyes red from lack of sleep. You smiled as you pulled her up trying to think of somewhere the two of you could go for a small break. 

“There’s that new cafe nearby! The one Seonghwa from Psych works at?” You offered, gently tugging on your shoes near the door. Irene nodded as she followed suit, tugging on a light jacket. One of your friends from psych, Seonghwa, and a gaggle of his rowdy friends all somehow landed themselves a job at a new cafe by campus. 

“You and Irene should totally come! Drinks on me.” He had offered one day.

The walk was short and sweet, the trees on campus starting to bloom gorgeous blossoms and the light sunny air put a pep back in both you and Irene’s steps. The cafe was a modern looking place, flowers adorning the outside patio. You also noticed the abundance of well dressed girls that filled the place as well. Shaking your head, you pulled the door open for both you and Irene, the bell above alerting the bustling baristas to your presence.

“Welcome to Cafe- Oh! Y/n and Irene! Welcome!” A boyish laugh sounded from behind the barista bar as you spotted Seonghwa’s tall figure operating the espresso machine. 

“Hey Seonghwa!” You waved back as did Irene, filing into the line to the counter. From your spot, you could also spot familiar faces of his friends, Hongjoong his red haired best friend, and Yeosang from your literature class. You could understand now why so many girls were filling the small cafe, everyone here was absolutely gorgeous. You finally reached the counter where another boy leaned, making conversation with every customer, his figure so tall he had to lean down to operate the ipad for orders. Your heart sped up a little as you gave a wave to him, a large smile breaking his face. 

God he was hot.

“Hey your Y/n right? Your friends with Seonghwa?” He asked, cocking his head in a boyish manner as he spoke to you. You nodded a bit lost for words, “Yeah and you’re...you’re San right?” You winced, hoping you got it right. He nodded happily and grinned, “That's me! Now what could I get you?” He asked with a sly wink. You fumbled for a quick order, something along the lines of an iced latte. As you reached for your card, San reached a hand out to stop you, his large hands surprisingly soft.

“No please it’s on me.” 

You went to argue but he quickly passed the order to Seonghwa who shrugged and motioned you and Irene to a nearby vacant table. You and Irene quickly took your seats at the table, trying to ignore the glances of jealous girls at your interactions with the guys. 

“They sure have a crowd going.” You mused, smiling as you spotted some of the waiters entertaining groups of girls. Irene nodded in agreement, her eyes particularly locked on the back on Yeosang’s head. You nudged her and she bashfully laughed it off, the two of you getting lost in conversation before a cough broke you both away. Again, San stood before you, grinning as he held two iced beverages he carefully placed on the table. You both thanked him gratefully as he kneeled down, placing his elbows on the table.

“So ladies what's the plan for today?”

It seemed to be in the cafe’s style that all the baristas and servers would make small talk with the customers, which you didn’t mind of course. You and San unexpectedly went back and forth, travelling from topic to topic. You found yourself getting lost in conversation with each other enough so that Irene interrupted the two of you. 

“It’s getting a bit late isn't it Y/n? We still have some studying to do.” Irene said smugly, sliding her jacket back on her shoulders. Your eyes grew wide as you glanced at your phone, noticing you had been talking for a good while now. 

“Oh shoot yeah, sorry San, I didn’t mean to keep you from your work-”

“No it’s no problem I had fun.” He brushed off your apology with a smile. You and Irene quickly gathered your belongings to leave, giving the baristas one last wave before exiting.

“Wait Y/n!” You heard a call from inside, stopping you in the middle of the door.

“Hm?” You asked, turning back to see a grinning San behind the counter.

“I work Mondays, Wednesdays, and the weekends. Come see me again!”

The hoots from the other boys behind the counter was enough to make your face turn a slight shade of red,

 “We’ll see!” you called back before closing the door behind you. 

After large study periods and quite a few tears, midterms passed as quickly as they began. The refreshing feeling of knowing you had an entire week to yourself was pure bliss to say the least. Irene had planned a trip with a few of her friends, and of course, felt terrible you wanted to stay on campus.

“Y/n c'mon it would be so much fun!”

You shook your head, “It’s okay Irene go have fun! I’m going to just relax here and do absolutely nothing.” you admitted with a content grin. She shrugged, and before you knew it, you were left alone. With so much spare time on your hands, you weren't sure what you wanted to start with. You had a few books you wanted to read, some recipes you wanted to try...or, you could also swing by San’s cafe as well. It had been awhile since you first visited and you couldn't deny the lingering effect he had on your mind. His black hair, smile, the way he rolled his sleeves up when making drinks. A blush stained your cheeks as you shook your head, 

‘Here you are, thirsting over some guy you met once.’

But hey, one visit wouldn’t hurt right, and it just so happened to be the weekend. 

Packing up a small tote bag with a book, your notebook, and a few pens, you headed out down the scenic route to the cafe. The flowers were even more in bloom than the last time you were there, gentle white daisies and yellow poppies. There was another tall man conversing with a family on the front patio of the cafe. He noticed you walk up and gave an energetic wave.

“Hey your Y/n right?” He smiled, a cute golden retriever air about him. You nodded, adjusting the bag on your shoulder, “Yeah, your in my stats class right? Let's see... Yunho?” 

Yunho nodded happily, a large dopey grin on his face, “That's me! To be honest you came in on the perfect day-” Yunho politely excused himself from the family to make his way closer to you, your height differences astonishing this close. 

“What do you mean-” You were about to ask before Yunho hushed you,  glancing back towards the cafe and pushing you behind the cafe's hedge, out of the window's line of sight. He surveyed the front of the store before blowing out a breath.

“Whew alright he didn’t see us.” He said relieved.

“Who didn't see us?” You asked, also trying to peer your head over the bush.

“San. Ever since you came in, he has been looking forward to seeing you, and well, it’s been awhile since your last visit and he’s kind of depressed about it. Today has been the worst, but as luck would have it, you’re here!” Yunho rushed out quickly, giving you a smile of encouragement. You were a bit confused to say the least, but also a bit surprised. 

“He wanted me to come back that bad? I thought he was just being nice-”

“San is nice to everyone, which makes him pretty popular. But the way he stared at you from behind the counter said it all.” Yunho admitted. “I’ve known him for awhile, and I’ve never seen him act like this. If you're not interested it’s totally fine I just wanted to let you know this will really make his day.” With a reassuring pat on the shoulder, Yunho went back to entertaining the guests on the patio, leaving you with a pounding heart. It would be a lie to say it didn’t make you excited, you mean, you did find San very attractive and kind as well. 

‘Lets just see how this goes..’

You walked back to the patio, opening the door gently, the bell alerting your arrival. There was no line like usual, so you had a clear shot from the door to the counter. San was behind the counter again as well, but his back was turned as he was finishing up some drinks for the few other customers inside. You approached the counter with a smile as you waited patiently for him to finish. He quickly turned around, not entirely too focused on who it was before him, but rather typing quickly on the Ipad. His voice was not in his usual tone as he started, “Thank you for waiting, what can I get started for you?”

You laughed brightly before moving yourself closer to the counter, his face being a few heads higher than your own so you could look up into his eyes, 

“Hi San.”

San jumped back with a yelp, a few towers of paper cups falling with his flail, “Y/N? What are you doing here? Today? You showed up-er- here wow uh..” He stumbled over his words, a bright red flush dusting his cheeks. You couldn’t help the laugh that trickled out of your throat. 

“I finally finished my midterms, sorry I wasn’t able to make it in sooner.” You apologized. 

San shook his head quickly, “No no no don’t apologize it’s totally fine-” his hands nervously ran through his hair, pushing it back away from his forehead. 

“I’m just glad-” he stopped to clear his throat, “I’m just glad you came back in.”

You smiled at that. San had a way of being so earnest, even at times like this.

“This time I am paying for my drink Mr.” you warned, already pulling out your card. San’s usual grin graced his features again as he held his hands up in surrender, “Fine you got me this time.” 

You ordered another iced drink, and took a table near a large window within the shop, the sunlight not too harsh yet still warm against your skin. You heard footsteps approaching and you grinned, but looked curious when rather than San bringing your drink, it was Yeosang. 

“Yeosang, hi.” You smiled. Yeosang gave you a polite smile as well, placing your drink down on the table as well as a warmed pastry.

“San got called into the back for a while, so he wanted me to bring this to you since he can’t come over and talk for awhile.” Yeosang said in his gentle voice. You laughed a bit at the situation, picturing in your mind no doubt San’s pouting face. 

“Thank you very much Yeosang. Oh, and Irene wanted me to tell you she says hi.” The startled look on his face was perfect as he quickly excused himself back to the counter. You smiled and shook your head, pulling out your book to start your reading. Chapters in, you noticed the chair in front of you being pulled out. A tired San deflated once in the chair, allowing his head to hang back. You winced at the stiffness in your joints as you set your book down, watching the tired barista. 

“Rough day?” you asked sympathetically, placing your chin on your hand. San shook his head as he sat up, leaning onto the table with his elbows. “Just busy. We’re training some new hires, so I have a lot to do.” He sighed but his smile easily came back. 

“But I am glad you came by today.” He grinned. San’s eyes alway crinkled when he smiled like this, and he always had a laugh on his lips, in a way, you were a bit jealous he could uphold such an attitude. You both made small conversation, enjoying the time you guys finally had together. Before you knew it, the sun was beginning to set, casting the cafe in an orange hue.

Seonghwa emerged from the back, spotting you two chatting away at the table, “Sorry to interrupt but, it’s closing time guys!” He smiled, obviously eager to leave. Your eyes widened as you realized indeed, you were the last one in the establishment. 

“Oh my god I’m so sorry I didn’t realize-”

Seonghwa shook his head, “No you’re good. In fact since San was supposed to help me close, I’ll just have him walk you back to your dorm instead. I’d feel guilty just kicking you out like this.”

San whipped his head around, totally ecstatic over the fact one, he got to leave early, and two of course, walk you home.

“C’mon Y/n let's go!” He grinned, pulling your hand along with him. You laughed as you quickly collected your bag, giving a wave to Seonghwa.

The air outside was warm despite the night creeping in. You walked alongside San down the road to your university, an air of comfortable silence between you two.

“Why did you start working at the coffee shop?” You asked.

“It was always Seonghwa’s dream to have something like this, ever since we were in grade school. I just wanted to help make his dream..I don’t know a reality I guess?” San admitted sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. You nodded, honestly in awe of such kind words. 

“I’m sure he appreciates you very much.” You smiled up at him, causing him to turn away bashfully. He cleared his throat as he glanced back down at you, “Well I mean how about you? I want to know everything about you.”

The walk back to your dorm was filled with conversation with San, ranging from classes to hobbies and favorite foods. It was so easy to talk to him, you found yourself drawn into him with every word and you couldn’t ignore the fluttering of your heart anytime he said your name. Before you knew it, your dorm was in sight. 

“Thanks again for walking me back. I appreciate San.” You smiled, toying with the strap of your bag. 

“Of course! I didn’t want you to walk alone.” San grinned, slipping his hands into his pockets. The air grew stagnant, and both of you fidgeted in the silence, not quite wanting your time together to end. 

“Y/n-”

“San-”

The two of your stopped, realizing you talked over each other so easily before breaking into giggling grins. 

“You first.” San smiled.

“Well I just want you to know, I um...I really like hanging out with you!” You admitted, casting your eyes down to his shoes. “I really like hanging out with you, and I would like to keep hanging out with you. If you don’t feel the same way though I totally understand-”

“Can I kiss you?”

 You stopped, your eyes quickly scanning up from the floor to San’s face, the heat rushing to your cheeks.

“Can you what?”

San smiled, a boyish carefree smile, one that stirred butterflies in your stomach.

“Can I,” his hand found yours, holding it between the two of you, “kiss you?”

You felt yourself nodding before the words even escaped your mouth. San waited, his face only inches now form yours. His breath was shallow, and you found yourself a little giddy at how nervous he suddenly looked. He was only inches away.

“Yes, San-”

You were cut off by a gentle sensation on your lips. It was soft and tentative, like he was holding himself back. San’s hand cupped your cheek and your own hand rose to his chest. He pulled back, his breath light on your face. 

You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks as San chuckled, grabbing onto your wrist and pulling you into his chest, his arms wrapping around you so naturally. 

“I really like hanging out with you too, Y/n.” 

Your face was pressed into his chest, the faint smell of coffee and pastries still lingering on him. 

“But..” You could feel San shifting, leaning down so his face was closer to yours, “I’d rather hang out with you as your boyfriend.” 

Your smile widened as you stared back at him, your hands softly travelling to hold his face. He gently leaned into your touch, his smile mirroring yours. 

“I’d like that too.” You whispered back, your forehead resting against his. The two of you stayed like this, giggling and whispering between each other without care. Eventually San begrudgingly acknowledged he had to leave, but not without a few pouts. 

“I’ll see you soon yeah?”

You nodded, your fingers slowly drifting apart.

“I’ll bring you breakfast tomorrow.” You smiled, earning a large grin from San. It only took him two brisk steps to be in front of you again while you laughed. 

“San you really gotta head home-”

“I just wanted to see you like this. One last time before I go.”

You raised an eyebrow at him.

“Like how?” You watched as his hand returned to your cheek, stroking it gently. 

“Smiling.”

“Smiling?”

“Smiling, because of me.” 

-

-

On her trip, Irene grinned as she stared at her phone. It was a blurry selfie of you and San, looking all lovey dovey at the café, while half of Yeosangs face was in the frame.

‘Told you we’d get them together!’-Yeosang

Laughing she grinned and replied back.

‘About time :)’-Irene

[selfilluminatingkyu]

Dancing with the Devil(s): Chapter III

Previous|Current|Next 

You don’t go searching for bones in a Lion’s Den. You just hope you don’t become a part of the pile. 

F!Reader x Adult Trio; this takes place during the same timeline as Season 3 of HxH but the events with Kuropika and the crew are just shifted a little. Things will align back up within the next couple of chapters. 

Warnings: Swearing; mentions of conditioning of a child (reader); 

Word Count: 4.8K

After…whatever it was that had taken place with the members of the Troupe, Chrollo had placed you back into his study as he gave further instructions to the rest of the team, who you had been introduced to formally. You would have liked to say that the introduction had cooled your nerves a bit but that would have been a lie. If anything, it made you more anxious. The more you knew, the more susceptible you were to be considered a “loose end” and the likelihood of your impending death became that much more stark to you. Should you prove to be of no use to Chrollo or the rest of the Spiders, as you learned they were frequently called, your time would be clicking down on a timer. 

You still weren’t entirely sure what had happened and what you had done that had proven to be so amazing that had the lot in such a tizzy. You’d spent at least an hour playing a continuous game of “hide and seek” as Nobunaga had dubbed it. Although, you weren’t entirely sure who was exactly supposed to be hiding, seeing you felt their presences the entire time. The only time you had been a little unsure was towards the end. Hisoka’s presence had wavered momentarily, as if he’d suddenly disappeared, but you’d taken in a deep breath and focused yourself only for him to pop back up again, like an object on a radar. Chrollo’s had also been faint at one moment towards the end but his aura had never truly gone away, not that you thought it was possible anyway. Not with how dark and menacing his was. 

“I’m sorry for the delay, but it seems that there’s a new bounty on our heads and we didn’t collect all of the items for auction. There’s also some other matters to attend to.” You looked over your shoulder to Chrollo as he stepped back into the room. The information made you pause…you were certain that everything had been accounted for, for the first round. 

His hair was messy in comparison to the slicked back style it had been earlier, and you mused that it made him look even younger and it suited him more. Looking at him you wondered how many people he’d disarmed and made comfortable with his looks and charm. In another life, he had to have been the eldest son to a very, very wealthy and powerful man. 

Making a noise of agreement, you turned to look back outside. It was getting dark now. The brightest stars starting to pop up in the purple and pink hazed sky. It reminded you of all of the times you and your family went to the country side, away from the city and the light pollution, where you could look at the stars till your heart was content. More than once, you’d fallen asleep outside, wondering what other worlds were out there, what sort of people there were…if any of them ever felt like you did or were raised like you. In your head, there were other girls like you, who’d been raised the same and by some chance, you all ended up together, united and made sure it could never happen to another soul. 

You were people, not property. 

But that was a fantasy and this was reality and in this reality, you didn’t know when your time was up and so you’d decided that you would do whatever was necessary to be reunited with those you’d lost. You’d see your siblings again. You’d save them for your parents. You’d give them a better life, and all the unconditional love they deserved. No fear of being sold to the highest bidder in an effort for your parents to obtain something that was unlikely to act quench their thirst for more power, more money, just more. 

“I don’t believe I ever actually asked you name…or how exactly it was you came to be among the items set for auction.” You jumped, so lost in thought that you hadn’t even register Chrollo. It wasn’t his voice that startled you, but the proximity of his mouth to your ear. He stood behind you, towering over you and making you feel smaller than you already did in his shadow. 

“No, you didn’t. Not that anyone else did, to be frank. But it’s y/n. And I believe I briefly told you earlier how I came to be there. I’m the eldest of four and since a young age, my parents have always been complimented on how beautiful I was. I’m pretty sure from the moment I was born, they were told that they’d been blessed with a precious gem. They took it a little too seriously and decided that what other purpose was there for a gem than to buy them a bigger one? So…my parents figured to obtain more wealth, more power, more notoriety, they’d marry me off to the man or family that checked all of those boxes the most. So, they groomed me to be the perfect wife for a man of that caliber. I got all of the etiquette classes a lady of that birth ranking would get, along with ones that would place me outside of the pack. I had tutors for all of my studies and learned several languages. I was put under pressure and polished to perfection.

“At one point they were in discussions with a family, I was going to be married to their eldest son. I never met him, but I snuck into my father’s office one night and saw a photo of him and his family. While he seemed handsome enough, there was something peculiar about him that had me anxious before I’d even met him. But, while they had the money and power and notoriety…it wasn’t in the form my parents wanted. They wanted to be among those in high society, in the light where people on the street would whisper about them…not among the shadows like that family apparently was. So, my parents started again, except…no one was meeting their standards and the original family seemed to be the best offer they had…till there was someone else. I don’t know how the Don who bought me had heard of me, or how one of the others had, but he did and he was certain that he could tick all of the boxes my parents were trying to fill. So, they made a deal and suddenly I was being brought here to the auction.

“I was in a different room originally, by myself, in a suite. But the Don’s right hand man who’d been watching me prior to the auction came in flustered, talking about something going on and they moved me…which is where I was when…whatever sucked me and the rest of the items into a void happened and then I was backstage where the rest of the Troupe found me. And that’s it.” You turn to look at him and find that the look on his face has you turning around completely. 

The man looks a mixture of furious rage and melancholy heartbreak…and it has you absolutely stumped as to why a man who has killed for sheer joy and amusement—as you’d realized after hearing their names and remembering the scarlet eyes—would look so pained over the story of a young woman being sold as a wife. It didn’t align with the character chart you had started creating in your head for him. No, it was just as peculiar as Hisoka looking concerned when Chrollo had ushered you away from the rest of the group, away from him. 

Regardless, you stood and waited, waited for him to do or say anything so that you could gage how you were meant to react to him when suddenly he was looking at you and cupping your cheeks in his hands. 

“You do not have to worry about being sold to anyone. I’m not in the business of human trafficking.” The sincerity in his words should have calmed you, but it didn’t. You’d heard promises from other men before. Promises to run away with you; promises to marry you and give your parents what they so desired and to save you and your siblings. 

But promises were made to be broken and you weren’t going to hold your breath that this man, lawless as he was, was any different than the rest. 

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” You said stepping out of his grasp and moving out of arms reach. The moment felt far too intimate for someone you had just met, for someone who was essentially holding you captive as he’d made no mention of letting you go. 

Chrollo dropped his arms and looked at you carefully, you could feel his eyes rove over you, and you wondered if he was appraising you as a woman or as a ward, either way it made your skin crawl and feel like a filly up for auction all over again. 

“I don’t blame you for not trusting me. I’m sure there were people in your past who promised you things and never saw them through. Left you feeling more vulnerable and alone than you had prior to. I understand that, I have been there and been in the same place. The only family, the only true family I had was one I created by bringing together a bunch of misfits who sought to burn the world to the ground for the atrocities that we shared. We are bound by a common goal of watching the world, and the people who prosper from the neglect and despair of others, burn. While I have not been in your exact position, I can still understand where you are coming from.” You turn to look at him, eying him carefully as he continues on with his little speech. “I’ll give you two options. You can leave, right here, right now. I’ll take you wherever it is you want to go and that’ll be the end of it. If we see each other, or if you see any of the other members, we’ll act as if we have no idea who you are. However, I think there are things you want to accomplish, people you want to keep with you and as you are now, you won’t be able to accomplish those things.” 

“So…what exactly are you suggesting?” 

“Stay with us. Let me and the other members train you, tap into the clear raw ability you have. Earlier, the members were using a technique called zestsu. When highly capable Nen users are using this technique, their presence is nearly untraceable. However, when myself or other members of the Troupe do it, along with other high skilled hunters, we should completely disappear.” He says and the way his eyes light up as he describes this has you both intrigued but also unnerved. “You, who has no nen abilities or true knowledge, should not have been able to detect Feitain, Machi, Phink, Shalnark, or Nobunaga when you walked into the room. However, there wasn’t a single presence hidden from you. That’s not something even elite nen users can do, let alone you. And yet…you did and with seemingly no effort at all.” 

You looked him over, knowing this offer was too good to be true, and what was it that he got in return out of this deal? The warning bells in your head were going off, telling you that while this deal seems to benefit you the most…you just knew that there was no way, shape, or form in which a man like him would allow any deal to benefit anyone other than himself. 

So, you did the only thing you could do, ask. 

“How do you benefit from this? It seems burdensome to take on a complete stranger who may have a disposition for high potential. But there’s no guarantee that my nen ability is anything other than this.” 

Clearly, the man wasn’t used to his authority being question—although it wasn’t in your intention to do as such, you could see how it could be construed that way—and seemed to regard you in a new way. He was obviously amused by your honesty and total lack of trust in him and his intention. You didn’t see how he could blame you though. No honor among thieves was a saying for a reason and you very much doubted that him and his ragtag group of thieves, professionals and highly regarded in the underworld be damned, were just going to pull a 180 and do something out of the kindness of their hearts. At the end of the day, a thief was a thief and their word usually meant little. That was something you father had taught you early on. You had been too trusting as a child, wanting to see the good in everything, regardless of the bad. 

“But papa, that doesn’t mean they’re all bad.” A much younger you had said innocently enough as you father had dragged you away from the group of older girls who had been trying to exploit your generosity. 

“No, it doesn’t but you also need to realize that the majority of people do not have good intentions.” Crouching down in front of you, he’d grabbed on your shoulders and made you look directly into his eyes. “And those who never do, never will. Do you understand? You need to understand that you are very valuable, and to the wrong people could be a great bartering chip to be used against others. Make sure you can’t be.” 

You honestly hadn’t understood exactly what he meant, but the message had stuck and several years later, you had known what he meant by it. People who proved themselves worthy of your trust could have it…but you always needed to keep it in your head that there were those who, despite proving themselves as friends, could be masked foes and you needed to have a plan in place should that occur. More often than not, you wondered if you were actually the wolf in sheep’s clothing simply masquerading as docile and inept, when really…you were probably the most calculating and tactile in the room. 

“And what’s to say that you won’t use what I teach you against me, against us?” He asks, and you know he means it rhetorically, but you can’t help your biting response. 

“You wouldn’t ever give me the opportunity.” Your response is lightening fast, coming out before he truly has even finished his question and you know you have truly piqued his interest now, again making you wonder how people truly viewed you. “I told you, I was raised for the sole purpose of being a formidable opponent to anyone who tried to harm by future husband…my mother was not lenient in her pursuits.” 

“Indeed…that certainly is becoming clearer now.” 

You’d come to an agreement with Chrollo. He, and the rest of the Troupe who wished to partake in your training, would do as such. He had already told you that his methods did not truly align with the “generally approved instruction” of other masters, but then again…when did anything he did? 

But as of now, he told you to relax. Take a shower, get some food, sleep, he or one of the other members would come and find you once they’d returned back from the mission he’d sent them on. As for him, he had other things to attend to. His offer still stood, he’d said before he’d walked out the door, that should you choose that you did not want his help or that of the Troupe, he would respect it, but advised you to be gone before anyone got back or the training began. Because after that point, leaving was going to require you going through the front door and would more than likely be a battle with whomever was blocking it. Whether that be him or a different member, he didn’t specify, and you didn’t ask. 

You were currently sitting in the tub; in the room he’d showed you as your own. It reminded you a lot of the room you had at the home your parents owned in the country. It overlooked a beautiful garden in the back and had windows that faced the east, so when the sun rose, you would too. There was an en-suite attached that was larger than you had ever seen before. Shower, tub, separate toil area, two sink vanity, and walk in closet to boot. You knew they had money, despite his comment that “money, power, and fame were not” what drove them to do what they did, it was clear that their endeavors were clearly not fruitless…no, not at all. 

The moment you realized you were alone, you’d crawled into the tub, clothing and all and cranked the water to as warm as it would go and just sat there as the water rose. While you had a thousand thoughts zipping through your head…you couldn’t seem to latch onto one in particular, just staring at the water blankly. 

You thought back to the comment he’d made when you’d walked back into the study after his little experiment. Apparently we didn’t get all of the auction items. While yes, that was true, they hadn’t gotten all of them as there were different rounds and the items showed up in waves so they wouldn’t be vulnerable to a heist—or so Yuuto had explained when you’d asked—the items for the first round had all be within the lot of goods the others had brought back. And you didn’t take Chrollo for wanting silly things like rare videos games…although it was a high ticket item. 

So, all you could deduce from that was that this was a trap. A poorly set one, and one you were certain he’d already figured out but still, the members he’d sent, unless aware were walking into a trap and the Ten Dons had an artillery of their own, with weapons you were led to believe could even take on the Phantom Troupe. 

Regardless of all of this information though…you couldn’t say you cared, nor did you care if you were questioned later as to whether or not there had been more items because while you didn’t think there were any, you couldn’t be certain, and it wouldn’t surprise you if there had been more. Someone didn’t become that powerful by being lax in their paranoia. 

Maybe you could learn and thing or two from that mentality.

You don’t know how long you sat in the tub for. At some point the water became cold and your clothes began to rub you the wrong way. Thus, you took them off, throwing them away from your body, drained the water and stared the process over again. 

Your skin was not only a pretty shade of pink and red, just about all over, but the pruning of it was beginning to feel uncomfortable not that it bothered you. It was a distraction, one you desperately needed. But it also made you think. 

Made you evaluate your circumstances and try to figure out what exactly your plan of attack was going to be; what you could anticipate being Chrollo’s and the rest of the troupes’ motives and actions from here on out…and how you could use all of those pieces to your advantage. You need to uncover their weaknesses and find a way to exploit them. Maybe there was someone who knew them and you could mutually benefit each other? 

“Think too hard and you might hurt yourself little dove.” Were you not as exhausted as you were, you might have jumped out of the tub when you heard Hisoka. No, instead you turned to look at him, leaning against the doorjamb leading into your room, idly shuffling through his deck of cards. 

He looked at you through his lashes, coy smirk growing on his lips as he sauntered forward and again, it struck you that had you not been so exhausted, mentally, emotionally…physically, you probably would’ve jumped up or screamed at him to leave. But you simply did not have any reserved energy left to consider your modesty a priority. 

You also doubted it would do you any good anyway. Hisoka didn’t strike you as the type to listen to a request like that anyway. He seemed to enjoy toying with people’s discomforts. 

“I wouldn’t call what I’m doing thinking.” You mutter, turning away from him and sinking further into the water, nearly causing it splash out of the sides. 

“Oh? Then what would you call it? Planning? Devising?” 

“I’d call it a jumbled ball of messy thoughts that benefit me in no way.” 

He hums at this, coming to sit on the floor beside the tub and you suddenly realize just how tall he is. The tub has to be at least two feet off the ground if not more, yet when he sits down, and slouches even, he’s still considerably taller than you. You would, under normal circumstances, have curled in on yourself in order to preserve your modesty. It was one thing for him to be standing in the doorway, your back to him and the hazy from the steam distorting your image in the mirror. 

However, with him right here, next to you, there is nothing distorting your nakedness from his peering eyes. A nakedness that no man, outside a physician for the Dons’, has seen. But for the fact that you are too exhausted to care, you do not move to cover yourself more than your arms already had. You hadn’t realized that at some point, you’d curled back in on yourself again…maybe your subconscious was more conscious than you realized. 

Despite all of this though, Hisoka turn himself so his back was towards you and in that moment you were struck by something. Most probably would’ve viewed this as trust, but you knew better. You hadn’t known this man for more than a moment. It wasn’t trust at all. 

It was a silent assertion of just how weak he viewed you. How weak they all probably viewed you. For some reason this pissed you off. Rage flared low in your stomach and raced through you veins and clawed at your throat, questing to lash out at the closest target. However, your mind was quick to act and quell those feelings almost as quickly as they appeared. He was right, you were weak and lashing out at someone that much more powerful than you was not only reckless, but just plain stupid. You’d accomplish nothing on your best day as it was, not even including the fact that you were currently exhausted. 

No, getting pissed off was misplaced in this situation…but it was a tangible force that could push you do work hard, to become a formidable opponent. 

One in which Hisoka would never turn his back on. 

As you both continued to sit there in silence, you couldn’t help but wonder if Chrollo had called him back to watch you. You thought it odd but not outlandish. You hadn’t taken Chrollo as a liar though and the offer to leave, while not something you were going to take him up on, seemed to vanish the moment Hisoka walked into the house or within a vicinity to spot you in your endeavors to vacate the premises before anyone got back. 

But then you thought about what Chrollo had said. Leaving before anyone got back and scoffed, shaking your head, wondering how you could be so thoughtless. 

“Something amusing little dove?” Hisoka poses, throwing another playing card towards the vanity. What he’s trying to hit, you’re not sure. 

“Just realizing how inept my critical thinking skills have been lately.” His hesitation in throwing the next card relays to you his peaked curiosity, although he says nothing. “Chrollo told me I could leave should I chose to, but I had to do as such before anyone got back or prove that I was worthy of walking through the front door. At the time I thought nothing of it, assuming when he suggested I shower and sleep, that I’d have time to do those things. When you walked in, I wondered if he’d been lying but thought that odd because…I didn’t sense him lying.” 

You pause and chuckle again. “No, he wasn’t lying…he just also wasn’t being entirely truthful either. He just left out the fact that you and whomever else returned with you wouldn’t be long after he left. Had I been paying attention, been thinking I would’ve caught that. I’m not entirely sure at what point I either reached such a level of exhaustion…or decided you lot were trustworthy enough to not care.” 

The revelation had you looking up from your hands and the man sitting beside you. It also had you wondering what his purpose was for coming into the bathroom. You knew, now, that Chrollo hadn’t ordered him back; hadn’t given him instruction to watch you. No, Hisoka had come here of his own volition and you the question as to why was picking at your brain…and paranoia. Why would he come here? There was a piece to this puzzle that you were missing, and you couldn’t decide if it was because you just didn’t have the information or if it was again to your own obtuseness. 

The thought niggled at the back of your head, running through scenario after scenario. Did he have a connection to someone you knew? Someone you had known? Was he a double agent working for the Dons and was keeping your close so that he could return you to them? No, that didn’t seem likely…but not the double agent part. You didn’t take him to follow orders from anyone; he didn’t seem like the type to play to play well with others for long. 

“I’m starting to wonder if the steam is coming from the hot water or from in between your eyes little dove.” 

“I don’t understand.” 

“What is it you don’t understand?” He questioned, throwing another card and this time putting some force behind it as it cut into the vanity and stuck. 

You were certain it was an intimidation tactic to indicate to you to tread lightly. 

“Why you’re in here. I know Chrollo didn’t order you to be here, there’s no reason to place a guard on me. I’m sure he texted everyone telling them I wasn’t going anywhere, regardless of whether I’d come to that conclusion myself prior to or after he’d sent it. And I don’t take it anyone would just…wander in unwelcome. I’m sure there’s something, some presence around meant to keep those who don’t know better away…and those who do, a warning of fleeting life. And I’m not interesting enough to truly pique your interest. Maybe after I’ve spent some time learning nen and training. But as it stands, right not I’m of no consequence to you and so I don’t understand why you’re here.” 

Taking in a deep breath, you realize that he’s completely stopped throwing the cards, and not because he’s out. No, he’s caused four more cards to stick to the vanity. The King of Spades, the King of Aces, the King of Diamonds, and then the Queen of Hearts are all standing up and a feeling goes through you that you can’t place. It warms you, and yet makes your blood run cold all at the same time and leaves you feeling a little lightheaded and dizzy. Maybe you’ve been in the bath for too long. 

“You’re very perceptive little dove, more perceptive than anyone has realized…certainly far more intelligent than you’ve been given credit.” He stands and plucks the random card from the vanity, along with all those he scattered haphazardly on the floor but leaves the Kings and Queen. “I look forward to seeing how you ripen little dove. I’m certain that you will become…especially sweet when this is all said and done.” He chuckles lowly and in the back of his throat, the effect making you shudder, and not in a pleasant way, as he begins to leave before pausing and turning to look at you over his shoulder. 

“I do have a question for you little dove.” He says and you hum, indicating that you’re listening. “What do you know of Illumi Zoldyck?” 

[planetesastraea]

On the tip of his fingers

Geraskier, Modern AU -  Mature - 6 277 words - Warnings: none

First meetings, himbo Geralt, bisexual Geralt (even if he’s just finding out), bottom Geralt (that too), top Jaskier, first time, handjobs, banter, praise kink, consent kink

Betaed by Micaela Dawn: she’s a wonderful artist and beta, check out her work!

Read on AO3

-

The bar was oddly crowded for a Wednesday night and Geralt was trying his best to not look as out of place as he felt. He had to be there, were Yen's words. And once Triss and Sabrina heard he was trying to get out of the team’s celebratory night out, his fate had been sealed.

"You deserve this too," Yen had said. “You’ve been working your ass off as much as we’ve all been and you deserve to blow off some steam.” 

“I can blow off some steam at home.”

“Playing Skittles-stake Gwent with our teenage daughter doesn’t count. Also you promised you’d spend more time with the team outside of  work-”

“I actually never agreed to that,” 

“-so you’re coming.” 

  And so here he was, wearing one of his black button down shirts and a comfortable pair of jeans with an empty beer bottle in his hand, making casual conversation over the slightly too-loud music and praying to the highest powers that the girls wouldn’t try to get him to dance. Triss and Yen had met him in front of the bar to make sure he wouldn’t turn away once he had a look inside the place. As soon as he had been close enough, Triss had reached a hand out to his collar, making a tsk sound. 

“What are we going to do with you, hm?”, she had whispered to herself as she had opened the top two buttons of his shirt and pulled his collar a little wider. 

“Hey, be gentle,” Yen had cut in softly. “At least he lost the tie.” 

They had cackled in unison as he rolled his eyes, yet unable to fake annoyance as a smile drew itself on his lips. With one of the women clinging to each of his arms, the three of them comfortably slid together as they walked into the place. 

He liked being around them. Over the years things had been several levels of complicated and then some, but the three of them had found their pace eventually. Triss and Yen liked to mock him and he liked to act dumber than he actually was- well, most of the time. His social skills still didn’t reach that high.

As it turned out, you could learn a lot about people by staying at the office several nights in a row working a gigantic case, taking turns on who would get to doze off for twelve minutes on the couch and who was to blame for the soy sauce on page 86 of the Claremont contract. And damn did Triss and Yen know him well. Which was why they had dutifully waited for him outside the bar. Claiming he looked for them but gave up because of how packed the place was would definitely have been among his top three excuses to go back home and relieve Eskel of his Uncle duties. (Both he and Ciri would have been terribly disappointed and that was about 75% of the reasons why he had made it to the party).

  They had been here for a couple of hours now, had done a good amount of talking and heard some more-than-other alright bands take to the stage. One of the junior associates further away from him called “Hey, here’s Sabrina!!” and Geralt turned towards the sound of Sabrina’s voice going “You guys are not going to believe this!” when something, or, well, someone, slammed right into him.

“Owww, holy shit I’m so sorry, you alright?” 

The man was carrying two pints that had probably been full to the brim before he collided with Geralt. Luckily most of what spilled had hit the floor (he didn't need a repeat of the 2017 "Wet-Shirt Contest Winner" from when a sink pipe had blown up in the men's room. Lambert had walked in, taken a thousand pictures and emailed memes to the whole floor for weeks). 

Geralt’s shoes had been fairly sticky with booze already so it wasn't much trouble. 

“I’m fine,” he said and that’s when he noticed the other man had come to a full stop, eyes locked on him intently, lips slightly parted. The eyeliner around his eyes was a bit smeared and Geralt recognized him as one of the singers from earlier. 

“That you are,” he murmured in a low tone, almost to himself. Geralt blinked.

“Yes. I am,” he said back louder in hope to maybe clear out the odd look on the other man’s face. Just because he was tall, well-built and, well, apparently, somewhat broody, people expected him to get pissed at the slightest things. 

“I’m Julian," the guy said and Geralt smiled politely, unsure why the stranger would introduce himself.

“Geralt,” he replied at the same time Julian went “But you can call me Jaskier!” and then “I’m sorry, what was that?” 

It was like his words were running faster than his thoughts.

“Geralt. My name is Geralt,” he repeated.

“Oh. Nice to meet you, Geralt.” Jaskier’s lips rose to one side and he tilted his head slightly. Geralt was way more used to people trying to avoid looking at him, he had his unusual colored eyes to thank for that. They were easily disturbing and while people didn't always show discomfort, they at least showed restraint. Jaskier didn't have an ounce of it and Geralt had absolutely no idea what to do with that. 

“Can I get you another drink?” Jaskier blurted out. 

“Mine was already empty. That’s your drink on the floor,” Geralt replied as the other man chuckled, eyes looking down briefly.

“Right,” he raised his eyes and licked his lips. “Offer still stands. Can I get you another drink?”

“Hm,” Geralt said, his well-known wording skills kicking in. “My friends are-” he turned around thinking he’d find Anica and Tiff where he had left them only to realise they had disappeared among the crowd. In the far back he recognized Triss and Yen dancing on a table like nothing in the world could stop them and any back-up plan he was about to use evaporated. 

Jaskier raised his eyebrows, eyes twinkling. Give other people a chance, Yen’s voice said in Geralt's head and the line of his shoulders softened. Jaskier’s eyes hadn’t moved from him for even a second. Maybe it wasn’t that bad. 

“Sure,” Geralt aimed for a neutral tone but sounded nervous even to his own ears. The other man’s smile widened. 

  They found two empty stools that felt oddly closer than those in Geralt’s bars usually were - but then again most of Geralt’s bars were hotel lobbies on work trips or the kind where he could take a whole bottle for himself and sit in a corner where no one would dare bother him. (He hadn't been in one of those in a while. He didn’t miss it.)

Jaskier set an ale in front of him and Geralt faintly wondered who it was originally destined for. 

“So what are you doing here tonight? I’ve never seen you around,” Jaskier started. 

“Celebrating,” he said, in a voice that hardly sounded celebratory. 

“Is it your birthday?”

“No,” he replied, vaguely gesturing to his group of friends who were lost to the crowd, “with colleagues. We closed in on a deal." 

"What kind of business do you work in?" The other man seemed way more interested in learning about Geralt than actually drinking the ale. Geralt shrugged, a wordless version of his usual ‘hm’.  

“All of them. We're a law firm.”

“Oh! Well, congrats by the way!" Jaskier said and then leaned in and using a secretive tone he added, "I mean, you didn’t help a dangerous criminal get away with it, did you?”

Geralt grimaced and prepared himself to lose Jaskier’s interest in his job entirely. 

“Not that kind of lawyers.” 

“What kind, then?” 

“Corporate.”

To his surprise, Jaskier kept nodding.

“So what was the deal about? Please tell me you’re the kind of firm on David’s side and not on Goliath's.”

“It’s rarely as straightforward as that,” Geralt mused and took a drink of his ale.

Jaskier hummed softly.

“What was this one anyway?” 

“I can’t disclose any details,” he hedged and Jaskier chuckled. 

“Oh, you can’t disclose any details, can you?” he leaned again, this time his arm and shoulder pressing against Geralt's. 

“No, I can’t,” Geralt articulated again to make sure Jaskier would hear him. Music rarely ever left anyone’s hearing intact after a few years, maybe that was why the man kept leaning closer. 

“Anything I’ll hear about on the news?”

“The local ones, maybe.”

“Well aren't you a man of mystery.” Their shoulders bumped again. Geralt didn't remember at which point he had rolled up his sleeves but his forearms felt oddly comfortable being that close to someone else's skin. It had been a while since he had even given thought to someone else's skin.

There was still a band playing on the stage out of his sight, a crowd surrounding them, people all along the bar calling for the bartender’s attention, noises and lights everywhere and yet, somehow, in the ocean of stimuli, his attention was focused on Jaskier.

"Maybe I should take your number then?" Jaskier said, wriggling an eyebrow. "As legal counsel. For when law enforcement catches up with me." 

“What would they catch you for?” he asked, willing to take the bait. 

“Oh, there’s quite the list,” Jaskier said. “I’m afraid I have a rather criminal past. There’s the illegal bus riding, parking in client-only spots,” he counted on his fingers, adding each theatrically. “I once shook a vending machine to get my chocolate bar and got a second one I didn’t pay for.”

“Hmm. I think you might get away with those,” Geralt answered, taking a drink from his pint.

“Well I guess all is left is the case of indecent exposure.”

The man had a nonchalant demeanor about him but his eyes were focused on Geralt and definitely didn't miss the way he almost choked on the ale. Geralt only then realised how much of Jaskier’s chest was visible. He registered vaguely how he’d never had an interest in other people’s collar bones before and realised he had forgotten where they were going with this. 

"Hmm,” he cleared his throat, trying to look unbothered. “Like I said, not my area of expertise."

He saw Jaskier lick his lips and something in his eyes reminded him of the decisive moment that came with all his negotiations. 

"How about we get out of here and you show me your area of expertise?" 

"What?" He couldn’t have heard that right. Jaskier’s eyes softened and his hand hovered over his bare forearm.

"I'm saying I want to take you home.” There was a beat and Geralt swallowed, the taste of ale still on his lips. His conversations with other people definitely didn’t go like that. The peak of panic might have been obvious on his face because Jaskier’s fingers touched his wrist and he spoke into his ear.  "I'm making a move on you, Geralt,” he said kindly, “and I don’t know if you’re too polite to decline or if I’m being too subtle-” he pulled back to look at him and his face was so fucking close. “Which, honestly, would be a first! So... What do you think?” 

What did he think? His mind was an uninhabited fish tank. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw a light flicker. He blinked again, looking at Jaskier’s lips. His brain whispered pretty, and right then, because life always loved fucking with him, the lights and the music went out.

There was a deafening silence for a moment when everyone held their breath and then lights as bright as day came on. The crowd booed. "Oh for fuck's sake, it's the third time this month," Jaskier grumbled. “Sorry my dear but duty calls!” 

He stepped down from his stool only to hoist himself up onto the bar. "Not to worry, gentlepeople!" he called out like he was standing on a stage rather than a drink-sticky counter. "The lights will go down and the music back on again as soon as our beloved Essi, Mistress of the house, puts that freaking generator back on! And in the meantime, if you would please allow this humble bard to entertain you,” he took a dramatic bow and rose up again. “Someone please toss me a folk guitar; drinks are on me!"

The crowd cheered and Jaskier got down behind the bar as one of the crew members passed over the guitar. He went off in a cheery song some people started singing along to, bathing in the crowd's energy like he breathed that very element. 

Something funny and complicated was happening in Geralt's chest when a hand gently grabbed his arm.

"Come on, let's go!" Yen. "It was getting boring anyway!"

Geralt squinted at her.

"You were dancing on a table,"

"Yeah, exactly!" 

It didn’t make the slightest sense but most of his conversations with Yen ended with her radiating with knowledge and him feeling stupid anyway.

"I was talking with someone," he said and instantly felt like a small child very proud to say he made a friend.

"You were what?" her voice pitched up and Geralt could tell she was a bit on the tipsy side. "Where are they?" 

He looked around and back towards the other side of the bar where Jaskier was singing and playing among the crowd, flawlessly winking and flirting with every person around.

"You're right,” his voice sounded strained even to his own ears and he had to blame it on the sleepless nights. “Let's go."

  -

  It had been two weeks since they had secured the Jackdows contract and Geralt was still deep in paperwork. He'd taken yet another two-hour video call with Alveaenerle and he was starting to think that maybe Triss was right and the woman was mostly dealing with him for his looks rather than for the sake of legal liaison. 

He heard the elevator doors open and checked the clock. It wouldn’t be the first time he had worked through the whole night, only noticing at 4am when the janitor came in that he had forgotten to go home. Since then, he had promised Ciri he would try to get decent amounts of sleep while she was away at Yen’s and he didn’t like breaking his promises. 

When he looked through the glass wall of his shared office, however, he didn’t see the janitor. Instead, and he checked twice in case it might have been a case of insomnia-induced hallucination, Jaskier was standing in the hall. He seemed hesitant, looking right and left for any indication that he was in the right place until he saw Geralt through the office’s glass walls. 

They blinked at each other, seemingly unable to move until Jaskier slowly raised a hand and waved. Geralt kicked himself and walked out of his office. 

“Hey,” Jaskier said, looking a bit sheepish. "Remember me?"

“What are you doing here?” Geralt asked, straightforward as ever.

“Uh,” Jaskier said. “The security guy let me in. He must have thought I was a delivery boy or something. I uh, I got your favourite,” he raised a hand holding a paper bag that Geralt had been too distracted to notice. “From across the street? Oh! Your friend Tiff was at the bar. She said you were still at work so I thought you’d like to have dinner maybe? And like, not with me, necessarily, just, you gotta eat right?” His words were starting to run together, and Geralt didn’t see any end in sight. “And so I figured, the place across the street, they had to know your favourite. ‘Big lawyer man with long white hair’ doesn't fit many of their clients' profiles. Anyway, dinner. For you. I could stay too, if you want, I mean I am simply starving-” he emphasized the word and then looked panicked again. “Wait, was that a yes, by the way? You know who I am, right? Otherwise this is going to get so awkward-”

“Jaskier,” Geralt interrupted.

“Yes!" He beamed. "That's me. Jaskier."

“I’m still not sure what you’re doing here.”

Jaskier froze for a moment, losing his shine. “We didn’t get to finish that conversation the other night. I thought that maybe...” Balancing his weight from a feet to another, he looked younger in the office light. He didn't finish his sentence, and looked like he was waiting for Geralt to respond.

“I’m working.”

“Right.”

“I’m at work,” Geralt gestured back at his office.

“Yeah, I know, I just thought- I- You're right, this was a stupid idea. Invasive, even. God what am I doing-” he took a frantic step backwards, and then thrust out the paper bag in some sort of peace offering. “Well, you should have this anyway, I mean- you have to eat, right? I said that already. Did I say that already?” He put the paper bag down on the closest cubicle desk then started walking backwards. “Sorry for,” he gestured vaguely, “showing up like that. Uh. It won’t happen again.” 

Jaskier turned around, starting towards the elevators with his hand rubbing the back of his neck, and Geralt thought he heard him swearing under his breath something that sounded very much like ‘such a fucking idiot’.

An uneasy feeling filled Geralt’s chest as he watched Jaskier walk away. He didn’t know what he was doing and he didn’t know what he wanted or why he wanted anything but he knew he didn't want this.

“Jaskier,” he called and felt so very glad no one else was working late on his floor. 

“Yeah?” Jaskier turned back instantly, his face lit up by a beacon of hope.

“Do you… Do you do this often?” he asked hesitantly and felt stupid about it as soon as he heard himself. There was a beat of Jaskier looking around at the empty place before he walked back towards Geralt slowly.

“Chasing down a guy I talked to for thirty minutes because I just can’t fucking stop thinking about him? No. No, I don’t. First time, actually.”

Geralt watched the musician, noting the soft, hopeful smile forming at the corner of his lips, the closing and opening of his hands at his sides, and the way the office light was reflecting in Jaskier’s eyes. 

“Twenty minutes? I need to wrap something up. Then I’m free. For dinner.” Geralt amended.

Jaskier let go of the breath he had been holding and a full smile slowly graced his face again.

“Sure. Take your time. We can heat up the food at my place.”

If twenty minutes had been a promise, Geralt would have broken it. Ten minutes later, he was done with work for the day and on his way to Jaskier’s.

  -

  “So which one are you?" Jaskier asked, leaning over his kitchen counter after discarding the take-away wrappings. "VGB or Morhen?” 

“Neither,”

“Oh. I thought you were.”

“Disappointed?”

Jaskier chuckled. “No. Well, a bit, I mean," he raised a shoulder lazily and faked disappointment, "I thought you were one of those big-shot lawyers.”

“I am. I’m just not a name partner.” 

"So you're a regular partner then?"

“Just barely." 

"Is that a thing?"

"Hmm." Geralt took a whole second to think about it and found himself oddly relaxed with answering the question. “I have a daughter.”

“Oh.” Jaskier’s voice was oddly tight. 

“Yen and I have a deal. She leads the boat on the job side, excels and enjoys herself in the career she’s always wanted and worked so hard for. I pull the hours she needs me to but our focus is our daughter.”

“You and Yen.”

“Yes.”

"Wait, like Triss's dancing on tables Yenna?" Jaskier’s eyes were widening in realisation. 

"Yes."

"Is she Morhen?"

Geralt shook his head. "Vengerberg." 

"And she’s your ex."

"Yes."

“Are you still-”

“Friends, yes.”

Jaskier nodded slowly and seemed to be thinking about something. He put his glass away and leaned against the counter, closer to Geralt. “Do you know what you’re doing here, Geralt?” he asked so low it was almost a whisper. 

Geralt couldn’t help but cast a look at his lips. “Not really.”

Jaskier slowly slipped his hand up Geralt’s forearm and the hair at the back of his neck rose.

“I was thinking maybe I could kiss you. Can I kiss you?”

Geralt found himself suddenly very much too out of breath to answer.

"Geralt?"

"Yes."

"Yes, as in you're still with me or yes-"

"Both." Geralt interrupted before he had the chance to change his mind. 

Jaskier looked surprised for a second then stood up on his toes to close the small space that was left between them. He pressed his lips against Geralt's; chaste and dry and sweet. When was the last time Geralt had been kissed like that? With care?

Jaskier's lips moved with his and Geralt felt the tip of the other man’s tongue against his lower lip, asking for permission. He granted it without question.

"Geralt?"

Geralt kissed him again and couldn't help the sigh that escaped when Jaskier's teeth grazed against his lips. 

"Hmm?"

They shared another kiss.

"Couch?"

And another.

"Sure."

  They parted only for the short time it took Jaskier to walk around the kitchen island. He led Geralt to the couch, pushing him slightly backwards to make the man sit so he could straddle his lap. Jaskier’s hips were thinner than those of Geralt’s usual partners. His shoulders were larger, his back more muscled, his arms- his whole body was fucking delightful and yet so very different, so very new. 

"Jask?" 

A kiss.

"Yeah?" It was more of a sigh of pleasure against his lips than a whisper.

"Remember when you asked-" Fuck, it was good. "About my-" 

"Sorry, do you need me to stop?"

Something rumbled in Geralt’s chest, his voice almost a growl. 

"No."

His hand found the back of Jaskier's neck and they sort of crashed again into each other. They kissed and kissed again and Geralt just didn't want to stop but things had to be said.

"Expertise," he finally managed.

"What?" Jaskier let go of his mouth and came back again for a peck before he sat back on his ankles to look at Geralt. His lips were red, his hair in disarray, his hand still hot on the side of Geralt’s neck. Geralt was fucked.

"Expertise," Geralt said, sitting up a bit straighter, settling his hands on Jaskier’s hips. "The other night. You asked about my area of expertise."

"Uh. Right."

Jaskier had a look on his face like someone had just interrupted his hot make-out session to talk about corporate law. Geralt would know, that had happened to him more times than he would admit.

"This isn't it."

"What?" Jaskier looked bewildered. His face was an open book of unguarded emotions and it made Geralt want to kiss him even more. 

"My area of expertise. This isn’t it."

"Oh." Jaskier answered, distracted by a strand of hair that fell over Geralt's eyes. He plucked the strand up between deft fingers and tucked it behind Geralt’s ear. Then he blinked and backtracked. "Wait, kissing?"

"Men," Geralt said. "Men aren't my areas of expertise."

"Oh,” Jaskier said. His hand was suspended in the air behind Geralt’s ear. “Okay, you- Oh. Okay.” he whispered again, his hand dropping down to Geralt’s shoulder. 

Geralt wasn't sure why Jaskier was the one blushing.

Sexual orientation had never really been a topic of conversation for Geralt growing up. Emotions were already a complex enough subject to tackle, anything that went further than caring for his brothers was not recommended. Exploration was limited. As a young man, he had gone for what society told him were the easiest ways to get sexual release when he needed it (women) and then his life tangled with Yen's and other partners faded out from the realm of his interests. When Ciri had entered their life, his very own life had taken a whole new meaning. There was little that mattered except making his daughter happy. His own personal relationships were more of an afterthought. 

"Well," Jaskier started again. "We don't have to- I mean it's okay. It's good. It's all good, darling. Do you- Do you need a breather? Do you- do you even want to be here?"

"I followed you willingly, didn't I?" Geralt asked, raising an eyebrow. Jaskier chuckled.

“It’s just- What if I mess up and deter you from ever enjoying another penis ever again?" he exaggerated, the dramatic flair evident in every line of his body. Geralt snorted.

"Hey! I have a duty to the penis community and I take it very seriously," Jaskier continued as if Geralt hadn’t brushed the thought off.

"The penis community," Geralt repeated, fake awe dripping in his voice.

"The penis kingdom, actually."

"The penis continent." Geraly offered, helpfully.

"Oh, that reminds me, talking about dicks: Nilfgaard, yay or nay?"

"Argh, shut up," he grabbed Jaskier's face unceremoniously and Jaskier laughed in the kiss. His hand brushed Geralt’s cheek and everything about him seemed to slow down. Jaskier broke apart from him, a smile still on his lips, and looked at Geralt steadily like any doubt and hesitation were forgotten.

"Just tell me what you like, darling,” he said. 

"I like kissing you.” 

"That’s a good start," he replied and granted Geralt’s request.

Jaskier lay his hands on Geralt’s shoulders and the muscles melted under the soft weight of them. He raised onto his knees and pushed Geralt back into the couch. Jaskier was slightly taller kneeling over him, and Geralt found something delightful in having to look up at someone. 

Jaskier leaned in and caught Geralt’s lips between his. His kisses were softer, slower, deeper than a minute before. Like he was taking his time to enjoy every second, to make Geralt enjoy every second. One of Geralt’s hands moved from his hip to his lower back, inviting him closer, and Jaskier slid his hands around Geralt’s neck, arching slightly into the touch. There was an intimacy about it that Geralt hadn’t expected nor experienced in a long time. 

Jaskier pressed his forehead against his at every breath, his hands caressing Geralt’s cheeks, sliding into Geralt’s hair, slowly making him shiver. 

Jaskier’s arms were distracting. The shirt he’d been wearing on that evening at the bar hadn't given away any clue as to the gems that were hidden underneath those sleeves. There was something feral lying deep in Geralt’s belly that was definitely ready to be manhandled.

Geralt found himself sliding his hand under Jaskier’s shirt, feeling the hot skin under his fingers, tracing the muscles along his spine. 

Jaskier quickly got the message and took his shirt off between breathless kisses. He started tugging at the buttons of Geralt's shirt while Geralt’s hands made themselves at home on every inch of skin they could find. He felt goosebumps form on Jaskier’s skin and used the distraction to start laying kisses on his neck, licking and sucking the skin and taking note of the softest noises Jaskier made. The tip of his fingers slid down the hairs of Jaskier’s chest as he nibbled the man’s collarbone, and found one of his nipples on the way. Geralt caressed it tentatively and felt the shiver that went through Jaskier’s whole body when he did. Jaskier’s fingers pulled abruptly at his shirt. 

“Oh god, take your goddamn shirt off, please!” The request was more of a thready gasp than an actual sentence. Geralt laughed at his enthusiasm and finished unbuttoning his shirt. 

“Is this okay?” Jaskier asked as he slid the shirt off Geralt’s shoulders. Geralt hummed approvingly and raised his arms when Jaskier grabbed his undershirt. They kept kissing until he felt Jaskier’s hands slowing down, tensing slightly against his chest until they were barely just touching him. He saw the look on Jaskier’s face when he parted from him and realised why he had stopped. Jaskier’s eyes were fixated on his torso, fingers hovering over one of his many scars. 

“I can put the shirt back on if you want,” he offered and Jaskier’s eyes jumped back to his face.

“What? No, darling, no,” he rushed and grabbed Geralt’s face kindly, kissing him again. “I was just surprised. Is this okay? Can I- can I touch you?”

“Yeah. Of course you can,” he kissed Jaskier softly. “They haven’t hurt in a long time.” 

“Can I ask- I know this isn’t the best of times but-" he bit his lip with hesitation. "Did someone do this to you?” 

“Not one person in particular,” Geralt shrugged it off.

“Geralt,” Jaskier’s brow furrowed. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he brushed his nose against Jaskier’s. “It’s in the past.” 

"Okay," Jaskier whispered and then, trying to lighten the mood he added, "was it, like, your secret service past?"

"I am not at liberty to say."

Jaskier snorted.

“Just tell me you’re not in a fight club.”

“In a what?” Geralt asked, frowning. 

“A fight club.”

“I don’t know what that is,” he said, seemingly clueless. 

“You know, a fi- oh, you ass!” Jaskier yelped, slapping him lightly on the pec and Geralt laughed, grabbing the back of Jaskier's thighs right below his bottom to make him slip even further into his lap.

“How would you like to take care of my ass?” 

Jaskier almost choked on his own breath and turned an even deeper shade of red.

"Are you- do you mean literally?"

"I'm not a blushing virgin, Jaskier,” Geralt said matter-of-factly. 

"I know, I just mean- well if you've never- I mean are you sure you want to? With me?"

It was a sensible question but Geralt didn't want to think about it for too long. Thinking would mean trying to make sense of things -feelings, desires. It would lead to labelling and wanting to belong and- he just hated words. Words had a tendency to make things real and unmovable. Actions were so, so much better.

"You're the one who knows what he's doing, here,” Geralt said. “I'd rather it be you doing the work."

"Uh," Jaskier said thoughtfully. He probably had a PhD in literature or something based on the improbable number of books and manuscripts lying around in his flat. Geralt had even seen a couple ones in the cereal cupboard which was apparently where Jaskier’s glasses went.

"Alright then. Just. Tell me if something is not working for you, alright?"

"I will. Now can we get back to business?"

"To defeat-"

"If you start singing right now I am getting out of here," he grabbed a handful of the musician’s ass.

"Oi!!" Jaskier complained in the fakest way possible. "Wait, hold on, does that mean you've seen Disney movies- what's your favourite one?"

Geralt raised yet another very serious eyebrow. 

"Do you often discuss topics that make people think about their kids when they're trying to bed you-"

"Oh my god! I'm so sorry," Jaskier laughed and hid his face in Geralt's neck, full of shame. "How much do you hate me right now?" he muffled.

"Hmm," Geralt pondered, slowly sliding his fingers up Jaskier's spine. "You should probably find a way to make me forget about it."

"Hmm," Jaskier imitated, kissing the side of Geralt's neck and slowly making his way up to the man’s ear. "What if I took your pants off?" he whispered.

"Could be a start," Geralt admitted. 

"What if we moved to my bed?"

"I was beginning to wonder if you had one of those."

"I can still fuck you over the kitchen counter if you're disappointed."

Geralt’s pupils dilated as he pictured himself bent over the piece of furniture, holding onto whatever he could while Jaskier pounded him restlessly. 

"Bed. Now." 

  -

  Geralt only got a quick look at the room (more books, more notebooks, cord instruments of all sorts and sizes) before Jaskier grabbed him by the belt and pushed him onto the bed. He followed quickly, straddling him and kissing him senseless until Geralt’s head hit the mattress. 

"Can I t-" Jaskier started and Geralt tried to sit up, cutting him off with a kiss. He reached for his own belt, planning on taking his trousers off before Jaskier pressed against his shoulders and made him lie down again. He slid his fingers between Geralt’s, caressing his knuckles softly. 

"Oh please, give me the honor."

Geralt almost growled with impatience and reached a hand out between Jaskier's legs, palming him through his jeans.

"Oh sweet Edith Eleanor Diana Poulton, you are not playing."

He got Geralt’s belt out of the way and undid his trousers. Geralt’s underwear followed halfway when Jaskier took the trousers off, leaving his ass bare on the sheets and the hem of his briefs so low on his hips it was practically at the base of his cock. He tried taking his briefs off entirely, feeling silly and oddly vulnerable being halfway undressed but Jaskier batted his hands off and kissed him again. He slid a hand through Geralt’s pubic hair and slowly, incredibly slowly, down, and after what felt like a thousand years, finally closed his hand around Geralt’s cock and pulled. 

Geralt pushed the back of his head into the mattress and closed his eyes as if he was at risk of losing sight if he left them open. Jaskier kissed him through the first moan of pleasure and quickly was all over him. Jaskier was kissing and licking and touching and stroking and Geralt was having quite a hard time trying to do much more than let his hand grab onto Jaskier’s hair and do his best not to sound too desperate. He was absolutely failing. 

“Is this good, darling?” Jaskier whispered, kissing his neck up to his jaw and softly biting the skin there as his hand kept stroking him. 

"Hmm," was all Geralt could manage and he felt Jaskier smile against his skin.

"Tell me?"

"Ah,” Geralt’s hands were moving somewhat erratically, trying to hold onto any part of Jaskier that would make him feel anchored and not as if he was going to lose his mind before he got the man’s socks off. “Yes."

"You're so good darling,” Jaskier’s kindness, Geralt vaguely decided, was fucking obscene. “You're doing so good."

Geralt felt himself blush, having no idea how any blood could flow to his face since he was pretty sure all of it was rushing to his dick. He wasn't going to last long at this rate.

"I want- I want to touch you too."

Jaskier let him open his jeans and moaned into his mouth when Geralt finally got his hand into his underwear. 

“Jaskier,” he warned and Jaskier slowed down the working of his own hands. 

“You alright, love?” he whispered, voice broken with pleasure. 

Instead of an answer, Geralt sat up and pulled Jaskier's trousers to get his point across. Jaskier took his hands off him - the loss was fucking unbearable - to finally get rid of all remaining items of clothing and pressed himself against Geralt again, his hand on his neck. Geralt immediately got his arms around his middle to cradle him closer. Jaskier rocked slightly against him, their cocks pressing against each other and Geralt couldn't help but get a hand on both of them.

"Show me?" he croaked hoarsely and silently prayed that Jaskier wouldn’t make him beg for it because he definitely would. Instead Jaskier joined their hands together and guided him, pressing on Geralt's fingers to make him hold his cock tighter, moaning when Geralt's wrist angled exactly how he liked it.

"Oh god, yes. You're so good to me, love," he moaned. 

It felt like forever and it felt like a blink. They rocked and they kissed and they moaned and Jaskier kept breathing sweet nonsense into his neck, praises into his ear, about how good he was and how good he felt and how well Jaskier would take care of him and how much he wanted to make him moan through the night but in the end, what got him over the edge was Jaskier digging his fingers onto the soft flesh of his ass, sliding in to brush against Geralt’s hole, and absolutely, definitely had nothing to do with Jaskier crying out, “Oh love, you’re beautiful!”

Geralt lost a few seconds or maybe a minute or five over which Jaskier had apparently come all over his stomach too. Jaskier was catching his breath, lying with his forehead against Geralt’s chest, trying his best not to lay all his weight over him. Geralt found the back of Jaskier’s neck, his fingers going up through his hair and drawing a comfortable groan from him. 

“Sorry,” he mumbled, pushing on his arm to lie a few centimeters away, his head propped over Geralt’s shoulder, their legs still intertwined together. Jaskier’s arm stretched over Geralt’s middle and the tingly waves of left-over pleasure washed over them both with every breath, content tiredness slowly taking over. 

A few minutes later Geralt extracted himself from Jaskier’s grasp, not without some difficulty, and convinced himself to clean up. Washing his hands in front of the bathroom mirror, Geralt looked back at Jaskier’s face hovering over his shoulder as Jaskier pressed his chest against his back. Eyes closed, Jaskier asked: “D’you want to stay?”

Vaguely wondering about the last time he felt as comfortable as this with someone and then pushing the thought away, Geralt’s eyes lowered, looking at Jaskier’s arms settled around his body. 

He felt Jaskier’s lips move into a loopy smile against his skin when he answered:

“Hmm.”

[eutaerpe]

maybe you’re the reason

pairing — jungkook x reader, jimin x reader

genre/warnings—   college!au, idiot best friends to lovers!au, help jungkook is cute

summary —   the most painful love story, aka idiot best friends to lovers.

notes — 2.3k words of the beginning. hope it still is worth your time? lmk ily

before

You faintly hear Jimin slapping Jungkook’s nape, a devilish smirk stuck on his lips.

“Are you actually buying condoms? Our little Kookie?”

A “Fuck off.” comes in response, and you can picture Jungkook scrolling his friend’s arm around him with boredom and too little strength, even though you’re not facing them—you see, there are far important matters in the world in this precise, excruciating moment. You eye the alcohol section with tight lips and a painfully light wallet, mentally doing the math and pondering whether you can actually buy twenty-two cans of beer with your pathetic budget. Perhaps you should abandon the quest altogether and focus on that good old big bottle of vodka in the corner. And chips. God, yes, chips.

“You know,” Jaehwan approaches them, head tilted, “I’ve always thought Kook would turn out to be a real heartthrob. All fucking ripped, full of tattoos and a big dick. The whole package, dude.”

Jimin snickers, clapping his hands. “Hey, never say never. He still has time to bloom.”

“I thought you all knew that my dick is the only big dick in this outrageous friends group, jerks,” Tae emerges in this aisle, drown in a white shirt too large for his small size and wide Bordeaux pants that will end up being the reason why he’ll trip and bring down with him Jimin. Jaehwan too, maybe, if he makes other dick jokes. You can bet on it. “Jimin can confirm it.”

“I can hear you, bastards.” Jungkook punches Taehyung, “And I hope you and your hands have fun for the rest of your life.”

“Ouch,” it’s your turn to chuckle and turn your head around, meeting your friends’ amused smiles, “That hurt.”

You stretch your legs, standing still for the first time after an intense ten-minutes session spent in front of alcohol bottles; placing both of your hands on the back of your shoulders, you make sure to crack them. Fucking finally.

“You might have an answer, then, y/n…”

Taehyung licks his lips, smirking openly. “Is our little Kookie—ah, how can I phrase this? Well, not so little?”

“How would I know?” you roll your eyes, moving towards them, “I’m not planning on seeing any of your dicks soon, thank you very much.”

His eyes sparkle. “But you’re planning to, at some point?”

You can’t help the smirk tugging at the corner of your lips, all stretched out and mischievous. “We’re currently betting on which one of you ends up sending their dick pics to the group chat first, and…” you almost close the distance between your and Tae’s body, “I’ve already bet on you, Kim.”

“Why,” he questions, smiling, “Desperate much to see me naked?”

“Not at all.” You shake off the pretend dust on his wide shoulders, all of this while his breath hitches, “I’m just the most likely to earn a hundred bucks by doing absolutely nothing.”

You pinch his cheeks, while Jungkook sneers, a pack of condom in his hands.

“Now help me grab these fucking beers.”

+

Despite being the end of July, there’s a calming, quiet breeze that makes you shiver for a second. You look back in the car, hoping to bump into a hoodie of sorts, even though the last time you checked, you didn’t bring one with you. Sucks to be one of the guys, then. You won’t say goodbye to a perfect night out on the beach because of a stupid hoodie, nope.

You hold onto the car door for a while, contemplating whose hoodie you’re gonna steal, when a warm hand brushes your arm and wakes you up from your musing.

“Thanks for earlier,” your soon-to-be buff friend says, voice just as warm as his body, “The guys can be nosy as fuck.”

You nod, slumping on the passenger seat with a sigh. “What’s the matter with buying condoms? At least one of you is having safe sex.”

“Right,” Jungkook grins, “It’s just that—I didn’t tell them?”

“That you’re having sex?”

“Yeah,” he nods, gulping, “I didn’t think it was that big of a deal. Enough to tell them, of course.”

Jungkook palms the wheel, before glancing at you and closing his car door.

“I mean,” you begin, scratching your cheek, “It’s not.”

It’s not unusual of your friend group to have this kind of conversation—the lot of you was painfully open minded and honest it would have never crossed a mind of yours to stray away from topics like this. Like sex. Of course, some of you were the exception. Lisa, to begin with. Jungkook, too. The two of them laughed and smiled when you talked about sex related stuff. Relationship related stuff. But not because they were uncomfortable or… against it, you reckon. They were – are – the kind of people that keeps this to themselves. That doesn’t overshare, even when it comes to their best friends. It was – fine; cool, really, because at the end of the day you know you can count on them the same way they do on you. Any of you.

The thing that throws you off is—the fact that Jeon Jungkook is telling you this. Right now. You’re one of his best friends in the same terms he’s one of yours; that doesn’t change the fact that you weren’t, in the slightest, expecting this kind of conversation. For a trillion reasons.

“But Jungkook,” he looks at you with his doe eyes, “You’ve been dating for, what? Almost a year? We literally caught Chaeyoung blowing you two weeks ago. That wouldn’t surprise us, you know.”

“Yeah, but…” he trails off, eyes focused on the dashboard. “I mean, it doesn’t… it doesn’t have to mean anything.”

“What,” you ask, quietly, “What doesn’t?”

“Me engaging in,” he shrugs, shaking his head, “Me having sex.”

“Yeah, it doesn’t. But people love to talk. And it’s your best friends we’re talking about. Of course they’re gonna be bitches and talk about you when you’re not there.”

“Jerks.”

“Horny bastards.”

Jimin closes the back door with strength before throwing himself on the backseats, legs spread, and head thrown back on the headrest. He sighs, passing a hand through his blonde hair.

You look at him with sparkling eyes, fingers fidgeting with the seatbelt.

“I’m not riding with them,” he begins, pointing his chin towards Seokjin’s car, better known as the Kim car, you think, squinting your eyes when the nth Kim person enters the very vehicle. You instantly spot Jennie spitting orange juice on both Taehyung and Jaehwan, and you chuckle at the sight. “Besides, Rosie is riding with you, right? This is my chance.”

“Yeah, hyung,” Jungkook replies, eyeing you with an uneasy expression, “You better make a move.”

“You said Chaeyoung won’t join us, right? So, we can make space for Lisa too. You know, I’ll make sure she’s comfortable with us. There’s gonna be her best friend with us.”

You frown, almost instantly.

Jimin rambling is a sight for sore eyes, especially because the last time you’ve seen him this insecure and giggly, adorable self was when you were thirteen and puberty still hadn’t hit him. At the time, Jimin was just a small guy that knew more about dancing rather than playing soccer or basketball or whatever kids his age were into at the time. He was shy and always pushed his glasses onto his nose and had just gotten a crush – it’s weird seeing him again like that almost a decade later. You’re about to tell him that, yeah, you consider yourself a decent friend for Chaeyoung, but calling yourself her best friend sounds a lot like projecting, anyway—

“And then there’s you,” Jimin says, prodding your shoulder, “It’s gonna be a female filled car. Does it get any more comfortable than that?”

Does it get any more uncomfortable than this?

Jungkook snickers, handing you two CDs. You realize it seconds later, when he’s snapped his fingers in front of your questioning face and has crooked his neck to look at you.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

His hand grazes your tight for a flashing instant, so prompt and light you would have missed it if your eyes weren’t looking at the friend on your left, his expression unfazed.

after

“You’re a jerk—” you start in firm protest, shutting altogether when his rough hands cup your clenching jaw. He nudges his nose with yours, pressing his lips against yours in a tentative, subdued challenge. His mouth is hot when you shiver under his timid yet dominant touch; the truth is you’re weak and seconds away from throwing your arms around his shoulders, clutching around his neck and tilting your head to grant him a better access to your mouth. You do that exactly, crumbling under his knowing touch, melting against the softness of his superficially raw affection, and you hate yourself for it.

“Jimin,” you start, when his mouth is on your neck, as he grunts your name against your skin. “I can’t—we can’t.”

“I,” he begins, swallowing a moan, “I cancelled every appointment I had this morning—”

“I’m talking about us.”

He furrows his eyebrows, biting back that hideous comeback of sorts ready on his tongue. There’s no us. What are you talking about. This is not what it looks like. You know all of them like the back of your hands. He’s either said them, voice like venom during heated, comforting nights or wears them on his sleeve. He might be kind, on a vague extent you’re not even sure about right now, but he’s not a liar. Not with you, at least.

Blinking once, you can see perfectly where he stands.

Somehow, even thought you knew, already fucking knew, this is it. This is how your heart shatters.

“We talked about this, though?” he looks for confirmation in your eyes, head tilted.

“Yes,” but that’s not enough, “But I can’t. Not anymore.” You try swallowing the lump in your throat, skin already freezing because of his body no longer on yours.

Jimin lies on your bed like that, half naked and now devoid of his safety net. You’re being an utterly, brave stupid right now: staring at him, the defined muscles you gripped many times before, you realise you’re letting go of someone you love, in a twisted way. A strangled voice in your head reminds you that you’re someone you love, too, and that has to count for something.

It’s worth a try, you think, his lips in a pout, trying to convince you; but, alas. He doesn’t bother, this time. He doesn’t ask you for mercy, doesn’t beg you to understand the situation he’s in. How this isn’t cheating, it’s a pause, she’s driving him crazy, y/n! He doesn’t ask for your time, for your body, for the warmth his supposedly wife-to-be should give him.

He gets up, reaches for his tee.

The silence is heavy on your heart. It’s a chant, now, the you’re doing your best, it had to be done, don’t cry—

He looks unfazed by all of this, grabbing clothes thrown all over the place, recollecting them slowly. He’s undoing his presence, deleting the evidence, reconnecting his pieces.

A part of you wishes for his goodbye, maybe a desperate love admission, but you know him, and if there’s something you’ve learned after all these years with him is that it won’t come out of his mouth.

You’re doing your best, it had to be done, don’t cry—maybe it’ll never come out.

He doesn’t look back: Jimin doesn’t turn around in his final steps towards your door. He reaches quietly for the handle, you can see right through your open bedroom door. Then, he nods to himself instead, waving imaginary goodbyes in his head.

Just like that he’s gone.

+

“I’m not saying you won’t miss his dick game,” Taehyung scoffs, stealing fries from you. “But, ouch, don’t punch me—I’m saying it had to be done.”

You sigh, playing with the sesame seeds in your plate.

“You know it. A wise side of you knows it, at least. Just because the guy told you nice things while balls deep inside of you it doesn’t mean he ever thought of leaving his fiancée for you. How long has it been, huh?”

“Since,” you scroll your shoulders, “I don’t know? Since they got engaged.”

“My point exactly. He gives her a diamond, they fight, they break up, he fucks you, then goes back to her crying and begging. Rinse and repeat, so many times until the other woman but not-really-because-we’re-on-a-pause---I’m talking about you, darling-- thinks he’s in love with her.”

“I know he’s not, Taehyung.”

“Smart girl,” he steals more from you, “Besides, in a couple weeks we’re going back home.”

“God, don’t remind me.”

He laughs, unlocking his phone. “Why’s that? I thought you were excited to finally go back. ‘S been a while since we spent the whole summer home.”

“Yeah, but that was before all of this. Why do you think I’ve never come back, all these years? I don’t wanna see Jimin showing off his fucking fiancée right in front of my face. My mother’s face. God. It’s gonna be sickening.”

“Huh.”

“Besides,” you begin, hurriedly, “Everybody we know is gonna be there—Lisa, Chaeyoung, Jaehwan… do I need to go on? Shit, Tae. You think anyone else knows?”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Shit. I don’t know why I agreed to this. Maybe I can still do something about it. A ticket refund?”

“You so do not want a ticket refund.”

“Hello, idiot? Have you not heard me? Which part of—”

“Shit, Jungkook has abs.”

A pregnant pause. You eye the lukewarm soda on your side.

“I’m—come again, please?”

“Since when he has Instagram? And a whole sleeve tattoo?”

[aquinoa]

My Muse | ft. Tsukishima Kei

-`,dedicated to @hinaaspanda​ for her belated birthday! ⹁՛-

muse

/myo͞oz/; noun

(in Greek and Roman mythology) each of nine goddesses, the daughters of Zeus and Mnemosyne, who preside over the arts and sciences.

a person or personified force who is the source of inspiration for a creative artist.

something Tsukishima thought he’d never find, until you came along.

pairing: Art Student!Tsukishima x Art Student!Reader (female)

genre: Art School!AU, fluff, angst if you squint

word count: 6345

warning: swearing, drinking, like one instance of hinting at the devil’s tango

A shaky breath escaped your lips as you braced yourself for your class' relentless nitpicking of your latest painting. Group critiques were the one thing you dreaded the most about art school.

"Could you explain your reasoning for that type of brushstroke?"

"The message is intriguing, but I'm not so sure about the techniques you used for the foreground portray what you intended."

"The colour scheme seems random." It's been over a month into the semester, but you could never get used to being in the hot seat and facing the criticisms of your peers.

"It looks like a lame Cy Twombly imitation to me. Did you do this in, what— five minutes?" This comment from a certain classmate particularly bothered you. You turned to glare at the culprit.

"Kei Tsukishima! Constructive criticism only, please." The art professor gasped. "How about you go next for your critique?" Tsukishima sighed and shifted his easel, revealing to the class his assignment.

As always, his canvas contained a masterpiece. His technical skills were insanely advanced and the whole class knew it; they could not keep quiet it about it during his crit. His own explanation for it, however, was lacklustre. Most of his responses to comments were the likes of "I don't know," or "I just felt like it." To you, that might've been what aggravated you about Tsukishima the most—he was so gifted, but he treated his pieces as if they were mere doodles. If only you had even a percentage of his technical skills.

You ruminated in your thoughts, as other students continued with their critiques until class ended. In the midst of the class packing up and leaving the studio, your eyes glanced over to Tsukishima a couple of seats down. His eyes eventually meet yours as he passed by, noticing how irritated you still were.

"Can I help you?" He asked.

"I'll have you know that painting took a long time to make." You began. "What you said during my crit stung a bit."

"It's called a critique, pipsqueak. What else do you want?" He rolled his eyes, turning his back to you and headed toward the exit.

"I'm not a pipsqueak!" You shrilled, jolting up from your seat. You took a deep breath. "At least be more considerate in my critique. Like—give me a specific thing to improve on?" The boy paused just before the doorway, his back still to you.

"Y/N, was it?" He asked.

"Yeah."

"Work on your hatching or something. Gives it more depth." He muttered before walking out. You glanced back at your piece for a second before tucking it away in your case and exiting the studio.

—&

Your body shivered from the evening breeze as you walked back to your apartment. As you rummaged for your keys in front of your door, a cheery voice greeted you from the next door down.

"Oi, Y/N!"

"Yamaguchi!" You beamed. Yamaguchi, your neighbour, was always a ray of sunshine. "How's your essay coming along?"

"Actually, I just submitted it earlier today! So, fingers crossed for that coveted C+!" The boy chuckled before he glanced at your discouraged look and raised a brow. "What happened to you? Rough day?" You nodded, letting out a sigh.

"We had group crits today in studio class. I was able to respond to the comments, but it was obvious what they thought about my work: my technique isn't good enough. God, there was this one particular guy in my class who was just so— so insensitive about it!"

"H-hey, don't mind the haters!" Yamaguchi butted in to calm you down. "He's probably just jealous of you." You raised a brow.

"Jealous of what? It just felt like he was punching down." You looked down, letting out a sigh. "I put a lot of thought into this piece and I thought it would show."

"You're talking about that piece you worked on last week right?" You nodded, Yamaguchi's mouth gaping open. "Wait— that one is so good! I've seen art galleries where they feature a white canvas with a singular black line painted! If those can end up in galleries, you're absolutely fine!" You chuckled, before he continued. "The message behind the art piece is just as important as the piece itself, if not more. And Y/N, you put a lot of thought to the message behind each of your pieces, which is awesome! Don't be too hard on yourself."

"Thanks, Yamaguchi." You grinned. "I honestly am beyond lucky to have ended up with you as a neighbour."

"Hey, I feel like I'm the lucky one having such a talented artist as a neighbour!" The boy grinned back before bidding you goodbye. You waved back and stepped inside your apartment.

—&

"Alright, folks. Now that we're a couple of months into the semester, it's about time to talk about your final term project." The studio professor began explaining the logistics and requirements of the final project. It was essentially another painting but with higher stakes. "Keep in mind: while the technique is absolutely important, your projects also need depth and meaning. Otherwise, you are going to have quite a rough critique. Let me tell you, the other professors can be ruthless!" The professor chuckled. "Now, on with the class." You groaned. The only thing worse than being criticized on the spot by your class was getting criticized on the spot by a group of professors—actual artists. If you were gonna ace the final project, you were gonna have to grind hard.

In the middle of the period, you placed your brush on your easel to take a quick break. You took a deep breath and rolled back your shoulders before letting your eyes wandered around the class—from the wide window pane wall on your left as it welcomed the sunlight throughout the studio, to your classmates on your right as they either quietly worked on their next pieces or chatted amongst each other. Your eyes eventually fall on Tsukishima, a couple of seats from you, as he's quietly slouched over his canvas with a Filbert brush in hand.

"He's probably just jealous of you." These particular words from Yamaguchi left you baffled even after a few days since that interaction. Why would Tsukishima—that gifted asshole—be jealous of you? What could you have for him to be jealous of? Compared to his skills? If anything, you should feel jealous of h—

That was not a thought you wanted to finish. You must've stared at Tsukishima for too long, since his attention has suddenly shifted to you, with a puzzled look.

"What do you want?" He asked.

"I—" You stammered, trying to come up with an excuse. "I...was just wondering if you could...share more brush technique tips...?" You grinned feigningly. The boy glanced over at your canvas then back at you.

"Figures. Looks like you really need it." He snickered, causing you to scoff.

"God, you are hard to talk to."

"Oi, I didn't say no." He rebutted. "I can't be bothered by explaining it to you, though. Since you're already slacking off anyway, just watch me." He adjusted his glasses before focusing back on his own canvas. You rolled your eyes at the ego of this guy, but was puzzled at his odd offer. You kept your eyes on his brush and took mental notes as he continued painting. You were fascinated by the advanced brush techniques he applied as if it was child's play. After watching his brush for a while, your eyes eventually wandered over to his hand. Then to his broad shoulders. Then to the pale nape of his neck. Then to his short, ruffled, blonde hair. Then to the golden-brown eyes behind his glasses, a little sorry that they a lack a glint to them.

"Tsukishima! Do you mind if I talk to you for a second?" The professor asked as she walked up to his easel. It was more than enough to snap you out of your gaze. You darted your head back to your own easel and continued to work away at your canvas, with your flustered confusion blocking out Tsukishima's conversation with the professor. Why did he leave you in such a daze just now?

When the clock signaled the end of class, the class began to pack up. As you put your paint away, you glanced over at Tsukishima once more as he quickly packed up his supplies. This time, he looked more annoyed than usual.

"Oi, Tsukishima." You called to him. "What did the professor talk to you about?"

"None of your business." He retorted without batting an eye as he grabbed his bag and walked out of the studio without another word. Quite rude, but he seemed in a bad mood, so you disregarded it. You grabbed your things and left the studio to continue with the rest of your day.

—&

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

You jolted awake from the knock on your door. You reached for your phone to check the time—it was noon. It was only mere hours ago when you finished pulling an all-nighter to work on an assignment because your inspiration apparently likes to strike at 3am. The knocking continued. You groaned as you sat up and grudgingly made your way over to the front door. You opened the door and peeked out to find a tall, familiar figure standing off to your left.

"Tsukishima?!" For the last few classes, your interactions with Tsukishima have been scarce. He'd somehow manage to insert an insult whenever you'd ask him a question. There were also moments in class where you swore you felt a glance coming from his direction, but when you turned your head to him, he was occupied with his canvas. Seeing him now at your doorstep was a surreal experience.

"Y/N?" He looked at you quizzically. "You live here? Whatever. What do you want?"

"What do you mean "What do you want?"," You mocked sluggishly. "You knocked on my door— what do you want?"

"Wait, you thought I knocked on your door? Dumbass." He snickered. You rolled your eyes and hit his arm.

"I'm too tired for this, Kei." You retorted, leaning against the door frame. "Who are you here to see, then?"

"I'm here to see a friend." He pointed over to Yamaguchi's door and—as if on cue—his door opened and a frantic Yamaguchi stepped out.

"S-sorry, Tsukki!" Yamaguchi shrilled. "My readings took longer than I expected!" He caught sight of you and waved. "Oh! Hi Y/N! I see you've met Tsukki…shima." He chuckled softly.

"Hey Yamaguchi!" You waved back. "Wait, you call him Tsu—that's so cute! I wanna call him that too!" Tsukishima furiously shook his head.

"No way I'm letting anyone else call me Tsukki. I only make an exception for Yamaguchi." He sighed, turning to Yamaguchi. "She's in my studio art class."

"Unfortunately." You muttered under your breath.

"Oi, I heard that." Tsukishima glared.

"Hey Yamaguchi, how do you know Tsukki?" You asked, teasingly emphasizing the latter name. Yamaguchi chuckled.

"Oh, I've been friends with Tsukki since we were young!"

"That's insane. You're way too nice to be hanging around Tsukki."

"Y/N, I will tell Yamaguchi you thought I was knocking on your door, if you don't stop calling me Tsukki." Tsukishima threatened.

"You just did though." You furrowed your brows.

"Wait Y/N, did you just wake up?" Yamaguchi asked.

"Yeah, Tsukki woke me up." You pouted.

"Serves you right, pipsqueak." Tsukishima scoffed.

"Oi, I'm no pipsqueak! It's not my fault you tower over everyone, you bean pole."

"I'd rather be a bean pole—if it means not being caught in public with those on." He pointed down at your panda slippers. You gasped theatrically.

"How dare you insult my precious pandas?"

"Alright, you two!" Yamaguchi finally chimed in. "I get it. You two fight like a married couple. Horribly, I might add." He chuckled, causing both you and Tsukishima to scoff. "Anyways Tsukki, let's get going and let Y/N get some rest." Yamaguchi bid you goodbye, while Tsukishima gave you one last glance before he turned around and followed the other. "Seriously, Tsukki. Just use the doorbell next time!" You chuckled, hearing your neighbour lecture the bean pole as they walked away.

When you stepped back into your apartment, you rubbed the nape of your neck. You've almost forgotten why you've antagonized Tsukishima so much. Aside from the rocky start and the constant teasing, he's never been inherently bad to you. It's almost as if he's nice to you in his own, subtle way.

Nah. It must've been the sleep deprivation talking. You let out another yawn and went back to get some more shut-eye.

—&

The deadline for the studio class' term project was approaching. For the past couple of weeks, you've often found yourself spending late evenings painting away alone in the studio after class. The warm, quiet atmosphere of the studio with golden rays shining through the window pane as the sun set was where you've lately felt the most motivated. One particular evening in the studio, you were stuck on how to execute a certain portion of your painting's foreground.  If you were going to impress the professors during your term project critique, you had to go above and beyond with your technique, considering your track record of your mediocre group critiques. You leaned your head back along with a sigh. You tapped the handle of your paintbrush on your temple, wishing for an idea.

"Y/N?" Startled, you turned to the familiar, baritone voice stood by the studio doorway.

"Tsukishima? H-how long have you been there?"

"Relax, I'm just here to pick up some paint that I forgot." You sighed and turned back to your canvas. He walked over to the supply shelves behind you to grab a few tubes of paint, placing them in his bag, before turning to you. After a while, you couldn't help but feel irked by the boy looking over your shoulder from behind.

"So—" You decided to break the silence. "It's still a work in progress, but what do you think of it?"

"Are you sure you want to know?" He snickered, causing you to groan. At this point, you've grown desensitized of his teasing.

"I'm serious. I want to do well for the term project. I'm just stuck on how to paint this part of the foreground." You motioned to the portion of the canvas before the boy stepped closer to take another look at your painting.

"Give me your brush." You reached out your brush to him without batting an eye, expecting him to take it. To your surprise, you instead felt his hand firmly gripping onto yours.

"Ts-Tsukishima?" You froze, bewitched by his sudden touch. His hand guided you and the brush throughout the canvas, using colour combinations and brush strokes foreign to you, but seemingly simple to him. Your eyes couldn't help but focus on his hand that was clung onto yours. You held your breath. At that moment, it felt like time stood still. When he finished, he gently released your hand. The warmth of his touch lingered on your hand—and on your mind—for a bit longer. He briefly explained the techniques he applied, when he noticed your still flustered reaction.

"Huh— oi, don't get the wrong idea. It was the only way I could've done it without you getting in trouble for cheating or something." He rebutted, seemingly unfazed by his actions. "Besides, you probably wouldn't have been able to do it if I just explained it to you."

"Whatever." You rolled your eyes, any flustered feelings you felt faded away. You looked back at the portion of your canvas just painted. As usual, Tsukishima's methods were impressive and helpful. "Thanks." You uttered under your breath, before continuing to work. He nodded before looking out the window.

"It's getting late. Shouldn't you head home?" He asked as he picked up his bag, about to leave.

"It’s fine," You shook your head, keeping your eyes on your canvas. "I've gone home later than this in the past. I have to work on this." The boy sighed and paused before reaching for your portfolio case.

"I didn't know you were this stubborn too." He dangled your portfolio case and made his way out the studio. "It's time to call it a day if you want this back." You turned to him as he slung your portfolio case over his shoulder with a sly smirk before stepping out the studio. You groaned.

"Oi! Come back here!" You shoved your supplies into your bag, slipped off your apron and grabbed your canvas before rushing out the studio to catch up to him as he kept his leisurely pace. Panting, you caught up to him and snatched your portfolio case back. "What the hell, Tsukishima?" He snickered.

"I'm heading over to Yamaguchi's place anyway, so I wasn't actually going to run away with it."

"You better not have. Wait— why are you headed to Yamaguchi's so late?"

"I'm staying over. My brother's bringing his girlfriend over to our house tonight, so you already know what's bound to happen." He shuddered. "Frankly, I don't want to hear any of that shit." You chuckled.

—&

A serene silence fell upon the two. Before you knew it, you found yourself walking back to the apartment complex together. As you walked, you leaned your head back and took a breath of the evening breeze. You turned your head to Tsukishima, who's engrossed himself in his music, a bit of which you could almost hear from his headphones. You felt your cheeks warm up. Walking beside him right now made you reminisce of the countless romantic scenes you've read where the boy walks the girl home. You shook your head. No, this wasn't one of those tales.

"Why are you looking at me this time?" Tsukishima raised a brow at you, slinging his headphones around his neck. "You've been doing that a lot lately."

"Oh—" You scratched your head. "I swear it's just a coincidence. Maybe you're just looking at me all the time." He rolled his eyes before another silence fell upon the two. A thought suddenly crossed your mind. "I was just wondering, remember when you stormed off after the professor talked to you?"

"Hm."

"What happened? Did she say something bad?" The boy suddenly grimaced. Your curiosity grew, but regretted asking him. He let out a sigh.

"She's concerned about how I'll do in the final term project. That my track record of 'shallow responses' during my crits indicate the kind of work I'll bring to the final critique. And that I didn't feel 'inspired' enough." He shrugged. "As long as I paint something impressive to my audience, I should do fine."

It dawned on you that he has the exact opposite dilemma as you. While you lacked the technique, yet strived in the depth of your pieces, he had insanely advanced skills, but struggled to find drive.

"Don't you want to do more than 'fine', though?" You began. "I mean—isn't that the point of art? To express that of which your muse—let's say—has inspired you?"

"My muse?" Tsukishima raised a brow.

"Yeah, your muse! Something—or someone—that is a source of inspiration for you." He paused, gazing at you before he tsked.

"Odd."

"What do you mean 'odd'?" You furrowed you brows, mocking his tone. "You must have a muse. Something you like that makes you go 'I want to paint something based on that'?" He shook his head. "I don't buy it. Tell me, Kei. You like music, right? Doesn't it make you feel things and envision things when you listen to it?"

"I guess, but it doesn't make me want to paint it."

"Scratch that, then. How about, I'll give you an example of a muse of mine:" You pointed upward. "that."

"Huh—" He looked up as well. "The sky?" You nodded.

"I love the sky. It gives you something different everyday. From the glint of the stars out tonight, the funny shapes you make out from clouds, to the gorgeous colours that sunsets reveal—which is a personal favourite." You sighed in glee.

"Anyone can paint a sunset, though." He rebutted. "I just don't see how the sky would impress the professors. Wouldn't it make you a more worthwhile artist to show off the most challenging techniques you can pull off to succeed?" You gritted your teeth.

"It's not about what you paint—it's why you're painting it!" Your plead echoed around both of you. This took Tsukishima aback. You lowered your head, your heart sinking. It was as if every small, condescending remark he's said has piled up and overwhelmed you. "Not everyone is as gifted as you, Tsukishima." You whimpered softly. "I've always admired your talent." Silence fell once more.

"Y/N, I—"

"You know I have been practicing the things you've taught me. I know I'm not the best at them, but at least I'm improving. At least I'm trying." There was a shakiness growing in your voice.  "I don't know if I'm upset at you or at myself, but—" As you two approached the apartment complex, you turned to the boy one last time with a pained look in your eyes. "but can't you be even the tiniest bit considerate of me?" You turned your back to him and marched back into your apartment, slamming the door shut behind you.

Tsukishima lowered his head, gritted his teeth, and cursed under his breath as Yamaguchi let him inside as well.

—&

For the next couple of weeks, you and Tsukishima ceased talking to each other, not even looking at each other's way. It perplexed you why you've been as affected by him as you were that night. Maybe it was your confusion from how he constantly teetered between belittling you and helping you. Maybe it was your disappointment that you've invested yourself to him but he never reciprocated in the end, but never again. You've convinced yourself that he was nothing more but a mere classmate from studio class—always has been and always will be.  

The end of the term was nearly approaching and the stress continued to pile up. You've been dedicating much more time into perfecting your art pieces for the final project. One particular weekend, cooped up in your apartment while trying to finish up your painting, you hit upon some good ol' artist block. You scratched your head as you tried to find inspiration. You peeked out your window. Nothing but gray clouds today. You turned back to your canvas, frustrated at how you feel you're so close to finishing, yet so far. Eyeing the details, you noticed the particular spot that Tsukishima added that evening in the studio. Your flustered feelings began to creep back into your mind.

Nope.

You ruffled your hair furiously before wailing out a long, exasperated scream for what felt like forever. Once you calmed down, you leaned back onto your seat. Oddly enough, screaming helped you clear your thoughts and frustrations. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes.

The silence was broken by a sudden, frantic knocking on your door. You walked over and opened the door to find a concerned Yamaguchi.

"Y/N! I heard screaming. A-are you okay?" He asked frantically.

"Yamaguchi! I'm fine, sorry about that." You laughed nervously as you rubbed the nape of your neck. "I was just blowing off steam from the stress of school, I guess." Your neighbour sighed in relief.

"Man, Y/N. You scared me!" He complained. "It's getting that tense, huh?" You nodded. He took notice of your messy hair and your weary demeanor. "You sure look like you need a break. " He chuckled.

"Gee thanks, Yamaguchi."

"Oh!" His eyes suddenly brightened up before placing a hand on your shoulder. "Come over and have a drink or two! It's the weekend, you should let loose!" A drink was probably what you needed right now, anyway.

"Yeah, that sounds pretty nice." You conceded. Yamaguchi beamed in response. You closed your door and followed your neighbour into his unit.

"Make yourself at home." Yamaguchi made his way to the fridge. "I'll grab drinks. Any preferences?"

"The hardest ones you've got." You both laughed.

"Gotcha." You sat down on the couch and leaned back. You glanced around. You spot a familiar set of brushes and paints—the ones from the studio. You looked around once more until you spotted him sat by the balcony.

"Tsukishima?" You caught the blonde boy in the middle of ogling at you, seemingly somewhat buzzed already. His eyes widened the moment your eyes met, and quickly looked away. He placed his headphones back on and took another swig from his bottle.

"Sorry, Y/N." Yamaguchi chimed in as he headed towards you with two red cups. "I figured if I mentioned Tsukki was staying over tonight, you'd refuse to come over." You shook your head, smiling reassuringly.

"Don't worry, Yamaguchi. He didn't hurt me or anything." You sighed. "I overreacted a bit too." He handed you a cup and sat down beside you.

"Tsukki told me what happened. He regretted being so brash with you."

"He did?" Yamaguchi nodded, glancing over at Tsukishima.

"You want to know how he's gotten so good at painting?"

"Sure."

"The thing his professor told him—that he lacks inspiration in his work—it's not unfounded. It's something he's struggled with long before he started art school. He figured that if he explored more techniques—that if he got better—he'll eventually find something to inspire him. He's gotten so talented, but he rarely feels fulfilled from his work. It's made him feel like an inadequate artist, which is why he's resorted to teasing and such."

"Oh." You frowned. "I never thought of it like that."

"Don't worry! I believe he's recently found that source of inspiration. You should see the painting he's done for your term project!" Yamaguchi leaned back on the couch. "Tsukki's never been the best at being positive or open, so you'll have to forgive him. The teasing get annoying, surely, but he means well. He's teased me since we were kids, but I've come to realize that that's how he shows he's invested in someone."

"No way—I don't buy it."

"I know it's hard to believe, but it's true! You'll see." He grinned. "I'm not sure if you'll see Super Drunk Tsukishima tonight, but he can be quite sentimental." He chuckled.

"Now that would be a sight to see." You snickered. "What kind of drunk are you, Yamaguchi?"

"There's only one way to find out, right?" He snickered as you both clinked your cups and guzzled down your drinks.

A few drinks later, it didn't take long to find yourself drunk and beside a passed-out, mumbling Yamaguchi on the couch. Zoned out, you let out a couple of hiccups. You suddenly caught a moving figure from the corner of your eye. You sluggishly turned your head to find Tsukishima stumbling to grab another bottle from the fridge. You sneered loudly.

"Tsssukki—can I call you Tsukki? I'm gonna call you Tsukki—someone should cut you off."

"Cut me off? I paced myself—" The boy rebutted, flimsily pointing at you. He hiccuped. "unlike you. Take a look at yourself, Y/N. And look what you did to Yamagusshi!"

"Pffft. He did that to himself." You cackled. He groaned before opening his bottle and shuffling back, sitting down on the balcony floor. After a second, you decided to follow him out and plop down beside him. "Tsukki, I'm sorryyy—" You turned to him and pouted. "I yelled at'cha that one time. I didn't know y'were sad tooo." Taken aback, the boy furrowed his brows, pointing the neck of his beer bottle towards you.

"Why are you sorry? I'm the one who upset you." He pointed the neck of the bottle to himself, his cheeks flushed from the alcohol. "I'm the asshole here." Your drunk ass couldn't help but burst into laughter.

"Asshole! You said 'asshole'!" You continued to cackle, leaning back too much as you began to lose balance. Before you knew it, Tsukishima reached out, catching you with one hand grasped onto your wrist and his other hand wrapped around your waist.

"Oi, be careful." He gently pulled you back upward as you continued to giggle to yourself, still seemingly unaware of his actions. You finally realized what just occurred the moment you felt his hand pull away from your waist. Flustered, you looked away for a moment and grumbled.

"You sure are an asshhole, Kei." You muttered, trying hard not to slur your words. "Y'know—you i-insult me all the ti—"

"I know, and I'm sorr—"

"But y-you also do these things that make m-my heart skip a beat—"

"Y/N—" He stammered.

"A-and I get all confused about you, and I never know what to feel—"

"Y/N."

"I mean—w-why me? Why aren't you like this to other people?"

"Because I don't care about other people." Tsukishima's words finally cut you off. You gazed at him as the moonlight lit up his flustered face. You felt his grip on your wrist slide down as he gently held your hand. He locked his eyes onto yours. You hoped your flushed cheeks from the alcohol were enough to hide your blushing as he slowly leaned his face closer.

THUD!

You both turned your head back into the main room to find Yamaguchi on the foot of the couch.

"Tsukki..." He groaned. "Bathroom...puke...n-now..." Tsukishima sighed. He looked at you once more before he stammered.

"I should go help him..." You nodded, still flustered. He released your hand as he rose to his feet and clumsily headed over to Yamaguchi to help him. You gently hit your cheeks with the palms of your hands. You figured those two would be occupied for a while, so you decided to trudge back to your apartment without bidding them goodbye. You felt as if your emotions were at their limit, anyway. It was going to be one hell of a hangover the next day.

—&

You couldn't remember a lot from that night at Yamaguchi's place, but the feeling of Tsukishima's hand grasped onto yours still lingered on your mind. You weren't sure if you were imagining it or not—or if you just wanted it to happen. None of that mattered right now; there wasn't much time left before the end of the semester. For the remainder of the time, you focused solely on schoolwork, determined on creating the best final product for your studio class' final term project to your ability. You knew you still had ways to go, but you've surely improved your technique. You were grateful to Tsukishima, but you didn't have the time to entertain anymore confusion from your emotions.

"How could I have forgotten the varnish?" You grumbled as you paced your way to the studio one day, picking up some supplies. Right before entering, you took notice of the figures already in the studio: Tsukishima in front of a small panel of art professors. You gasped and hid behind the door. His critique for the term project must've been today. You peeked your head out the door to take a closer look inside.

Your eyes couldn't help but focus on Tsukishima, surprised by how much more devotedly he seems answering the professors' comments; a huge contrast compared to his previous demeanor during previous crits in class. You smiled. It was admirable seeing him like that. You glanced over to the painting he presented. It was a beautiful depiction of the sky at dusk: a gorgeous mix of colours at sunset with an ethereal sky of stars above. Even from a distance, it wasn't hard to appreciate his mastery of technique. Another detail of the painting caught your eye: the female figure in the middle whose presence was subtle, yet significant. As you pieced together her features, you slowly realized that the figure in his painting strongly resembled you.

"Hold on—" The sound of applause and chairs scraping on the floor interrupted your train of thought. You gasped as you hid around the corner, waiting for the studio to clear. You heard the voices fading off as they walked out of the studio and waited a few moments before deciding the coast was clear. You snuck into the studio, only to find one more person across the room.

"I saw you peeking, you know." Tsukishima remarked, packing up his artwork. "You're not stealthy at all."

"I figured." You sighed. "I'm just here to pick up some varnish for my project. How did your crit go?"

"I think it went well." He rubbed the nape of his neck. "I never talked this much during crits, but it was easier since I had some inspiration to drive me."

"Hey, that's awesome! I knew you had it in you!" You grinned. "It was a beautiful painting, by the way. It's funny—for a second, I thought the person in your painting sort of looked like me." You laughed awkwardly. The boy raised a brow.

"I painted Urania, one of the Nine Muses in Greek mythology. The Muse of astronomy. So yeah—don't flatter yourself."

"I guess you took my advice literally, huh." You replied, grimacing. You went over to the supply cabinet to pick up the varnish. The boy took notice of your change in tone and scratched his head.

"Sorry. That was unnecessary."

"it's fine." Silence fell upon the studio. Tsukishima finally cleared his throat.

"I mean—that's at least what I told the professors who she was. There's a hidden layer to the painting that I didn't mention."

"What do you mean?"

"What you said earlier—that you thought Urania resembled you. It's because I painted her to resemble you, and the way you admired the sky. Did you think it was a coincidence she looked like you in a painting where I also painted what you said was your muse?"

"W-why paint me, then?" You stammered. He sighed. You sensed a change in his demeanor.

"It baffled me how each crit in class, you're always so adamant on the message of your paintings. It was something I admire about you— and something I wanted to be able to do. Through you, I learned to find inspiration from even the most mundane things." He slowly made his way across the room to you. You grew flustered.

"Tsukishima..." You took a step back, getting backed up by the wall. He stopped right in front of you, towering over you. You felt your cheeks warm up. He took the jar of varnish from your hand and tucked it in his back pocket.

"I meant what I said back at Yamaguchi's place—that I didn't care about anyone else but you. So hearing what you said that night..."  A deep, golden shade of sunlight shone through the window pane and onto you as the sun began to set. You reached for Tsukishima’s shirt and gently tugged on it. He reached for your other hand and held it. He cupped his other hand on your cheek and tilted your head upward towards him. "You said you didn't believe I didn't have a muse, but I swore on it. Now—now it's different, because I've found you, Y/N." He leaned his face closer, your eyes fixed onto each other's. "You're my muse." He closed his eyes and gently pressed his lips against yours. You closed your eyes and kissed back. As your kisses grew deeper, you tugged on his shirt a bit stronger to pull his body closer to yours. He intertwined your fingers together, holding each other's hand tighter. This all felt right. Eventually, you lightly pulled away from each other, panting softly. You fixed your gaze on his golden-brown eyes once more. There was now a strong glint to them, unlike before. It made you happy.

"I'm honoured to be your muse, Kei." You softly replied, grinning widely. Hearing your reply, Tsukishima let out a soft laugh—it was the happiest you've seen him look. You liked seeing him this happy. He sighed.

"Here." He let go of your hand to reach for his back pocket and return the jar of varnish. "I’ll walk you home. I'm staying over at Yamaguchi's tonight." You took the jar and tucked it away in your bag. He followed you out of the studio and you began walking back to the apartment complex together.

"Your brother brought his girlfriend over again?" He nodded. "That's been happening more frequently. Doesn't it get annoying?"

"A bit. It's fine, though—" He leaned closer and whispered in your ear. "Soon enough, I might have to kick him out this time." He smirked. Growing flustered again, you gasped.

"Tsukishima, you pervert!" He sneered before speeding up his pace and leaving you behind. You scoffed, chasing after him. "Oi, get back here!"

—&

You gently slapped your cheeks with the palms of your hands—psyching yourself up. Your critique for your final term project is mere minutes away. You muttered to yourself as you paced back and forth in front of the studio.

"I can do this. I can do this. I can do this. I can do this."

"You can do this." Tsukishima repeated, having your painting in hand. "You have nothing to worry about."

"What if it's not good enough?" You fretted.

"You've worked so hard this whole term. I mean, look at this." He took another look at the canvas. "It's both meticulous and insightful. They'll love it."

"Are you su—" He promptly handed you back the canvas, interrupting you.

"They'll love it." He repeated once more. He leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on your forehead. "There. Only because you can't reach me from down there." He snickered, while you rolled your eyes. You heard a voice from the studio call your name. "Go knock 'em dead." You smiled at him once more before stepping into the studio. A shaky breath escaped your lips as you braced yourself for the professors' relentless nitpicking of your latest painting. Group critiques were the one thing you dreaded the most about art school. However, now with better faith in your skills and in your muse, you figured you'll be alright.

[occasional-drabbles]

Compress Hates Apologies

Okay so!!! I got into a LOV mood today thanks to re-watching the summer camp arc, and finally did a drabble with my OC Miyuki, partially from Compress's POV! This is pre-relationship, and I couldn't find a way to smoothly add it in, but Compress had been planning to confess to her after the mission.

Warnings: Amnesia, descriptions of injuries but nothing too serious (Bruises and scrapes, mostly), probably a lot of OOCness but fight me it makes me happy

“I’m sorry”

Two little words, and the alarms in Atsuhiro’s brains sounded. They’re never good to hear. It means there is something to apologize for. And in their line of work, there’s terrifying possibilities.

Best case scenario, it’s just an attack too close for comfort, missed footing that is easily corrected.

Worst case scenario…

He dismissed that thought for now, ducking down to dodge an attack aimed at his head, keeping his focus on Miyuki. She was planning something, and he couldn’t tell what. But he couldn’t focus on her, he needed to trust that she’d take care of herself. Right now, he needs to get this little hero off of his back. Sure, he could compress him, but he has no use for him, so why bother?

As Atsuhiro moved to use his cane as a weapon to hit him with, the hero completely froze, and seemed… confused. His eyes glazed over with a lack of focus, his drawn back fist slowly lowering and loosening.

“What in the world…?” He mumbled, his eyes widening behind his partially broken mask, turning his attention quickly towards where Miyuki was. He focused on her just in time to see her collapse. Ignoring the hero, he ran towards her, unable to help flinching with the ‘thud’ that followed her hitting the ground. Hopefully she didn’t break anything, and won’t end up with a concussion…

He reached her just as Kurogiri’s gates started to open for all of them, giving them the chance to finally escape, as all of the heroes they’d just been struggling with had been immobilized similar to the one he’d been going toe to toe with. Wasting no time, he scooped up Miyuki and carried her through the portal. Damage can be assessed once they’re all safe.

The portal deposited them in the main room of their hideout, which was secure enough. He carefully put her on the couch, the most comfortable place for her to be laid down, because like hell he was putting her on the floor. Especially since whatever she did seemed to have been the reason they could escape.

I’m sorry…

What was she apologizing for? Was it just an apology for not being able to warn them better? Not doing it sooner? Did she know she’d pass out? All of that seemed likely, knowing her… but it felt like there was a greater weight to it. Like there was something more… He’ll have to ask her when she wakes up.

If she wakes up, a part of him thought. But he dismissed it as the rest of the League came filing in through the portals. They all seemed relatively exhausted, Twice was limping with parts of his suit torn (though his mask was still thankfully in tact), Spinner’s left eye was already starting to swell, and Toga and Magne both sported some forming bruises. His own coat had a few tears, and he had a scratch on his forehead that he could feel throbbing now that he could take a moment to think about it, thanks to a particularly hard hit having broken off the top corner of his mask. A shame, too. He quite liked this one.

“That was fun!” Toga chimed excitedly, somehow still having enough energy to bounce in place as she started to unstrap some of her combat gear then and there. The blood tanks, the extra knife storage on her thighs, all of it was being put with surprising care against the bar for the moment. Perhaps it’s the fact that she had seen plenty of blood today that she was still happy despite their forced retreat.

“It was epic! That was terrifying!” Came Twice’s response, seeming to at least partially agree with his young friend, groaning as he perched at the bar, spinning just a little as he surveyed the others. No doubt taking in the damages, just as Atsuhiro had just done. Dabi simply grunted in response, his hands shoved in his pockets as usual. He seemed the least ruffled by their little excursion, but then again he was their best ranged fighter. He didn’t need to get in the thick of it.

“That was way more of a response than we should have gotten…” Spinner mused. Or well, pouted, as he set aside his sword and took a seat near Twice, taking the chance to catch his breath, and accepting the ice pack that Toga was putting together for his eye.

Magne came back with the first aid kits that were kept around the base, setting one at the bar for that trio, and bringing the other over to the couch, where Atsuhiro was sitting on the arm and checking over Miyuki as much as he dared, and Dabi was leaning against the wall with his eyes shut.

“What happened to her?” She asked, letting Compress tend to himself while she took her turn checking over Miyuki, checking her for a fever and any obvious injuries. “Small fever, some scrapes and definitely going to have bruising, but I don’t see anything else.” She announced, to anyone who was paying attention.

Atsuhiro gave a small shrug, finally taking off his mask and balaclava in order to tend to the scrape on his head as best as he could. Though, Magne was helping him after he seemed to keep missing where the injury was with the cleaning wipe.

“I’m not sure…” He admitted, sounding almost guilty as he shut his eyes, hissing a little as she put a disinfectant on the cut. “I heard her give an apology, then the heroes all just seemed to… freeze.”

Toga climbed up right next to Twice, kicking her feet and frowning, her eyebrows furrowed. “But why would she apologize? Whatever she did got us out of there! It was so cool!” She beamed.

“I’m not sure, but she must have expected repercussions. Be it from us, the heroes, or maybe even her own quirk?” Spinner offered, though didn’t sound too sure of himself.

It’s true that they didn’t know much about the limits of her quirk… but it was to make people forget her, not to paralyze or disorient them. So it’s not likely to be her quirk, as near as Atsuhiro could tell.

Dabi had his eyes half open now, looking at Miyuki before scoffing. “I’m going to go lay down.” He announced before leaving the room. No one really said anything on it, figuring he was done with people for the day, not that anyone blames him.

Spinner ended up going to do the same after he’d tended to what he could, dragging his sword with him after wrapping it back up, and keeping the ice pack over his eye. Toga, Twice, and Magne stayed out with Compress for now, chatting amongst themselves and recounting their individual battles while waiting for Miyuki to wake up.

It took over an hour before a soft groan broke the silence, the group having migrated to be sitting around the couch. Twice and Toga were on the ground, Twice laying on the floor with his head in Toga’s lap as she ran her fingers through it, absently putting little braids in it, but avoiding his stitching. Magne was leaning against the back of the couch, Compress content to stay on the arm of the couch where he could best see Miyuki’s face. Toga heard the groan better than any of the others, having been the one speaking. She immediately froze before lighting up, scrambling up to her knees so quickly that Twice’s head thunked to the ground, but she ignored his complaints as she shuffled over to get in Miyuki’s face, despite Magne carefully putting her hand on the younger girl’s shoulder and trying to nudge her back.

“You’re awake! You had us really worried, you know that?” Toga asked, absolutely beaming down at her other sister figure.

Miyuki finally managed to open her eyes, rubbing at her head as though it ached, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Who…?” She mumbled, pulling her legs up a bit closer to herself as she worked on sitting up.

Something wasn’t right….

Toga tilted her head for a moment before just laughing “It’s Toga, silly! You must have hit your head when you fell!” She tried, not too concerned just yet.

“Toga…?” Miyuki mimicked, slowly curling up in the corner of the couch, similar to how she did when she first got to the base… before she knew them.

Atsuhiro felt his heart drop to his stomach before she had the chance to speak again, a sick feeling in his gut.

“I don’t remember you.”

Toga blinked a few times as it slowly seemed to register. “Don’t… remember me?” She echoed, shifting to sit back on her feet. Twice was sitting cross legged beside her, having to put his mask back on at some point, but openly surprised at the admission.

Miyuki shook her head a little, hugging her knees to her chest.

“Do you remember who you are?” Magne asked, keeping her tone soft, and careful not to crowd her.

It took too much thought for Atsuhiro’s comfort for her to answer. “Miyuki… that’s my name… right? Miyuki… Nakashima?”

Magne nodded, her posture relaxing a bit. “Okay, that’s something at least. Do you remember any of us?” She asked, gesturing to the four of them around her. Miyuki started with Twice, staring at him thoughtfully for a bit before shaking her head, repeating the process with Toga. She focused on Magne next, and again remembered nothing.

Then she focused on Atsuhiro, and he thought his heart was going to stop. There was none of that familiarity in her eyes. No familiarity, no amusement, or mischief, no relief… nothing. Just… confusion. And a bit of fear. He managed to keep from flinching when she shook her head again. “I’m sorry…” Came her soft apology. Atsuhiro was starting to hate those words.

Magne gave her a soft smile, gently smoothing out her hair, getting some of it out of her hair. It was a mess, but that wasn’t important right now. “That’s okay, dear.” She reassured softly. “I’m thinking you just pushed your quirk, and lost your own memories.”

Twice perked up at that “That’s why everyone froze! They forgot what they were doing! How can you lose your own memories! Keep track of that shit!”

Toga seemed relieved that that was all it was. “Will you get your memories back??” She asked eagerly, trying once again to get in Miyuki’s face, held back by Twice this time, who caught her in a playful headlock.

Miyuki considered before giving an uncertain shrug. She was back to not talking much.

“That’s okay.” Atsuhiro finally said, giving her one of his signature charming smiles, even if he didn’t feel like it. She needed their support, so she gets it. His feelings be damned. She’s surrounded by strangers with hardly any memories to her name, he needs to focus on her. “We can help you try to get those memories back, and in the meantime get you up to speed.”

His reassurance seemed to be what she needed, as she gave a hesitant nod and uncurled a tiny bit. At least she was opening up to them quicker than she did the first time. It probably helped that they knew her better now.

“Wait… how do we tell Boss?” Toga asked, frowning. “He may not like having one member down for the count…”

“Yeah, she can’t do her information stuff if she doesn’t remember anything! We should kick her out! She’s useless like this!”

Magne huffed a bit and rolled her eyes behind her sunglasses. “I can tell him when he gets back from his meeting with his ‘Master’. Or we can have Kurogiri do it or something. We just need to see how things go. But she can still help, so long as she wants to.” She insisted. Then she turned her focus back to Miyuki. “In the meantime, you should get some rest. It’s been a busy day for you. For all of us.” She said, expression softening some.

“Compress, do you mind-”

“Not in the slightest, my dear.” Atsuhiro answered before she could even finish, standing from the couch and offering a hand to Miyuki. Remembering how much she always seemed to appreciate his showmanship, he even gave a playful bow, taking his hat off and everything. Hearing the faint, familiar giggle as she took his hand, he felt some of his anxiety about the situation pass. It really would be okay. She was still Miyuki.

She was still the woman he’d fallen for.

[mellifluoushood]

okay since you said someone (I forget the tag, my apologies!) bought you edibles, I’m assuming you have some sort of experience with them, so would you ever be willing to write about getting high/doing edibles with Calum or better yet Cashton? I love your writing so much! xx

ah yes, @calumscalm bought me edibles because she is a doll and i love nadya

i have experience smoking, but i don’t have any experience with edibles, that’s why nadya decided to order some for me lol. but, i have several fics about getting stoned with calum, but i don’t have any with both calum and ashton. so, here you go my dear! i hope smoking with the both of them will do! if not, send in another request about edibles specifically and i’ll write it after i’ve tried them!

here are the calum fics i was talking about: (thin white lies) and today, i saw the whole world, and it was right in front of me (this contains smut!)

A/N: also, warning, this got a lot smuttier than i intended, but hey uh, here we are. there’s no sex but there’s sexual imagery. 

“Why are we listening to Kid Cudi?” Ashton asks, his nimble fingers taking the joint from his mate’s grasp. Calum rolls his eyes, resting his head on the back of the sofa, looking at the dark, curly haired man with absolute annoyance.

“Because why not?” He scoffs, letting his eyes flutter shut as he listens to the remix she had gotten him hooked on. 

“There’s two types of music you listen to when you’re stoned,” Ashton comments, wrapping his lips around the roach and inhaling. He feels the smooth smoke coat his mouth and throat, dissipating into his bloodstream before he inhales again, bringing the smoke into his lungs. He sits, holding in the breath before exhaling slowly, feeling the warmth of the buzz weaving into his brain and his eyelids. He repeats his motions, each time experimenting with the way he exhales: the first was through his nose, then letting it drift out his mouth and inhaling the smoke through his nose before letting it out again, then through circular rings. She watches with curiosity, surprised that he was able to French inhale.

“You guys and me,” he finishes his thoughts from minutes before. Calum rolls his eyes again,

“You’re telling me smooth rap with a strong beat that hits your chest is not the music to listen to when you’re stoned?” Calum asks. She stands up from the couch, stretching slightly. Ashton uses his free hand to tap his friend’s ass. She whips her head around, narrowing her eyes at him before smiling,

“Cheeky bastard,” her accent is thick and wraps around the words like Ashton’s lips continue to wrap around the joint. She pushes the coffee table in front of the sofa to the side so she can lay on the plush carpet of Calum’s living room. It’s soft to the touch, caressing the skin of her midsection that her crop top and gym shorts didn’t cover. Her eyes are hazy, looking up at the two men on the sofa in front of her. Ashton’s thighs are covered in gym shorts whilst Calum sports grey sweatpants. Both opt to remain shirtless, the heat of the summer seeping through each crack and crevice of Calum’s house.

“You enjoy it,” Ashton muses, taking one last, long toke before passing the woman on the floor the joint. She sits up, aware of their gazes as she takes the first hit off this specific joint. This one was Calum’s, both Ashton and her’s had already made it around the small group. She tilts her head back, basking in the feeling of warmth that hits the back of her head, heating her cheeks and fading her inhibitions. They watch her throat as it bobs around the breath of smoke, bringing it into her lungs. She opens her mouth, not necessarily exhaling, but letting the smoke escape through her parted lips.

“Eh,” the pitch of her voices raises and Ashton can’t help a deep chuckle that escapes his chest. She lays back again, taking another hit off the spliff in between her fingers. Her chest expands and she knows that they’re shamelessly staring at the movement of her breasts.

“Dogs,” she mutters with a small smile on her face. This catches their attention and their eyes land on her’s. Each set of eyes is ringed with red, glazing over as each and every molecule of THC makes a home in their blood cells. She almost laughs at how stereotypically stoned they look, but laughing takes too much effort, and she’s too stoned to give a shit. She sticks the joint in between her lips before mumbling around it, “If I were to take off my shirt and just lay here in my bralette, would you care?”

The men share a look, as if to say to the other, since when would we ever care and shrug their shoulders in response. Her head lulls to the side, looking at them head on, “Good enough for me.” The joint sits on her lips as she fumbles with the bottom of her shirt, pulling the material over her chest and over her shoulders. She’s careful to not bump the lit end and spill ash over herself. She lifts her back and shoulders to rid herself of the shirt and she lays back down, only clad in small shorts and a PINK bralette.

“Why are you lying on the floor?” Calum asks and she rolls her eyes,

“Why aren’t you lying on the floor?” She challenges. Calum shrugs, again, as if it’s the only response he’s capable to giving to other people’s questions. He slides off the couch, joining her and laying on her right side. He admires the soft tickle of the carpet against his sweat licked skin. He turns his head to Ashton,

“Now, you’re the odd one out, again,” he jokes, referencing Ashton’s music comment from earlier. It’s Ashton turn to roll his eyes, before getting up from the couch and occupying her left side. The three of them lay on the floor, height differences between the men and the woman quite humourous. They lay shirtless, skin damp with perspiration as their heads float away. She takes another hit, inhaling into her lungs nearly straight away with another breath. She holds it again for a few seconds before blowing it out. 

“Post Malone?” Ashton nearly groans, his voice a near whine when the music switches.

“Oh my god, mate,” Calum groans in return, “shut up and stop fucking complaining.” Out of the corner of her eye, she can see Ashton mimicking Calum’s mouth movements with a scowl. She just chuckles to herself, inhaling again. The room starts to tilt a little, so she takes another hit and passes it to Calum. Calum grabs it with his right hand, clasping onto her thigh with his left in gratitude. His skin his hot but his rings are ice cold, the platinum freezing marks into her skin, causing the flesh of her thighs to erupt in goosebumps. The heat of her high carries towards her centre as she acknowledges the height of Calum’s hand on her leg. His fingers tickle her inner thigh, barely pressing into the skin. She swallows, closing her eyes and tilting her head back, trying to forget the heat of his touch. She exhales, focusing on the sensations that run through her system.

For a while, the only thing she could smell was the weed, but as Ashton and Calum lay close to her, she can smell their cologne sticking to their skin. Ashton’s cologne is bright, refreshing, contrasting to the heavy smell of the weed. Calum’s cologne seems to mix just right, the smell of cigarettes lingering on his fingers adding to the heaviness and woodsiness of his fragrance. She had laid on the ground, hoping to cool down, but the men’s bodies are almost touching her’s, heating radiating off them like they were on fire. She can feel sweat starting to lick the crevice of her breasts and behind her knees at the sudden increase in body heat. The carpet starts to warm up the longer they lay there, but all of a sudden, she’s too tired to move. 

Her mind begins to float, listening to some ‘Rockstar’ remix that Calum had put on the queue after her remix of Kid Cudi’s ‘Day ‘N Nite’. The beat of the song thumps through her chest, off rhythm with the beat of her own heart. Her heart is racing, both with the high and the proximity of the two men. She swallows, letting her eyes flutter open at their silence. She turns to look at Calum, to see if he was still puffing on his joint, which he was. He looks down at her, his brown eyes hazy, pupils blown. She smiles up at him and he doesn’t hesitate to respond. He brings the joint to his lips again, the bracelet around his wrist moving and twinkling in the dim light. The chain matches the longer one that dangles around his neck, laying on top of his tattoos. Her eyes cast down to the black ink etched into his skin, admiring the way the black contrasts, yet blends with his brown skin. The sun had tinted it even darker, the melanin casting his complexion the true brown it was when it was tanned by the sun, almost like the Australian sun he had grown up with. 

He notices her zoning out and takes the second to tap her inner thigh, she jumps slightly, the sudden pressure dragging her out of her thoughts. She doesn’t bother to apologise, knowing that Calum had seen her admiring him on multiple occasions, and him returning the favour on more than one occasion as well. He hands her the joint, hearing Ashton huff next to her,

“Greedy prick,” Calum mutters as she just laughs, shaking her head and inhaling again. Her gaze turns to Ashton next, who’s already gazing at her. His green eyes are electric, sharply contrasted against the red staining the whites of his eyes. The dark dye of his hair only adds to the contrast, the green and hazel flecks popping. His complexion doesn’t have the same brown undertone to Calum, but he’s tan just the same. Hairs tickle his broad chest, his arms thick as they cross over his chest, in a relaxed manner. He gives her an earth shattering smile, the scruff forming on his cheeks and jaw only emphasising the whiteness of his teeth. 

“No, you just suck at sharing,” Ashton comments, eyes never leaving the woman next to him. If both men were to say they hadn’t at least admired her shape at least once that night, they would’ve been caught in a dead lie. They couldn’t help but notice the curve of her breasts, covered with a lacey patterned bralette. The shade of the fabric went nicely with her skin tone. The black gym shorts she had on left little to the imagination, the curvature and girth of her hips stretching the material. A matching lace print could be seen peeking out the top of her shorts. Her legs looked heavenly, moisturised with lotion and absolutely shining luxuriously under the light. Her hair was splayed out beneath her head, leaving her shoulders and collarbones fully exposed. She hadn’t bothered to take out her hoops before laying down. The light bounces off the reflective metal. Her eyes are the most fucked out of the three of them even though her tolerance was better. When Ashton had gone to pick her up from her apartment, her eyes were already burning with red, glassy to soothe the irritation.

“You done?” She asks, taking one last hit of the joint and passing it to Ashton.

“Hm, not yet.” She feels Calum’s hand trail even further up her thigh and she has to resist coughing out her last toke. She manages to swallow down the cough, keeping the smoke in her lungs and exhaling when she was ready. Ashton’s eyes notice Calum’s hand. He places his own hand on her left thigh and she lets out a shaky breath. Their proximity allows to hear the exhalation over the music still playing from the speaker. 

“Definitely, not yet,” Calum murmurs turning on his side. Ashton repeats his motions, reaching above his head and stubbing out the joint that wasn’t nearly finished, but something had caught his attention instead.

And she didn’t mind one fucking bit.

taglist: @gigglyirwin​  @loveroflrh​​ @ammwritings​​ @calumscalm​​ @dukehoods​ @toofadedtofight​ @babylon-corgis @talkfastromance4 @thesubtweeter

[post-itpenny]

“ Am I fonder of dolls or of goblins or shoes? “

Ok, tagging @grodygabe because Bastian is here for a moment as well. Some slight angst for you.

Primadonna 

The lobby of the theater looked as vibrant and new as the day it’s doors first opened. A polished wood floor with rich red carpets draped over it. Velvet curtains covering windows and the bottles that lined the bar sparkling with whatever substances they held from their corner of the lounge. Plush chairs and couches touched with the slightest scent of smoke. Around the walls was cream colored wallpaper with gold filigree as a border.

It looked lovely and new, which meant it was a collection challenge.

Perhaps that was one nice thing about this map. They could tell what they were in for based on its mood, it’s state of grandeur or decay.

Granted, several killers had collection-type challenges. Collect the thing- bring the thing to a designated spot- win an escape for your efforts.

But Thomas was with the group this time and he shivered the moment he walked in. So… they knew.

“So you just know?” Their newest one-a girl named Chloe asked. “Just get a vibe?”

“Only if it’s the killer you came with.”

She nodded, seeming to relax a little now that she knew how to spot her’s. Thomas almost felt bad for her, should he tell her what was coming?

Mary beat him to it.

“The old hag is a handful and she can get you at a distance. But you just keep running and it’ll be just fine.”

“She’s a hag?”

Mary laughed. From where he stood, Bastian gave a small snicker as well. “You can call her that if you want, just be ready to dodge.”

“Does she throw things?”

Thomas frowned, “no.”

Before he could elaborate the doors to the theater opened with the slighted squeak, the Edison bulbs above flickering out.

Show time.

…………………

“What the hell is she wearing today?”

“I have no idea, but that’s a lot of pink.”

Mary and Chloe hissed to each other as they snuck around the diva. Climbing through a tunnel formed by stacks of clostume trunks and crates.

They froze as The Muse turned in their direction, head tilted to the side as she floated just slightly off the ground. Chloe holding tight to the photograph in her hand. In an instant, she was gone, chasing after someone else.

………………….

One thing Thomas could never figure out was just how lucid Irene was in a match. Between trials she was clearly with it, at least enough to be an absolute bitch to anyone within 20 yards. But it was here that he honestly had no clue. Sometimes she was, yelling at Mary or taunting him, but other times she seemed so focused… but also not. Looking at them like she didn’t know who they were (which couldn’t be true by this point) but so intent on killing them. And then there was moments like right now-

From his hiding spot, Thomas watched as Irene chased Bastian as if she was moving through a dream. Perhaps it was because of the photograph held tight in his hands. Her movements slow but fluid. Her body flickering in and out of existence. She caught him in her strings, only for the new girl to purposefully crash into her.

Irene felt herself slamming back into her own skin at the sudden impact, reeling at the sound of fabric tearing.

“You stepped on my dress why?!” She screeched before turning the swipe at the intrusive nat with her weapon. The girl yelped in pain as the blade nicked her shoulder. The boy- Bastian. His name was Bastian, she knew this by now- grabbing her arm and pulling her to safety. Irene felt a tug at the back of her brain, screaming in frustration before the overwhelming feeling of being yanked back out and to wherever she had come from consumed her.

………………………..

You could hear her yelling in nearly every corner of the theater. The diva’s presence was constant, regardless of whether she was in the room with you or not.

They were rehearsing for A Midsummer Night’s Dream, the very unfortunate girl playing Peasblosom having stood too close to Irene and stepped on the hem of her skirts.

“You stepped on my dress!” Irene screamed down at her. “Idiot girl, do you not have any sense of space! Do you know where your feet go?! Or are they with wherever your brain left?!”

The younger actress was crying by this point, looking wildly around for someone to do something. But even their so-called “director” was suddenly very preoccupied with his notes.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you!” Irene snapped. “I swear I-“

“And I swear I can hear you all the way from the street my dear.” A gentleman said as he hooked his arm with Irene’s and pulled her away from her victim. “My dear there’s no need to ruin your voice with so few days before the opening night.”

Irene snatched her arm back, “you! You don’t get a say in this! You’re late!”

“Only 15 minutes.”

“Where were you?!”

“Forgive me Renie sweetheart, but why fret over such trivial things?”

Irene sneered, “I’ll give you trivial you-“

“Irene.”

“Charlie.”

Charlie sighed with a smirk as he fished a box from his pocket. “I need a smoke, come join me dearest.”

He liked arms with her again and pulled a still bickering Irene backstage. Looking over his shoulder with a wink towards the relieved younger actress.

…………………..

Charlie casually blew a cloud of smoke into the air as he skimmed back over the script. looking up occasionally at his friend as she carefully stitched the torn hem of her dress. Whispering the opening verses of The Habanera from Carmen. When and why she took the time to learn it Charlie had no idea, but he wasn’t surprised.

They lazed on a set of plush chairs, leftover props from some long forgotten production. The crew left them out knowing they were the preferred seats of the primadonna and her co-lead..

“You know, if you went to one of the seamstresses in the costume department, they could fix that for you.”

Irene hummed in response but did not otherwise comment.

He watched as she sewed, noting just a few wisps of gray hairs on his friend’s head. Musing that she shouldn’t frown so much less she gain wrinkles from it.

“You know I do wish we could adjust the lines.”

“It’s Shakespeare Charlie, the lines stay the same.”

“But the part between Oberon and Titania-“

“The lines. Stay. The. Same.”

“The mention of India seems so out of place though.”

“Did you read the books I lent you?”

“Books?”

Irene arched an eyebrow. “Yes, the ones on Celtic and Geek cultures? The ones I asked you to return to the library when you finished?”

“Ah.”

“Ah. So you’re paying my late fees.”

“I bet you were once quite the precocious child.” Charlie teased.

Irene smirked, “I used to lay on my bed and wonder am I fonder of dolls, or of goblins, or shoes?”

“And what were you the fondest of Renie?”

She looked up at him with a smile. “Silence, in a small house with so many people, I was fondest of silence.”

……………………….

The sound of heels clicking broke the early morning. Even before sunrise, stagehands milled about and janitors polished and dusted fixtures. But this woman moved with purpose. Cradling several items in her arms, any of which threatened to spill should she make the wrong move.

She made her way backstage, finding a particular pair passed out on a set of plush armchairs.

Irene and Charlie were deep asleep, legs tangled together as they shared the same automan. Charlie with his hat covering his eyes and Irene using Charlie’s coat as a blanket.

The woman sighed in annoyance, kicking Charlie’s foot. “Charlie Devough how dare you sleep at work again.”

Charlie sat up with a shout, Irene grumbling as she crawled out from under Charlie’s coat and snatched one of the coffees the woman carried. Making a face at the first sip. “So bitter.”

“Because that one wasn’t meant for you,” the woman chastised as she traded coffees with Irene and passed it over to Charlie. “Only this oaf here is foolish enough to not appreciate cream or sugar.”

“Why add sugar when I know you bought danishes? I can smell them love.”

The woman sighed again and handed over a paper bag she had also been carrying. Taking over the automan as she sipped on a coffee of her own. “Did rehearsals run that late?”

“We were running lines and lost track,” Irene murmured as she rubbed at the ruined mascara on her face.

Charlie leaned over to kiss the woman, “thank you for the breakfast Evelyn dear. I’m sorry to worry you.”

“You should have let me know.”

“It’s my fault, Eve.” Irene yawned.

“No it’s not you liar, how dare you cover for him.” Evelyn teased. “Irene, you look like you’ve been crying with your makeup like that.”

“Irene?”

……………………………

Irene looked up.

She hated collecting trials. She never knew what memories it would send her mind tumbling through.

She sat now in her dressing room, roses in various states of decay filling every free space.

The trial was a disaster, her new dress torn thanks to a new brat. She still remembered that young actress. Three productions later and she seems to think she could replace Irene since she was casted as lead once.

Irene also remembered the feeling of shoving the point of her stiletto through the girl’s throat.

Irene sat in her dressing room and tried to wipe her makeup off. For a moment she looked normal, even despite her bluish skin. But then she felt a stinging sensation in her eyes as black tears fell and stained her face again.

She growled in frustration and stormed out of the room, making her way backstage till she found her destination- a set of worn, plush armchairs. Sitting on the floor next to what would have been Charlie’s.

[hetacon]

Blood Is Thicker Than Water

Word Count: 2,584

Pairings: Prinxiety, Implied Platonic LAMP

Warning: Depression, anxiety, Roman teases Virgil a bit too much, breakdowns, panic attacks, crying, food mention, poor parenting, joking suggestion of murder, weed pillow, discussion about gender stereotypes within the context of prom, feelings of hopelessness about current situation, some swearing, physical abuse and harm from parents (mentions of bruises, light bleeding, etc.)

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Summary: Virgil’s life is tough. Roman didn’t think Virgil could get more scared of his life. He’s going to do anything to help though.

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Roman saw Virgil getting out of his dad’s car, say a goodbye as he grabbed his bag, and slinging said bag over his shoulder as he closed the car door. The car drove off and Virgil’s eyes met his. Virgil walked silently to Roman, only offering him a grimace as Roman got up from one of the benches outside the mall, meeting him halfway.

“Hey Virge,” he said quietly.

“Hey..” Virgil replied with a weak smile, his eyes crinkling just a bit at the corners as he did so.

Roman could see the heavy bags under his eyes and the expression was down, in a defeated, tired sort of way. Virgil moved next to Roman like his legs were made of lead and Virgil was soon hugging Roman’s arm to keep walking.

This was going to be a long time out, Roman could tell by how Virgil held close to him.

Roman’s thoughts began to wander a bit, try as he might.

Virgil Knight was one truly magnificent human being to Roman Prince. It was truly a miracle that they’d been in a single activity for their freshman biology class and from there, things took off running.

Ok, not exactly. The two of them weren’t really comfortable with each other and with Virgil being as nervous as he was about everything, there were a lot of defenses. Most of those were encountered when they’d bicker between themselves for one reason or another and while they hung out, along with two of their mutual friends, Logan and Patton, they still didn’t get along.

All of that changed sophomore year, summer break past and a few months into school. Virgil was struggling with his classes and with personal issues. One slightly insensitive nickname broke down everything and Virgil was sobbing into his knees, unable to keep everything together anymore. Running on just 2 hours of sleep that day simply made everything too much. He told Roman everything that had been happening. Some of it involved drama with old friends, some involved his grades, others involved his parents. Roman ended up sitting with him for a while as they waited to be picked up. Even when Roman could’ve left, he waited for Virgil’s dad to pick him up, just wanting to make sure Virgil would be ok. Roman spent the entire time listening as he rested his head on Virgil’s, his arm wrapped tentatively around Virgil’s shoulder. Virgil didn’t refuse the contact so it was progress. Yeah, progress, that’s what happened from that moment.

They became fast friends from there and even though they still bickered, it was much more grounded in their genuine friendship with each other. It was meant as light teasing and things got a bit better for Virgil. It was still by far the worst year, his depression hit stronger than Roman had ever seen and as he started to catch feelings for Virgil, his sympathies towards him grew too. He couldn’t help it if he’d constantly be crying over Virgil and how bad the depression was. He didn’t know the extent of it in freshman year, due to them not being close, but he knew this was far worse of an experience than anything Virgil had dealt with. It took a lot of effort to build up Virgil’s view of himself and by the time the middle of junior year rolled around, he was doing a little better. Still as scattered as always but in a bit more of an organized way. Organized chaos really if Roman had to describe it.

But back to the present day, the two of them were currently eating in the food court, Virgil having picked up his favorite meal from the Japanese place there. Roman stole a little bit of it from time to time and Virgil was more than content to share with him. He really had always been such a sweetheart, even if Roman had been too dumb to see it at first.

They were holding hands as Virgil kept eating. Roman’s thumb gently rubbed over Virgil’s and he saw Virgil relax a bit.

“My dad got on my case about how I’m not helping around the house again,” Virgil finally sighed out, looking up to Roman.

“I take it you weren’t able to do much?” Roman asked.

Virgil snorted at the question. “No, are you kidding? It’s just easier to take it than fight back, he’s a lunatic who doesn’t listen to anyone line of reason other than his own.”

“I get that, I can’t imagine it’s easy to be honest with him based on what you’ve told me of them. I can still murder them for you, you know!” Roman said with a bright smile to which Virgil only laughed again, shaking his head.

“Nah, I just want to spend the day with you and forget about it for a while, yeah?”

Roman let out a relaxed sigh and smiled softer this time, giving Virgil’s hand a squeeze. “Nothing would bring me greater pleasure, anything for you, Virge.”

They spent a while around the mall, just looking around. Of course Virgil managed to drag Roman by the hand into Hot Topic to check out the anime shirts. Virgil held his hand the entire time, not even realizing that he had Roman wrapped around his finger as he dragged him through the store.

Roman would be lying if he said he didn’t spoil his best friend. He got Virgil an outfit he’d been absolutely dying to have forever but due to his parents’ views of his clothes, he had been unable to until this trip when Roman caved and bought him every single piece of his dream ensemble. He and Virgil had gone to get Virgil’s shampoo, the reason he’d asked Roman to come as he felt it would be a nice experience to get out of the house.

They eventually ended up walking around one of the stores, cracking up over a weed pillow they managed to find. As they walked through one of the department stores, Virgil joked about how fortunate he was to be saving money by not going to prom that year and how he didn’t plan to go the next year either.

“Well yeah but what if someone asks you to prom?” Roman asked as he looked through the rack of expensive sparkly prom dresses that had caught both their eyes.

Virgil only gave him slightly amused eyebrow raise. “Yeah, cause girls ask guys to prom. I’m not out at school, no guys would think to ask me. You and I both know that regardless of whether or not anyone could ask me, no one would want to. I don’t have any secret admirers like a certain Prince Charming,” he teased.

“Oh come on, I’m not that popular.”

“Yeah, and I’m the queen of the Nile,” Virgil mused.

“Oh, my apologies your royal highness!” Roman exclaimed, bowing down on one knee. He took Virgil’s hand, placing a kiss on the back of it as he watched Virgil flush a little. He chuckled at Virgil’s reaction. “Too embarrassing?”

“Just a bit,” Virgil muttered, hugging his arm to his side. Roman wanted to kiss that boy so badly in that moment but didn’t, getting up to look through the dresses again.

“What if I asked you?”

With a surprised look, Virgil turned to him. “What?”

Roman knew that sounded a bit strong so he pulled himself back a notch. “You know, like as a group with Logan and Patton. What if we all went together?” he suggested, looking over to Virgil.

“Oh. Maybe, no promises though. Can’t get your hopes up too high,” Virgil quipped.

“Ah but everyone always forgets that Icarus also flew. High hopes means heartbreak, yes. But that shouldn’t stop us from dreaming the best for ourselves,” Roman told him with a smile. He finally saw Virgil’s smile that day.

_____

“I don’t know how I’m going to handle living with my parents for four years, Ro. I really don’t...” Virgil muttered, lying on Roman’s bed with him.

‘The joys of senior year,’ Roman thought to himself.

Virgil continued on. “I mean, should I reconsider colleges? Should I try applying for some art colleges now rather than go to community?”

“Well, I’m not going anywhere, we’re planning on going to the same college remember? I’m still right here,” Roman offered as consolation, knowing it wouldn’t help much.

“I guess but I’m going to have their attention focused on me for 4 years. God, why’d I have to be an only child to shitty parents?” Virgil sighed out.

Roman leaned his head against Virgil’s, letting out a deep breath. They stayed like that in the silence for a bit.

“You could always stay here, I’m not moving out either. My parents love you after all.”

“Mm, I dunno. Maybe. I just don’t know if they’re going to suspect anything if I leave just to move in with you. I’m still trying to stay on their good side so they pay for college. They’d be offended if I moved out, yeah?”

“Maybe.. I see your point. But I’m definitely available to act as your knight in shining armor should you require my assistance!”

“Yeah, thanks Roman,” Virgil hummed, burying his face into Roman’s neck. “Can I take a nap?”

“Always,” Roman chuckled.

With that, Virgil was fast asleep.

_____

“I might be having a panic attack because of him right now,” Virgil’s text read out.

“Why? What’s up?”

“He’s getting mad because of something. Not at me but he could..”

“Can you get out of the room?”

After a while of delay, Virgil messaged back. “Did that, I’m in my room. I’m gonna try to calm down for a while, sorry.”

“Alright Virge, let me know when you want to talk!”

_____

A tap on Roman’s window woke him up and he heard sniffling coming from the other side of the glass. He glanced groggily to the clock, finding 3:08 glaring at him.

The tapping got more frantic and Roman shot up from bed, switching on the lamp before opening the curtains and pulling up the window.

Very familiar brown eyes looked into his, welling up with heavy tears.

Roman was soon catching Virgil as said boy quickly collapsed into him as soon as the glass barrier had been removed.

With Virgil sniffling and crying frantically into his shoulder, Roman reached out to hook his arm under Virgil’s knees, carrying him over to his bed.

Usually Roman was thrilled about Virgil visiting him in the middle of the night. It meant that he was most likely not having a good time but that meant that they’d get to spend time together. With Virgil being unaware of Roman’s feelings, he clung to any moments alone with Virgil that he could. But regardless of the situations, this was a fairly common occurrence. Roman was always the one Virgil came to and even with them living on the other sides of town from each other, and with Virgil not having his drivers license, he walked the entire way to Roman’s house just to be with him. Virgil knew by how that he didn’t need to warn Roman that he was inviting himself. Unfortunately for both of them, tonight was not one of the nights they’d be thrilled about as Roman finally got a look at Virgil.

He was covered in cuts and bruises, his lip bleeding. He had the start of a black eye. A searing red hand print marked his cheek. Many more bruises were apparent on his arms and Roman would discover too, his legs.

“Oh my gosh, Virgil, what happened?” he breathed out, looking over all the injuries once more before looking into Virgil’s eyes. Virgil looked up to him and his breath hitched before loud sobs left his mouth. Luckily no one but Roman was home for a while so the two didn’t have much to worry about in terms of interruption.

While Virgil cried, Roman simply held him tight, picking him up to get the first aid kit from the bathroom. He couldn’t help it as he smiled a little when Virgil held on tightly, his legs wrapping around Roman’s waist. Roman started to hum a soft song, kissing his hair gently. He felt Virgil relax a little at that.

“That’s it, you’re going to be ok. Everything will be ok. I’m right here for you,” Roman whispered. Virgil nodded slightly against his neck.

“My parents,” the boy in Roman’s arms whispered.

“What?”

“They.. They did this. I-I wasn’t expecting them to- to hit me, I wasn’t expecting it, I wasn’t and they- they just started hitting me. I didn’t know what to do, I ran here, you were the only one I could think of coming to and I just can’t, I can’t do this!” he sobbed out, breathing heavily.

Roman hugged him tighter before placing him back down on the bed, leading him through his breathing exercises. He opened up the first aid kit once Virgil’s breathing was settled.

“Let’s patch you up,” he muttered softly, starting to dab a cloth gently on some of the more heavy cuts.

Virgil stayed still as much as possible, watching the absolute concentration on Roman’s face as he patched Virgil up. Roman glanced up to see Virgil staring at him and lowered his hands down into Virgil’s lap, smiling gently.

More tears started to stream down Virgil’s cheeks as he surged forward, kissing Roman desperately.

Roman caught him, surprised as he stared ahead, eyes wide. Virgil panicked and started to pull back but Roman held him tighter, reconnecting their lips. Virgil let out a sob into Roman’s mouth, kissing back.

Roman couldn’t believe this was actually happening in this moment but he eventually broke the kiss and stroked Virgil’s cheek.

“I love you so much, Virge,” he whispered, starting to cry himself. Virgil let out a teary, pained, and happy giggle, sniffling and trying frantically to wipe his tears away.

“Really?”

“Absolutely.”

“Promise?”

“With my last dying breath.”

After sitting on the floor for a while, Roman went back to patching Virgil up before giving him a spare change of clothes. Virgil snuggled up to Roman’s side in bed once he changed into an old theater camp t-shirt of Roman’s and Roman kissed his hair gently, pulling him close.

“You’re going to stay here ok?”

“I’d like to stay for the night, yeah,” Virgil nodded.

“No,” Roman stated firmly. “You’re going to stay here until you’re 18 and your parents can no longer claim you in any way possible. And even then, you’re staying right here with me. For the rest of my life if possible. No one’s going to hurt my best friend and love. I’m going to protect you, storm cloud, I’ll make sure of it.”

“Mm,” Virgil hummed out as he laid his head on Roman’s chest, listening to his heartbeat. “I’d like that.”

Roman made sure Virgil was asleep before picking up his phone on the nightstand, opening up his group chat with Logan and Patton. He typed out a message.

“How do we keep Virgil’s parents away from him?”

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