#and it came back in full swing sorry @bestie

[creaturing-your-faves]

haiii cat ears on ayato sakamaki please. pleeease

appreciate the patience;;

[highvern]

Sales Pitch

Pairing: Moon Junhui x fe!reader

Genre: Smut, 21+

Warnings: dom reader, sub/brat jun, anal sex (m. receiving), pegging, oral (m & f receiving), degradation, sex toys, impact play, breath play, freak deakys fr!!!

Length: 3.6k

Note: for my bestie @wenjunehui i hope its all you dreamed of and more pookie

Remember: Tumblr runs on reblogs and I run on validation in the tags and comments :)

Part II

read more here

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked!

“Do you think these make my boobs look big?”

You turn to find Jun modeling the new shipment of nipple clamps over his shirt, the metal chain glinting across his chest from each peaked bud. His hands lift behind his head to further highlight the adornment.

“Gigantic.” You quip, diving back into the box filled with an assortment of lube.

In the six months you’ve been working at Bad Kittyz, you’ve discovered more about your coworker's weird fetishes than you really should. 

Even in snippets of conversation with customers, you hear him recommend toys and gadgets like he’s tried them all. Products that haven’t moved off the shelf since you started and look like they’ve sat there even longer than that he talks about like old friends. The day Jun discussed the installation of a sex swing with a woman pushing sixty you came to the conclusion the sex dungeon under his apartment must be stocked beyond belief.

A crash from behind you makes you turn, finding Jun stumbling as he struggles into a harness.

“What are you doing?”

“We got these strap ons and—”

Cutting him off, you eye him with confusion. “I can see that but why are you trying it on? You have a dick.”

“Sorry I like to give our customers my most informed opinion.” Jun rolls his eyes, going back to fidgeting with the straps.

��Please don’t say that.” You wince. “Not when you sold that sex machine yesterday.”

“What do you mean? You don’t think we should try the products before selling them?”

You blush at the implication that he’s tried everything he’s sold. Including the sex machine.

“I didn’t say that. But you don’t even need a strap.”

“I’m not gonna sell it without first hand knowledge.”

“I think that means you should get pegged then.” You sniff, turning back to your work.

You don’t want to be honed into his body. Every breath, every creak of the old floor boards as he moves closer. Even the heat of his body against your back wouldn’t register under normal circumstances but now it's overwhelming. 

Jun seems hell bent on making it even worse.

“Is that an offer?”

An entire day of preparation only serves to fan the flames of nervousness. Wrinkled laundry from weeks ago gets folded, every dish you own sits spotless in the cabinets; you’ve even lint rolled your couch. It’s more than you’ve done for any hookup before and it makes you jitter with embarrassment. 

The day barely dips into the afternoon by the time you're done. It gives you too much time to think. Your bedroom is off limits. Already prepped with fresh sheets, towels, and condoms. If you have to see the set up you might start scratching at the walls.

A shot of liquor helps take the edge away. Just enough you can sit on the couch without shaking out of your skin. But not enough to stop you from rotating through the same apps over and over in hopes a distraction will take your brain away from thoughts of Jun bent over the edge of your bed with his ass displayed.

When he finally arrives, you nearly puke. Because now its real and you’re about to fuck your hot coworker with a fake cock like its just another normal Thursday for him.

Jun smiles as you open the front door. It’s innocent at face value, only the edges tilting into something fouler. 

“What's up?”

“Please don’t try to act casual.” You warn, stepping aside so he can enter.

“No idea what you’re talking about.”

He flings himself onto the couch and somehow manages to still look hot despite the awkward angle of his limbs. The bag full of contraband sits on the floor, unassuming despite carrying a menagerie of who knows what. 

Crossing your arms in faux nonchalance, you nod towards the opposite end of your apartment. “Bathroom’s down the hall.”

“Okay?”

“Listen, it's not that I don’t trust you.” You sigh. It's a lie. You trust him as far as you can throw him. For all you know that tote bag could have cuffs and collars and a sex swing tucked away. “But I’m about to be closer to your ass than should be legal so I want to make sure.”

“Fine.” Jun shrugs, slipping past you while removing his shirt. “Are you coming too?”

The broad expanse of his back disappears behind the bathroom door. A creak preceding the patter of the shower vaguely registers in your brain still operating a mile behind. You don’t follow immediately, unwilling to bear to witness what he needs to get done. And maybe you want him to sweat for it, knock him off balance the same way you’ve been since he asked for this. 

But after a few minutes your feet move you his way, clothes falling with each step closer to the cracked door. But not before you snag the bottle of lube out of his bag. You’re almost disappointed by the lack of oddities beyond the strap on.

The hum of his voice bubbles behind the curtain. You find him lathered up when you duck into the stall, foamy tendrils lacing across his back and down his legs. 

“Wow, you don’t waste any time.” He jokes, turning over his shoulder to spot the bottle still squeezed tight in your palm.

Shouldering past him into the spray, you scoff.  “You asked me to pop your cherry and now you’re complaining?”

Jun doesn’t respond, scrubbing at his skin while following the streams of water webbing over your chest. You don’t object when he pulls you into his orbit, following until your mouths meet with ease. The nudge against your thigh feels juvenile against what you’re about to do but it doesn't stop you from taking advantage. 

Water doesn’t provide the smoothest glide but Jun doesn’t seem to mind, bucking into the catch of your palm. He turns pliant with a lazy swipe against his slit and a lick between his teeth. His shoulders shelter you from the downpour as you turn him, slowly dropping down until you’re face to face with his cock. 

Blinking lazily, you tongue where he leaks against your fingers, glowing at the twitch muscles across his stomach. Steam shrouds around his face but it can't hide the grind of his jaw.

“Good?” 

Jun nods, hands limp at his side. Finding the bottle again, your fingers shine with excess as you reach underneath and glide them across his ass. You suck him down to soften the stretch but Jun doesn’t so much as flinch when your finger slips in without resistance.

Popping off his cock, your eyebrow arches. “Have you done this before?”

“Umm,” he swallows, pinking from the neck up. “Define ‘this’?”

“Had fingers in your ass.”

He hesitates; bashful despite still being stretched over your knuckle. “Yes.”

“Wow, and here I thought I was special.”

Jun’s rebuttal is lost to a groan, ripped out by the curve of your throat against the head of his cock. The timidity of taking his first time evaporates through your veins, replaced by the hunger to be the best he’ll ever get.

A second finger proves little challenge either and you almost pull back to goad him but one glance at Jun’s face hints he might cum if you degrade him too much. Instead, you take the satisfaction of his taste on your tongue as a win and keep curling your fingers until his hips kick.

“More lube,” he croaks.

You rush to do what he asks, pouring so much onto your fingers it drips down his legs when you press back in with a third finger. The new stretch has you gagging on him again.

“Fuck yeah. Oh shit.”

Replacing your mouth with a hand, you lap at the raised vein running from his base to his abs. “How big is the dildo you brought?”

His Adam's apple bobs with your next stroke. “I–Mhmmm.”

“Jun, how big is it?”

The water creeps cold and you're about to start humping his leg if you don’t find something new to distract yourself with. So you stop until he answers.

“Small.” 

You reward him with a quick glide but that's all. “Think you’re ready?”

A quick inhale and a nod has you rising to your feet, rinsing off your used hand before turning the faucet and exiting into the chilly air.

“Grab the lub—” 

Jun cuts you off with his mouth. He laps away his own taste, nearly bending you in half with enthusiasm. The idea of lifting your leg and letting him fuck you against the counter whispers in the back of your mind; how easy he can fill you before you take him back to your bed and give him the same treatment. But, just based on how he kisses, you can tell if you indulge now then you’ll be much too tired later.

His stomach bows when your nails find his nipple, scraping the sensitive bud on a whim. Something about the way he responds, whiney and breathless, sends you into a frenzy. 

“Go grab,” a pass of his teeth, “your bag and,” another draw of his tongue. “Meet me in my room.” 

You almost cave to his attempt at drowning you in his affection but you break away, turning back to the shower for the bottle. Jun’s hand ghosts down your spine, fingers digging into the swell of your ass for a second until he dissolves through the door.

Unable to prolong the charade, you follow only a few seconds behind. 

Jun sprawls across your bed like a renaissance painting. Nothing but long limbs and lean muscle. Damp skin shimmering like liquid golden in the light of the singular lamp. One leg bent at the knee, not so subtly bringing your gaze to his length; stiff and sticky against his thigh. The harness rests at the foot of the bed, more daunting than the naked man only feet away.

Tossing the bottle of lube down, you grab the tangle of straps and try to orient yourself. It’s straightforward but the crawl of eyes over your body makes you falter. 

“Stop staring at me.” You bite when you nearly drop the entire thing.

Jun huffs, an arm flinging over his face. “I grabbed the one with a vibe built in. But you can use the normal one if you want.”

You refuse to dwell on the sweetness in such a vulgar scenario. The thick purple vibrator rests next to a smaller black one, both sleek silicone. If he’s offering you equal pleasure you’d be a fool not to take it so you snatch up the larger of the two and set to work. 

The harness shimmies up your hips almost too easily. All it takes is a tug here and a pull there and you’re ready to dick down your hot coworker with a fake cock and too much lube. And its when you notice the ring of plastic on the nightstand.

“What's this?”

You know what it is. Unpacked a box of them a few days ago while he helped a customer pick out a fleshlight. But getting Jun to admit it makes you salivate.

He peeks from behind his hand, eyes dropping to your finger donned with the cock ring. The smirk on your face refuses to be concealed under his view.

“A dick in your ass isn’t enough?” You ask, feigning innocence as you round the bed and sink the cushion under your knees. “Or are you really that much of a freak?”

Jun sinks back. Crawling over him, you plant on his thighs, savoring the twitch of his own cock when you drop the piece of silicon on his stomach. Your fake dick and his real one clash beautifully next to one another. You worry you’ve pushed too far, growing hesitant under his moon eyed gaze.

Raking your nails across his stomach, and Jun finally answers your goad when you reach the crease of his hip.

“I’m—I’m a freak.”

It’s completely silent as you eye one another up. Pupils blown and chest heaving at the cliff you’re about to jump off of.

“Then show me.”

Creeping up his chest, you rest the tip of the strap against the pink of his mouth. He doesn’t miss a beat, leaves no room for any more nerves as he sucks it in, the purple disappearing inch by inch behind his lips. 

You should have known he’d be messy, anticipated the way he drools and moans. But it hits you like you can actually feel any pleasure through the faux extension. Even if you don’t feel physical stimulation, his hands at your ass, pushing your hips until you catch his hint and give a few shallow thrusts of your own, makes your ears ring.

Jun campaigns for gold, swallowing around the intrusion like he loves nothing more than taking cock. Like he could cum like this, untouched, gagging on a fake dick while you watch him.

“Shit,” you curse as his nose meets your stomach, bottoming out in the softness of his throat like he’s sucked more dick than you’d believe.

You curse again when one of his hands drops to find the button that’ll make the end of the cock buried inside you vibrate. Hips rutting into the stimulation, tears bead in his eyes while he chokes. 

Rising away you push him back when he attempts to follow, “Fuck, thats enough. Jesus Christ.”

You find the bottle of lube and the cock ring. Dribbling a generous dose on his cock, you wait until he starts rolling it down.  Jun doesn’t resist the urge to jerk off, knuckles brushing against the spit soaked plastic of the strap.

Tangling your fingers with his own, you squeeze him through a tight fist until he’s kicking. 

“Turn around,” you breathe. “Don’t stop, but if you cum I will.”

He doesn’t tell you that he can’t cum with the new addition but the idea that he is staving off licks up your spine. 

More lube shines across his ass and you slide the head of the dildo through the mess in a tease, barely nudging at his entrance before moving away. The way he attempts to force you in is nothing compared to the curve of his spine when his chest falls to the sheets.

“C’mon,” he whines.

A fist stops him from sinking back, giving him just an inch of pure frustration and nothing more.

“How bad do you want it?”

“So bad.” Jun groans, gifted with another inch of stretch before you stop him again.

Draping over his back, you nip at his earlobe before whispering, “Then ask for it.”

Rising up, you give a harsh tug of hair, a broken cry cracking through the air.

“Please, please, please,” he chants.

Annoyance taints your sigh, sending you back to square one with the fake cock resting between his cheeks. It’s hard to pretend you’re not just as desperate. Between the heaven blessed image of Jun on his knees, begging for cock, and the vibrations making your thighs twitch, you’re nearly on the verge of begging him to fuck you instead.

You squirt more lube, making it messier like some cheap porno. Clean up will suck but right now you don't care.

“Please what?” You sing, hand massaging the lube between his cheeks.

“Please fuck me!”

You don’t wait for more, rewarding the bare minimum by letting him take as much as he wants as fast as he wants it. There’s no way he’s never done this before. Jun rides dick better than you, keeping pace without faltering and rocking with so much enthusiasm you itch for your phone to record such depravity.

Each clap of his ass against your pelvis rocks the toy just right inside you, until you're seizing. Part of you hates he’s getting you off so easily. And you take it out by leaving a red copy of your hand on his ass. 

Jun collapses with a squeak and you follow. Each rut of your hips has him rippling with one of his own, destroyed between the fullness of his ass and the roughness of your sheets against the sensitive tip of his cock. 

“Harder,” he whines.

You try. But few pathetic cants leave him crying for more than you can provide with the angle you’re in. 

Jun’s limbs shoot out when you sit back, scrambling to be full again. He looks over his shoulder, tears in his eyes as he opens his mouth. No doubt to curse you to high heavens for edging him.

“Flip over.”

On autopilot he flips to his back, knees rising to his chest to show off the damage you’ve done. His cock sits wet and aching, stiff in the confines of the cock ring. 

You slip back in, only teasing with more light strokes while working off his confines; the insatiable hunger to see him covered in his own cum infecting your every move. Jun’s lips are bruised, worried between his teeth at ever pass against that spot inside him. It’s worse when you circle his cock. Each jerk in time with your hips sending his head further back into the pillows and baring his throat for whatever marks you want to leave.

But Jun doesn’t crave the sting of your teeth or the plump drag of your tongue. Instead, without an ounce of reserve, he pulls your hand up the dip between his collar bones, blankets your hand with his own, and squeezes.

“You’re such a slut,” you spit, delighting in cutting his next moan off before it can even begin. “Say it. Say you're a slut.”

“I’m a slut!”

“Can’t hear you.”

Flailing under the beratement, Jun groans again. “I’m a slut!”

He’s so easy. So eager to roll in the pleasure and pain you provide. It bleeds through his features, the way his body contorts and his face shifts. It makes you itch to stretch him so far he has no choice but to snap. 

“Are you gonna cum?” Your voice is hopeful. Its all you want. All you need. “Is this all it takes? Getting called a slut with your ass full and you’re ready to blow your load?”

Another violent curl of his back until he’s nearly in half. “Shit, yes. Yes, yes, yes, yes!”

This time when you stop, Jun takes over immediately. The tip of his cock peaks through his fist, pearly beads dripping until he seizes. Rope after rope paints his chest, crude gems in the low light. Face twisted in pure agony. He looks like a dream. Like a model in the magazines tucked away in the backroom of the shop. 

The end of the vibrator buried inside you keeps you at a dull hum. You bubble just on the edge of your orgasm but watching Jun twitch and writhe is better than anything you can possibly think of. Except dipping down and lapping away the stains on his skin, sucking his cum coated nipples until he drives you on to your back. 

It takes some maneuvering but he manages to wedge his tongue under the toy and find the patch of nerves like he’s been there a thousand times. 

He laps at your clit, hot and languid and dirty; all while he angles the vibrator buried inside you to bully against your front wall, breaking you into a twitching sweaty mess.

“Fuck, oh fuck—don’t stop.”

Your back curves, spine bending almost in half when Jun sucks and delivers another harsh push bordering on cruel. His free hand lands flat on your chest, forcing your shoulders back into the pillows with ease.

“Please, please, please,” you chant, curling your hips up into Jun’s face. He abandons his previous grips, focusing on guiding your body across his tongue until your thighs spasm.

His groans echo loudly despite his face being buried in your cunt; scorching into your muscles until it hurts. Cruel fingers pluck at your nipples, tugging until you yelp and then pinching some more.  Jun doesn’t stop until you wedge your fingers between your pussy in his mouth, continuing to lick and suck until he opens his eyes and realizes you're swatting him away.

Croaking an intelligible nose, you collapse; only focused on the soaking kisses across your hips and up your breasts. The tickle of Jun’s bangs against your neck don’t even elicit a response. The room spins as you return to your body. Only the weight of the man on top of you keeps you from floating away. 

Later, after another shower that is really only an excuse for some lazy groping and equally lethargic kisses, you cuddle up on the couch. Jun decides your chest is his new home, happily buried between your breasts while the movie drones on in the back. Weed still reeks in the air but it makes the edges hazy, glowing like the sun beats through your veins. 

“Ya know,” Jun whispers into your sternum. “Next week we’re getting ball gags.”

It doesn’t throw you off. Your fingers continue combing through his hair, nails scratching his scalp until goosebumps bloom on his bare back. “Let me guess, you wanna try them out?”

“If you’re offering.”

Your next exhale carries you to sleep. “Only if I get to wear it.”

@tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie @gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire @missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu @horanghaezone

© highvern. copying/reuploading/translating my work anywhere is strictly prohibited.

[neonghostlights]

Listen- listen carefully- okay?

okay so

so

Eddie, right? Eddie, with a tattoo artist crush??!! like cmon. The possibilities are endless!

how does he confess? What are their dates like? How do they spend quality time together? So many questions, not many answers. (Fem reader pls-) 🍋-

BESTIE. I AM HEARING YOU LOUD AND CLEAR. This is great. I love it. Readers a badass. Eddie’s in love. This is amazing. This is gonna end up being a two parter with the next chapter being their relationship once the relationship is established. Thank you! also, sorry it took me so long to write this ):

Warnings: Love at first sight, Tattooing, Pain, Blood, 18+ only

Wordcount: 2.1k

Rose

The bell attached to the shop door dinged when Eddie walked in. The floors were clean, polished. That was something he always checked when he walked into tattoo shops. Back in highschool he didn’t particularly care about the cleanliness of tattoos, just getting whatever he wanted etched into his skin in his buddies trailer. After seeing the outcome of a particularly nasty skin infection Gareth got one time that left his tattoo looking like a jumbled mess, Eddie cared a little more now. 

Robin had begged him to stop by and check out her new job as a part time receptionist at the best (only) tattoo shop in Hawkins, Indiana. Eddie was a little surprised to see you here since he had seen your work done in one or two magazines before. You were somewhat of a celebrity in the tattooing world, having won quite a few awards for your art. 

Steve had told him that Robin had been terrified to start here, since your reputation was well known. But after the first day she came home gushing about how great you were and insisted that Eddie swing by to meet you as soon as possible. 

Low rock music played from a speaker in the corner of the room. Black leather couches and chairs surrounded a coffee table full of binders and magazines. Artwork, presumably yours, covered the walls top to bottom. Eddie usually drew up his own designs when getting work done  but yours were so good that he wouldn’t mind having one of your pre-drawn designs placed on his body. He could smell the fresh paint still lingering in the air, telling just how recent the shop had been opened. 

“Hey!” Robin greeted him from behind the clear glass counter. “Welcome!” 

“Nice looking place,” Eddie said with a low whistle. 

“Right,” she said with a fake whisper. “You think you want to get something done?” 

“Nah, not today. I didn’t draw anything up.”

Robin rolled her eyes, knowing Eddie was picky about what he wanted done. She couldn’t blame him. She had an orange tattooed on her foot after a drunk spring break dare from Steve that looked more like a basketball. 

“Hey, Rob?” Your voice broke out, muffled by the rock still playing on the radio. Eddie heard the sound of wheels rolling across the floor as you scooted your rolling chair out of the room you were working in and backing out into the hallway. “You wanna order some lunch?” You asked once you were fully in the hallway. 

Eddie had seen a lot of attractive people before but none of them had made his heart stop quite the way you did. 

“Oh, hi,” you said, startled to see Eddie standing there. “Were you looking to get something done?” You asked, standing from your chair and approaching him. 

Eddie froze. All thoughts escaped his brain as you walked towards him. He could see the skin of your legs through your ripped jeans and Eddie had never thought a kneecap was so sexy before. 

“This is my friend Eddie. He just came by to check out the shop. Right, Eddie?” Robin plucked his cheek to try to reboot him. 

The magazines had never included your picture, but he wished they had so he wouldn’t be standing here like an idiot. He had a feeling that your picture printed on glossy paper wouldn’t do you any justice. 

Eddie winced at the sharp sting of his cheek, rubbing at the stubble there. 

“Hi,” was all he was able to croak out, sticking his hand out to you. 

You smirked a knowing smirk at him that made him feel embarrassed from how obvious he was being. He was usually the one that was smirking to make people melt, not the other way around and it made his head spin. 

You gripped his hand, firmly giving it a little shake. Eddie didn’t want to let go, but finally did, realizing how sweaty his palm had gotten. He tried to discreetly wipe it against his jeans. If you felt it, you didn’t say anything. 

“So, Eddie, did you want to get a tattoo today?” You asked, head tilted as you looked him up and down. 

“He said no-”

“Yes. Yes I do,” he said, cutting Robin off. 

Robin looked like she was about to die of laughter. Eddie knew she would be itching to grab the phone and call Steve to tell him all about the way Eddie was acting. He knew there would surely be some jokes cracked at his expense during the next family dinner. But he couldn’t bring himself to care all that much. 

You tilted your head, like you were studying him, picking him apart to make sure he was actually worthy of having your art on his skin forever. Eddie would let you draw on his bones if you were able to. Shit, he’d hand you the pick and chisel. 

“Okay,” you said slowly. “Have any idea of what you want to get?” 

“Uh…” Eddie trailed, eyes darting to the artwork around the shop. “You choose.”

You frowned. “You want me to choose your tattoo for you?”

Eddie nodded, already too far in to back out now. 

“And you’re sure? Completely?” You checked as Robin started pulling out paperwork for Eddie to sign. 

“Oh, yeah. I’m sure.”

Three months later and the bell dinged over the shop door. You could hear it from your office where you had low music playing as you sketched away at an idea you had. It was getting closer to the holidays and the shop was less busy. People usually liked to spend their money on presents and food this time of year instead of tattoos. You knew January was going to pick back up again so you weren’t worried. 

You could hear Robin laughing at something up front, probably at whoever just came through the door. You heard the familiar sound of boots come your way and it brought a smile to your lips. 

His knuckles rapped against the door a few times. This had become a routine since Eddie let you tattoo him a few months ago. He had gotten a couple more done by you, each more intricate than the last. But some days he would stop by just to say hi to you, like he probably was today. You never let other customers come to your office like this. Eddie was special. 

“Hey,” you greeted him, turning in your chair. You dropped the pencil you were using to your desk, ready to give your hand a break for a bit. 

Eddie smiled as he leaned against the door frame. “What are you working on?” 

You held up the sketch pad. It was a drawing of a dragon taking flight. It was small, simple with just enough detail to not overpower it. If someone ever wanted this you could of course add anything to it. 

“That’s sick,” Eddie said as he came closer, humming as he assessed the drawing. 

“It’s not done yet. I need a little more time with it,” you explained, feeling a little self conscious about your art, something you hadn’t experienced until you realized shortly after meeting Eddie that you always wanted to impress him. 

“Is it for a customer?” He asked. 

“No. Just an idea I had,” you said as you set it back down on your desk. 

“Can I get it?” 

You tilted your head as you looked up at Eddie. His hair framed his face where he was still looking down at the drawing with intensity, avoiding your eye contact now for some reason. You could see the rose tattoo on his arm, the first one you gave him on the day you met. You didn’t tell Eddie what you were tattooing until you were done. You knew it was a risk, not many men wanted a flower tattooed on them. But this one seemed like it fitted him. 

After you had tattooed the rose he stared at it with teary eyes. You thought you had really messed up until he told you that Rose was his late mothers middle name. After that, the dynamic seemed to change, bringing you even closer even though you two had just met. 

“I mean if you want but it’s really not done and I-” 

“I think it’s perfect,” Eddie interrupted, finally looking up at you with a small smile. 

You took a deep breath at the intensity of his stare before leading him back to the room to be tattooed. 

You had Eddie lay back in the reclining chair. It was laid back to be as flat as a table so you had better access to his ribs. 

You explained to him that the ribs were going to hurt pretty bad even though he was no stranger to tattoo pain. He just laughed it off and asked if you could hold his hand when he starts to cry. 

You rolled your eyes, pushing away the butterflies at the thought of holding his hand in yours. You didn’t really like emotions. You’d prefer to spend your time alone, drawing with nothing to complicate your life. It had been a battle the past three months of knowing Eddie. You were constantly denying the way you felt and it was getting harder and harder each time you saw him. 

Eddie closed his eyes and laid mostly still except for the occasional twitch and tapping he would do. He was uncharacteristically quiet today and you found yourself going through most of his tattoo without him even saying a word. That wasn’t normal. 

“Are you doing okay?” You asked as you gathered more ink. “If it’s too much we can stop for today.” 

“No,” he said loudly, practically jumping off the table at your offer. He cleared his throat looking embarrassed before he slowly laid back down. 

“Are you sure?” You checked again, giving him the opportunity to quit if he wanted to. 

“Yeah. I’m sure,” he said with a nod as he closed his eyes again. 

You went back to tattooing, trying to figure out why he was acting this way. He seemed nervous to be around you today and you weren’t sure why. It didn’t make sense. He was usually a blushing, stumbling mess around you and now suddenly he was acting like this tattoo was the most serious thing he had ever done. 

“You need me to hold your hand?” You joked, trying to lighten the mood. 

Eddie giggled nervously with his eyes still closed. You watched him wipe his palm discreetly against his jeans. 

You had a feeling you knew what was going on here. It was a feeling you had from the first day you met him and he not so subtly asked you out. When you tattooed him that first day, he seemed to cover up his nerves well by joking with you and asking you questions about yourself.  You could ask him, see what he says. The worst he could say is no. You usually had a good eye for things like this and Eddie had all the signs. 

“You know next time you can just ask me out on a date instead of having me tattoo you,” you said as you cleaned the fresh ink off the now finished tattoo. 

Eddie’s eyes shot open in a flash. He sat up, wincing at the tender skin on his ribs. 

“Wait!” You yelled as you grabbed a cloth and cleanser. “I need to clean it before you get up.” 

Eddie ignored your demands. “Did Robin tell you?” He asked, looking defeated.

“No,” you said as you wiped at the skin from the new position he sat in. “You were just acting kind of weird so I figured that might have been what was going on.”

Eddie sighed deeply. 

“If I read that wrong and totally made this awkward just tell me,” you said quickly. 

“No,” Eddie rushed out. “No. You were right. I didn’t realize I was that obvious.” 

You laughed and shook your head. “You were just a little obvious.” 

You motioned for Eddie to stand up and take a look in the mirror. He whistled as he looked at the fresh ink on his now angry skin. 

“You like it?” You asked. 

“I love it. It’s incredible. Thank you,” he said, still in awe of your artwork on his body. 

You nodded your head awkwardly as you started to wrap it to keep it clean and uninfected. You met Eddie’s eyes in the mirror when you were finished. You froze, unsure what to do now and afraid that you had ruined everything by speaking up. You really enjoyed Eddie’s company and the thought of becoming something more made your heart race. 

Eddie grabbed his things, about to head to the front to pay. 

“So…was that a no?” He asked as he slipped his shirt over his head. 

You laughed. “Eddie, you didn’t even ask me.” 

“Oh, right. Sorry. I’m still nervous.  Do you want to go out on a date sometime?” 

“I’d love to.”

[pandoraimperatrix]

I would like 👍 to request 1. Could you hold me please 🙏 for Dickkory, bestie

Hi, Nessa, sorry I took a while to answer.

This fit in the WW's universe, before Kory went back to Tamaran.

-------

Sometimes he woud look at her and see someone else.

And she knew she did the same, especially in the beginning, when the wound was fresh and oozing regret and unfulfilled love. Fair is fair.

But still hurt.

There was envy too and jealousy, because when he look at her and saw someone else, he wasn't looking at a what if, but a full past that she was not privy to.

She might be a Princess, he might be an orphan (orphan from more than the parents he'd lost as a child, he was orphan from an entire world), but when it came about love, he was richer than the richest kings, and, sometimes, she felt like she was robbing someone else's grave.

"Seeing something you like?" She asked out loud, her heart silently begging for him return to the present, return to her.

His glazed eyes cleared, warming, the lines around them wrinkling as he smiled with his whole face.

"What's not to like?" He flirted back, Kory had just finished her solo training and was putting her gear back on the shelves when she felt his gaze.

"Need help with your training session?" She asked swinging her hips as she approached him and playfully pulled the peeking end of one of his knuckle wrappings.

"Maybe later... In our room."

Her entire body shimmied with promise, but there was still something cold lingering, so, instead of answering with one provocation of her own, Kory stretched out her arms to him.

"Could you hold me, please?"

He gave her a puzzled look but laced his fingers to hers and pulled her to him, kissing her hands and swinging side to side before kissing her sweaty forehead, between her eyes, on the tip of her nose, making her giggle before kissing her lips. He let go of her hands to cup her hips and bring her close.

Kory sighed into the kiss and held him fast. He was here, he was hers, and nothing was wrong.

[munsonology]

Not to be a hater but quite literally if given the chance I would absolutely lay into my ex friend. Like he called me a slew of names spaced out over time each one worse then the previous, shared my trauma with people and tried to use it against me, and even told the kids I babysat for years MY FUCKING KIDS (not mine but basically they were) (and their parents) that I was a bad influence and a bad person. Like I took the name calling, but then I distanced because of the wife situation, but then I find out the rest of this shit????

Like ONE CHANCE I'd take it. Let me fucking at him. ESPECIALLY if I was in a group! Like you trying to come for me???

You??? No degree barely graduated high school can't swing a hammer or change your own oil man??? Coming for a smart strong bachelor degree woman???

You lived with your parents for years, not because of a cultural thing, but because you were "scared" to live alone! Bending to your mother's every beck and call. I should call you Norman Bates with how far up your mother's ass you are.

I could get a man or woman or ANYBODY if I wanted. I have options. remember when you had a crush on me dumbass and asked me out remember when you simped for me and took me to the movies for free what about that concert that was over 300 dollars FOR FREE cause you wanted me so bad? I could have had you and DIDNT and no one wants your 30 year old ass thats why you chose an 18 year old you fucking creep THAT is why we aren't friends and then all your dirty little secrets and skeletons about what you told others about me came out. You think your shit don't smell because you are full of it

You think you are so good and kind and everything you do is golden well its fool's gold you clown. Karma gonna get you just you wait (and thats the only reason I haven't fought u yet like...im trying to be the better person but they say one more thing in my presence...)

(And yes it is fucked they went for the 18 year old and it is even more fucked that they are now married like it was so quick like who thought that was okay not me that poor girl I hope she gets out cause he is not good he is not the love of her life hes just a man!!! Let me run him over cause YOU ARE A CHILD AND) (no I was gonna be petty af and post a throwback photo and tag everyone cause I have a picture of me, him, and his wife when she was 4 and he was 16 like 💀💀)(also again no shame to her if she needs help i am getting her out but she is devoted to him and disillusioned rn he got her brainwashed and yes we all grew up together and yes its a fucked situation and I want to go all Carrie Underwood on his ass and dig a key into the side of his car and knock out his headlights but karma is coming for him and karma could do better then me) (sorry for spilling in your inbox I am a ball of hate found out today and I mean AN HOUR AGO he actually was the one to spread a rumor about me that haunts me to this day as well as telling people about secrets I had told him that were not ok to tell and he has the fucking nerve to have come into MY HOUSE under false pretenses just to record me out of context and share it as proof im terrible oh fuck him)(please note as soon as I found out he was with the 18 year old I cut him out of my life but we work together just in different departments so I see him pretty regularly still sadly and I cant quit because I signed a contract but thankfully I dont have to see his crusty ass every day cause if I did....call me Elsa with the stone cold attitude he is receiving)

oh my god bestie 😭😭 first thank you for sharing 💖 he’s a weirdo for real. the fact he married an 18 year old is just sick, and what’s worse is you know he didn’t just meet her at 18 because they never do 😒

and that’s commendable of you to wanna look after her. it might take a while for her to see who he truly is. i think it’s important to remember she might not accept help :/ it might be healthier for you to take a step back. sometimes we need to put ourselves first for our own wellbeing. hopefully her family is aware.

it always hurts when people you think are your friend are the ones who purposely and carelessly hurt you the most. and i know you wanna fuck him up and key his car but he’s not worth going to jail over. the universe has a way of always working out, what we put out into the world we receive and trust he’ll get his for all the clownery he’s doing. it might take a while but it will. and when it does you can sip your tea with a big slurp 💀

[moonrisecalamityretreat]

scapegoat, blessed lamb || loic || reaction

There was one truth Loic could easily say that he shared more deeply than anything with the now-cooling corpse on the ground, and that truth was that the bond you had with your brother was everything. So long as you had that, then you were able to make it through anything. Maxime was, for much of his life, the only sort of stability or companionship he had. For Juzo, maybe Jinpachi was that, too.

Maybe that’s what the younger man had meant when he said that Loic would understand one day, and that day simply came early. Maybe he’d hoped to keep their minds and attentions occupied for so long that Jinpachi could reconsider this whole “dramatic reveal” sort of thing, reconsider what he had done, take back the years that made this cult what it was today, rewind time to a world where they were just brothers, take it back and say sorry--

Loic bites down on the nail of his thumb before that thought can go anywhere he would rather it not. 

(There is, however, the impossible to ignore whisper in the back of his mind that claws on the innards of his skull. It whispers how both Juzo and himself stood at their podiums and lied to the faces of everyone in this room, claiming to have taken a life that they did not, to conceal their brother’s involvement. Like concealing it would make it so it never happened in the first place, and they could take the burden of blame instead because of some intrinsic failure they had to keep this fate from befalling their brother in the first place.)

(Though impossible to ignore, Loic instead chooses to crush it.)

His eyes don’t leave the pooling blood, the motionless form, for several moments. Eventually, they travel up to The Shepherd and their entourage. He tries to steel himself to meet each of their eyes for a moment, but he fails. The only one he manages to stare down is the one who wants the attention the most in the first place:

Jinpachi Otsuka, The Shepherd, older brother to Juzo.

“How…have we been?”

He asks in almost a whisper before letting out a chuckle that turns into a full-body laugh for just a brief second before he stamps it out.

“Well, we’ve been--fucking trapped in your murder game! So! Pretty awful! Thanks! What did you want us to say, exactly? Oh, we’ve been having a great time, wish we could have--gone on for more!?”

His voice had shifted into something joyful and light, a reminder, maybe, that Jinpachi’s not the only one here who can put on a different voice when he wants to. The only difference between their sort of acting is that one of them knows when enough is more than enough, and Loic certainly has learned impulse control over the course of his life.

“You know, for some--some all-powerful or whatever cult leader, it’s pretty telling that you felt the need to bring your #besties into the trial with you? Like, I don’t know, I just…think that’s interesting. Almost like you know you don’t know how to clean up your own messes and have to rely on other people to do it for you every single time. Or because you knew that you seriously were not making it out of here with all of your bones in tact if you--didn’t.”

Lifting his hand, he begins to play with his earring, feeling the comforting and grounding sway and gentle thump against his finger each time it swings

“I knew something was wrong with you from the very start, you know that? Something was off, and I didn’t want to gloat about it when it was your brother in front of us because, fuck, he’s got something going for him, and it’s called the world’s shittiest older brother. But you? You’re just a freak. You and all of your little lackeys--you’re all freakshows! And I cannot wait for you to open those stupid votes for us because obviously you’re going to, and we will all gladly vote, and we will all gladly leave.”

His shoulders shudder as he tries to catch his breath for a few seconds, and he eventually just shakes his head.

“You…How could you do that to him? He loved you. He asked me if I thought that treatment was possible for anyone, no matter how severe, and I said yes. I believed that. But you…”

Loic loses that vindication, that triumph he had been holding onto the high of, and he’s left feeling a deep sympathy for Juzo.

(Later, it will turn to empathy.)

“If you’re willing to treat him like that…maybe it isn’t.”

[royalydamned-archive]

You look so pretty begging me

(Norman Osborn x Reader)

Summary: Norman hasn't been the greatest partner lately, quite the opposite, and nobody said revenge can't be really fun.

|AN|: WHAT IS THIS AAAAAAH. I'm so sorry in advance.

Inspired by this gif and the scene from Wolf of Wallstreet in the nursery.

For the horniest bastard I know @gallwithapall enjoy bestie. The Willem Dafoe thirst is real!

Warnings: borderline smut(???), like the weirdest scene ever, reader is wearing a skirt but is gender neutral

-------------------------------------------------------------

You've had enough. For the past few days, Norman had been cold and vile everytime you spoke together, no usual sweet words or natural charm. He kept pushing you away, making you feel like you truly were nothing but his toy, every night you spent together after he came home was nothing but a simple relief of his frustrations. Just something useful.

You shouldn't have, but you wanted revenge. Something to make him ache as much as you did, whenever he brushed you off with an icy look or crude remark, becuase at the end of the day, he always found himself crawling back to the comfort of your soft hot body.

So you waited; in his chair with a shirt halfway buttoned down, clearly showing your chest and part of your stomach as you were leaning against the expensive leather, nothing but a skirt covering your bare thighs and ass.

The evening dragged, quiet and lonely, not much different from the other you had recently been experiencing, but you stayed patient, knowing very well the sight of him getting swallowed by realization and regret would be worth it.

Soon, he came, unbuttoning his sleeves and rolling them up his forearms, jacket thrown over his arm, visibly tired and frustrated again. Norman was obviously tense, not noticing you seated in his chair, your naked skin sticking to the smooth leather, legs resting on his desk as you stated the power you had in this situation.

"Hello, darling," you greeted, fighting back the mischievous grin that tried to take over your lips and his attention abruptly snapped to you. "Long day?"

He threw his jacket over a couch before sitting on it with a loud sigh, a gentle smile found its way to his face as he watched you with what you thought was long lost fondness in his eyes. "Yeah. Couldn't wait to get home to you the whole day."

"Mmm." Your partner was back, the same as he was before, but you couldn't forgive the words you heard from him that easily. The way he kept hurting you during that rough time. He needed to realize it, to know.

"Do I get a kiss as a greeting, or am I pushing it now?" At least he was aware. At the momment you couldn't tell whether it was good or bad. Whether you were relieved he realized what he had done wrong, or hurt that it was truly him talking and not the Goblin.

"Oh no," you said coldly, every facial expression in your face dropping in a second, and took your legs off the table with one swift swing. "There will be no kissing, no touching at all for a very, very, very long time." The emphasis was more than clear to him, the tip of his tongue escaping his mouth to wet his lips in almost nervous gesture.

"I'm so sorry my darling, I didn't mean what I was saying, I shouldn't have done any of it I just--"

"Save your breath," you interrupted him, holding up a finger, and he stopped like it was a command, looking at you with eye full of expectations and regret. "I never said you couldn't watch." With those words, you hooked one of your legs over the armrest, tracing the skin of your thigh, up between your legs, the skirt revealing how completely bare you were in front of the man.

Norman's mouth opened, almost breathlessly, as he watched you with undescribeable hunger, both of his hands tightly cluthing the cushion beneath him. He almost didn't even blink, inspecting your every little move with full interest and unsteady breath, chest rising and falling much faster than a few moments ago.

"You know, I realized I really like skirts." Second leg got hooked over the other armset, leaving you fully spread and exposed to your boyfriend, making him fall to his knees, mouth still opened as he couldn't tear his gaze of your hand stroking yourself provocatively. "I like ho flowy they are, very comfortable, very pretty, only the underwear is always in the way."

He let out a quiet groan, slowly crawling towards you on the carpet, loosening his tie almost like it was making him lose his breath, not the sight of you so vulnerable, so beautiful, clothed yet bare in his office, teasing him in the most cruel ways." I think I'm going to start wearing them a lot more. Shorter, and shorter, and shorter every. Single. Day." Every word you pronounced carefully, hiking up the skirt more and more up your thighs, revealing your skin to his hungry eyes.

"Please," he begged, forcing a satisfied smirk out of you as he crawled right in front of you, bottom lip quivering slightly as he took in the sight, breathing ragged and mouth watering. His gaze met yours, pleading, as he knelt in front of his own chair, desperate to touch you, and his face inched closer to your inner thighs with a clear intent. "Let me show you how sorry I am my darling."

"Oh Norman," you tutted, like he was a naughty child, and stopped him with the tip of your shoe as you placed it on his forehead, forcing him to back away from you. "What did I say a few minutes ago?"

You swore you heard him almost whine in that moment as you stroked the side of his face with your shoe, gently tracing his sharp features, before placing it under his chin, tilting his face higher. "No kissing, no touching, only watching."

"You're going to kill me," he whispered, attempting to catch you leg by the ankle, but you took it away, returning it to its previous position. With a dark chuckle you unbutton the rest of your shirt, exposing your naked chest to him, fingers trailing the outline of your throat, slowly lower and lower down to your stomach, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. You enjoyed seeing him like that, desperate, aching, so blinded by desire he'd agree to anything only to get a taste of you.

"Oh how I enjoy that expression on you face, you look so pretty begging me on your knees." You reached towards him with your hand, subtle gesture to call him closer, and he did. Shuffling on his knees, ruining the expensive slacks he was wearing on his carpet, he came closer, expecting any contact of your skin on him.

Your fingers touched his lips, gently, the tip of your middle finger teasing his lips, and he never stopped looking directly into your eyes. "Come on, you know what to do." Upon your quiet command, he took one of your fingers into his hot mouth, and inhaled sharply through his nose. "Good," you praised, taking it out without a warning, bringing it back to stroke yourself with slow gentle movements, letting out a small moan to observe his reaction.

At that delightful sound, something inside Norman snapped, and he grabbed your wrist to stop you in the middle of your performance. He brought the hand to his lips, licking each finger, letting out a delighted sight as he tasted you, eyes shut tight. You couldn't bring yourself to pull away, to resume your act as you watched him, the grip around your wrist strong, just like you knew him.

"Oh my darling," he opened his eyes, full of lust, lips pulled in a wicked grin only he could do, and knelt back in front of you. Now you knew you weren't the one making rules as his hands ran up and down your inner thighs and he started placing quick butterfly kisses on every single inch of your skin. "You've tortured me long enough, now it's time for my proper apology."

[doctorstethoscope]

Moment || Aaron Hotchner x gn Reader

A/N: hiiii besties expanding on a lil prompt from the weekend due to popular demand! Thank you to @the-modernmary for  helping me with it!! If u liked this teeny bit of angst u will love her fics!!

just a little note for those of you who read The Right: I am going on vacation this coming Saturday-Wednesday. I will have the chapters queued to post for y’all, but I will not be able to respond to taglist requests or update the masterlist until I come back! Still let me know what you think about the chapters though, they’re some good ones! ok onto this fic.

contains: slight cursing, alcohol consumption

wc: 1.7k

You take a deep breath as you walk out of Strauss’s office, taking exactly one beat to regain your composure before hastily making your way over to Hotch’s office, letting yourself in without knocking. 

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me,” you said by way of greeting as you crossed his office and settled into one of the chairs across from his desk.

“Tell you what?” Hotch asks, looking up from his paperwork with confusion knit across his brow. 

“That Strauss was going to harangue me the second I walked into the building this morning. I seriously didn’t even make it past security before she nabbed me.” You told him, disgruntled. 

“I didn’t know. What did she want?” Aaron asks, and you look up and see that he’s telling the truth-- he really didn’t know. 

“Oh… I assumed she would have cleared it with you before she asked me.” You said, your boisterous energy deflating the longer you sat in the chair. 

“Is she pulling you for undercover work? She always does that, and she never asks if we have anything coming up or what your consult workload is--” 

“No, Hotch. She’s, uh, she’s not pulling me for undercover work.”

“What is it?” 

“She said the director tapped me to lead the field office in Vegas.” You confessed, looking up and seeing the air leave Aaron’s chest. 

“Wow.” Aaron says, blinking. 

“Yeah,” you agreed. 

“And you’re going to take it?” He asked. 

“I told her that I needed some time to think about it.” You answer him.

“What’s there to think about?” He wonders. 

There’s a moment where you think you might actually roll your eyes at him. There’s a moment where you consider begging him to give you a reason to stay. There’s a moment where you consider crossing the desk and depositing yourself in his lap, kissing him with the weight of all of the feelings that had you wanting to stay. 

But, after a moment, you realize that none of that’s happening. He’s sitting across from you, looking at you like you’d be the biggest fool in the world not to take advantage of this opportunity, and maybe he was right. Maybe you would spend the rest of your life wanting him one-sidedly, wondering what good you could have done for the world if you had simply accepted that he’d never love you back. 

“Nothing,” you answered, after a moment. “There’s absolutely nothing to think about at all.”

****************************

Aaron’s barely even distracted when you swing his door open and plop yourself into one of his chairs first thing in the morning. He’s used to it, by now. He may have been a less-than-willing participant in your friendship at the beginning of your relationship, but now he was glad to call you someone he was close to. His closest friend, really. 

His ears perk up when you mention Strauss. “Is she pulling you for undercover work?’ He starts to rant, already planning the tirade he’s going to deliver to Erin when he notices your demeanor change. You’re… shy, all of a sudden. You’ve never hidden from him before. He doesn’t like it. 

“She said the director tapped me for the field director position in Vegas,” You revealed. The sentence hit him like a punch in the gut.

“Wow,” is all he can manage to get out, fighting the way his throat threatens to close up. “And you’re going to take it?” He asks, although he knows the answer will break his heart. 

“I told her I needed some time to think about it.”

“What’s there to think about?’ He asked, allowing himself to hope for a moment that you’ll make some grand confession, to imagine for a moment that you might possibly feel the same way he does, to believe for a moment that he’s worthy of your love. But he’s not.

“Nothing. There’s absolutely nothing to think about at all,” you tell him, standing up and leaving with a forced casualness. 

Aaron had been married long enough to know that that tone and those words together mean the exact opposite of what they are supposed to mean-- but he was still confused. What could possibly make you stay? And how could he find it before you left? 

*****************

The following days between you and Aaron had been chilly, to say the least. You didn’t bounce ideas off of each other on cases like you normally would. You came to the opposite conclusions at every turn. You were out of sync, and everyone felt it. So when the case wrapped up on a Friday afternoon, you were more than happy to rush home to a bottle of wine, a pint of ice cream, your moving boxes and some trashy reality television.

You’d given up on packing after about an hour. Your heart just wasn’t in it. So instead, you lounged in your pajamas, sipping at your wine in the hopes that it would guide you to your first full night of sleep since you’d spoken with Strauss. You’re just about to head to bed when there’s a knock at your door. You swing it open, revealing Aaron, holding a bouquet of flowers in one hand and a bottle of champagne in the other. 

“I was an asshole.” He offers. “Am I interrupting anything, or?”

“Just packing,” you say, wanting to twist the knife a little bit even if it wasn’t truthful. Aaron is undeterred, and steps inside anyways. 

“I didn’t want you to leave with us still in the middle of the fight. You can be as mad as you want in the morning, but have a glass of champagne with me?” He asks, with those big brown eyes you could never refuse. 

“Fine,” you sighed, still easily won over by him, even when you were heartbroken and mad. 

“Here, you open it. Congratulations,” he tells you, handing over the bottle. You start picking at the foil, and he speaks up in the silence. “Things are going to be different without you, you know. I like that our team is structured the way it is… as a team, but you know, in a lot of ways, it was nice to have a partner in you.”

“You know, come to think of it, I’m not sure if I even have cups. They might be packed away,” you say, still picking at the foil and decidedly not looking Aaron in the eye. He chuckles a little at your comment.

 “I don’t know what I’m going to do when you’re gone. I mean, who else can rein in Derek, or get to see me the big picture, or talk Emily off the ledge when I’m sure she’s about to go rogue?’ 

“It’s going to be okay,” you tell him, setting the bottle on the counter, still unopened. Aaron heaves a sigh. 

“You should stay.” He says, after a moment. 

“What?” You say, blinking, because surely you must be drunk or dreaming or something else. 

“You should stay here. You don’t have to take the job in Vegas.” 

“Haha, very funny,” you joked, bringing your attention back to the bottle to avoid looking him in the eye. 

“I’m serious. Listen, I know I said there was nothing to think about, but I changed my mind.” 

“Oh, did you? And what if I haven’t changed mine?” You asked, getting angry now. 

Not able to hold back for another second, he takes your face in both of his hands and kisses you. “Just, think about that before you board a plane. Okay?” He says, and before you can even speak, you hear the door swing shut behind him. 

Damn you, Hotchner. 

You don’t sleep a wink.  When 8am finally rolls around, you pull yourself out of bed and get dressed, heading over to Aaron’s. As you buckle your seatbelt, you realize that you know you have to go over there but you have no clue what it is you even want to say to him. You hope you’ll figure it out without sounding completely insane as you knock on Aaron’s door, and he swings it open, still in his sweatpants and incredibly surprised to find you on his doorstep.

“I’m even more mad at you right now than I was last night,” you tell him by way of greeting.

“That’s understandable. I haven’t been very fair to you,” he agrees, and the fact that he’s being so reasonable only makes you angrier. You slip past him and step inside the apartment. 

“I don’t get it. You couldn’t just let me move on, start a new life and forget about the torch I’ve been burning for my boss the entire time I’ve worked here? You had to have the last word, even if I was leaving forever.” 

“No,” Aaron says, and you bite your tongue, trying to allow him a moment to respond even if you weren’t feeling all that gracious. “No, I couldn’t let you move on thinking the torch you were carrying ws unrequited.”

You’re struck by his words. “What are you trying to say?” 

“I’m sorry, it doesn’t matter. It’s a great opportunity for you in Vegas. I’m happy for you, and you shouldn’t let this--” 

“Hotch, what are you trying to say?”

“Just that I’m proud of you, and I know that you’ll do excellent work, and--”

“I don’t understand what you’re trying to hide from me.” You call him out, and he looks at you for a moment. This time, you don’t break his glance. 

“I’m not trying to hide. I’m just too late.” He tells you, looking down at the floor. 

“Tell me, Hotchner. Tell me, please.” You beg of him, shifting to try to get him to look you in the eye.

“I love you, and I figured it out too late.” 

You draw in a sharp breath, and he’s sure he’s ruined any vestiges of friendship that still existed between the two of you in this moment, and that you’ll board your plane to Las Vegas and he’ll become a creepy old boss that you never think about again. He takes a moment to look at you, a moment to mourn what might have been, a moment to remember the way your laugh made him smile while the memories were still fresh. He takes a moment, and then you speak up.

“No,” you correct him. “You figured it out just in time.”

tagging: @choppa-style @wanniiieeee @zheezs14 @torykjamie @maureen4y

@ssavanessa22 @isthatme-thatsme @g-l-pierce @ssahotchie @infinite-tides

 @itsmytimetoodream @averyhotchner @msmarvelsmain @hotforhotchner11 @hotchinkevlar

hi besties I tried to tag everyone who said they wanted to be on my regular hotch list and a few of y’all who regularly interact with the right but if i made a mistake/u want to be removed u can lmk I will not be offended!!!

[lightsovermonaco]

His Good Sweater: Chapter 17 (NSFW)

Masterlist

Thanks to @acollectionofficsandshit for being my bestie and beta reading! This would have never happened without her ❤ Make sure you read Roman Profile, set in the same universe!

Word Count: 8k

Recommended song: “SDBGS” by APM Boy

"How are you not freezing?"

You and Pierre had long since clambered from the pool, each of you ten pounds heavier with the weight of the water soaking your clothes. Alana had leant you a spare dry hoodie and for the moment, you were warm enough as you and Pierre walk hand and hand through the paddock.

With the sun setting and the cool, rose scented breeze filtering through the streets, you weren't surprised that he was chilled considering he was still soaked.

"I'm dryer than you," you say simply, poking at his bicep. "Evaporative cooling. That's what's getting you."

"The laws of whatever subject that is-" thermodynamics, you interject "-don't apply to me." Pierre shakes his head, sending droplets flying. The ends were beginning to curl as they dried, granting him a softer, almost angelic appearance when paired with his lopsided smile.

"They very much do. As pretty as you are, no one can escape heat transfer. You'll only feel colder and colder until you're in proper dry clothes. Until then the water molecules will draw heat from your body and dissipate it-"

You cut off your ramble with a sheepish shrug. The way Pierre looked at you now was reminiscent of you gazing at him up on the podium, prideful and chock full of love. "Sorry. My engineering brain can be hard to turn off."

"I don't mind. I learn something from you every day." He wraps and arm around your shoulders and you shriek, immediately ducking out of his grasp. The momentary contact leaves your shoulders wet.

"Now the water molecules will draw out your body heat too and we'll both be cold. Ohh, maybe we'll be forced to huddle together for warmth because we're locked out of the paddock-"

You wag a finger at him, biting back a smile. "Don't use my knowledge against me!" 

"You don't own it," he points out, threading your fingers together again. "Besides, it's not like you'd mind, I'm sure."

No, you wouldn't, but hell would freeze over before you told him he was right. 

“So about that dinner." Pierre swings your joined hands between you, his pace casual and unhurried.

“What about it?” With all the commotion it had completely slipped your mind. Pierre guides you through the garage, the path not quite as second nature to you yet as it was to him.

“I'd like you to come with me.”

“As much as I’d love to,” you start, closing the door to his driver’s room behind you, “I didn’t exactly pack with a fancy dinner in mind.”

“What makes you think I didn't plan ahead?” Pierre nods in the direction of his closet where two black garment bags hang. Your retort dies on your tongue when he unzips his dripping racesuit, shucking it off and unceremoniously leaving it in a heap on the floor. He leaves the fireproofs on, already mostly dry by the looks of it and runs a hand through his hair, leaving behind a mess of spiky, damp strands.

How many times have you enjoyed this view now? Too many to count and you were still just as awestruck each time. You could only hope that feeling never faded.

Screw a fancy dinner. You wanted him so bad you felt sick with desire, the sodden white and navy fireproofs clinging to every inch of him for dear life. The couch was big enough for two, especially if he sat up while you rode him. He liked it better that way anyway, so he could see your face when you came and were reduced to a shuddering, quivering mess above him.

Pierre waves a hand in your face. "Earth to mon amour."

"What? Oh, sorry. I was distracted."

Your eyes track his tongue as it darts over his lips and leaves them glistening. His mouth moves and instinctual you know you should be registering the sound of his accent smoothing out the edges of whatever he was saying but you're more concerned about imagining his tongue between your legs to pay any attention.

A hand engulfs your chin, forcing your attention upwards until you meet an amused ocean blue stare. "Since you clearly aren't listening to a word I say, I'll repeat myself. Do you want to see what I got you?"

"Um, yes?"

"I see you've finally found your voice."

Dear lord, he was doing this on purpose, wasn't he?

Your skin is cold when he drops his hand in favor of retrieving one of the garment bags. He shoots you a boyish grin. "I hope you like it. I went through a bunch of them before you flew in and picked this one out just in case."

Your jaw drops when he unzips the bag to reveal what he picked with you in mind. “You didn’t.”

“I’ll take that to mean I did a good job.” He pulls the floor length gown out so you can wholly appreciate the beauty. It’s so perfectly crafted that you’re not sure you possess the ability to do the dress justice.

"This had to be…" you trail off, shaking your head. "You know what? I don't even want to think about the price."

"Good, you shouldn't." He fluffs the fabric a little, letting it glimmer. "I didn't even look at the cost, to be honest. I knew you'd love it, so it's the one I picked."

Inky black fabric glimmers like the night sky over Rouen, dotted with tiny crystals that catch the smallest bits of light. The deep vee of the neckline is one that will undoubtedly give your mother a heart attack when she saw photos of you tomorrow, the cut trailing nearly to your navel. That and the low, swooping back providing plenty of easy access to your skin that he surely intended to take advantage of.

Your fingers glide over the dress still held in his hands, amazed that Pierre had managed to find something that fit you so well. He lays the garment carefully over the arm of the couch and shoots you a grin that has your fingers stilling at the hem of your borrowed sweater.

“Let me help.”

You raise your arms and Pierre grips the borrowed hoodie, tugging it over your head, intentionally scraping his calloused palms over your sides. The touch short circuits your senses, mind wiped blank of anything except where his skin grazes yours. 

His lips meet your shoulder, sending a shiver down your spine. "You know, we have an hour or so before we have to be across town."

"Whatever shall we do to kill the time?" As you speak, you tilt your head to allow Pierre the opportunity to leave searing kisses along your neck. Predictably he jumps at the chance, surprising you when he bites softly at the junction of your shoulder. At your gasp he flicks his tongue over the small hurt, soothing away the sting.

"I swear if you just marked me before a big event where there's bound to be cameras-"

"Don't worry," his confidence immediately quells your concern. "It wasn't that hard. And besides, would it be so bad if I had left a mark? It's not like it'll be the first time a grid couple showed up covered in bruises."

You had to give him that. Daniel and his girlfriend had no qualms about very publicly displaying their purple splotches. "I like what we have. It's just for us. I don't want to share it with the world, at least not that side of us."

"That's fair." Pierre distracts you with another kiss while he toys with the waist of your shorts. "I promise I won't leave any marks where cameras might catch them. Other than that… no guarantees."

The sharp slice of his devilish smile makes you shiver as he finally slips a hand beneath your waistband. Practiced fingers dance over your hip, teasing you just enough to drag a half whimper from your throat before you catch yourself.

A deep, satisfied chuckle has goosebumps rising on your skin in the wake of his breath. The tight fitted fireproofs trap your fingers against his spine as you wind your way under his shirt to explore the ridges of muscle.

You wanted him now, your race winner, the man who defied all odds to come out on the top step. You wanted to prove to him what a good job he had done by way of your lips, tracing every vein of his stiff cock. You wanted to feel the weight of him on your tongue, taste the salt of the bead of precum that gathers at the tip. He deserved to be worshipped after his drive today and you'd be damned if you squandered this chance.

"Please," you breathe, your hand finding his cock between the crush of your hips, hard and waiting-

"Oh, that's enough for now I think."

The glare you shoot Pierre when he steps back nonchalantly could melt the polar ice caps. The pinpricks of pleasure he had served you on a silver platter had you itching to get on your knees and overrule him. "You can't be serious."

"Yes actually, I am." He gestures to the tiny space serving as his driver's room. "Walls aren't nearly insulated enough for me to have you how I want you."

"But- you can't-"

"Consider it payback for earlier." He winks and tosses you a clean shirt from his duffel. "Women's showers are down the hall. There should be all the stuff you need in there to get ready; I asked someone to stock it for you."

"You're insufferable."

"Yeah, but you love me."

**********

Hair and makeup may not have been your forte, but you managed to pull together what you hoped was an elegant, simple look with the few tools Pierre had selected for your use. 

The dress had somehow magically appeared in the common room shared between the three private women's showers. Whatever magic Pierre managed to work to get your measurements had paid off. The dress fits you like a glove, tailored to hug every curve until the train settles in a starlit pool at your feet.

Deeming knocking unnecessary, you enter Pierre's room only to be stopped in your tracks by the golden expanse of his bare back. The white button down he wears does little to hide the defined arms and toned shoulders, the fabric straining across them.

He catches your eye in the mirror and offers you a wink. "You look amazing, baby."

"You're one to talk," you murmur, snaking your arms around his waist. "Did you happen to pick up some shoes for me as well, or am I expected to wear my Nikes?"

"I got you some heels. By any chance do you know how to tie a tie?"

You quirk a brow at him. "Are you telling me you don't?"

Pierre shrugs. "I usually have one of the guys do it for me. Charles says I don't do it right."

"Give it to me."

The red silk compliments the charcoal gray suit. You take your time tying it at his throat, accidentally grazing his skin a few times solely to continue your little game. He murmurs his thanks when you finish and slides into his suit coat to complete the look.

"We clean up well, huh?"

You swallow the memory his words dredge up, but not quick enough to keep the wince from your face.

His smile vanishes and he settles a hand on your hip, silently imploring you to explain. Pierre didn't prod, granting you the choice of whether or not to voice what had obviously perturbed you. You didn't want to spoil the mood but if you kept it in, it would bother you all night. 

Your hands wind in his hair, gaze falling to the carpet. "You said that to Max last time I was in Monaco. At the gala."

"I remember," he says softly. "I was talking to you that night, I hope you know that."

You nod against his shoulder. Paired with his touch to the nape of your neck, you'd had no question that it was a thinly veiled attempt to keep up the ruse of friendship. 

"Let's make better memories tonight." Pierre takes your hand from where it tangles in his hair, bringing it to his lips. "Replace those negative ones with positive ones of us dancing, singing, kissing and just being general menaces to high society."

"I like the sound of that."

**********

You barely have time to appreciate the gold-plated filigree on the stone columns and the sweeping lengths of pastel tulle decorating the grand hall before you're yanked aside, Pierre right along with you.

"Thank god you're here," hisses your best friend, pressing a flute of champagne into your hand. "Daniel abandoned me a half hour ago."

"Zak steal your man again?" Pierre teases, wrapping her in a hug. She shoves him off and rolls her eyes, as if she'd heard the joke a million times already. She probably had honestly, it was a running joke in the McLaren garage.

"Who else? Ever since Dan's been at McLaren, I barely see him at these events. And I thought Cyril was bad! He's got nothing on how Zak Brown fangirls over Dan, he's no better than the teenagers that stalk him on insta."

"Aw, Birdy's upset, huh?" The jab earns you a glare which you promptly laugh off. "Don't worry, it'll take much more than Zak Brown to separate me from you." You link your elbow through her crooked arm and sip your champagne. 

"Speak of the devil," Pierre says, a grin splitting his tanned face as he claps Daniel on the back. "Who dressed you, a monkey?"

"Lost a bet, mate." Daniel gestures to the wretched suit, patterned with Hawaiian florals against a white backdrop. It looked more like something an ill advised high schooler might wear to a prom than a strapping Formula 1 driver's choice for dinner apparel. 

"I bet him that he'd podium but not win- of course he bet on himself being on the top step." Dan's girlfriend bumps Pierre's shoulder with a fist. "Thanks for stealing first place out from under him. Now we can all enjoy his lovely fashion choice."

"I hope you've got pictures," you say, biting back a laugh. "I want this look memorialized forever."

"Yeah, I'd say I'm sorry but honestly? I'm not." Pierre laughs again, the way his body curls in on itself as he does so mesmerizes you.

"Ah yes, laughing at Daniel's suit are we?" Charles passes off one of the two drinks he carries to Dan, who raises it in salute before taking a long drink. "It's deserved. It's horrible, not even properly fitted or coordinated with Birdy."

The brightly colored suit does clash with the simple sheath of deep wine red his girlfriend wears, the floor length silk loose enough to hide her generous curves but the thigh-high slit offsets the modest cut.

"I didn't exactly have time to get it tailored," Daniel protests and flicks the lapel of Charles' Ferrari blazer. "And at least I'm not wearing the same thing I do to every damn event we attend."

"I'll have you know this is timeless," Charles defends, smoothing the wrinkle Daniel caused. "You can never go wrong with a black coat. It goes with everything."

You snort. "Right, it has nothing to do with the fact that Binotto would have your head if you were photographed without it."

Charles changes the subject with grace. "Anyone seen Charlotte?"

"I'm right here," she chimes in, raising a martini glass. "You left me at the bar in your haste to return to your boyfriends."

"Char, that dress is gorgeous," you swoon, immediately reaching to run your fingers over the blue chiffon. Simple was the theme for the three of you apparently, Charlotte's strapless dress flaring out at her hips and falling mid calf. "Where did you find it?"

"A little boutique in Nice," she says, indulging you with a spin. You and Dan's girlfriend both let out whoops, miming throwing dollars her way. "It's been sitting in the back of my closet and I decided it was time to give it some limelight."

Pierre's hand slips to your lower back, toying with the hem as he leans in to brush his lips to the shell of your ear. "They want us for pictures. I'll be back in a bit."

You nod, leaning in when he presses a quick kiss to your temple. 

"I can't believe we're at another one of these dumb galas," you sigh, draining your glass. As long as it was free, you might as well enjoy it. "This is already, what, number three this season?"

"Fourth for me," Charlotte offers. "Ferrari love their banquets. God, they're always stuffy and insufferable. Binotto talks for hours and hours in that horrible accent. I don't know how anyone understands him."

"It can't be that bad," Daniel's girlfriend notes, snagging an appetizer from a server that passes by.

"Okay sure, you sit next to engineers prattling on all night about engine codes and suspension ratios and then you tell me it's not that bad." 

"I feel for you there," you say, accepting half of the mini sandwich Dan's girlfriend offers you. "At least I somewhat enjoy that mechanical talk, but even I get bored."

"At least this one isn't so formal," Dan's girlfriend says. "As the only one present that's attended this particular dinner in the past, I'm happy to report that it's more of a party than a banquet. Plenty of opportunities to sneak off and have a bit of fun." She winks at you when she says it and heat rises to your cheeks at the implication.  

"Shut up," you mumble, crossing your arms. "I would never."

"I think you should live a little," Charlotte says, nodding to where Pierre stood with his fellow podium sitters to pose for pictures. "Pierre's been making eyes at you the entire time he's been over there."

A grin fights its way onto your face and Pierre quirks a brow. You bite your lip and look him up and down, drinking him in. He looks almost as good clad head to toe in gray as he did in navy and white. He mimics the action, shamelessly undressing you with his gaze.

"Bedroom eyes," Daniel's girlfriend stage whispers behind her hand to Charlotte. "I give them an hour tops until they find their way to a bathroom stall."

"Hush, the pair of you!" You laugh, but don't deny the accusation. You can't guarantee you won't steal Pierre off somewhere once the dancing has started, not if he keeps up those heated glances.

"Let's get you a proper drink. Gotta take advantage of that open bar, don't we?"

You let Charlotte tow you along to the bar, ordering herself another martini and whatever she pleased for you. The three of you chat at the bar for a while, enjoying the night and the liquor flowing between you.

You're two drinks in when an arm snakes around your waist. "You're gonna get wasted if you keep this up, mon amour."

You hum, turning in Pierre's grip to face him and cup his cheek. "Once I have something to eat I'll be fine."

"Speaking of which, I found our seats. Dinner's about to be served."

Pierre's arm remains locked around your waist as you weave through the half-seated crowd to a table centered in front of the stage. Pierre drapes his coat over the back of the chair next to Daniel's, his sleeves rolled up to reveal toned forearms. You grip one to steady yourself as you sit, beaming up at your man when he leans down to kiss your forehead.

"No speeches?" You ask when a steaming dish is set before you.

"Not until after we eat," Pierre points out, laying a hand on your thigh. "Like I said, way less formal than most events."

You take a bite of the vegetables, melted butter and savory spices exploding on your tongue. One thing you couldn't deny about these dinners was that the food never failed to delight. 

Pierre's hand inches up your leg as the two of you eat and enjoy conversation with your friends and the various people lucky enough to be seated at the winner's table. You stop paying attention to what's being said somewhere around the third course when Pierre's pinky grazes your center and continues to torture you as the night wears on.

Eventually you put a stop to his teasing, clenching your thighs and taking his offending hand in your own. His answer is a lazy grin, love drunk and perfectly aware of what he was doing to you.

"Stop that," you hiss, turning back to your plate.

Pierre's thumb sweeps over your knuckles. "Stop what? I'm not doing anything. Simply enjoying a meal with my lovely girlfriend."

"We are in public," you whisper, shooting him a reprimanding glance.

"There's a tablecloth blocking the view. And I would like to remind you that you started it with that massage," he points out, laying his hand flat on your thigh. "I'm only reciprocating."

You grit your teeth. Pierre was right but that didn't mean you had to give him the satisfaction of confirming it. 

Setting down his fork, Pierre leans over to whisper in your ear. "There's my good girl. Let me make this a memorable night for you like I promised, yeah?"

You nod sharply, focusing on your meal and pointedly ignoring the glances your two friends continually shoot your way. Pierre's thumb skirts over your core, the fabric of your dress suddenly very much a nuisance. He draws rough circles over your center until your breath catches in your throat.

You send a silent thanks to the man that takes the stage to give brief introductions of the various officials attending the dinner. He calls each of the podium sitters one by one and they take turns standing to roaring applause from the attendees. When Pierre stands he doesn't break contact, instead resting his hand on your bare shoulder.

At least you weren't the only one that was craving skin on skin.

"Dance with me."

Pierre doesn't give you much choice, sweeping you up out of your seat and into his arms as the music swells. He leads you off to the tiny dance floor currently populated by a few half drunk couples and a few singles dancing together. You're sure to keep a chaste distance between your chests when a slow song starts.

"My love," Pierre murmurs, drawing you attention as you sway in time with the beat, "there's no reason for you to act so innocent. There's no cameras anymore- Monaco's laws kick them out after the initial round of photographs. It's just us, you can relax a little."

He leaves kisses on your shoulders like drops of dew. You sigh, leaning into him and letting your hand slide down his bicep. You had long since memorized the mountains and valleys of your racer but you'd never stop appreciating them every chance you got. Each line of muscle was hard earned, the result of hours upon hours of training at home and at the gym. No matter how committed anyone else on the grid was, they couldn't live up to the level of fitness Pierre had achieved; he was in a class of his own.

Mental strength is the trait you admire most about Pierre though. For everything he had been through, he never lost his positivity, never let the world beat him into the box it insisted he belonged in. Fighting for track position was second nature to most racers, but the confidence required to go for a gap that could disappear in the blink of an eye was something that few possessed. 

Moving from Red Bull back to Torro Rosso had been like jumping into the deep end of a murky pool and discovering the bottom was much closer than had been expected. Pierre had used the momentum to rebound and skyrocket to the top with ease. It was impossible to deny he was one of the most talented racers on the grid. There was no doubt he'd be world champion one day.

You'd make damn sure you were there to see it.

"You're gonna win it all one day," you blurt, the filter between your brain and your mouth spotted with holes after the handful of fruity drinks you'd consumed.

"Win what, the championship?" Pierre always does this when you're too vague for his liking. Though he is perfectly capable of deciphering your half-formed thought and knows what you mean, he's still rather hear you say it outright.

You nod fervently. "Yes, win the championship." 

Pierre chuckles, hand wandering to your bum. "It's mine for the taking, is it?"

"Once you get to Mercedes, or McLaren, or maybe even if Alpha steps up their game, you'll win it." Once you've started there's no stopping the babbling brook bubbling past your lips. "Seb told me once that you had what it takes, it's just a matter of finding the right team. He said that Red Bull was that team for him, but you could go to Ferrari or anywhere really and make the team yours, build a winning car. He said you've got the stuff and it would be a shame if it went to waste."

"Seb said all that, huh?" Pierre pulls you impossibly closer, chests and hips flush. You can tell exactly where your praise has caused his mind to wander.

"He did!" Pierre hums in approval at your insistence. "He told me you've got raw talent, the type that leads to- stop that," you dodge his lips, rambling on, "that leads to championships or burn outs, and I think we all know you're not gonna burn out-"

"Would you shut up for a second and let me kiss you?" 

"No, because I want you to know how talented and- hey!" You break off to rub at the skin he had pinched. "That hurt-"

Pierre takes advantage of your redirection to cut you off with a kiss. Immediately you forget why you were against this, why you would ever say no to Pierre's alcohol tinted tongue sliding against the seam of your lips and setting you ablaze. You wind your arms around his neck, bursts of color blooming behind your eyelids with each second the kiss plays out.

How easy it would be to get lost in him, to explore the wooded, secluded paths of his soul and be perfectly content setting up camp and staying forever. If life could be reduced to a single moment of bliss it would be this: the slide of Pierre's lips against yours, the crush of his fingertips digging into your flesh, and the grind of his thigh between yours.

The hoots and hollers of your collective friends draw you back to reality some minutes later. Cheeks flush when you pull away, but Pierre doesn’t seem to notice your audience. Daniel and his girlfriend stand back to chest, his arms around her and his chin on her shoulder. They didn’t look much farther off from getting out of this goddamn hell hole, as Daniel would put it.

Something about the atmosphere of a far too fancy setting in a far too fancy destination made you feel weightless. For the night you didn’t care what people might think of catching you and your boyfriend lost in the heat of the moment, wrapped up in each other like you were the only two in the room. If it weren’t for Charles nudging Pierre’s shoulders, you probably would have picked up right where you left off.

"Go home," Charles suggests, handing over his apartment keys. "I'll stay with Charlotte tonight. Let me know when it's safe to come back tomorrow."

"Thanks." Pierre is breathless, the same wild look in his eyes as after a particularly thrilling qualifying session. Driving on a knife's edge and skirting public scandal apparently came with the same adrenaline rush.

“Well?” You do your best to keep the smile from dominating your face, trying for a teasing smirk. “Take my home, lover boy.”

You make it all of twenty steps before Pierre detours you down a hallway and pins you against the wall. "I don't know if I can make it home, mon amour. The way you look in that dress… magnifique. Positivement délicieux."

"How do you say 'find us a closet' in French?" You hitch a leg up around his hips, his arousal pressing against your stomach. "Because I'm not gonna make it home either if you keep talking like that."

The thought that you're in public doesn't cross your mind once. Pierre's attention shifts to letting his lips roam your jaw and you tip your head to allow him better access. Maybe it’s the alcohol or maybe it’s the shared high of his podium; either way you don’t question your sudden rush of confidence.

You tug on his tie until his ear is level with your mouth. "Leave a mark."

Pierre’s been waiting all night for that permission. He jumps to comply, nipping at the skin where your neck meets your shoulder. You sigh, wishing the feeling of free falling that accompanied letting go of your inhibitions would last forever. Pierre picks up on it, starting slow and drawing the process of claiming you out as long as he can.

Alternating between sucking and biting, he doesn't let up until you're ready to push him off, skin too sensitive for him to continue. You don't have to look to know that the hickey is probably already a deep purple, throbbing lightly with each staccato beat of your heart.

“I’ve wanted to do that for weeks,” Pierre admits. “That night you texted me, I knew where it was going. And when I was at your door it took everything in me to keep from kissing you. And merde, when I had you on that counter, I wanted to leave bruises like that everywhere, just so everyone knew who you belonged to.”

“I think they already knew,” you say quietly. You’d always been his, really, even before that night at the bar in London months and months ago. It hadn’t taken him long after you’d first met to claim a piece of your heart. “Didn’t you wonder why I never dated anyone while we were friends?”

“Didn’t you ever wonder the same?”

“Guess we’re both oblivious, huh?”

Pierre’s thumb sweeps over your swollen lips. “Not anymore. What do you say we give them something to talk about? I want one too," he says, tapping the space just below his stubbled jaw. "Make it big, I want everyone to know I'm yours."

Dipping your head, you graze your teeth over his throat. The skin pulls tighter beneath your tongue, the man at your mercy growing impatient. You indulge him- because after all, it's his day- and suck at the fragile skin. It only takes a few seconds for a red splotch to appear.

"There," you say triumphantly, running a finger over your handiwork. "Mine."

A tropical storm rises in Pierre's ocean eyes at the claim. He kisses you, ignoring the person that scoots past mumbling about finding a room. "It's my day, so what I say goes, right?" He squeezes your thigh, grinding his hips against you for emphasis.

"Within reason," you amend. "I haven't had so much to drink that I'm completely shameless. I'm not going to let you fuck me right here in the open."

"Well then I guess we better find that closet."

Pierre stumbles down the corridor, trying every door until he finds one unlocked. "Coats," he declares, tugging you inside. "We can make a bed and everything."

"Who wears a coat to a dinner in Monaco?"

"I don't know, and I don't really care." Pierre's hands land on your hips. "All I know is this dress? It's coming off."

Between kisses, Pierre makes quick work of pulling the heavy fabric up past your waist. He helps it over your head and drops it in a pile at your feet. A blush paints your cheeks as his hungry eyes roam over the expanses of bare skin, your lacy underwear the only scrap of clothing left.

"That's much better."

The moan that escapes you when his finger brushes your dripping center would be embarrassing if it weren't Pierre who lapped the sound up like honey.

"God, I got you this wet just by giving you a hickey?"

"And teasing me all damn night," you grit out, nails digging into his upper arm as he drags a finger against you again. You try and fail to unknot his tie. Frustrated, you tug at it and let out a whine. "Take this off so I can-"

"So you can what?" Pierre purrs, utterly nonplussed by your temper tantrum. "What are you gonna do with it?"

You shrug, confused by the sudden turn. "I don't know, I feel we aren't equally undressed and I'd rather change that."

"Oh, you want me to strip?" What had gotten into him? It was like a switch had been flipped, unlocking some dominant side of him that you had never seen before. His eyes were glassy, his hands wandering and needy, waiting on your reply.

"Well yes, if that's how you want to put it."

"I'll tell you what," Pierre says, "I'll take this off but it's not joining your clothes on the floor. I've got other uses for it I think you might like."

"Like what?" Your eyes track his nimble fingers as they work at the knot until the tie hangs loose around his neck. Pierre's grin promises trouble as he looks you up and down once more.

Without a word Pierre grabs ahold of both of your wrists and pins them above your head. His lips are an inch from yours, close enough that the slightest nudge forward would have his plump, angry red lower lip caught between your teeth. Close enough that your breath mingles and you're certain Pierre can hear the way your breathing becomes uneven.

"How do you feel about being tied up?"

Ever the gentleman, he waits for you to nod before tying the silk around your wrists. He tightens it enough that it'll hold firm if you squirm, but not enough to cause an uncomfortable level of pain. Pierre shoulders aside the coats and ties the other end to the railing, effectively forcing your arms to remain over your head until he sees fit to release them.

And god, something about being entirely at his mercy has a plea springing to your tongue. Any same thought in your head revolves around getting him to touch you, getting him inside you- fingers or cock or tongue you didn't care, you just needed something to ease the ache. But Pierre was in control, he was the one that decided what happened when and you had no say in the matter. 

"You like that, don't you?" Pierre drags his nose along your neck, one hand slipping beneath your panties. You both moan when his fingers are instantly slick. "Yeah, I guess you do."

"Please," you whisper, bucking your hips into his hand. "Please Pierre-"

You cry out when he removes his hand completely. "You said you wanted me to strip," he says simply, untucking his shirt. He undoes each button with agonizing deliberateness, dragging out each one. You strain against the tie that digs into your wrists, desperate for him to, "hurry up."

The last part comes out as a pained whine. You're too needy to care that you've been reduced to a mewling, begging mess. Pierre takes pity on you and sheds his button down and undoes his belt.

"You want me to fuck you here, baby? Where anyone might walk in and find me buried in you?"

You nod, toes curling against the tile. The prospect of it was thrilling; being caught with your lover in the throes of fucking, too blissed out to give a damn.

"Lucky for you, that's what I want too." Pierre pops the button on his pants and tugs his boxers down just enough for his cock to spring free. Your mouth waters at the sight of it as he strokes himself once, twice, three times before forcing your chin up to look at him.

"I want to see you."

You do your best to listen, to keep your eyelids from fluttering shut as Pierre guides the tip of his cock through your soaked folds.

"You're being so good for me," he murmurs, lips leaving a searing trail over your chest. Your fingers itch to bury themselves in his hair, instead your nails bite into your palms.

"Pierre, please just fuck me, I've waited long enough, please-"

Pierre thrusts into you without preamble. The words die in your throat as your body goes rigid, shutting down now that you've gotten exactly what you've been begging for. 

It shouldn't be possible for a man to make you feel this good. The way he fills you leaves no part of you wanting. Planes of muscle tense against you and you know Pierre is holding back, forcing himself to remain still while you construct a sentence brick by brick.

"Can you- god, I just-" Frustrated, you let out a groan. His cock had you too fucked out to speak and he hadn't even moved since that first stroke.

Fingers dimple the skin of your lower back, pressing your centers tight. Pierre's devilish tongue flicks over the mark on your neck, sending a fresh wave of candy coated pain crashing over you. "Tell me what you need."

"You know," you whimper, rising on your tiptoes. The inch of movement is enough to have your eyes rolling back. 

"Yeah." Pierre slides a hand down your exposed side. You can feel him twitch inside you and you know it's taking years of discipline to keep from fucking you open. With bound hands there's not much you can do to entice him besides rolling your hips. Pierre responds by pulling out an inch with each of your undulations until the heat of him is gone completely.

A string of profanities leave your lips and Pierre swallows them whole. Speech is too complicated. Instead Pierre tells you what he needs to by snapping his hips up, seating himself to the hilt in one go. Your moans fuse until you're not sure where your own ends and Pierre's begins. All you're certain of is how right it feels that Pierre's dick fits your pussy so perfectly, like it belongs there. The hanger digging into your shoulder blade is an afterthought, your focus on the fingers working your clit. The whispers of praise in your ear slip fluidly between English and French, and it doesn't matter what Pierre's saying, just that you can glean the lust coating each word. 

Each thrust of his hips has your nails biting harder and harder into your palms. You hadn't expected to like being deprived your sense of touch but it seemed to heighten your other senses. You pick up on the wet sounds accompanying Pierre's movements. Breathing gets harder with each stroke as the sensation builds to a crescendo in your belly.

You barely manage to breathe out, "Don't stop," before Pierre's hand finds your hastily done ponytail and yanks your head back. His lips find your exposed neck to leave a hot, open mouthed kiss to your throat.

"Merde, you're so tight, feels so good-"

"I'm-"

"No," Pierre says, the order plain and clear. "You're going to wait until I tell you that you can come. Understand?"

Pierre wasn't a selfish lover. Normally he'd coax an orgasm or two from you before he thought about himself. Tonight that wasn't the case. 

Your nod is weak, mouth hanging open and at a loss for words. You could get used to this side of him. A little less soft, less asking and more taking.

"I knew you would." Pierre's thumb sweeps under your jaw as his strokes come more infrequently, the time between each one growing fat and lazy. "I almost wish someone would walk in right now so they could see what I do to you. You're so easy to get worked up, aren't you? A few expert touches and you're unravelling around me."

If he didn't shut up, you'd be more than just worked up. You were about fifteen seconds of dirty words from shattering.

Pierre's lips graze the shell of your ear. "When I was on that top step today, all I could think about was getting you alone. That dumb grin on your face nearly made me leap off that platform and come running to you."

"If Daniel hadn't insisted on dumping the rest of my champagne over my head, I would've saved it to pour on you. Maybe do some body shots."

A knuckle trails between your breasts. You swear you can feel liquid fizzing against your skin before his tongue follows his knuckle, licking a wide stripe up your sternum. The strangled sound that escapes your mouth is foreign, guttural and rife with need.

You'd do anything for him to pound into you, to fuck you senseless. Hell, at this point you'd settle for being on your knees while he fucked your mouth, his hand on the back of your head urging you to take him deeper while your own fingers were buried between your spread thighs.

You don't realize you're audibly begging please, please, please, until Pierre cups your jaw and taps your lips. "You wanna come, don't you?"

Silk grinds into your wrists when you tense. "I wanna touch-"

It's all Pierre needs to hear to have him untying your hands and properly crowding you against the wall. Finally free, you dig your fingers into his biceps hard enough to leave stippled bruises. Pierre slams into you hard and fast, like having your hands on him has managed to snap the last of his resolve.

"Come for me."

Pierre swallows your cry with a crushing kiss as the knot in your stomach explodes. Your orgasm tears through you, pleasure licking through your veins and igniting every last nerve in your body. He doesn't give you time to catch your breath, your shaking legs somehow managing to hold you up while he chases his own high.

"Your turn, race winner," you breathe, and that does it for him. He pulls out a second before he cums on your stomach. His head falls forward to rest on your shoulder and you gently brush the sweat-damp hair from his forehead while he comes back to earth.

"You did amazing today. And I don't just mean the sex."

Pierre's laugh is barely a puff of air. "It was a pretty good drive."

"I hate to ruin the moment," you start, "but my stomach is starting to itch. I don't suppose you planned ahead and brought something with you to clean ourselves up?"

Pierre fumbles for his suit coat and produces a clean table napkin from the pocket. "You'd think you would have learned by now." 

Halfway into dressing yourself, a knock sounds at the door. The muffled voice is unmistakable, instantly recognizable as Daniel's girlfriend. "Are you two done? Daniel can only hold the minister and his wife up with small talk for so long. They need their coats."

Pierre kisses your reddened cheeks. "Guess round two will have to wait until we get home."

"God, fix your hair." Your best friend fusses over you the second the door swings open. "Haven't you ever fucked in a public space before? You're supposed to pull yourselves together before you rejoin the population. Pierre you're no better, tuck in your shirt. And what happened to your tie?"

Pierre shoots you a grin that goes right through you. "Don't worry about it."

"Yep, that's all I need to hear. You two scamper off while Daniel still has them distracted." She makes a shooing motion with her hands.

"Thank him for us," Pierre says before kissing her cheek. "But let's never speak of this again, yeah?"

"Ugh, agreed." She waves a hand, nose scrunched like a plate of rotten eggs had been set before her. "I don't ever want to remember the things I heard."

The warmth of Pierre's hand on your lower back is a welcome weight as he guides you through the people. A few stop him to chat, which he politely obliges for a few moments before using the same excuse each time, complaining of a headache. He declines the endless stream of drinks pushed into his hand, his actions focused solely on getting the two of you out the door.

You breathe a lungful of salty sea air when you finally make it outside. House lights dot the cliffs, twinkling in a mirror image of the stars above. Moonlight dances off the water, waves lapping at the sandy shores a few streets below.

"I forgot how beautiful it is here at night," you murmur, wrapping your arms around yourself. It had cooled off significantly since you'd arrived, the chill November air seeping in. "Though I am beginning to regret our decision to walk here tonight."

"Wasn't the smartest thing we've done." Pierre shrugs out of his jacket and sets it around your shoulders. You hum as his lingering heat envelops you, abating the cold. You clutch the lapels in one hand, trapping the warmth inside. 

"Only a few more weeks until winter break," you point out, if only for something to talk about. If you didn't keep your mouth running, you weren't entirely certain you'd make it home without falling asleep on a bench somewhere. "Have any big plans?"

"More nights like this. You and me, walking somewhere with a nice view, living for ourselves. No deadlines or appearances to be up early for, just us."

"When you get that Red Bull spot, won't you have photoshoots and stuff to attend in Milton?" You pointedly ignore Pierre's protests at your certainty of his seat for next year, barreling right over him. "Because that's much closer to home for me. I don't mind sharing you a day a week. You could even unpack your suitcase, stay awhile at my place maybe."

This last bit is said while your gaze is trained on the uneven stone path beneath your feet, half to ensure your heel doesn't snag in a crack and send you sprawling on your ass, and half because you're afraid of what Pierre's reaction might be to your suggestion. You had no idea where it had come from, the idea popping into your head and rolling off your tongue before you could think better of it. 

The silence stretches a heartbeat too long. "Did you just ask me to move in with you?"

"I mean kinda, if you want? There's plenty of closet space for your team gear and I've got a second parking space in the garage that I just use to park my bike. I know you have to keep your apartment in Milan, but I thought maybe you could use my place as a sort of satellite for when you're in England, it has to be easier than flying back and forth every weekend. But if you don't want to, that's fine."

"You know it's funny, I was planning to ask you the same thing. To move to Milan with me, once you finish school." Pierre stops, your tethered hands forcing you to do the same. "But I like your idea better. I wouldn't have to wait so long."

"Wait, really?" You had to admit, the thought of waking up to a fresh pot of coffee and a kiss each morning was intriguing. "You're serious?"

"Of course I am." Pierre places a hand on your hip and tugs you close so he can kiss you. "Once the season's over, I'm getting on the first flight to London."

"Might want to stop in Milan first," you tease, rising on your tiptoes for another kiss. "Round up your trophies. My place could use some redecorating."

"I've got it covered."

@seasidetom @flashcal @limp-wrist-max @sunshinesewis @lifeofzoemichael @ninuffi @perfectfantasies22 @lamboleglerg @ladyperceval @0forgottenparadise0 @evie-pr @avsensio @ninuffi @lu-morningstar @ggaslyp1 @swiftyhowlz @xeniarocks @teenwaywardasgardian @saintandrea-droidsmuggler​

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[theeslytherinslut]

The Perpetual Freak (2/?)

Ch 2: Aboard the Hogwarts Express

Pairings: Sirius Black x reader, Marauders x reader Warnings: none, slight language (but that's for every chapter rlly) Word Count: 3,108

As if on cue, you heard a knock at the door just as your foot touched down onto the landing. The sound of quick, heeled footsteps sounded immediately after; Grandmother briskly coming down the hall followed by the slower steps of Blakely as he surely wanted to gaze curiously at your friends.

“Prongs!” you breathed upon seeing James, smiling fondly at the messy mop of black hair atop your friend's head.

“Twitchy!” he smiled back, opening his arms in greeting. You wasted no time in falling into them, smiling into his chest as his hug signaled the true return to Hogwarts.

“Mrs. Killianis,” James said, suddenly formal as he looked to your severe grandmother behind you. Following his gaze, you saw her eyes narrowing as Sirius and Remus all but fell out of the car, Peter’s wheezing laughter following them out.

You smiled fondly after them as Remus brushed the dirt from his knees, frowning up at Sirius. Sirius grinned back and ran a hair through his raven black hair, brushing it from his eyes.

“Hello, Mrs. Killianis,” Sirius said, his voice taking on a tone you’d never heard before. You and James glanced warily at each other.

“Hello, boys,” she said stiffly, her eyes now staring rudely at the scars littering Remus’ exposed skin.

Remus cleared his throat, clearly catching your grandmother's eyes. “Shall we get your trunk then?” he said, clapping his hands together as he smiled at you.

You offered him a sympathetic smile and pushed an apology into his head at your grandmother’s rudeness.

“That’d be great, Moony, thanks.” you nodded. Peter followed him up into your room dutifully. After a moment or two, you heard what sounded like a reprimanding noise followed by a sharp smack and idly wondered what was going on.

“I suppose you’ll be staying at the school for the Holidays again, yes? Blakely and I were planning a trip,” Grandmother said suddenly--it didn’t take a genius to figure out you weren’t invited.

“Definitely,” you answered briskly. The choice between a Hogwarts Christmas with the boys and a visit to Grandmother's sister’s house in the States with Blakely was a no-brainer.

“Lovely thing Hogwarts does, providing a home for the holidays,” James grinned, putting an emphasis on ‘home.’ Grandmother lowered her eyes, but Remus and Peter were already coming down the stairs, hauling your heavy trunk between them.

“Bloody hell, Twitch,” Remus huffed, blowing his thin brown hair out of his eyes, “What’d you pack?”

“Mind your tongue, boy,” Grandmother snipped as the two of them passed through the front door. “You won’t behave like the heathens that you are in my presence.”

“Er, right,” Sirius scoffed, rolling his eyes and laughing under his breath. “C’mon, Twitch, don’t want to be late.”

Eager to leave the situation, you quickly followed the boys out and made your way into the baking heat. Just as they made to load your trunk, you clucked your tongue as Peter fumbled his end and dropped it roughly into the undoubtedly magically enhanced trunk.

“Sorry,” Peter winced, rubbing his hands together in an anxious sort of way.

“S’Alright Wormtail. Now, shall we get a move on, then?” James said, using his wand to swing open the car door for you. You heard your grandmother let out a small gasp, and Blakely took a step back. As most parents took the time to drop their children off at Platform 9 3/4, the journey there was generally a sort of grace period if you wanted to use magic; the Ministry wouldn’t take the time to differentiate each use of magic on this day between parents and students. Per wizarding law, they'd never seen magic as you didn’t use it during your time here--aside from your special gift.

“Please,” you said, turning to leave without glancing back.

“You aren’t going to say goodbye?” you heard Remus ask. You turned to answer him before you slipped into the car, but he wasn’t talking to you.

“Excuse me?” Grandmother said, clearly affronted he was saying anything more than ‘hi’ and ‘bye.’

“Honestly, Moony, just let it alone,” Sirius moaned as he made his way back out of the car to gather him.

“You aren’t going to see your granddaughter for 9 months, surely you’re going to at least say goodbye?” Remus pressed on, equally affronted. Sirius took a step closer to his friend, and you saw your grandmother’s eyes fall upon the several tattoos that already littered his arms; Sirius lived to upset his family, and tattoos were such a Muggle form of rebellion it only bolstered his point.

Her eyes then fell to the both of their wands, which were gripped tightly in their hands, and let out a breath she’d been holding. Lowering her eyes but acquiescing nonetheless, she sighed.

“Goodbye, then,” she said stiffly, nudging Blakely, who was locking eyes with a mischievous looking Sirius. Glancing behind Blakely’s head, you saw a dish hovering dangerously above his head and looked to see Sirius' wand pointed right at it. Rolling your eyes, you pushed the dish back with your own and threw a knowing grin at Sirius.

“Naughty, naughty boy,” you said silently. He grinned back boyishly at you and threw you a wink.

“See you next summer,” Blakely allowed, lowering his eyes at you and grinning in an awful sort of way. You could’ve sworn you heard a growl on your right and found Remus glaring at Blakely, who swallowed harshly and disappeared back into the house. At that, you slipped into the front seat next to James, the rest of the boys piling into the backseat, Remus scolding Sirius for shoving Peter out of the way to get in first. Fondly, you smiled and listened to them bicker.

“Merlin, glad that’s over.” Remus shook his head as James smoothly pulled away from the house. “Don’t know how you do it all summer.”

“Aw, what’s the matter, Moony? Not a big fan of familial tension, are we? I think it’s rather quite nice; reminds me of home,” Sirius said with a fake voice of longing. James looked through the rearview mirror and rolled his eyes at Sirius.

“Muggles giving you hell again?” Peter squeaked from the backseat, grabbing the head of your seat and leaning up towards you.

He’d always been a mousy boy, but after his first successful transformation, his commonalities with his Animagi only became more pronounced.

“When do they not, Wormtail?” you laughed, throwing a gum wrapper at him playfully as you popped a piece into your mouth.

“Ooh, is that gum?” Sirius asked, peering over your shoulder from the backseat.

“Yes, but it’s Muggle-gum.” you reminded him.

“Bit boring, but it’ll do. Jamesy won’t let me smoke in the car,” Sirius sneered, looking amusedly at an annoyed-looking James in the mirror.

“It smells! Isn’t my fault Dad has the nose of a bloody hound,” he defended, looking disgruntled at the thought of being a do-gooder.

“Good ol’ Fleamont, what a chap,” Sirius laughed, spreading out on the backseat and draping his arm along the seats. He reached and affectionately gave Remus’ hair a tussle, jostling Peter in the process, who grinned.

“So, now that we’ve all been reminded how horrible my lovely grandmother is, how was everybody else’s Holiday?” you asked as James drove the car expertly around the busy London streets--Muggle driving was a skill he was particularly proud of.

“Oh, you know, wonderful as always. Mother only threatened to have me disenfranchised and disgraced twice this year, so that’s a mark better than last Holiday.” Sirius laughed, blowing bubbles with his gum but frowning in disappointment when they popped.

“Didn’t you go to Prongs’ early this year?” you asked, remembering James’ letter that Sirius had arrived a few weeks into break.

“Yeah, don’t know why the evil hag insists on having me around anyway. All she does is dote on Regulus and send the nearest object flying at my head. Don’t even get me started on Kreacher...I don’t think I’ll go back next year.” a dark look came over his features, and you found yourself staring at him.

“What?” you asked, shocked at the nonchalant tone of his serious words.

“Yeah, I didn’t so much go to Prongs’ early this year as I did run away,” he said, looking slightly sheepish as you looked accusingly at him.

“What? What happened? Why didn’t you tell me?” you gasped, turning in the front seat entirely to glare at him.

“Dunno, I mean, I’m telling you now, aren’t I?” he shrugged.

“Well, go on then, tell me more,” you insisted.

“Just more of the same Twitch. You don’t understand,” he paused, and his usual carefree, light demeanor vanished and was taken over by a dark cloud that seemed to fill the car. “That house, it’s like a black hole. It swallows you whole. It’s like a bloody residential dementor. Every decent thought you have gets sucked into the black wallpaper, every horrible thought you’ve ever had on repeat, magnified. I can’t breathe in that house; they’re all so cozy, so comfortable in that dark, that evil. The Noble House of Black, it’s killing me slowly, draining the life out of me.”

He seemed aware of how much he was saying, how serious he’d gotten, because, at the end of the little speech, he let out a deep breath and forced a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck subconsciously.

“Nothing like Prongs’ here, for example,” he grinned up at his friend, who shot him one from the mirror.

“I mean, you basically already lived there,” James shrugged. “Besides, Mum was thrilled--you know, I think she likes you better than me sometimes.”

“Oh, she definitely does, mate. Euphemia and me? Kinda besties,” Sirius grinned, and the dark cloud dispersed. You found yourself staring at Sirius, chest full of emotion. The quickness with which he dismissed himself was almost worse.

“And, Moony? How was yours?” James asked, filling the silence.

“Decent, I suppose. Though I’ve almost worked my way through every decent book worth reading at the library closest to home, all the rest are the silly little Muggle books in that dingy section they have in the back...though I started reading this one called the ‘Bible’; Merlin does it tell some truly fantastic tales...whales eating people, turning water to wine, healing the blind--this Jesus bloke even rose from the dead! I reckon he was some type of early wizard or something, don’t know how the Muggles don’t...” he trailed off while the rest of you shared knowing glances. Moony was prone to monologues full of on-the-spot thinking, constantly prattling on about something he’d read in some book.

“You’re doing it again,” you shot a meaningful look at Remus, who blushed scarlet at your mental words and trailed off.

“Hey, no fair!" Sirius whined from the back seat at you. "I wanted to see where he was going with that. There definitely could’ve been something in there well worth making fun of!”

“Opportunity missed, Padfoot.” James hissed in sympathy at his friend, smiling at him in the rearview mirror.

“You all leave Moony alone. Just because he gets abnormally excited about really obscure Muggle things doesn’t mean we get to make fun of him for it,” you shot a smile at Remus in the back seat, who rolled his eyes but nonetheless smiled around sheepishly.

“How was your summer, James?” Peter asked from the backseat, leaning up hopefully.

“Alright, my parents set up a little Quidditch pitch in the back; Sirius got his arse handed to him a couple times,” James smirked, throwing a playful grin at his best friend in the backseat.

Wormtail laughed gleefully at James’ story as he described a match while Sirius sat up indignantly, poised to argue.

“I’m a Keeper, Potter. Not a sodding Seeker. Not too quick to tell everyone how miserable you were at trying to get the Quaffle in, though, are you?” Sirius quipped from the backseat.

“Down, boy. We all know how great of a Keeper you are, wouldn’t have won that last match against Ravenclaw without you..” you pushed into Sirius’ head, stroking his bruised ego. He met your eyes in the rearview and smirked up at you, clearly appeased by your comment. Lounging lazily once more in the roomy backseat, he turned to Peter.

“What about you, Wormtail? Your Holiday good?” Sirius said, cocking his head at his friend with a mischievous glint in his eye.

“S’alright..” he trailed off, looking around nervously as Sirius grinned at him.

“Really? Didn’t miss having Prongs’ arse to kiss?” he sneered at his friend, who blushed and stuttered.

“Let him alone, Pads,” Remus smiled at his friend from across the seats.

Just as the boys began to bicker more harshly, James pulled into the parking lot at Kings Cross, and the group of you piled out of the car.

“Wormtail, go find us a trolley,” Sirius said, and with a wave of his hand, Peter was gone.

“Obedient little bugger, isn’t he?” Remus said praisingly, rubbing his chin.

“Why d’you think he’s made it this long?” Sirius laughed, lifting his trunk out of the car as Peter came wheezing around with the trolley.

“I’ve got it, Y/N,” Peter said, exerting tremendous effort to lift your trunk until Remus saw him and reached in to help.

“Thanks, Peter...always so helpful.” you pushed to him in thanks. You saw him blush violently and smile to himself.

Your gift had taught you many things, but perhaps above all: people were so easily manipulated, one well-timed compliment, and it could send a person fawning. Though you weren’t shy to use it to your advantage, it was lucky a person of your moral stature had the gift. It could be so easily used...perhaps it was thoughts like these that led to the Sorting Hat’s consideration of your placement in Slytherin.

Half an hour later, your trunks were placed in the train's storage carriages, and the group of you were lounging in a compartment, your various pets making random noises as they settled in for the long train ride.

Jinx hooted sleepily in his cage before lifting his wing and drifting off to sleep. Sirius’ handsome jet-black Screech Owl, BamBam, seemed to take a cue from Jinx and buried his head into his wing as well. They almost resembled salt and pepper shakers as they stood next to one another in direct contrast. To most everyone's intense surprise, Remus’ pet was a fluffy siamese cat named Cleo. Unsurprising, however, was Peter’s choice of a pet rat named Nibbles. Though, Nibbles was on his last leg--most common rats only lived a couple of years, and Nibbles had been with Peter since first year.

“What’re you doing?” Peter asked, sitting up interestedly in his seat as Sirius drew out his wand and flung open the compartment door.

“Having some fun,” Sirius shrugged, the grin you all loved so much donning his face. James watched his friend and broke into a smile; Peter seemed to be struggling to sit still with excitement; even Remus peered over the top of his book to watch.

Fully aware he was holding all of your attention, Sirius pointed his wand at the wall opposite your door.

“Carpe Retractum,” Sirius said, and a length of rope came spouting out at the end of his wand. “Bollocks...what’s that one to get something to stick to something else?” he asked into the compartment after a moment.

“Epoximise,” Remus answered from behind his book once more, seemingly having seen everything he needed to.

“Right, cheers, Moony,” Sirius smiled and did the incantation, sticking the other end of the rope to the wall. Pulling on his wand, he seemed to test his theory and smiled in success as the rope pulled taught--effectively making a tripwire.

“Very nice,” you complimented, to which you received a playful little bow of his head.“Might I suggest something, though?”

“By all means, Twitch,” Sirius said, gesturing to the tripwire.

“Omnino dissimulare,” you spoke, pointing your wand at the length of rope. As the white beam of light hit it, the rope disappeared from view, and you smiled triumphantly. You’d been working hard on that one towards the end of last term and were worried you’d have to start over with the holiday break.

“Excellent!” Peter cheered, clapping wildly at the two of you.

“Where’d you learn that?” Remus said, finally putting his book down and looking at you curiously.

“Been working on it for a bit. Found it in a book Madam Pince let me take home last Christmas,” you answered, feeling a bit smug that you’d impressed Remus.

“Pince let you take home books?” Remus said, incredulous.

“You know she pities me,” you laughed, waving a hand. “Though, she did threaten to turn me inside out if there was so much a creased page--so only marginally.”

“Wait, wait!” Sirius called, pointing to the door excitedly; Peter was positively quivering.

A group of already-robed Slytherins came strolling past your window, and you smiled in anticipation. At the last second, Sirius jerked his wrist and tightened the rope, sending the group of Slytherins sprawling across the floor.

The group of you exploded into laughter, and they all got to their feet, whipping their wands out, looking for a culprit. Given the rope was invisible, however, they found no such thing and resigned to giving the group of you ugly looks before grumping off.

“Oh, very good, Padfoot,” Peter simpered, laughing heartily as tears of joy rolled down his plump cheeks.

“A little juvenile,” Remus scolded, smiling ruefully at his friends, “But funny. However, as a Prefect, I am not to indulge in such behavior and as such must sincerely reprimand you.”

“Most eloquently spoken, dear Moony. Tell me, does being a Prefect mean you have to be just a bit of a prat on principle?” James asked his friend, painting a serious look on his face as Sirius and Peter erupted into laughter. You let out a small giggle as Remus blushed slightly and put down his book.

“Well, you should sure as hell hope not,” Remus began, smiling mischievously at his friend. “Imagine fawning after Lily Evans for years, at her often utter disgust, only for her to end up being a prat. Talk about unfortunate, mate.”

The group of you were in stitches over Remus’ response, and even James let out a laugh.

“Touche, Moony. Touche,” he laughed, shaking his finger at Remus in a playful manner. A warm feeling spread through you; you were so happy to finally be going home.

************

Taglist: @whiskeypowder

[1ddiscourseoftheday]

Mon 1 March ‘21

Louis came back to tell us he’ll be back soon! He said he had his wisdom teeth out OH NO! As Louis says, “ruthless stuff,” and yeah for real, so sorry bud. Hope he got the good drugs for recovery, but all the pain will definitely be worth it-- he now has 28 teeth!! He says he hopes we’re all right and says “I'll be on in a few days, sending you all love,” and then promotes a cloud software for gaming, and a few items were (belatedly) removed from the his merch store.

Niall’s promo for the just announced golf tournament his company is putting on at the end of summer is in full swing (insert golf swing joke here, I wouldn’t know where to begin personally). Niall tells us that “sport is the place where you change culture and society,” (I do NOT agree but I do get what he means I guess, about pro sports being visibly integrated ahead of other parts of society in some cases) and that he is “obsessed with golf, all types of golf. I will sit down in the States and watch college golf, women’s golf, disabled golf; I’ll watch anything. It’s like watching your local football team…It is a passion of mine. I love golf and sit at home watching TV, wanting to change the game.”

Emma Corrin confirms that My Policeman begins shooting in early April and says she’s done a moodboard for her character, we heard that “Styles himself sent [the script] to Corrin around a year ago, shortly after they met, to get her thoughts before signing on” (to get thoughts from a fellow queer actor bestie? maybe so!) and that she’s excited to work with Harry “because we’re so close,” because she can say that and not have to worry about getting written up as Harry’s new lady love and she knows it! It is VERY clear that some sort of serious press pressure is being brought to bear to emphasize that she and Harry are friends, really, just great terrific VERY PLATONIC friends which first of all it is extremely funny to watch the papers falling over themselves to show that they are respectfully following that order, but also shows that with enough persuasion the press can in fact write about celebrities without romantically linking them. Hmm it’s… almost as if all the Holivia content was deliberate?? Wild thought I know!

And how is ole Holivia? Well, with Harry laying low (and maybe on a different continent than the other players) the tabs have turned to Olivia/ Jason content, telling us that they have ‘formed a bubble,’ which doesn’t seem as scandalous as they seem to think it is IMO: they have children and are in the same place I literally don’t think it’s possible for them to NOT be in a bubble? Still, it got me excited that maybe we were entering Phase Two of the JHOlivia love triangle story, The One Where Olivia And Jason Reunite, and it could be! They have also wanted us to know that Jason and Olivia are living together, which they very well might be, why not, but since they also said Olivia was living with Harry when she very clearly was not, forgive me if I don’t take their word for it. In the wake of Jason’s Golden Globe win last night most of his press is just about his Harry-like tie dye hoodie though.

[achliegh]

Golden

(Sorry if this Chapter is lack luster :/ )

Yeehaw Leo… it's all because this song came on one day (I don’t even really listen to country anymore so it really is fate). Leo is based off that song, each chapter is going to be based off a yeehaw song too.

Characters belong to @lumosinlove

TW/CW: Smut, terrible yeehaw sayings and jokes, injuries, mentions of past death, minor character death, underage drinking, mentions of past arrests, cringe

Chapter Songs (listening in order is recommended):

Ladies Love Country Boys

Bonfire Playlist: Spotify, Youtube

Watching Airplanes

Chapter 2:

Cowboy Sweet Ass sent you a Location

New Message from Cowboy Sweet Ass

See you there ;)

Finn was nervous, he wasn’t gonna lie, Logan and Him are leaving tomorrow for Gryff and this is the last night they can see Leo. Who, neither of them will admit this, has kindly wiggled his way into their brains for every minute of everyday. Sometimes to break a long silence between the two of them they will talk about Leo. How they were going to cope when they can’t see him again is unknown and something he didn’t want to think about.

They hadn’t actually seen Leo in the past five days, with their training schedule and Leo helping set up a charity arena for the thing they were supposed to meet him at tonight, it was just late night calls that were still kinda awkward at times. But always had them smiling as they fell asleep.

Walking up the dirt path, where the uber had dropped them off, Logan and Finn weren’t sure they were in the right place until they saw the huge crowd gathered around a tall metal fence with bleachers and an announcers corner that's up on a hydraulic lift, speakers set up so people can hear the quick talking of the men commenting on whatever was happening.

Horses and people on them were everywhere. This causes Logan a lot of stress, as someone who is terrified of horses… This is not ideal. Especially when one is trotting toward them at a scary fast speed.

Finn recognized Clayton immediately, trotting over at a leisurely pace on a cool looking horse he waves. He notices Logan hiding himself completely behind Finn’s back. Finn held his hand out for Logan to take and squeeze if everything got too much for him. Logan wasn’t good in big crowds.

“Well look who it is!” Clayton hops off his living vehicle and patting her neck. “Let me introduce you to my babe, This” He gestures towards the mare, “Is Leroy, she is a Blanket Appaloosa! Have you guys met Peanut yet? He’s chilling with Eloise, Leo’s mom, you better hope he likes you or else… yeah, or else.” Clay flashes them his slightly crooked but stupidly white smile as he absentmindedly pets Leroy’s neck.

Feeling a squeeze of his hand he looks back to see an absolutely terrified Logan, not knowing about his fear of horses Finn is just confused. So, he goes into a ‘ get Logan alone’ mind set.

“We will find you in a minute, we’re gonna explore!” Finn smiles back and Clayton nods as he swings his leg back over Leroy and clicks his tongue so she struts back towards the group of other yeehaws on their own horses, they all had numbers pinned to their backs which was weird but Finn guessed Leo would explain later. Claytons was CR243, and it looked like it was about to fall off. He notices how someone would go in real fast and then come out after a minute or two. The announcer talked too fast for him to catch.

Leading Logan to a more open area he turns to face him and raises an eyebrow.

“Okay, what's wrong?”

“Ummmm, J'ai peur des chevaux….” Logan isn’t looking him in the eyes and has an embarrassed flush to his face. Finn, having no clue what he said, gently grabs his chin to make him look at him, Lo hasn’t run his finger through his hair yet so that means he isn’t nervous around Finn at least. Fixing Logan with a slightly irritated but still worried look, Logan sighs and tries to say something but instead what comes out is a terrified yelp as something takes his hat off his head and pulls some of his hair at the same time, then drops it at his feet.

Whipping around and jumping into Finn’s arms bridal style Logan shrieks as he is met with a blonde horse that almost looks smug. The little splotchy white stripes on its snoot may make it look kinda cute but Logan knows what can happen if you get on a horse's bad side. It happened to Sydney, he didn’t need it to happen to him too.

“Peanut!” A very tall and beautiful older woman walks over to them laughing a little, she has a hearing aid in her left ear and soft blue eyes bright with amusement stare them down. “Sorry Y’all, he likes to find new people to mess with.” She smiles and there is just something so familiar about those deep dimples and sharp cheekbones. She is wearing tight jeans with knee high army green cowboy boots, a white button up with a black cowboy hat contrasting the golden curls falling out from under it. She is wearing a sash with the words ‘Miss Louisiana 1971’ the wrinkles on her face didn’t make her look old and crinkly like people like to think, but more like a gracefully aging woman. She holds her hand out to Finn for him to shake, Logan is still in his arms so it is as much of an invitation to him as Finn. “I’m Eloise, this is my son’s horse.” She looks them up and down after shaking both their hands. “He would like you two.” She smiles one last time, giving them a giant wink and leads Peanut away from them back to the bullpens where they spot Leo sitting on the top of a fence talking to a couple of people.

Finn looks at Logan and sets him down.

“So.. horses?”

“Shut up”

“You go for a cowboy and are afraid of horses!” Finn is bent over laughing and clutching his stomach while Logan crosses his arms and looks around annoyed after he dusted off his hat and put it back on his head.

“What’s so funny?” they look over to see Leo in full get up. Smiling bright, showing off his chipped tooth. His hair was flattened by a black sturdy cowboy hat, his blue button up vibrant under his black vest. The vest had a couple of logos stitched into it for Absolut Vodka, Mt. Dew, and Ariat…. Leo was sponsored? He was also wearing some jeans that fit him just right around his booty that they could see through his assless black chaps that had iridescent tassels on them, with his black boots and belt to match. His silver buckle stood out with the light reflecting off it.

“Wow… you look great.” Logan just melts into Leo’s side when Leo wraps an arm around his shoulders. “But tell Finn to stop being a jerk.” Logan put on his best pout when looking up at the taller man, who looked at him with a look that made his heart feel like it was about to jump out of his chest. It didn’t alarm him though, it was nice to feel like this. But it can’t last forever.

“What's he doing that's so mean.” Leo turns his attention to Finn who is smiling at them like he's watching two kittens cuddle into each other. His eyes bright with happiness, his smiles wide.

“He’s making fun of me because I’m scared of horses.” Logan wraps his arms around Leo’s waist and squishes his cheek into his chest to look as cute as possible, so Leo will be on his side. Which… fails.

“You’re afraid of horses!” Leo hugs Logan as he starts laughing, smacking a kiss on the top of Logan’s annoyed forehead and squeezes him. “You’re so cute.” Suddenly they hear numbers coming over other speakers and Leo perks up. “Oh I’m up soon! I hope y’all are gonna stay and watch because I would love to take you to the bonfire tonight.” He pulls Finn into the embrace and gives them both a quick peck on the lips, smiling when they chase his lips. “There should be an open spot in the bleachers or, you could watch from Peanut.”

“Bleachers!” Logan gets out of Leo’s arms and starts pulling both the boys towards the crowd without horses. Leo helps them find a spot next to some girls who flirt with Leo but he has no fucking clue. He is just focused on getting Finn and Logan a good spot.

“Alright, my number is BR11710, so when you hear that you’ll know I’m up! I think Clay might come and find you, he had a good run earlier wrangling those troublemaking claves, so keep an eye out for him.” He smiles and climbs down the bleachers gracefully until the last small step where his spur gets caught and he has to yank it out of the cevous it got stuck in. Looking back up at Finn and Logan his cheeks were red as he shrugged and sauntered off towards the chutes.

“Hola losers!” Clayton plops down above with and slaps a hand on their shoulders. “Excited to see him ride? Or have you already? Actually I would know because we overshare way too much.” Smiling, Clayton is covered in dirt and his cowboy hat has been traded out for a ball cap and his button up taken off to be just a white tank top. A tall pale girl sat down with Clayton and was scrolling on her phone looking uninterested. Clayton sits up and wraps an arm around her waist. “Oh this is Ashley, my girlfriend.” She looks up and gives them an irritated wave before going back to her phone.

“Ride? What’s he doing?” Finn looks at him confused after sharing a look with Logan about the irritated girlfriend, then they hear the announcers call Leo's number.

“Alrighty ladies and gentlefolk! We have something special for y’all! One of our very own PBR riders is here to ride the roughest toughest bull of the day! Ole Forty Days!” The crowd cheers as a confused Finn and Logan look at Clayton who whoops and hollers for his bestie. Whistling with his thumb and forefinger in his mouth.

“Alright Jimmy lets get in some commentary before the ride starts, Leo Knut is a 19 year old Professional Bull Rider, his Mother is Eloise Knut also known as Miss Rodeo of 1970 and Miss Louisiana of 1971. His father was Wyatt Knut, Air Force Veteran who was also Leo’s biggest role model.”

“Was?” Logan whispers and gives a sad look to Finn who is busy watching Leo, he is on this tank of an animal, large, white, horns the size of his whole forearm. Leo was adjusting the way he is sitting and has an underside grip on the rope around the bull, wrapping it around his palm to make sure there isn’t a tether that can be stepped on and yank him off.

“Ole Forty Days is the only PBR bull here today, worth millions he is undefeated 32-0 in his career this year. Will Leo who is 30-2 this year be able to stay on those eight seconds.”

Leo hits the challenge button and the gate flies open, Ole Forte days is wild! Finn is automatically on his feet as he watches Leo with his hand up in the air, eyes hard from focusing and counting in his head. Forte turns a 45 degree buck and just about tosses Leo but his grip is so tight that he lasts those eight seconds. The announcers went crazy the entire time.

As he dismounts the still bucking bull his wrist gets caught in the rope he was holding earlier because of the way his glove is falling apart. The rodeo clowns distract the bull fast enough for Leo to get himself detached, falling on the ground. The bull tosses Leo onto the ground and just misses stomping on his ankles. Leo hops onto the fence, the adrenaline is pumping through his veins and his eyes are bright as he searches for the boys in the stand watching him with fear etched into their faces. When his eyes met Logan’s the fear turned into relief and Leo felt the adrenaline making his heart beat even faster.

After Forte is corralled back into the pen to have the rope around his hips removed Leo jumps off the fence and takes his hat off bowing to the crowd, and they love it, whistling and whoops are heard. He points to Finn, Logan and Clayton. Clayton is so excited and starts dragging the other two down the bleachers leaving Ashley behind. Leo doesn’t like her at all so it's fine. Leo turns around and walks towards sports medicine and lets them take a look at his wrist. As his adrenaline starts to fade away the tweak in his wrist starts to bother him as the medic wraps it up.

“You just ruined Forte’s career!” Clay hugs him from the side and picks him up all excited, his girlfriend who decided to join looks at them unapprovingly. Finn and Logan basically tackle Leo to the ground once Clay puts him down. One on each side of him, balanced.

“Are you insane! That could have killed you!” Finn is shaking a laughing Leo by his collar as Logan examines the way his wrist is wrapped.

“I know, I technically wrecked at the end but I still got my eight seconds!” He smiles and takes his hand from Logan, cupping his cheek and rubbing his thumb over the soft skin.

“You never told us you rode bulls! Leo, a little heads up would have been appreciated!” Logan whacks him on the back of the head after they stand up.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. How can I make it up to you?” Leo puts an arm around them and kisses their temples. They had an idea. Where to do it was the question.

The rodeo ended not long after Leo’s ride, the charities the winners chose would be given a five thousand dollar check courtesy of the Knut’s. After Leo was done taking down the arena, a large pile of wood was set up with large equipment. Leo pulled a Clayton and took off his chaps, vest, button down, and hat off so he was wearing a white shirt and a ball cap.

Leo made up for scaring Finn and Logan by pulling them into the back seat of his truck. Leo sitting in the middle of the seat with Finn straddling one leg, hunched over and sucking on Leo’s neck. Logan straddled Leo’s other leg and kissed him with a ferocity that made them both groan. Leo rested his hands in Finn’s hair and on Logan’s hip. Pulling away Leo turns his head to face Finn, guiding him from his neck to lips. He feels Logan push his hand underneath his shirt and smirks into his kiss with Finn. Moving his hands to squeeze both of their asses, causing Logan’s breath to hitch and Finn to moan. He is about to suggest something spicy when a knock on the window alerts them that the party has started.

Why does Clay always have to stick to his word? Leo asked him to let them know when it was time to move his truck to have the tailgate facing the fire, and now was that time. Leo’s head thumps back onto the seat as he lets out an annoyed sigh.

“Well, I guess we have a party to attend… I’m gonna get so drunk.” He smiles and gives his boys one last kiss before he ushers them out of the truck so he can get out of the backseat to move it.

Finn wanders over to Clayton who has Ashley under his arm, she is tall and very skinny. Her long brown hair was in a French braid, she was wearing short shorts, boots and a crop top. He has a very sour look on her face as Finn walks over to them. Logan on the other hand, goes to take a piss in the porta potty. Something he is not fond of doing.

Leo moves his truck and gets out to put the tailgate down so people can sit on it, climbing into the bed of the truck he opens the cooler in the back and takes out two budlights, Leo doesn't really care for budlight but they need to be drunk.

“CLAYTON!” He shouts as the three walk over to the truck, chucking the beer at his friend; they both take out their keys, puncturing the cans and shotgunning the beers.

A few hours and a lot of drinks later Leo was singing to Finn, standing between his legs as Finn sat on the tailgate next to Logan who was filming.

“You can train 'em, You can try to teach 'em right from wrong. But it's still gonna turn 'em on!” Finn can’t help but laugh and wrap his arms around Leo’s necklaces he sang, every once in while facing Logan's phone and singing into the camera as he filmed. Taking a drink of his beer he smacks a sloppy kiss on Finn's cheek and skips away to Clayton to dance like idiots as Luke Bryan sang about shaking it for birds and bees.

The two drunken best friends wrap and arm around each other hips with their drinks in the other hand, putting left side to right side they swing back and forth to the beat as they scream out the music.

Later on Leo picks Logan up so his arms are around his neck and his legs are around his waist and spins around while humming to a song about wheels and Finn looks so smitten that clayton takes a picture to show him and laughs as he send it to Leo, who has managed to misplace his phone… for the millionth time.

Setting Logan down he wraps his arms around the shorter man's shoulders and rests his chin on top of his head as he bounces to the beat. Logan leans his forehead to rest on Leo’s chest and uses his hand that isn’t holding his water to loop his finger into one of Leo’s belt loops he wishes he could take a screenshot in his brain.

Hours passed, singing and horrible dancing, more drinking for Clay and Leo until it sounded like a good idea to see who could crush a folding table by jumping off Clayton’s truck. Finn managed to lead them away before they actually tried it by telling them’ Leo could def dance better than Clayton’. Which turned into the worst dance battle ever seen. Two drunk teenagers and country music make for terrible dancing but a lot of laughs. Eventually, the fire dies down, the drinks run out and the boys get tired. Finn wrangles Leo into the back seat of the truck after lifting the tailgate, moving to go to the drivers seat because Logan might be to short to drive and they are to dumb to figure out how to move the seats, Leo latches onto him and pulls him into the backseat with him.

“Hey! How do you expect me to drive back here!” Finn pokes Leo’s nose and Leo catches his finger in his mouth biting him. Finn squawks and pulls his finger away. Looking at Leo offended, laughing a little as Leo is looking at him with this tiny smirk. “That was rude.” Leo narrows his eyes playfully and flips them so Finn is laying on his back with Leo snuggling into his chest.

Logan gets in on the passenger side and looks up to see Finn in the back seat being snuggled by an oddly cat like Leo who is rubbing his face on Finn’s soft t shirt, when his eyes meet Logans he blushes so vibrantly pink and has the shyest smiles as he hides his face in Finn’s chest again. Logan looks at Finn who looks like he's dying from cuteness overload. Logan moves over to the driver's seat and sits all the way on the edge of the seat to be able to touch the petals. Logan doesn’t have a clue where Leo lives… but he does remember how to get back to the hotel.

Trying to get a clingy 6’3” cowboy into a hotel room while he is intoxicated is a lot easier than you would think. He was tired, stripping down the second they walk into the door he lands on the bed in his boxer briefs and spoons Logan and grips Finn’s arm as he falls asleep.

They all slept incredibly well that night, warm, close, and together.

The next morning was the morning The Lions leave to go back to Gryffindor. Leo was up before the other two, showered and dressed when he woke them up with peppering kisses all over their faces.

“Good morning, Honey Bees. Y’all need to get up and get ready to leave, you go home today.” Leo runs his hand through Finn’s hair as he greets them with a sad smile. He doesn’t want them to leave, but he knows that this isn’t some fairytale where two princes will give up their dreams to be with him. That’s not what he wants anyway. The other two finally get up, Finn goes to shower as Logan changes and packs his bag. Glancing at Leo every once in a while, like he wants to say something.

“Leo, what are you still doing here?” Logan drops his bag by the door and turns around to face the taller man, crossing his arms and giving Leo a cold look. Leo is a little taken back by this, Logan has never looked at him like that, and he wasn’t expecting it from how nice yesterday was.

“I was to see you two off… is that okay?” Leo starts to feel uncomfortable under the harsh eyes he found so pretty, he starts picking at the wrap around his wrist, breaking eye contact with Logan as a sinking feeling seeps into his chest. He never expected anything to actually come from this but he ached for it.

He knows where this is going.

“I don’t know what you think is going to happen after we leave, but we aren’t going to be fawning over you when we are busy with our own careers. You are just… a guy who we had a fling with. Finn and I aren’t even together so don’t expect anything.” Logan's voice stayed low in volume but echoed in Leo’s ears.

“I wasn’t expecting anything. I just wanted to see you guys leave, say goodbye, maybe…” Leo didn’t finish his sentence when he looked up at an annoyed and frustrated Logan. “What did I do?” He hears the bathroom door open and Finn walks into the room whistling in fresh clothes as he dries his hair with a towel.

“You don’t mean anything to us Leo'' Finn hears Logan and knows exactly what’s going on, Logan has done this to him many times. This is Logan’s way of cutting off something he wants in a way he knows won't bring the person back, even though he always feels horrible eventually. Finn has been a victim of Logan’s lashing out many times, and he hasn’t left, because he loves Logan. He really really likes Leo, he gives his heart a similar jolt that Logan does. From what they have discussed, Logan felt the same. Logan doesn’t allow himself the luxury of feeling like this though.

Leo looks absolutely shattered after Logan’s words sank in. He looks over to Finn who looks like he’s in his own head, then back to Logan. “I really really like you guys-”

“Stop being a fucking child Leo! This isn’t something we can continue after we leave, we would get torn to shreds by the league! Not everything is about you and we don’t want you! So just go back to your fucking farm and forget us.” Logan grabs his bag and walks out the door slamming it shut, going to be the first one on the bus that just pulled up to take the team to the airport.

Leo stares at where Logan was when red catches his eye, Finn stops and gives Leo a sad smile, tucking a piece of hair behind his ear. Finn then turns his back to Leo and follows Logan out the door. Leaving Leo alone in the hotel room… He reaches in his pocket and pulls out the hotel keycard, standing up he goes to leave it on the table of the room, he stops just before he sets the key down.

He takes the card and walks out of the room, Climbing into his truck that was horribly parked, he finds his phone on the floor of the passenger side. Picking up his phone, he calls up the only person he knows who would be willing to hang out even if he was sick from last night.

“Clay? Can you meet me somewhere?”

A half hour and some McDonald's hash browns later. Clayton and Leo were sitting on top of Leo’s truck hood watching the airplanes take off, sipping on soda they got with their food. They watched in a comfortable silence as planes brought people in and took people away.

Logan and Finn were on one of those.

[cloveroctobers]

CRANES IN THE SKY | C. Jackson

Requested: Nope! I saw a fluff prompt that sounded great for Chris so this is what I came up with! Prompt — “Stop moving and let me braid your hair.”

WARNINGS: mentions of mental illness, sadness, depression, and “curse words”

YOU were going through it. Life was just becoming a lot for your teenage self and it seemed like this week would never end. It partly felt like everyone was out to get you but you were really just having a bad week and in the back of your mind, you hoped that the next would be better...yet you didn’t even want to think that far ahead. As of a few hours ago you were allowing your self to sit in your funk of your Crenshaw home until Chris barged in making himself at home.

Working in retail felt emotionally and mentally abusive but hey, you needed money to get by right? You were tempted to quit after a month of being there but your mother persuaded you to toughen it out and not let them get to you. ‘Or maybe it was easier for her to say so, so that you wouldn’t be coming to her as much for some cash.’ You bitterly thought.

On top of that, you were getting hours in over time since there were three situations going on with your co-workers. One: was fired due to stealing money from the safe in the stock room, since one of the assistant managers didn’t fully close it, two: got arrested for god knows what— you didn’t care for the drama but it was common knowledge Julio’s ass was gone, and third: got injured on the job and would be out for 6 months. So the work load fell on the remaining three. Only 6 employees in retail...make it make sense. Not only that the customers were more whiny and quick to point the finger than usual and it takes a lot for you to step out of character! but you did.

You had it. So you went into a screaming match, which wasn’t expected of you but it happened. The store manager did not have your back and blamed you in front of the customer since, “the customer is always right,” motto was heavily encouraged and a part of you HOPED he was just doing that for show and would apologize later but nope! He stood by wtf he said and put you on punishment when it was clear that the customer was not right.

So instead of sending you home and keeping you away from the place? He decided to give you more hours as if you’re the only one working there + kept you off the register so you could only interact with those on the floor. If he expected you to come in for five days straight while being a high school student? He was out of his damn mind. So you called out the three of the five days you were supposed to be there and didn’t care for his guilt trips. You deserved better and didn’t need to deal with this bs for only $11.11 an hour. You hoped he fired you.

Since you were working so much prior to the screaming match with that aggy customer, you were falling behind on your studies. Those pop quizzes came back as c+ to c- and your exams? Even lower. You were turning in homework half assed or not turning it in at all and normally you were a decent student with a B average. You weren’t overly thrilled about school but you did your best and did just fine at that.

You never saw yourself as someone who would go to college. Your mom or your step-dad didnt go and it was expected that you wouldn’t because of your background. Wasn’t that a shame? Crenshaw high could do a lot better at getting kids prepared for bettering their futures but they just wouldn’t put the time in to kids that wanted it or could accomplish it if they just had the right guidance.

It was really depressing and it was all starting to sink in at the end of your junior year of high school. You couldn’t just give up but you were having one of those days and wanted to be left alone. Which was partly what you had in your condominium complex with your step-sibs staying behind to attend after school activities with you having to pick them up from the bus stop by 5:15, your mother was working the night shift as a waitress, and your step-dad was away on “business.”

The quiet was interrupted by Chris making his way into your living room with you all curled up. He took one look at you and shook his head, “Nuh-uh, get up ya ass up, girl. You’ve been like this for what? Days now?”

Giving him the side eye, you rolled your body on the couch to put your back to him as you went to bury your head into the open s peace between the couch and cushion. “If you came here to start with me, you can leave the same way you came in.”

You were used to Chris getting into your house. You did lock your doors around here but Chris was surprisingly good at getting through things which related a lot to his life I guess you could say. The guy overcame a lot especially learning how to walk again after almost being paralyzed. You and Chris grew up together, and were actually friends first before Spencer, Coop, and Shawn came into the picture. Your mother’s were the best of friends and got pregnant around the same time, with Chris being only a few months older than you, which he likes to rub in to get on your nerves.

“And you can keep that stank ass attitude to yourself, get up mama this ain’t no way to be.” You could feel the weight of Chris sitting on the couch behind you.

He was now poking you, probably trying to find your ticklish spot but if you start swinging then you’re the bad guy right?

Chris knew you like the back of his hand and vice versa. He knew all about how your week was going and how you’ve been skipping class to do whatever it is that you do, since you did have one class together.

“Alright look, when I was away—

He always considered his recovery as, “away,” almost as if it pained him to say that, which you understood by all means, but Chris could just call it what it was. He was strong, he made it through but you noticed in the way he played now was more cautious. He was in his head which was common with sports injuries apparently. You noticed with Spencer he would normally react after the stress of the game or something that brought on the stress. He also probably thought you had no clue what was going on with him, but he was also one of your besties so of course you knew. You just never said anything.

Now it was you who was going through a little something and needed someone to bring you out of it, whether you said it or not. And here Chris was. As always.

“You know I was a completely different person—

“Yeah, you were a fresh asshole.” You commented, remembering those moments quite clearly since it was you and Olivia who tried to be there. He only seemed to let you be there, especially after he broke up with Olivia over text. Which you laid into his ass about.

Which made Chris breathe out a laugh pressing his elbows into his knees, “you’re not wrong. And I’m forever sorry about that but you knew I was going through some dark shit. And I can see you’re partly there but you don’t need to sit in it.”

“Okay, Iyanla. What would you like for me to do?” You asked twisting your body to the side to finally look at the mocha skinned boy.

Chris smiled with his pretty teeth, “maybe take a shower? ‘Cause this bum energy I’m getting from you right now is not cute and I know underneath all that, you’re not half bad.”

A foot went out to kick him pretty hard but he tried and failed to doge it with a laugh. “Nah. But for real though, you got to find something that’s gonna keep you sane. Find something even if it’s not permanent that’ll keep your mind active and out of the dark, cause once you completely slip into it, it’s hard to get out of. Trust me.”

You knew Chris was on anti-depressants for a little while and how he called you flipping out that his mother even agreed that it would be a good idea. In the black community it was not a common thing to speak about your mental health, it was non-existent and you were expected to “get over it,” to not think like that because we are made to be tougher than what we are and it shouldn’t be like that. We should be able to feel our emotions and admit when something is troubling us.

And Chris’ mother thought that was what was best for her son. And you saw how vile of a person Chris became when he thought everything was over for him. That was not the Chris Jackson you knew, he was headstrong, compassionate when he wanted to be, and ambitious. So to see him like that was hard.

So here he was for you even though your emotions right now probably wasn’t that deep but again, you were trying to be more in touch with your emotions. Both of the adults in your life were slightly cold so it rubbed off on you a little bit of course, until it was brought out of you. Your father was the most loving and as a kid you used to be that way, with a warm prescence and a belly full of laughter. Now you were full of small smiles and cold stares.

However your main friends: Chris, Spencer, Coop, and even Shawn know/knew who you are even if you’re different now.

You don’t know how long you sat in silence but once Chris started to annoyingly snap his fingers in front of your face, You snapped out of it and smacked his hand down; slowly you sat up on your uncomfortable couch and took a deep inhale.

Then you moved through the cramped apartment to your bedroom and bathroom grabbing a few things. When you came back Chris was also entering from the kitchen with two plastic cups, eyeing the items in your hand. “What’s going on with that?”

You plopped the large pillow in front of the couch, held your hand out for the cup which Chris handed over, and you took a large gulp to taste cran-peach. Chris moved to place his own cup on the coaster and went over to the window to crank up the A/C before he glanced back over at you still awaiting a answer.

“You’re telling me to find my peace? I’ve always wanted to be a stylist, so I’m going to perfect my craft.” You answered sitting on the couch with a crack of your neck.

Chris thought this over and blew out a raspberry. Then he moved to sit in between your legs on the floor, “Alright, y/n. I’ll be your first client. But I’m tellin’ you right now if you braid too tight where my edges look eaten, I’m out the door.”

A smile graced your lips as Chris grabbed his cup and remote to turn the tv on, “so what we watching to keep me entertained?”

Shrugging your shoulders you held the rat tail comb in your hand while using the other to run your fingers through Chris’ coarse hair that he was deciding to grow out. Chris got himself comfortable resting against your legs as you decided which side of the head you wanted to start on first before you began parting and sectioning off his hair.

You were going to give him some cornrows so you had to make sure everything was even and not look crazy. You were decent at braiding, you often did your step-sis’ hair since your mother no longer had time to do it and she sure did have a lot of hair. It gave you some sense of satisfaction, you taking on the older sibling role and gave you the time to bond.

Chris finally found something after twenty minutes and was yelling at the tv which made you mess up the grip on the fourth row. “If you don’t stop moving and let me braid your hair...hold your head right or I’m gonna pop you!” You threatened.

“This is triggering me back to my aunties, specifically aunt Henrietta’s ol’ mean ass.” Chris mumbled the last bit as he flinched making you laugh a little bit, remembering the name and the picture of the woman with the large mole on her pointy chin.

She lived in Maryland and had a beauty salon that Chris’ mom would always take a trip down there to get their hair done, if they had a special event to go to. It didn’t make sense to you or your mother since there were a few good shops here in Crenshaw or rather—girls and boys that did hair out of their homes around but Mrs. Jackson wanted to support her great aunt so by all means...

You gripped his hair again tight but not too tight to begin the braid, “I’m gonna add beads so everyone around school can call you hurricane chris.”

“...that’s real foul. You’re about to make me not support your dreams anymore, I’m dead serious.” Chris replied making you laugh, which made him smile at the sound.

You briefly glanced up to watch a scene on whatever show or film Chris was watching and raised your eyebrow not knowing what was going on or who these characters were but it was definitely engaging.

Chris nudged your knee with his shoulder after you fell silent again, “feel better?” He asked, moving AGAIN to meet your eyes.

“yeah, a little. Thanks.” You scrunched up your nose and stuck your tongue at him.

After awhile your alarm went off letting you know it was time for you to leave and get ready to get the kiddos. As you both got up, Chris went to the mirror to check out your handiwork while you snapped a few pictures before making your way to the door, taking the keys from the side table as you went.

“Y/N...you said would make me look good.”

“Uh huh?”

“Then tell me why...the hell you got me looking like ODB?” Chris’ deep set brows held a deep frown on them as he glanced at his childhood friend who innocently peered back at him.

You shrugged as you threw the door open, “i never said I’d be the best hair stylist out there, plus you wouldnt stop moving your big ass head. I told you to sit still! And did you listen? Noooooo.”

Chris licked his lips looking down as he folded his hands together before his eyes flicked up, “ok. I’m on your ass!”

You yelped as dashed out the door, laughter in your lungs as Chris chased you down the narrow hallway, hot on your trail.

[justcallmefox89]

Truth or Dare Part 1

It’s Arianthi’s birthday and Diavolo has decreed she can have anything the Devildom can provide.  She requests a slumber party at the House of Lamentation; her, the brothers, the angels, Solomon, Diavolo, and Barbatos.  

Written from the perspective of my female OC, Arianthi.  

Some suggestive content and a little bit of feel good fluff - things every good sleepover should have.

I’m adding a different mood playlist to each installment of this series, just songs that I listened to while writing and feel embody each part of the story.

Lizzo - Boys

Blackpink - Boombayah

The Struts - Primadonna Like Me (Definetly Asmo’s song lol)

Fozy Shazam - Holy Touch

Jonathan Young ft. Travis Carte (cover) - Hello Kitty 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Come on Luke it’s going to be a lot of fun!”  I grab the smaller angel’s hands and swing him around in a wide circle.

“Put me down!  I’m not some little kid!”  Luke struggles to pull away and I finally release him, a wide smile on my face.

Simeon wraps an arm around Luke’s shoulders and gives him a squeeze.  “Come on Luke, it’s Arianthi’s birthday.  You can at least pretend to be happy.”

“I am happy.”  Luke gives a grumpy glare at the floor.  “I just don’t understand why we have to spent the night here.  With all these disgusting demons.  In this disgusting house.”

“Aww is the chihuahua not having fun?”  Mammon elbows Luke and Simeon out of the way to wrap an arm around my waist.  

Luke clenches his fists and glares up at Mammon.  “I! AM! NOT! A! CHIHUAHUA!”

“He’s just teasing,” Simeon chuckles good naturedly.

I wrap my arms around Mammon’s waist and give him my best puppy dog eyes.  “Please Mammon, no teasing tonight.  You promised.  I want Luke to have fun too.”

Mammon flushes a furious red and clears his throat loudly.  “O-o-of course.  You MY human after all.  You can count on THE great Mammon to make this birthday your best yet.”

He puffs his chest out as I give him on last squeeze.  “You really are the best Mammon.  Can you go help Satan with the food?  I know Beel and Belphie said they would but......”

“You can count on THE great Mammon.”  He says, walking towards the kitchen with a slight swagger in his step.  

I wish she wouldn’t baby that chihuahua so much, he thinks as he walks to the kitchen.  That’s MY human after all, why does he need her to protect him?  Why does she care so much if he has a good time?  I’m her first man, she should be worrying about me.

I turn excitedly to Simeon and Luke.  “Diavolo and Barbatos are already in the living room with Lucifer and Solomon if you guys want to go hang out with them. I have to go drag Levi out of his room and get ready with Asmo real quick and then we’ll all be ready to go.”

“Take your time Arianthi,” Simeon says with a kind smile.  “We know the way.”  He takes a slightly resistant Luke by the elbow and starts towards the study.

She’s always so kind, to all of us.  I appreciate the way she looks out for Luke too, even when she doesn’t have to, Simeon thinks as he lead Luke to the living room, the memory of Arianthi’s bright smile causing something in his chest to tighten and an unfamiliar feeling to flutter in his stomach.

I bound up the stairs.  I really do need to get Levi and Asmo but first I need to make a pit stop by one of the brother’s rooms.  I gently try his doorknob and give a relieved sigh when the door swings open.  I close the door quietly behind me and make my way inside.  I ruffle through the clothes on his bed, then quickly scan through his closet.  

Aha!  This is perfect.  I hope he like’s seeing me in this.  

It’s my birthday and the present I want most hinges on this plan working later tonight.  I hear the growing sound of voices from downstairs.  

Time to go.  

I stop by my room long enough to throw my prize onto my bed, then make my way to Levi’s room.  I step inside and take a minute to allow my eyes to adjust to the dim blue glow that lights up Levi’s room.  He’s at his computer, headphones on, completely oblivious to my presence.

Of course.  

I roll my eyes, but I’m not annoyed.  I smile as I skip towards his desk chair and gently remove his headphones.

“Hey!” He turns to me, furious at first, then flushing as he realizes my hands are  gently cupping his cheeks.

“Come on Levi!  It’s slumber party time,” I say, releasing his cheeks and gently tugging at his hand.

He slouches further down in his chair, still blushing furiously.  “Don’t make me.  You know I hate parties.”

“Oh.”  I try to keep the disappointment out of my voice.  I plop down on the floor in front of his computer chair.  “It’s just us Levi.  And Diavolo and Barbatos and the angels and Solomon.  No strangers.  I really think you’ll have a lot of fun.”  

I look up at him pleadingly, but his facial expression says he remains unconvinced.  I heave a deep sigh.  

He’s my bestie.  I really want him there, but I’m not going to force him if he doesn’t want to.

“It’s ok, Levi.  I won’t make you come; I don’t want you to be unhappy or uncomfortable,” I tell him as I stand up.  I reach out and squeeze his hand again.  “But if my Lord of Shadows does decide to make an appearance later on tonight I’d be super happy.”

I turn to go but Levi doesn’t let go of my hand.  His gaze remains firmly on the floor and he’s still tomato red. 

“R-really?” He asks quietly.

I nod enthusiastically.  “Of course!  Henry can’t have a real birthday party without his BFF!”

Levi shuffles to his feet reluctantly.  “OK.  Anything for my own personal Henry.”

I give him a long hug.  “Thank you Levi.”

He nods shyly.  “I was even able to track down some of those normie movies you wanted on Akuzon.”

“Oh my god Levi!  You’re amazing!”  I hug him again.  “I have to go get ready with Asmo, but can you go down and get those set up while I do that?”

“Yeah.  Which one do you want first?”  He asks.

“You pick.  You’re the genius who was able to track down my contraband, you should get first dibs!”  I grin as him as I hurry out of his room.

She’s such a good BFF, even if she is a normie, Levi thinks, gathering up Arianthi’s movies.  I know she’ll never want anything more with a yucky otaku like me but......

He shakes his head firmly, banishing that thought as he makes his way downstairs..  She’s my Henry, and that’s good enough for me.

“Asmo!  I’m so sorry I’m late I was trying to get everyone else ready to go!”  I call out as I barge into his room.  

“No worries gorgeous!  I’m just putting the finishing touches on your outfit for the night!”  He calls out from his bathroom.

“You got me an outfit?” I ask, laying down on his bed and inhaling the scent of his delicious cologne.

“Of course darling.  It’s your birthday after all, and you can’t just wear anything to a slumber party full of demons.  Especially if I’m by your side.” Asmo winks at me as he sweeps into his bedroom, holding a bundle of lace and silk in his arms.  

“Oh Asmo,” I breathe, completely taken in by his appearance.  He’s wearing silk pajamas perfectly tailored to his body, in a soft peach that compliments his complexion, curls perfectly mussed.

“You love?”  He does a quick twirl for me.

I quickly snatch a soft pink rose from a bouquet by his bed.  I walk over and gently tuck it behind one of his ears, smoothing back his curls a little.  

“You look absolutely beautiful,” I say softly.

He gives me a coy wink even though a light blush dusts his cheeks.  “You think tonight’s the night I’ll be able to cuddle a little closer to Diavolo?  Or maybe even you, my darling?”

I give him a gentle shove and laugh.  “We’ll never find out if we don’t get downstairs, so show me this outfit you came up with.”

He holds it up proudly.  “It’s going to be perfect with your hair and that gorgeous complexion of yours.  And your eyes will absolutely pop.  Not to mention these curves.”  He runs a hand suggestively down my side, slipping smooth fingers under the hem of my t-shirt.  

I quickly step out of my clothes and allow Asmo to help me with the various lace details and straps, before finally slipping into a short black silk robe.

“Damn Asmo.”  I whisper as I look at my reflection in his mirror.

“Right?!” He squeals as he comes to stand behind me, smoothing my long black curls before adjusting a headband to keep my hair away from my face.  

The headband has adorable furry cat ears in the same shade of emerald green as the barely there lace lingerie I’m wearing.  The green highlights my eyes and seems to make skin glow.  The lace bra and panties hug my curves just right, while detracting from the things Asmo knows I’m self conscious about.  The silk of the robe whispers along my skin, and a pleasant shiver crawls up my spine.

“Satan is going to go absolutely crazy for you in these ears Arianthi,” Asmo whispers against my neck.  “And Mammon will lose his mind with jealousy at everyone seeing his human in this state.  Gorgeous and vulnerable.”  

His hands ghost along my hips, barely touching me.  “You will absolutely have all of us at your mercy tonight my dear.  You're enough to even tempt Simeon to sin.”  Asmo trails a finger along the curve of one of my breasts.

I step away and give him a cheeky grin.  “It’s not fair for you to be the only temptation at this sleepover.  It’s my party after all.”

Asmo giggles and holds out his hand.  “Ready to go sin a little my dove?”

I bite my lower lip and take his hand,  “Absolutely.”

[icequeenoriginal]

The Meaning of FamILY

Note: I am so sorry for this taking centuries to come out, I blame laziness and writer’s block. So here it finally is, @khadij-al-kubra, the fic you requested. Again, I am so so sorry this took so long to get out. Also, this takes place a year after Intimacy and All Its Forms. Also Happy Late One Year Anniversary of this AU’s blog. 

Thank you @theromnempire for editing. You’re the best!

Names of side characters belong to @hi-i-love-u-bitch. This AU belongs to @ask-spiderverse-virgil and @sugarglider9603

Trigger Warnings: Deaths mentioned, two past minor character death, crying (Let me know if I missed anything)

Pairings: Prinxiety and Logicality

~

Roman was ushered into the living room by his older sister. He couldn’t understand why. Normally when his father came home, he would see Roman sitting at the kitchen table, doing his homework and his father would walk over and ask about before changing out of his work clothes.

Maybe it was a celebration! Or maybe a surprise! But…why was Amá crying?

Roman’s mother looked up and locked eyes with her confused, innocent son. It made her burst into more tears and Roman ran to comfort her.

“¿Amá?¿Por qué lloras mami?” Roman asked while tilting his head to the side. 

Lupita couldn’t help but smile at Roman, almost forgetting what had just happened. She frowned, and more tears fell as she realized what she had to do now.

“Roman ...mi Valiente chico…tengo algo que decirte...se trata de tu padre…”

~

Roman woke up with a start like he did every year on this day. It’s always the same memory that would wake him up like clockwork, ending right before his mom said the words that shattered his world forever. Roman’s brain liked to torture him but pretend to forget the worst part.

He decided not to think about it and just dressed. 

Roman never noticed how quiet the house actually was on this day. Any other day of the year, even if he was the first to wake up, there was some kind of noise. It could be anything from the humming of the ceiling fan or people rushing to get breakfast ready. But today, nothing. All the sounds of the apartment were swept out as if the family occupying the house needed a reminder of what was happening

Maybe Roman just lost his touch with reality on this day. He was never sure, not that it really mattered. He knew the world did not stop just because he is in a shitty mood. Did that ever make him feel any better? No, but it gave him a false motivation to get up and get ready for school.

He walked to the twins' room, like every day, to get them ready for school. Any other of the 365 days of the year, the twins would already be awake, fully ready to run around and make Roman’s morning even more hectic. Today, both had a blanket over their heads and he could hear his little sister sniffling.

He wished it was because of a cold. It never was.

“Vamos, es hora de levantarse,” Roman said, just loud enough for the twins to hear, worried if his voice went any height they could hear how broke it was. 

“NO!” both Jenni and Marco shouted, pulling the blanket simultaneously over their heads. Roman wanted to laugh at the sight, badly.

Instead, he sighed “No no, you guys gotta get up and go to school.”

“NO!” Marco shouted 

“It’s a bad day today!” Jenni cries

“I know guys but we can’t miss school,” Roman said softly.

“We’ll go to school tomorrow!” 

“Yeah, when it’s not Papi’s death day!”

Roman inhaled sharply, it was the first time of the day someone acknowledged what the 17th of February meant. The house somehow got even muter, if that was possible. His sister and brother burst into tears and Roman felt his face heat up. But he couldn’t cry, he was-

A soft, reassuring hand landed on his shoulder as he took a step forward. 

“Amá…” Roman said, his voice strained

Lupita’s eyes were full of storms of sadness, threatening a downpour. “Roman ... ve y desayuna.”

Roman shook his head. He could do it, he had to. His mother had enough on her plate. “Pero Amá--” Lupita cut him off.

“Está bien. No te preocupes por eso”

Roman sighed “Okay.” He was too tired to argue. This day seemed to already take so much out of him and it had hardly had started.

Roman sulked to the kitchen and made himself some toast. Something quick, easy and he was least likely to get sick from. He stared absently, unfortunately making eye contact with his father in an old happy family photo. He sucks in his breath as silent memories began to haunt him like they always do. He hated those more than any amount of his siblings sobbing or screaming in agony. He could tune those out with music, his one constant. These just got louder and louder no matter what he tried.  

What snapped him out of the pitiful void was a vibration from his phone. He pulled it out to reveal a text notification from Patton.

Bestie <3: I’ll be on the fire escape in a minute! Alex stole my sweater again :(((

Roman frowned, had he really taken that long to get ready? He hadn’t even made anyone’s lunch or even breakfast. He wasn’t even sure he was ready to talk to anyone today. Much less to get their glances of pity. Constantly hearing “sorry for your loss” got old quick. Besides, he didn’t want to bring anyone down, especially his best friends, just because of what today is. He sighed and texted Patton back:

Romaine Lettuce :): It’s okay. I’m gonna swing over to school today, go on without me.

Roman saw that Patton had read his text but he didn’t reply. Roman didn’t think much of it, he figured he was still chasing Alex around, and just grabbed his toast as soon as it was done in the toaster.

“Amá! I’m heading out to school! I love you! Bye!” Roman didn’t wait for a reply and ran up the stairs that lead to the roof as he put on his costume. Web swinging always seemed to calm his nerves, or more accurately, distracted him. Something about one mistake and you can fall to your death really makes your other problems seem small. As he was about to fire his first web, a voice shouted for him to halt. 

Patton ran up to him, also in full costume “Wait for me!”

“Pat?” Roman asked, not trying to hide his confusion. “What are you doing here?”

Although Patton had the mask on, It wasn’t hard to tell he was smiling. “I’m going to swing with you.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I know but I want to head to school with you like I always do.”

Roman felt a mixture of happiness and guilt swirl around in his stomach, creating an unpleasant cocktail make just for him. Not that he knew what a cocktail tasted like. 

Roman gave a small smile behind his mask “Okay then Pat, I’ll race you” and took off without another word.

They swung without another word, which relieved Roman. He didn’t want to be asked about how he was doing, the answer was obvious and Roman was tired of being asked it.

Unfortunately, this feeling did not last and Roman quickly returns to his self-pity and dark thoughts. Roman was so lost in his brooding thoughts of the bombardment of sympathy that he would receive through the day that he did not see the tall building in front of him. Thankfully, Patton did and webbed Roman quick enough so that he landed on the roof.

Well...landed is a generous term here. With how fast Roman was going, Patton had to quickly web him and throw him on the roof of the building.

Patton landed gracefully next to him. He placed his hands on his hips and said: “Okay, that’s enough swinging for you, mister!”

“I’m fine Patton, I just wasn’t paying attention this time.”

Patton shook his head, “You’re distracted, understandably so and I know you don’t want to talk about it, even though you should, but I won’t make you. It’s not safe Roman! I can’t let my best friend get hurt again! Not on my watch…”

Roman could see the agony swept into Patton’s eyes. He knew that memories of the year before, bad ones brought nothing but pain, were swarming Patton’s mind. Memories of Roman avoiding him, the fighting, the robot battle, all were tearing Patton down. It was a look far too familiar to him.

Roman ran to Patton as he began to shake. Roman muttered an apology that seemed small to himself but was perfect to Patton. Once Patton was able to calm himself down, he hugged Roman tightly, to show he was never going to let him go. 

“Let’s walk to school okay? I know a game we can play. It’s called “Beautiful Things’. As we walk, we point out the beautiful things we see and why we find them beautiful. Alex and Georgie made it up after Frankie…passed…and we played it all the time”

Roman raised his mask just above his lip to show that he was smiling “That sounds great, Patton, I’d love to.” 

So they snuck off the roof, changed, and walked. They pointed out birds, children, babies, and music playing from cars. Roman had no idea that such a simple game could bring him so much calm, but it did. He never realized there is so much good in the world, that was what they, as heroes, fought for. 

When they got to school, Roman headed to his locker. To an outside viewer, it was nothing out of the ordinary. But for the four, it was breaking the sacred tradition. First, they would meet at Logan’s locker as it was the closest to the entrance. Then they would make their way to their own lockers while catching up with one another. Finally, they would arrive at homeroom to get ready for the school day. 

However, as Roman watched Patton saunter over and embrace Logan, his feet didn’t want to go anywhere except towards an island of isolation. He didn’t want to ruin the happy mood, especially after making Patton think of Frankie so early in the morning. What best friend forces you to remember your dead brother?

He opened his locker and slowly pulled out the books he would need until lunch. When that took less than a minute. He stared at the objects he taped onto the door of his locker over the course of the year. At the top was a small mirror that he suddenly did not want to look into. At the bottom is a whiteboard with reminders of tests written by Logan, supportive messages from Patton, and quick doodles by Virgil. He felt the tug of a small smile on his lips, though it went away quickly.

He had only begun scanning the dozens of photographs he had before two arms snaked their way around his waist. He felt warmth in his chest as his boyfriend’s lips were pressed on the space between his shoulder blades.

“Morning” Virgil said, tiredness leaking into his speech.

Roman smiled softly and leaned slightly into the touch. “What leads you to my neck of the woods?” Roman asked as if he did not already know the answer.

“I needed to escape before I drowned in the puppy love.”

It wasn’t the answer he was expecting so he pressed on, “What do you mean?” Roman turned his head slightly to look at Virgil. Virgil, without lifting his cheek off Roman’s back, unfortunately, removed one of his arms from around Roman and gestures to his right. 

In distance, Patton has Logan’s shirt held carefully in his fingers, playing with the buttons as he talked to Logan. Logan watched with nothing but love and appreciation in his eyes. Roman couldn’t help but sigh at the couple, he was part of the team that got them together after all. One of his best accomplishments, if he’d say so himself.. 

“It’s so sweet...disgusting.” Virgil continued. Switching from resting his cheek on Roman’s back to his chin, he looked up and said, “Now give me my good morning kiss.”

Roman chuckled and happily obliged. When they pulled apart, Virgil asks “I’m going to ask you a stupid question.”

“No question is stupid, love, ask away.”

“Are you okay?” “I stand corrected.” Virgil elbowed Roman in the side, both happy for their spider-strength for the opposite reasons. 

“I mean it, Ro. I know you hate being asked that question, especially today, but I rather you get annoyed with me than let something happen like last time. So I’ll ask again, are you okay?”

“I am.”

Virgil raises an eyebrow “Am what?”

“Fine.” “I asked you if you were okay”

“Same difference.”

“Big difference, people only say they’re fine when they don’t want to admit they aren’t okay.”

Roman just looked away, having nothing to really say, plus he didn’t want to argue. Virgil sighed and hugged him again. Roman doesn’t push away, the pressure behind his eyes getting more and more unbearable. His emotions were already becoming too much for him to handle. He hugged back, relishing in the warmth of another person. It was stupid, in his mind, since Virgil was just hugging him moments ago. 

With a sigh, Roman pulled back. He brushed his knuckles gently against Virgil’s cheek and whispered “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay because I’m sorry too,” Virgil said softly.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.”

Virgil couldn’t help but smile at that. “You know what? You’re right. I don’t. And with that, I’m going to spend this whole day cheering you up.”

“Virge…You don’t have to. Really! There’s no reason to-“

Virgil suddenly poked Roman chest, silencing the boy. “Do you remember the day that marked the anniversary of my grandpa’s death?”

“Of course I do, you were so upset. You didn’t even want to leave your room”

“Yeah, and you know what you did? You broke into my room, like some lunatic by the way, wrapped me up like a burrito-“

“It’s called a blanket burrito for a reason.”

“Don’t interrupt me. You wrapped me up, put on all my favorite movies that I wasn’t even aware you remembered and fed me snacks as we cuddled. Not even Logan had thought of doing that, he would just let me lie under my blankets while he just sat in the room.” Virgil paused to smirk before continuing  “And I was never more grateful for you than at that moment.”

Roman’s face began to heat up. He couldn’t help it. No matter how big or small the compliment that Virgil would give him, he would turn into a blushing schoolgirl, ready to throw himself at Virgil and pepper him with kisses. 

He opted to just hug Virgil again, a silent thank you. They were in public after all. They had some class.

Virgil embraced him for a few moments before the warning bell went off. “Listen, I’m going to make sure today is not going to be total shit for you.”

Roman chuckled in response, “Thanks, stormcloud.” Roman took a step to walk to his class but stopped when Virgil firmly grabbed his hand, “Huh?”

“What? I can’t hold my boyfriend’s hand as we walk to class?”

Roman chuckled, if there was one thing he knew about Virgil is that despite his boyfriend’s wariness of physical affection, Virgil always saw things through. Roman gently squeezed Virgil’s hand, absorbing the love that came from that simple gesture. Logan told him a few months ago about Love Languages and how physical touch was definitely his. It was a nice bonding moment for him and Logan, and it made Virgil really happy. Roman was rewarded handsomely for it.

Compared to every other year since his dad died, this was actually a pretty good day. Virgil would bring him to every class, even the ones were Virgil’s classes were nowhere near. Virgil had to keep reassuring Roman that it was fine, “I will just use my invisibility and sneak in. It will be funny to see how confused my teachers will be.” It made Roman genuinely laugh, something seemingly unachievable on this day.

The classes he did share with Virgil were the best. Virgil left his non-writing hand resting on Roman’s shoulder, giving him a gentle squeeze whenever he felt Roman quiver, shake or tense up. Which was often since their teacher would not stop shooting Roman sympathetic looks, even after Virgil glared at her. Other classes that Virgil wasn’t in, Virgil would wrap his hoodie around Roman before he headed off to his next class. People would focus on this action and how cute it was that Roman would forget, even for a few minutes.

Around lunch, Roman’s mood changed from melancholy to calm, relatively speaking. He wasn’t walking with his head down, and even partaking. The numb and somewhat painful feeling in his chest was still present, but it was no longer the black pit sucking his emotions into it like usual.

Already seated at the lunch table were Logan and Patton, whispering and smiling at one another. Before Roman could announce his presence to the couple, Virgil tugged him back. He nearly made Roman fall backward in the process, but they both knew it wasn’t intentional. They always forgot how strong their spidey strength actually was.

“Sorry!” Virgil said instinctively though he did start laughing as Roman caught himself.

“What was that for?” Roman asked once he regained his balance.

“I needed to tell you before I forget, I asked Thomas if we could borrow his living room for a movie night and he said yes. Ask your mom if you can stay over.”

Roman smiled, “That sounds great”

Virgil smiled back as the two sat in their normal seats. As soon as the two entered Patton’s vision, his eyes light and he pushed a plate covered in tin foil towards the couple. It wasn’t anything uncommon, Patton using any excuse to make people food, from “Virgil had a headache” cookies to “You saved a bus filled with little kiddos and the city still won’t give you a key!” double chocolate cake. Roman removed the tin foil to reveal donuts. It shocked Roman, he had a bit of an expectation that Patton would make one of Roman’s favorite desserts; like he always did in years past.

Roman looked up at Patton puzzled and Patton reached over the table to squeeze Roman’s arm as it rested on the cafeteria table. “I know you don’t want to make this day all about you, so I made something we all consider a normal snack. Is it okay?”

Patton’s eyes read desperate and Roman, half because he wanted to be a good best friend and half because he did not want Patton to use his Empath powers, smiled, and nodded.

“This is perfect, Pat.”

 Patton pulled back so he could properly muffle his squeal of delight since they were still in school and he did not want to get into trouble for “starting a disturbance.”

Logan whispered to Patton “You told me it was because you did not have enough time to make Roman his favorite cake.”

“...I can have multiple reasons” Patton whispered back, glad that Roman and Virgil were too busy bickering about the best Avenger to listen in. 

Everyone ate their lunches and donuts, just enjoying the time they had together. Logan commented on how he heard that Roman and Virgil would not join them on patrol and he hoped that they “don’t burn down Thomas’ apartment”. That earned him a look from Roman, a “Logie!’ from Patton and a kick in the shin from Virgil all at the same time.

“It was a simple precaution!” Logan shouted, only to be told to quiet down by the cafeteria monitor.

It would later become a memory they would always look back on, Virgil even including it into his best man speech at Logan and Patton’s wedding, much to Logan’s dismay.

~

Once lunch was over, Roman snuck into the bathroom and sent off a text to his mom asking if it was possible if he could stay over at Virgil’s, adding that if she needed him to come home then it would be fine. He didn’t want to be selfish. 

Roman figured he would get his reply by the end of the day since he knew his mom would be really busy at work and he wasn’t exactly sure when his mom had her lunch break. He put his phone in his pocket only to scare himself when his notification sound went off in the silent password. He pulled it out and his phone and had a new text from his mom.

Amá: Of course you can, Your sister is watching the twins today, go have fun. It’s what Papí would want. 

Roman smiled, a single tear fell down his face. His mom was the best.

~

Roman’s afternoon classes came and went, nothing exciting or saddening happened of note. Though it wouldn’t have mattered, the prospect of cuddles and Disney movies filled him with so much excitement and joy. 

As faith would have it, he had no play practice since their show season had just ended and Mr. Bell always gave them a week off so he could tie up any last loose ends and decide the dates for the next auditions. This gave him an extra two hours to spend with his boyfriend, perfect!

Roman ran up to Virgil’s locker and bounced on his toes as his boyfriend got his stuff together so they could head off. Virgil smirked and tilted his head to Roman, “You seem excited.”

Roman smiled and nods “I’m really excited for tonight”

“Oh?” Virgil teased “What’s happening tonight? I can’t remember anything important”

Roman lightly punched him in the arm “You’re so mean, remind me why I love you again?” “It was your choice to get into this relationship, Princey, don’t forget that” Virgil waved his hand as he spoke and Roman, to Virgil’s surprise, quickly snatched Virgil’s hand.

Roman smirked back “I am very aware, and I am so happy to have you.” He then kissed Virgil’s knuckles.

Virgil cursed his cheeks for the blush that always came when Roman did something romantic. He pulled his hand back and nervously giggled “Oh shush, let’s get going already.” 

Man, did he love that boy.

~

After swinging over to Thomas’ apartment with Patton and Logan, Roman and Virgil quickly went to work on their pillow fort as the two other spider children spoke to their spider dad about the details of the patrol. 

Once everything was set up, Thomas said “Great. Patton, you and Logan get my snack bag and go to the bodega on the corner, there is money in the bag so don’t worry about using your own money. Meet me on the roof in half an hour.” 

Patton and Logan nodded and left to get their favorite snacks. 

Thomas turned to Roman “Hey, Ro? Before you guys start, could you come with me to the roof?”

Roman was confused but agreed. He was a bit nervous, he felt like a child about to get yelled at and tried to think of what he could have done wrong recently.

Once they got to the roof, Roman asked, “If this about keeping your apartment clean, I promise Virgil and I will not burn it down. Logan already gave us the rundown.” 

Thomas put his hand on Roman’s shoulder and softly smiled “I can feel you stressing out, even without Patton’s power. Don’t worry, I trust you. I just wanted to tell you something. Sit with me” Thomas patted Roman’s head when Roman released a sigh of relief. 

The two sat on the edge of the roof, Thomas in his Rainbow Weaver costume with the mask on and Roman in his civilian clothes. 

Thomas gazed over the city before saying “I know you are probably expecting me to give you a speech about grief and how to handle it, but I hated those speeches at your age when I got them because of my Aunt Patty. In fact, you remind me a lot of myself when I was younger, and I’m not just talking about being a fellow theatre geek. I never wanted to think about when she died and I would throw myself into helping people, with or without the suit. One thing led to another and I ended up beaten and bloodied in an alley on the anniversary of her death. When Talyn and Joan found me, I swear my Aunt Patty possessed them to yell at me for it. I thought Talyn might kill me themself.”

Roman laughed “I can see them doing that.”

Thomas chuckled and nodded “Oh yes. But what they and Joan did instead was patching me up and we had a FRIENDS marathon, ‘the police will handle crime for now’ Joan said. I broke down after three episodes because I love my friends so much. So before I start crying again at the memories, I just wanted to tell you that your friends--including Joan, Talyn, and I--are always here for you. Don’t make the same mistake I did and forget” Roman threw himself at Thomas for a hug “Never again, I promise.”

Thomas hugged back “Thanks, kid. Now go have fun.”

~

Virgil looked up from his phone when he heard footsteps coming towards him “What did Thomas want? Hey, are you okay?” Virgil pops out from under the fort and cups Roman’s face to wipe the tears away.

Roman smiles “I’m fine, really. I’m just...thank you, for putting up with me”

Virgil kisses him “It’s not putting up with you, it’s loving you. Ready to start Tangled” “Of course my love”

~

Tag list (Ask if you want to be added or removed):

@corkeecoderyt @per-seph-o-nee @3milystuff @asymmetricalgarbage8888 @fairytailtwists @sanders-sides-rebloger @mycatshuman @sanderssidesfluffyangst @unikornavenger @0callmevirge0 @gloomingwitch @roxiefox24 @ijustreallylovesanderssides @unisaurioamorfo @nadja-chamack16 @angelic-cali 

[invisibleinorange]

A Different Ending, 3/?

Chapters: 3/? Fandom: Bridgerton Rating: M Warnings:  Only be forewarned that this is an AU from the Adrift saga but Colin actually died in this one, so if he’s mentioned he’s actually gone. Relationships: Benedict Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington, Colin Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington (past feelings),  Eloise Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington(besties),  Bridgerton Family Dynamics,  Daphne Bridgerton/Simon Hastings Characters:  Penelope Featherington, Eloise Bridgerton, Benedict Bridgerton, Daphne Bridgerton, Additional Tags:  Bridgerton, Penadict (do we have a ship name yet?)

Summary:  There were some requests for an alternate/Parallel word to "Bridgerton's Adrift" where Benedict and Penelope actually did get married. So this is the result of that peer pressure.

Things had come together so quickly that they didn’t really have anywhere to go, at least not anywhere that wasn’t full of a family.  Benedict had assured her that he was going to find the perfect home for them. During their brief engagement, he’d certainly saw fit to inquire about what she might like. If they were to have a home together, he wanted them both to be happy within it.

For their honeymoon, the Duke had generously offered one of his unoccupied family properties that was well-managed but would allow them the privacy that newlyweds deserved.  It was a considerable carriage ride but the conversation flowed easy and despite her own anxiousness about everything that had transpired, Penelope didn’t regret it.

There was one thing that she did worry about though and her mother had all but prepared her for it her whole life.  Men who didn’t marry for love were often known to stray and to have mistresses. She was fairly certain her mother and father had never loved each other.  They had kept separate bedrooms and while their duties were surely performed to have four children, they’d never been overtly affectionate to each other.

Penelope was terrified that Benedict would have the same expectations for marriage. She’d been a small child when Edmund Bridgerton had passed and the family hadn’t exactly been a mainstay in London after then. She’d only ever known Violet as a widow despite stories of how her marriage had been a love match.  Would he desire to build the same or cast her aside in search of it as soon as the novelty wore off?

Somewhere after the short tour of the space they would spend the early weeks of their marriage, she was quickly confronted with prospect of being just like her mother and she didn’t care much for it.

“I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about … well, tonight so I told them that they should set up your own room,” Benedict told her with an anxious smile, his hand still firm in hers.  His aim was to comfort her and to not make her feel any real pressure to do something she might not be ready for.   He hadn’t even tried to kiss her. The look on her face was enough to tip him off that whatever his aim had been; he’d likely made a mistake.

“Do you not wish to share a bed with me?” she asked him after a moment, feeling his gaze burning down into her as if wanting her to tell him what she wanted and how much of an idiot he actually was.  She wasn’t even able to meet his eye at that.

He shook his head at the question.

“That’s hardly it,” he told her, free hand to tilt her chin upwards to have her look at him.  “I just don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I’m not the kind of man who forces someone to enjoy my company.”

“I do enjoy your company,” Penelope assured him.  “I just – my parent never shared a room. I’m pretty sure the only time my Papa ever joined Mama was when he’d partook of too much drink. I can’t even honestly say that they loved each other.”

Benedict nodded in understanding.

“I don’t take my vows lightly,” Benedict assured her.  “My father loved my mother tremendously. You couldn’t keep them apart – it’s why there are so many of us. He might have died before I reached manhood but he did show me what it means to be a decent husband and I assure you that I fully intend to be one to you.”

“Then I don’t want to be apart from you,” she told him simply.

It didn’t need further explanation and it wasn’t even something he wanted to debate.  He wanted to be near her as well and even if their marriage wasn’t consummated tonight, the next night or the night after that, he was going to be glad to just have her there with him.

He nodded, releasing his hand from her face before gesturing toward the room next to the one he’d identified as hers.  He might have been willing to give her the space to have her own room but he’d not wanted to be far from her. He didn’t particularly care if the servants talked about the fact they were newlywed and not sharing a bed but he would have been bothered if she was far away and he couldn’t protect her.

He used a foot to open the door to what was now going to be there room.  It was far nicer than their rooms back in London had ever been.  Even if their families were far from impoverished, what they could afford was hardly equal to that of the Duke.

“Will this do for you?” he asked quietly.

“The bed looks particularly comfortable, especially after all the excitement and travel,” she admitted.  “Do you know if my trousseau had been moved up here yet?”

Benedict’s cheeks turned slightly pink at the thought of it.

“It’s likely in the other room,” he confessed. “I will have them move everything after we’ve managed to get some rest.”

“Then I will go get ready,” she told him.

Benedict let her hand go so that she could slip into the other room, watching as she disappeared before busying himself to slip out of his clothes and into a nightshirt.  He typically opted for less but decided modesty might be his best route.

He settled on the side of the bed closest the door, above the covers to wait for her.  His intention was to stay awake until she got back. Perhaps engage in a little more conversation before sleep took over but he hadn’t realized how tired he was and he drifted quickly.

When Penelope returned to let herself in, she couldn’t even bring herself to be upset with him for having fallen asleep.  She had a robe over a nightgown picked out by Violet herself. She remembered distinctly blushing as Violet had made commentary about how that would certainly encourage a quickening of grandchildren.

She wasn’t so certain about that at the moment.

She gently moved to tug the blankets up and over her new husband before moving to discard her robe and crawl into the other side.  She was careful not to wake him but he was sleeping too hard for her to possibly have done so.

She blew out a candle lighting the room before she curled on her side facing him, brushed some hair out of his eyes before placing a light kiss to his temple and murmured a soft, “Good Night”.

Whatever Benedict was dreaming about seemed pleasant enough and she hoped to join him there.

--

“How could you?”

He heard the words and then felt his body being shoved.  Panic and fear filled his lungs as he hit the ground hard, eyes widening when he saw who had pushed him.

Colin stood above him, looking at him with such disdain, anger.

“Please calm down,” Benedict pleased trying to climb to his feet.

“You knew that she loved me and you still married her,” Colin accused. “You couldn’t even wait until my body had properly decayed.”

“I’m sorry -.”

“You’re not sorry,” Colin accused, fist swinging at him again while Benedict tried to dodge.  “I’m never going to let you be happy.”

“Please let her be happy then.”

“- Only after you’re rotting in the ground.”

--

Penelope was startled awake by the shifting in the bed next to her. She felt Benedict tossing and turning in the space next to her.  He was pleading in his sleep, begging someone. She heard please and sorry enough times that she couldn’t help but gently try and curl her arms around him.

“It’s a dream,” she said softly. “Just a dream.”

He came to alertness in jarring quickness, his brow wet with sweat. He was prepared to fight and yet, he was wrapped in softness and he could hear her voice so he was forced to just breathe and try and settle down.

“I’m sorry,” he told said this time toward her.  His voice was strangled and she’d not quite ever seen him this way.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” she told him firmly, holding onto him all the tighter. The ungodly hour didn’t matter anymore than the loss of sleep.  Normal people wouldn’t have been sleeping anyways on their honeymoon. “Just breathe, Ben. It’s all going to be okay.”

“I – He hates me,” he said after a long minute.

Confusion flooded Penelope’s features.

“Who hates you?” she couldn’t help but ask though she quickly added. “I’m sure it’s all in your head it was just a dream.  You have nothing to worry about.”

“He’s haunting me.  I think he’s mad that I married you,” he told her.

Penelope’s face twisted in sympathy at that.

“Colin's not mad at you,” she said firmly, kissing his brow as if to try and comfort him further.  “He’s not haunting you.  It was just a bad dream.”

“But what if it isn’t?  He said that you won’t be happy until I’m dead.”

Penelope looked upset at that and for a minute Benedict thought she might agree with it but instead she shook her head, clutched him more fiercely.

“You being dead would make me the absolute opposite of happy,” she said resolutely before turning her attention to the emptiness of the room with a look that reminded him of his own mother when she’s help scare away monsters from under the bed. “Colin Bridgerton, if you’re in this room haunting your brother right right now, I demand you leaves him alone immediately until you have something nice to say.”

Benedict had thought he was going to be the one to protect her but maybe it was going to be the other way around.