#honestly this is so ridiculously rough and rusty I feel bad but I have to restart somewhere

[beneathstarryskies]

Hi! Can I just say that I'm soooooooooooooooooooo happy someone writes DMC content? I feel like there's not a whole lot of that kind of content on here that suits my needs!!!!!!😩😩😩😩😩😩😩

My request is maybe Dante NSFW alphabet? 🥴🥴🥴🥴🥴 plz and thnx

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Dante’s aftercare is a little rusty. Most of his sexual experience has been one-night stands which ended with either him or his flavor of the night leaving pretty shortly after their heated rendezvous came to a close.

His favorite thing though is long, intimate cuddle sessions and silly pillow talk. If you want something to eat or drink he’ll get it for you (although beware his go-to is gonna be ordering pizza.) He would also be totally down for showering together if you wanted to. If you have more aftercare requirements, you’ll likely have to guide him through it. Dante really wants to do good for you. Give him some guidance, and he’ll happily oblige as long as it makes you feel good.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Dante is confident in his entire body, honestly. He’s muscular and strong, he knows he’s a good looking giy. He is a little bit cocky about it as well. However, if you worship your favorite parts of his body he will be inclined to include those as his favorites.

Dante loves the sound of your laugh, and would do just about anything to have that sweet sound caressing his ears. Especially when accompanied by that bright smile. His favorite thing is when he makes you laugh during sex or while making out and you bury your face against his neck to try to cover it up.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Oh, Dante is definitely weak for cumming in your mouth. He loves it when you’re on your knees in front of him with his cock down your throat, and watching you make a mess of yourself trying to swallow his large load. He would also love painting your skin with his cum.

Dante makes you cum as many times as possible. He loves the way you feel around his cock and how soaked he gets in your juices. But even more than that, he loves pleasing you. The way your name falls from his lips so passionately, and your hands tug on his long hair. He loves knowing he made you feel so good.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Oh the number of times Dante has jacked off at his desk with lewd thoughts of you running through his mind. Sometimes he even gets a pair of your underwear and holds it to his face while he’s jacking off. With his heightened senses, he is practically surrounded by you. He can almost imagine you’re there instead of his own hand.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Dante is experienced, but maybe not quite as experienced as he tries to make out to be. It’s mostly been quickies and one-night stands. Nothing very intimate, so while he knows technically what he’s doing he might need a little help actually learning your body. He’s pretty eager to please, and he has good instincts.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Any position involving you on his desk drives him wild. It’s just something he really enjoys a lot. Especially having you bent over so he can fuck you from behind, and expect to get spanked.

However, he also enjoys lazy, spooning sex in the bed. Bonus points if it’s in the morning and you’re both still a little sleepy and uninhibited.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Dante tends to be a little bit silly during sex. Sometimes cracking jokes, or just doing random things to get a giggle out of you. He likes to unwind and he loves making you laugh. If you need a more serious moment, he can accommodate that. And there will be times he just wants to be more serious and intimate. Dante also at times requires a bit of comfort sex, although he’ll never actually call it that. He’ll just be a bit more needy and clingy than usual.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He is actually a pretty hairy guy. He’s got nice, soft white chest hair. A patch on his stomach that leads into his pants. His pubes are a bit more gray than white, and it’s coarse. On his own accord, he will let it go wild. In a relationship, he’ll put a little more effort into keeping it trimmed up. However, he’d really prefer not to be clean shaven.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Dante usually tends to be more laid back, but he will also make you feel like the only thing that matters in the whole world. He gives a lot of kisses and soft caresses. Between silly jokes or absolutely filthy dirty talk, he’ll confess how much he adores you.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He jacks off a lot, often purely out of boredom. If he’s alone in the office, it wouldn’t take much effort to walk in on him stroking his cock while sitting at his desk with a dirty magazine open. Sometimes he even tries to time it so you will catch him.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Lingerie is a big one for Dante, but also he would be into a sexy school girl outfit. Slight corruption kink, and he absolutely has a daddy kink. Spanking. Semi-public sex.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

The comfort of your own bedroom is nice when he wants to take his time with you. As mentioned before, he also loves fucking you on his desk. He also has a weakness for sloppy sex in less than ideal places like a bar bathroom or an alleyway.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Dante gets turned on pretty easily, but will often play hard to get just because he likes it when you try to seduce him. Hearing you beg for his cock and smothering him in affection is the easiest way to get him going. He likes feeling loved and wanted.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Dante doesn’t want to risk doing anything that could hurt you, and with him being half demon he’s all too aware that it’s a possibility. He might be down to experiment a bit with devil trigger, but he has his limits with it and he’s pretty steadfast in his limits.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Dante has a slight preference for receiving. At times he has to remind himself to return the favor. Not to say he doesn’t enjoy giving, because he does. And that mouth is good, okay? The man can go down like no other. But sometimes he gets so turned on by having your pretty little mouth around his cock, that he gets ahead of himself and just wants to sink himself into your pussy immediately afterwards. He’ll make it up to you though.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

It depends. He defaults to fast and rough because he tends to get totally lost in the pleasure and wants to pound into you. However, there are times he just wants to go slow and feel you all around him. These are the times when he’s feeling needy and wants to give and receive a lot of affection.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He enjoys quickies a whole lot, and will never turn down the chance. It’s a pretty regular occurence, especially if he has to leave for a job but wants to fuck you before he leaves.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Dante is pretty adventurous, and there are very few things that are off the table as far as he’s concerned. It just depends on what the risks are.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Oh boy...He has amazing stamina. He can pretty much last as long as he wants to, and can go for multiple rounds.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Dante has never really played around with toys too much, but he’s absolutely open to it. He’d be weak for having a vibrator used on him.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He is such a tease. Hearing you whine and beg is music to his ears, and he will keep it up for a long time because he knows he’ll make all the teasing worth it for you. Also, he really enjoys teasing you at very bad moments. Like having dinner with friends? Don’t be surprised if Dante starts rubbing your pussy under the table, but never putting enough pressure to get you off. So by the time you leave, you’re basically dripping wet and absolutely infuriated with him.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Dante talks a lot, and this is no different with sex. He’s big into dirty talk. He also tends to let out a lot of primal sounds like growls and purrs. Pretty much always lets out a deep growl when he cums.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Dante is a braggart. He loves fucking you very loudly when he knows people can hear because he wants everyone to know how well he can fuck you. This is also a bit of a possessive thing, but he won’t admit that.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

His cock is about 9 inches and very girthy. There’s gonna be a stretch every time he slides it inside of you, but he is aware of this and will take his time to let you adjust before getting rough.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Dante’s sex drive is ridiculous. He is pretty much down to fuck anytime, but he doesn’t let it get in the way of pressing matters.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He falls asleep pretty easily afterwards, and sometimes he won’t even warn you. You’ll be cuddling in bed, and then you just hear him start snoring.

[illmaticreid]

We Fell in Love in October

DESCRIPTION: Noah is in college studying film and has been a very boring freshman thus far. Her roommate demands that she goes to a party with her and this is where she meets an extremely bold Matthew. 

A/N: I just started rewatching Criminal Minds & have slowly become obsessed with mgg again so I needed to make a fanfic. please be kind I am extremely rusty lol!! if you have any requests or ideas for me please don’t be afraid to message me. thank you for reading <3

Warnings: smut, alcohol, drugs, very light degradation 

Word Count: 3,065

PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR |

"Are you going out with us tonight?" My roommate, Ellie, asked me. It had been 3 weeks since school had started and I have realized that Ellie is one of those girls who went to college just to party. She asked me every weekend if I wanted to go out with her and her friends, I always said no.

Ellie was a really sweet girl and I felt bad when I had to tell her, "No, I have some studying to do. Sorry." She laughed in my face, knowing I was lying to her because I used the same excuse every weekend.

"You go to class and immediately come back to our dorm or you go to the library. I am sure you studied enough this week. It's okay to have fun for one night!" Ellie told me as she was putting on her makeup for the night. She always wore winged eyeliner and long fake eyelashes without ever looking ridiculous or overdone somehow. I stared at her for a couple of seconds before telling her that I would go with her.

She got up from her seat insisting that she could do my makeup and hair. I agreed and let her have fun because I knew she would do a good job and it would be fun to actually look good for once. She offered to let me borrow one of her outfits but I declined because I already had an idea of what I wanted to wear. I put on black ripped jeans with a lace bodysuit for a shirt and some heels that I was probably going to regret wearing within the hour.

I grabbed a leather jacket because it can get pretty chilly in New York at night. I looked in the mirror one more time and I felt confident. I felt excited for the first time in a long time. I felt like myself.

 Ellie squealed when she saw my outfit, which I'm assuming means she approved. "You look so amazing! This is a nice change of scenery from your cardigans that you're always wearing."

"Hey! I love my cardigans," I said to her jokingly. We both laughed before she told me the uber would be here in a minute. We walked out of our dorm room and outside the building right as our ride arrived.

The drive was only about 10 minutes, as we were only going to one of a friends house that lived a couple of blocks away. I was praying that it wasn't a frat party, and I was relieved when we pulled up to some apartments made for upperclassmen that didn't live in dorms.

As soon as we walked in Ellie made me greet a bunch of her friends that I had never seen before. NYU was a big campus, I would never know any of these people even if they were in my classes.

This is what I get for waiting three weeks to go to a college party. Everyone here has already started to bond and make relationships with others. I was a little angry at myself for trying to be this innocent good girl and stay in and just study.

That is not me what so ever, and I am surprised I even lasted that long. In high school, I went to as many parties as possible and I always had a boy wrapped around my finger.

I tried to just focus on my studies and my number one goal was supposed to be school. It was honestly getting exhausting because I needed to let loose.

Ellie pulled me out of my thoughts as she introduced me to someone named Elio that somehow recognized me from our Foreign Film class.

"You look very familiar but I don't remember seeing you in class every. I'm sorry!" I told him, feeling bad because I genuinely don't know if I have ever seen him.

Ellie told me she was going to grab herself a drink while I 'mingled' with Elio. Her words, not mine. She walked away and I almost panicked at the thought of being alone at a party where I know nobody.

"That's okay, I'll just have to sit next to you on Tuesday." He said while smiling at me which made me blush. If I had seen him before, I don't know why I never tried to talk to him sooner because he was very attractive. I was suddenly not worried about Ellie at all and figured I could be perfectly alone with him. I was just about to tell him that I would love it if he sat next to me when one of his friends interrupted our conversation.

"Hey, Matthew! This is Noah, she is Ellie's friend. She is in our Foreign Film class." Elio said as I put out my hand to shake Matthew's hand. My stomach felt like it just dropped to my feet. How have I never seen this person in my class?

He was beautiful.. his dark brown eyes stared at me and neither of us said anything. I know the class that we are all supposedly in is huge, but how could I miss both of these extremely good looking men. I guess this is what happens when all you do is keep your head down and sit in the front row every single class.

"Hi, Noah, nice to meet you." He said, not taking his eyes off of me. All of me. He looked me up down very slowly and if it was anyone else, I probably would have been offended. Embarrassingly enough, I let it slide because I was doing the same thing to him.

"Um... N-Nice to meet you, too" I stuttered out embarrassingly. God, I  could barely form a coherent sentence around him. We all just kind of stared at each other for a couple of seconds. Good Job Noah! You made everyone uncomfortable with your stupid plain reply.

He broke the silence again by saying, "I was just about to ask Elio if he wanted to go smoke. Would you like to join us?" He pulled a little bag of green out his pocket and a smile formed on my face. I told him yes very easily because I was not much of a drinker and I definitely preferred to smoke. I don't know if I would be able to make it through the night without being at least a little high.

The three of us walked outside and passed a joint around for a little bit. At first, we all just talked about remedial stuff that no one actually cared about. I stayed quiet for the most part, only speaking when I was spoken to.

After about fifteen minutes, Elio walked back inside because it was getting cold. I didn't know whether to be happy or nervous being alone with Matthew. I was a confident person, and almost no one made me nervous. Matthew made me extremely nervous though, in more ways than one. When I looked him in the eyes, the hairs on the back of my neck stood up.

"Are you studying film, as well?" I asked him, trying to make things a little less awkward. "I don't think that's what you wanna talk about, Noah" He replied. He moved his chair closer to mine and put his hand on my knee giving it a soft squeeze. My mouth fell open and I felt a heartbeat between my legs.

"What do you want me to talk about then?" I asked him, trying to play his game. He turned towards me and smiled, "I am very attracted to you." The butterflies in my stomach were very strong and were almost making me sick.

Oh, God. I have never met someone so bold before. No one ever talks to me like this, and if they do it takes them months to finally say something worth my while. I've known Matthew for maybe 20 minutes, and somehow he is already the most honest person I've ever met.

"What?" I replied, trying to understand what just came out of his mouth.

"I can tell you feel the same way. Why don't we just cut to the chase? Do you want to go to my apartment?" He asked, and I had to squeeze my legs shut because of how turned on I was.

How do I respond to that? I usually am not the type of girl to let someone fuck on the first date but we weren't even on a date and I was seriously considering it.

He was right, I was very attracted to him.  How did he know that though? I was barely speaking to him. My eyes had been all over him from the second I met him, and usually that is a telltale sign that someone is into you. I guess I was not as slick as I thought.

My thoughts came to an end as I realized I had just been staring at him again, not answering his question.

I took the last hit of the joint before putting it out in the ashtray. "Yes," I told him. I wanted nothing more than to go back to his apartment. Sober me would probably not have done this, but high me definitely would.

He got up and took my hand as I followed behind him. Ellie looked at me confused as she saw me leaving. I just waved bye to her and gave her a wink. She gave me a thumbs up and smiled as we walked out of the door.

He told me he lived in this building, we just had to take an elevator up to another floor. The elevator ride made me slightly anxious, wondering if I made the wrong decision. He could take me back to his apartment and murder me for all I know. For some reason, I trusted him. I wasn't afraid of him at all. It felt like I had known him for years and things just came naturally around him.

As soon as we got into his apartment he pushed me against the wall roughly and I barely got a gasp out before his mouth was on mine. He grabbed my hips and pulled them towards him as we continued to kiss. I put my hands on his chest and threw his jacket off.

I tried to start unbuttoning his shirt but he bent down to grab the back of my legs and lift me up. He started walking back to his room and threw me on his bed. He took my jacket off of me and threw it on the floor while his tongue attacked my neck. We were both undressing each other much slower than I would have liked. I was left in just my bodysuit that was practically lingerie.

"Fuck," he said as he stared me down. He was taking too long to do anything with me so I took off the rest of my clothing by myself and I took off his boxers as well.

"Let me know if I am being too rough," he told me sweetly as he started kissing my boobs. I laughed before telling him, "the rougher the better." He looked up at me and I swear his dick got 10x harder. His hand traveled down my body and started massing my clit as another finger slipped into me.

I moaned loudly and I knew I wasn't going to last long. "Just fuck me already please," I begged him.

"Someone's eager," he said as he kept pumping his fingers into me and I let out another loud moan. He took his fingers out of me and I let out a small cry, wanting more. Seconds later, I felt his tongue on me and I could have died right there. I looked down at him and made eye contact with him and I felt things I've never felt before. He was intoxicating.

"Fuck, Matthew. You're gonna make me come," I told him and that just fueled him even more. He licked up my slit and started sucking on my clit. I felt my stomach being wound up, completely embarrassed that someone I just met could make me come in less than ten minutes.

"Come for me, baby," He said and put a finger back in me, stroking my g-spot all while his tongue was still flicking against me. His words sent me over the edge and I came. Hard. I moaned so loudly, his name falling from my lips.

He kept going and I had to push his head away from me because I was so overstimulated. He lifted his head up, his chin soaking wet and I felt my cheeks get even more red than they already were.

He came up to me and stuck his fingers in my mouth, letting me taste myself. My eyes opened wide, shocked at how dirty this man was. He reached into his nightstand and grabbed a condom and quickly rolled it down himself.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" He asked me. I was a little doubtful that he actually cared about my feelings on whether we should be having sex or not, but he seemed genuine. The look in his eyes told me he was being serious and wanted to make sure that I was okay with everything.

"Yes, I am sure," I told him but I don't think he believed me, he stared at me for a minute. I reached my head up to his so I could kiss him and reassure him that I wanted nothing more than for him to just completely wreck me. He gave me a toothy grin before slamming into me.

He stretched me out completely and I was not ready at all, but I can only blame myself considering I was the one that told him the rougher the better. He was slow at first, aggravatingly slow. He picked up his pace very quickly. Sweat dripping down his forehead and landing right between my boobs. He lifted his hand up to my neck and took hold of it. I smiled as he choked me and let out a little moan.

He gave me this possessive look that just turned me on even more. My back arched off of the back, trying to get as close to him as I possibly could. His headboard was slamming against the wall with every thrust. That combined with the loud moans surely pissed his neighbors off. He pulled out of me completely, and I almost complained but I didn't get the chance to because his next words completely threw me for a loop.

"Get on your hands and knees," He told me very aggressively. I complied quickly with a smile on my face. I put my ass in the air and my face was basically buried in his bed. He grabbed onto my hips so tightly that there would be marks in the morning and started thrusting back into me.

"Spank me," I said, full of confidence. I knew he wasn't going to without me telling him to, so I made a move that benefited both of us. I felt a hand come down harshly onto my ass and it stung in the best way possible. We both moaned at the same time.

"Harder," I said to him, surprising myself. Where was this coming from? I never talk like this during sex. Matthew just brought something out of me.

"Is that a challenge, Noah?" He said and I could hear the smirk in his tone.

"Of course it is, Matthew," I responded. Another loud smack came down onto my ass that was so much harder than the first and took my breath away. He grabbed onto my hair and twirled it around his fist before lifting me up to him.

"Are you being a brat?" he whispered into my ear. Fuck, he was so hot. Of course, I was being a brat, I wanted him to ruin me.

"Always," I said to him, sweetly with a tinge of sarcasm in my voice. He let my hair go and continued to fuck me very hard while spanking me even harder.

The light banter made the sex that much better. I would definitely not be able to sit down tomorrow. My stomach was being wound up again and I was on the brink of another orgasm. His heavy breathing and quiet moans were music to my ears.

I've had sex plenty of times but no one had ever made me come. Let alone twice in one night. It's like he could read my mind because right then, he reached around to rub my clit and I felt my self come undone again.

I let out loud moans, chanting his name. He came quickly after me and emptied himself into the condom. Matthew sat there for a second and I felt him softly twitching inside of me. He pulled the condom off of him and threw it in his trash bin before collapsing next to me.

"Who would have known you were such a dirty girl." Matthew teased before giving me another kiss. I laid down onto my back and he walked over to his bathroom and grabbed a warm rag. He gently wiped me down and I winced a little from the heat.

"Are you okay? I didn't hurt you or anything, right?" He asked with a look of concern on his face. How cute. He thinks he could hurt me.

"No, I am okay," I told him honestly. He gave me a pair of underwear and a big t-shirt. I gave him a confused look because I planned on going home.

"I want you to stay, Noah. It's almost 2 am, there's no sense in leaving this late. Please." Matthew said, unknowingly giving me puppy dog eyes. I could never say no to those beautiful chocolate eyes. I took the clothes he gave me and went to the bathroom to change. When I walked out, he was laying in his bed in just his underwear. I laid down next to him and cuddled his chest.

He kissed the top of my head and whispered, "Goodnight." I fell asleep in his arms and I swear it was the best sleep I've had in years.

[subaruthegamer]

About my OCs (Randy and Deacon)

Again, bear with me here.

Randal (Randy) David

“What’s rule #2?” - me

“Never *bleep* with anyone who’s bigger than you.” - half-drunk Randy - regarding why Jack effortlessly... 18+ed him.

Randal (as I occasionally call him) is from a slightly better off family from Hidden Springs, and he was born to parents who while idealistic on the outside, were actually a little bit difficult to live with on the inside. Even though is family life left a lot to be desired, in terms of education, he was attending some of the best schools that Hidden Springs had to offer. With that, his education did leave a rather bitter taste in his mouth since he had almost quite literally, burned his mind through everything that was asked of him. As a result, he now suffers from a mild case of depression which he hides even better than myself.

After turning 17, Randy had a tutor as a result of his rather intense struggle to keep up with everyone else. But he also started to notice an attraction to him (he was pretty much devastatingly handsome) and it started to get personal in a way. That was when Randy started to suffer a headache about his situation. Because his parents were quite uptight about him staying straight as an arrow, this was probably going to be the end (to him). So on the day he turned 18 after his high school graduation, he decided to enlist in the military. But he had to tell his parents about that and his sexuality. Rather than wait until everyone was at dinner, he waited until the night he was about to be shipped out to tell him.

You can guess how it ended for his parents - the bickering was endless.

I honestly don’t know how Randy pulled through with dealing with his training, but one thing I can say for certain is that while Randy was starting to get his body toned, but the one thing that I can say for sure is that he was definitely the smart one. This got him transfered once, and then again. Until he landed into Colby’s team. 

It was a crush at first sight after all - Colby was big, bulky - but obviously, he couldn’t just say he’s in love with him. Until one night, at a barracks somewhere we will probably never know, Randy managed to sneak out of his cabin, and for some rather insane reason, decided to peep on Colby. Colby had just came in from some weight-lifting, so he was going to take a shower. So when Randy peeped, he was getting turned on by Colby’s big size and when he turned around, how large his... uh... right, keeping this safe for work...

Anyway, Randy snuck back to his cabin and needed a moment alone to himself because his heart was pounding so fast. The next morning, he was summoned to Colby’s cabin and sure enough, Colby knew he had been spied on. So inevitably, rather than give him a lesson, Colby would go with his “lesson” by clearing up his schedule come liberty day, and giving him something that was sorely needed.

When the day was free, Randy went over nervous... he had never had somebody this close to him... and when the door closed in Colby’s cabin... it didn’t take long for Colby to slowly strip him down and start his “lesson.” Sure enough, they were sweaty and layered.

This kept up for weeks on end. Working together and creating a formidable team of tactics and actual fighting with (potential enemies) they were literally climbing the ranks during the day, and being given lessons during the night. In fact it got to a point where they had been turned into the stories of legend because of Randy’s moaning.

Sadly (for Randy) it didn’t last, because Colby rather strangely quit his position after he himself spent 6 years in the military. With an address if Randy ever got himself loose, he stayed on - but while he was good over the next year with other people, they got transferred out because Randy wasn’t quite as compatible with others simply due to the dynamic that he and Colby had. So, he quit.

After that, he sort of bounced all over the country, seeing if Colby was there, hoping to hopefully continue with what he and Colby had - enter me.

Yeah, it’s a pretty good guess as to what happened when he finally found Colby. This was an awkward reunion for sure, since Colby was in love with me, and Randy was now... the ex.

Obviously with him sharing a room at his Riverview house (which I was still studying in college) this did have a few awkward moments - then it started going into a slightly strange stalker-ish vibe that was coming off. I was probably overreacting, since Randy’s questions were really sort of borderline creep~ish to the point where I had to have a conversation with Colby with regards to it. 

“I mean, in hindsight, it’s not so bad - I have a feeling we’re getting somewhere.” - me

“It’s more of... will he do everything to replace you?” - Colby

And it didn’t happen. Strange as it may seem, it just didn’t happen. Despite all of it, he was still trying (a bit too hard) to try and remain upbeat about the whole ordeal, but it left me with the impression that he was a little cold with it.

After I graduated and got a job starting my way up with being an intern, Randy got a job as a filing clerk in the office. We started hitting it off as friends, and he was starting to have this sense that he wanted Colby, but he didn’t want to fight over what Colby’s mind up was which depressed him. As I was a former sober companion then, I always notice the signs that one may possibly start to need vices. The job he got was something to live for, but it just felt like he wanted more at the end of the day.

We had our fun, of course, as friends. Walks, drinks, the occasional shameless flirt. I worked my way up but then sort of stalled, which got Randy to catch up to being an intern. By the time I was given the opportunity to be a full-blown journalist, Randy was on the heels of being one. His comparison tests were unique in a way nobody has ever seen before (why, I will never tell you!) but we both got into our moment in the spotlight - I was working on reviewing cars, he was reviewing consumer products.

Furthermore, we also both got job opportunities in Lucky Palms - hence the move.

Which did leave one question - was Randy really going to try and shoot himself past me and into Colby’s arms? The three of us decided that Randy can be friends-with-benefits with Colby. Which meant that there was no relationship with Colby - it being over as Randy came to the reality that Colby was in love with me. But the occasional hookup would be okay.

Did it mean he can also sink his claws into me as well? (hehe...)

Deacon Peaks

“Lemme get this right - you got that tattoo to hide several of scars on your arm?” - me

“It’s not something I’m proud of.” - Deacon

Deacon has been through a lot. Actually, more than even I could describe. Coming from the slightly rough side of Twinbrook, his story wasn’t as fairytale as his blond hair and tattoos suggest. Deacon and his sister (who we’ve never seen but is mentioned on occasions) were born to a rather alcoholic father, who beat everyone on several occasions. Deacon sustained a lot of the injuries through school, and until his mother finally went to his grandfather, he was still suffering a lot which the school staff at the time turned a blind eye to.

When his mother finally had enough, his grandfather (who he called Pops) had the whole family (minus his father) move into his place and chased his father away with a shotgun. After that, at 14, he was starting to put the pieces of himself back together, but it started to take a domino effect on his education, since he was also bullied through school. Until a new principal came into effect 2 years later, the pieces he had allowed him to get by, but not get better. In fact, from what I remember about the conversations Deacon and I had when we were alone was that he also started an attraction to boys - who then also got kicked around for liking them as well. So, clearly, high school wasn’t exactly something he’s enjoyed.

That gradually changed slightly as he entered college - although it was still a painful time for him - even as he turned 21. Because Deacon was at a small college party, the temptation to drink too much was just there. I mean, everyone was simply getting too drunk to get comfortable. Even in this setting, the pressure was still on. But he walked away. And good thing he did, because hazing was a thing that occurred then.

Now, Deacon entered college with loans, so unsurprisingly, he did have to work quite hard through college. It wasn’t the most enlightening difference, but it was enough to live by modestly. He still had to bike to school, but it was enough to work and live by in a way. Although with Deacon’s athletic career - he graduated alright, but there is a problem: the amount of debt wasn’t exactly something that enlightens a prospective team. So after graduating, he held a few dead-end jobs before moving to Lucky Palms.

While looking through the ads list at the supermarket in Lucky Palms, I had advertised a room for sale (this was post-Adam, pre-Jack - draw your own conclusions) and, Deacon, ever the blondie, came in and was about to text the number on the ad. Sure enough, it was me. Randy had been living in a room on his own, and with Lucky Palms property values, renting a spare room that could be used could supplement what we paid.

Sure enough, Deacon was sort of back where we started until a team mascot position at the stadium opened. So he took it - but he was facing a little bit of ridicule from not being “from the bag - and probably rusty.” Obviously, he hid this from us until I checked in on him... and where I may have introduced him to Randy.

The two went on a night on the town at a bar, and Deacon (according to Randy) did have some degree of fun, but there was something missing. Now, when they got home with Randy (on the gray line of tipsy and drunk), Deacon decided that rather than carry Randy to his room (which factually was closer to the stairs than Deacon’s was) he would take him to his.

What happened during the night would be anyone’s guess (relax, nothing of a rather criminal nature happened), but when Randy woke up (unsurprisingly slightly hungover) Randy had been giving Deacon a cute smile while waiting for him to wake up. When Deacon turned around, his heart was beating quickly. Randy was still staring into his eyes with this cooling effect that apparently gradually got them to cuddle even closer in bed.

They spent the whole day cuddling until... Deacon made the first move with a kiss in bed. With Randy slightly shocked (and hungry) that Deacon wasn’t sure if he blew it. But Randy responded by kissing him back :)

This was a gradual secret until I accidentally got him and Deacon making out because Randy accidentally took my phone and I was going to give it back.

What was interesting about this was that they moment they started dating was also the same moment Colby proposed to me.

Randy was the catalyst in Deacon’s life, and soon enough, Deacon started flying up the ladder from being a mascot, to being one of the most sought after players. And before you ask - they’ve decided to be boyfriend and boyfriend.

[greekmythologyslut]

Royal Escape

Your father is forcing you to marry someone you have never met. The night before your wedding, you tie your sheets together and make your escape through the window. Half way down, you make eye contact with someone doing the exact same thing a few windows over.

The final knot pulled together with a sharp tug from her clenched hands. A sigh passed through her lips, and she sat back on her knees as she took in her work. A rope made from bed sheets and useless dresses piled on her floor, awaiting her next move. She knew that she didn’t have much time. It was nearing dawn, and her handiwork had taken longer than she had expected.

(Y/N) stood up quickly, gathering the fabric in her arms as she walked toward the window facing the forest. For this, she was grateful; her daring escape would not work had her room been near the castle courtyards.

She was careful as she walked, not wanting to risk the chance of tripping over the cloth and making a ruckus now. As she neared the pane of glass, (Y/N) set the material down on the closest ledge and surveyed the window. The handle on the side was old and rusted, which presented its own problem. She knew of the guards positioned outside of her door. Any noise, such as the squeak that was soon to come from the metal, would cause the men to show themselves instantly. The entire castle would be upon her soon, questioning her leaving when her marriage was only a few days away. Nobles were quite daft, despite any claims her father makes on their behalf.  

(Y/N) glanced around the room, searching for something - anything - to lessen the high pitched screech of the metal. It was all useless fancy stuff that her father had insisted upon, and which had no business being in anyone’s room.

(Y/N) moved forward to the chest at the foot of her bed, and dug around in it. Her hand grasped a blanket, one too heavy for her to use in the makeshift rope. But with each step back towards the glass, hesitation replaced her determination.

Would this actually work? If the guards caught her, either sneaking out the window or running off the castle grounds, judgement and ridicule would follow her from the court. Where would she even go? Her own home was out of the question, as her father and soldiers would return and search for her. But, the same went for the kingdom in which she currently resided.

There weren’t any suitable options. The nearest kingdom was a week’s ride away, and walking there would nearly double the time. (Y/N) had no knowledge of the road, as the royal life was the only one that she had ever experienced.

The shuffling of feet grabbed her focus, and she realized with a start that the night was near halfway done. (Y/N) froze, waiting for the footfall to fade away. The unknown personage continued on their way, oblivious to the escaping princess.

Any hesitation dissipated, and she was left with a new sense of hurry. (Y/N) lugged the heavy blanket into her arms and dragged it over to the glass. Careful not to press the handle too soon, she surrounded the rusty metal with the fabric, praying that this would work.

She moved at a hermit’s pace, gently pushing down on the curved handle. An immediate squeak filled the room, and she flinched from the sudden noise. (Y/N) paused and turned her head, waiting for the guards to sweep into her room. It was silent, and continued to stay that way for a few minutes before she deemed it safe to proceed.

She took a quick, deep breath, and shoved the handle down, hardly giving the metal time to sound out its high pitched alarm. The glass swung open with a startling suddenness, and (Y/N) was quick to draw her body away from the drop that awaited her.

An excited grin stuck to her face, and she had to stop her own shout of joy from escaping. Grabbing one end of the impromptu rope, (Y/N) knotted it around the foot of her bed multiple times. Planting her feet on the floor, she gave a sharp tug at the rope, testing its strength. The wooden frame moved slightly against the rough ground, but not enough to cause her to worry.

Taking a seat on the window ledge, (Y/N) peered down the castle wall. It was a drop, alright, but she was glad that the king had not given her a room in the tower. She turned her back to the window and gathered the knotted blankets in her arms. With cautious movements, (Y/N) leaned over the window pane, and let the rope drop. It kept going, untangling itself as it fell.

(Y/N) groaned as she saw that the fabric had not made it all the way to the dirt; it looked to be taller than a person, perhaps. Still, there was nothing that she could do about it now. She shrugged out of the long dress, her skin prickling at the cold night air as the warm fabric left her.

She donned a tunic and pair of trousers, grabbing the thick velvet cape from the hook on the wall. She ran her hand along the smooth cloth, admiring the deep colors of her homeland and the brooch upon the front. There was no time to rethink her actions, as morning was already quickly approaching.

The woman swung the heavy cloak over her shoulders, and turned towards her escape. The light feeling in her chest intensified as she crossed over the window threshold. Her hands gripped tightly against the fabric, her body hugging the stone wall. The wind ruffled her clothes and hair gently as she descended. Her boots were sturdy enough to grip the wall, and the rope was holding steady.

It was a small movement out of the corner of her eye that sent everything careening. She had not noticed that the window nearby had been open for a while, and in a sudden flurry of movement, a rope like hers was thrown out and a man was climbing down.

During the unknown person’s movement, she had not stopped her own, which proved to be a mistake. In her state of surprise, (Y/N) placed her foot on an unstable rock. The stone disappeared from under her, slamming her against the tower and sending her down the wall.

She grabbed desperately for the rope, the burn of the cloth against her hands stinging as she was jerked to a stop. The pain and fear stole her attention away from everything else. (Y/N) pressed her forehead to the cold stone, her breath rasping heavily as she tried to calm her racing heart.

It seemed as though a few minutes had passed before her body had stopped its shaking, and she got the courage to look down. Wisps of hair covered her eyes, the short pants of air pushing them away. Half of the castle wall awaited her fall, and the packed ground no longer looked so inviting. (Y/N)’s head spun, and her stomach churned at the thought of wait might have happened had she missed the rope.

“Are you alright?” A quiet whisper broke through the silence of the night. The sudden noise startled her, and her head shot up to the source of the voice. In her near-death moment, the stranger had completely slipped her mind.

The half-moon outlined the man’s figure as it perched on the castle wall. His clothes were, as far as she could tell, surprisingly luxurious. His boots were surprisingly clean, and the cloak on his shoulders looked to be a warm, heavy velvet. She could tell that she had stumbled upon nobility, whoever he may be. But then again, what noble figure would be sneaking down the castle wall in the dark?

You are.

It had only been a few seconds since the man asked her the question, but (Y/N) could already feel the awkwardness growing. Desperate to redeem herself from the embarrassing fall, she responded to the dangling stranger.

“Perfectly fine, just a momentary slip-up.” She laughed quietly, and could see the relieved smile of the man as he learned she was alright. The tension in the air was fading away by the moment, and both were grateful. (Y/N) stared at the dark figure for a few seconds longer, then turned her attention back to the stone she was residing against. The fabric moved between her fingers as she continued her descent down the castle wall. The stranger followed her movements, and quickly reached the same height as her.

“May I ask what a lady such as yourself is doing out here?” The man’s voice was smooth, with an obvious air of confidence. (Y/N) paused her movement momentarily, slightly unsure of how to answer.

“Only if I am allowed to ask the same.” The pair laughed quietly, both at the answer and the oddness of the situation they were in. The man resumed his actions, chuckling as he nodded to the strange woman. (Y/N) watched him climb for a while, uncertain whether the full truth was necessary.

She sighed. “Well... however bad it sounds, I am running.” She paused for a moment. “My father has put a lot of pressure on me, and I honestly don’t know if I can go through with his plans.” She left out the part of her arranged marriage and her own royal status, still unsure of this stranger. Said man had been focusing on her as she spoke, and couldn’t help but chuckle as she fell into silence.

“Strange, I seem to be stuck in the same situation. My parents have arranged... something that I did not agree to. We have different opinions about this certain subject, and they’re not willing to listen to my thoughts. I just need a break for a while.” The silence dragged on for a moment, the two descending silently along the rock. (Y/N) shifted her gaze to the stranger, his focus seemingly lost.

“I’m sorry.” The words were almost air, and the head opposite hers lifted to see her. A quiet chuckle erupted from the silence, and the light atmosphere slowly returned. (Y/N) inhaled deeply, watching for man’s response as he paused his movement. His face was visible for the first time, as the pair had been unintentionally moving closer as they descended. The man had elegant, royal features which were uncomfortably familiar. (Y/N) couldn’t help but stare, but she was unable to place a finger on who he was, or even where she had seen him before.

His head cocked to the side slightly as he watched her. “You have no reason to be, I assure you. This is actually the most fun I’ve had in quite some time.” He demonstrated his point by pushing off the wall, his feet planting themselves against stone as the rope swung him back. A smile crept onto (Y/N)’s face as she watched him. He stared up at her for a moment, swaying slightly, before a wide grin spread over his features.

“I’ll race you to the bottom.” The words had hardly left his lips before he began quickly moving down. A short bark of laughter escaped her as she followed his lead. The sound of shushes surrounded them as they attempted to contain their joy. Their cloaks fluttered gently, the deep colors blending together in the dim light as they moved.

With a shout of triumph, the man opposite her let go of his rope, landing gracefully on the grass. He took a bow to the imaginary sounds of cheering, grinning widely as the woman above him dangled. (Y/N)’s laughter spread around them as she watched him fool around, her foot hooking itself into a convenient loop in the rope. Beneath her was a few meters of empty space, and since her earlier plummet, she didn’t find herself too willing to simply let go.

“Jump,” She shifted her gaze to his face. He was serious, but gentle, and he bore all the characteristics of a perfect gentleman, “I’ll catch you.” She stared at him in disbelief, both at his sudden change in mannerisms and this new command. A quiet scoff left her lips as she glanced between his comforting expression and the ground.

“I must say, I had figured you were slightly crazy when I saw you clambering from your window, but this is something else entirely.” She forced out a laugh, attempting to conceal her nerves from the young man on the grass. The ground looked incredibly appealing, but the possible harm that may come to either of them, when they were this close to escaping, made her pause.

“Trust me.” It was said softly, in a tone so tender it made her do just that. She looked at him, clenched her teeth and pursed her lips, only allowing herself a moment of thought. Carefully, she slipped her foot out of where it was resting, now dangling precariously by only the strength of her arms. With closed eyes and a deep breath, she loosened her hold on the rope.

The fall hardly lasted a second, her hair barely moved before she was securely on the ground. The man’s arms were wound around her waist, supporting her body gently as her feet hit the forest floor. (Y/N) didn’t think about the closeness of their figures, or how his breath fanned across her face, or how he would be able to feel the pounding of her heart. Once she felt the solidness of the ground underneath her feet, the laugh that bubbled up from her chest spilled free. Her still shaky hands gripped his shoulders, head tilted down as she caught her breath. He joined in, letting out a deep chuckle of his own, arms planted firmly around her body.

It took a few moment before her nerve-riddled giggles died down. In an instant, she realized how this scene might look to those passing by, and quickly pulled away from his warm grasp. He must have noticed the same thing, as his arms dropped willingly, and he took a small step back. (Y/N) was sure that her flushed cheeks were painfully obvious in the morning light. He didn’t seem to notice. A small smile played upon his lips, and he turned slightly as though trying to hide it. His skin was glowing softly from the light of dawn. The colors in his cape’s thick material appeared more vibrant, and his hair seemed too soft for anyone except the gods to have. But none of these were what caused her heart to drop in her chest.

Sewn upon the chest of the cloak was the royal crest. (Y/N)’s eyes widened slightly as her eyes darted between the insignia and his face. The realization hit her hard, as though a large stone had fallen from the castle wall and landed on her chest. It was no wonder that she had thought his face was so familiar; multiple portraits spanned the halls of the palace, each one proudly displaying the man and the emblem that she was currently staring at.

Abruptly, she dipped into a low curtsy, face aflame as she scolded herself. “My apologies, Your Highness. I did not realize-” She drifted off, not quite sure how to save herself from this mess she made.

Her hair covered her eyes, and so she could not see the look upon his face as he turned and saw her, standing there pitifully as she asked for him to forgive her for...well, she didn’t really know. But in the presence of a prince, she didn’t know what else to do. She could not see the smile fall from his face, or the uncomfortable look that he wore now. She did feel strong hands grip her shoulders, and gently gesture for her to rise from the necessary stance.

“Am I correct in assuming that you are the princess I am meant to wed?” She did not believe that her cheeks could get any redder than they were at that moment. Not only had she tried to escape a marriage with the prince, but he had caught her while doing so. If there was any moment for the ground to swallow her whole, it would be now.

Her voice was shaky as she answered. “Yes, Your Highness.” The prince waved a hand of disapproval at her, shaking his head slightly as he stood in front of her.

“Please, call me Shawn.” He took a mock bow, dipping low in an attempt at humor. She let out a nervous chuckle, a sense of relief settling into her as she took in the prince’s calm demeanor.

“This is terribly embarrassing for both of us,” He continued, laughing slightly between his words as he ran a hand through his hair. “Although I must admit, you are far more intriguing than I expected; you’ve grown on me quite a bit.” He joked, and a gentle laugh greeted him. They stood there a moment, both far more relaxed than they had been a moment ago. She watched him, and was about to say something back when he spoke again, a tinge of nervousness obvious in his tone.

“Perhaps you will consider walking back into the castle with me. I’d like to see if I can convince you to stay for a while longer.” A confident, boyish grin spread on his lips, and he held his arm out to her. The bright smile was contagious, and (Y/N) couldn’t help but replicate it.

“It shouldn’t take much convincing.” Her voice was quiet but joyous, and a laugh followed her words. Though she wasn’t sure it was possible, Shawn brightened even more, and a faint red dusted his cheeks. He gestured his arm again, and without hesitation, (Y/N) grabbed it.

[wolfir-shard]

You Know I’d Do Anything For You

FUCKNKGIN CHALLENGE ACCEPTED everyone please go shower minty in love ok?? AUs r TOP-NOTCH here’s... a small take of my own on the Minake Detective/Hitman AU ;A;

There were worse and less ironic ways to die, but Minato wasn’t really bothered by it. It was almost hilarious that he would be bleeding like this on the ground of some seedy warehouse in the dead of night with Goro Akechi pushing hair out of his eyes.

He gave a little laugh at the ridiculous nature of it all that became more of a cough, and it hurt a lot more than he was expecting. That was the problem with pain: your brain dampened the effect after it was over with, so every time something happened it hurt anew, like your were a child just seeing the universe and experiencing pain for the first time.

“Why?” Akechi hissed out angrily, already trying to pull his shirt away from the wound, and drawing Minato's attention. “Why the hell did you do that, Arisato-?!”

Minato winced at the roughness and the feverish pace of the pulling. He bit his lip and grinned weakly in reply, pushing his glasses up onto his forehead. “Y-Y’know, I thought you would be more grateful…”

“Shut up!” There was a frazzled fray to the other’s voice that caused Minato to obey, and he turned his eyes to Akechi.

The other’s teeth were grit, reddish-brown eyes shining with unshed tears, and hair hanging in little wet ringlets from the rain outside. He looked pitiful and terrible, a panicking creature trying desperately to fight an inevitable. Minato felt his brow furrow slightly, and then he winced again as Akechi prodded the wound.

It had been a simple investigation at first glance. The warehouse had been a weird place to go to for a search to be fair, but a string of otherwise unrelated clues about the strange disappearances the two were investigating all kept pointing here, so it was imperative they at least check out the space. They’d pulled up just as night was falling in Minato’s old navy blue car, stepping out into the rain and meager streetlight like some kind of bad detective noir movie.

The warehouse was dark, and damp, and full of shadows that kept them both on edge. The towers of crates, half illuminated, the maddening plink of dripping water… Everything was a strain to not focus on, and both of them were far, far too nervous. They walked back to back through the aisles, guns at the ready, and eyes scanning the darkness for threats. Once or twice Minato thought he saw one or two shadows actually move, and they would halt, but neither ever managed to catch sight of whatever was casting them.

Searching out what they needed had been going nowhere, and Minato was ready to throw in the towel for the night when several men had stepped out of the shadows and into view. Minato wasn’t sure at the time why there were so many, where they had come from, why they had guns -- too many facts all at once -- but Akechi had gone as white as a sheet, one had raised his gun, and Minato was moving in front of Akechi before any of them had the time to think.

The bullet had connected with him and it was like someone had stabbed him with a spear made of molten rock. All at once his mind was too slow and he was stumbling back, and the shock was written so clearly on the man's face, the shock and the disgust that was so chilling it made him feel momentarily sick. It was as if he had never anticipated someone stepping in front of… What must have been his target.

Goro. Minato’s mind supplied as he fell ungracefully forwards onto his knees, the whole world moving in slow motion. He was going to shoot Goro.

In that moment most of everything clicked into place, as if the murder board and the files flashing before his eyes, details he stored and bookmarked for later were all thrown open across his mind’s eye. Goro Akechi coming to work for him, he connections to the government, the suddenly silenced news outlets, the disappearances...  Masayoshi Shido, the mayoral hopeful, covering up scandals and alternate viewpoints with the quick and quiet extension of a hitman, in a detecting inner circle, access to high-level cases and equipment, information… It fell so neatly into place Minato was honestly impressed, and a little bit pissed off it had taken him until now to realize it.

Minato was a target -- had been a target? -- but if he wasn’t dead that meant he had been important, he had been right not to be trusting and now there was a price being paid for their guards being down.

He raised his head, the first man was raising his gun again, but Minato heard the muffled burst of a silenced gun and then the man was stumbling back, and then the man was running, and the bursts repeated three or four times, sending the other hitmen scattering. Goro kept firing at their retreating bodies, his hands shaking minutely. Minato took a rattling breath and his entire body set on fire, causing him to slump forwards with a whimper of pain.

Then Akechi was on him, all hands and support and Minato found himself draped across Akechi’s lap, leaning against his shoulder while the other fumbled to stop the bleeding with shaking hands.

“Why?” Akechi hissed again, though this time it was less shocked and angry. It sounded more pained and scared than anything and Minato fought to keep his eyes open.

“Because… You’re my friend.” Minato said, wincing as the wound stung and pain radiated through his body. “C-Couldn’t just… Do nothing…”

“I’m your enemy you imbecile-” Akechi choked out, fumbling with his own shirt.

“Mm.” Minato acknowledged. “Smart enemy.”

“Stop talking, save your strength.”

“Why are you… Trying to save me?” Minato turned silver eyes back to his companion, who was avoiding eye contact as he ripped fabric to make bandages.

“Because you’re important.” Akechi responded curtly, his hands trembling still.

“Important…?” Minato returned, amused.

“Can you kindly quit being smug for two minutes? Please?”

“Why am I important, Akechi?”

The other fell silent, into a minute where Minato had to breathe a little harder to keep himself conscious.

“You were kind when you didn’t need to be.” Akechi decided on, wrapping the torn shirt around the bleeding wound. “You are a person I wish I could be and everything that I am not.”

“Jealous?”

“Immensely.”

“Did Shido send you after me?”

Akechi bit his lip, and then nodded, almost slumping in quiet defeat.

“Why?”

“You had information he was afraid of getting out. I was to leech you of all useful information and then kill you.”

Minato laughed, and winced. His head was swimming. A target. “Is that so…”

“Minato stay with me-” Akechi pulled him closer, the pain evident in his beautiful ruby eyes. “Stay… Stay with me. Please. W-Why did you jump in front of me?”

“Because… You’re… my friend, Goro.” He murmured again. “We’re partners…”

“You idiot.” Tears were spilling down Akechi’s cheeks, and Minato reached up to wipe them away. “You’re going to die for a Mephistophiles, Minato. I don’t deserve your kindness.”

“M’not dead yet.” Minato murmured, and then sighed as the world began slipping away. “Will you sing for me…?”

“S-Sing?” Akechi repeated.

“Mmh.” Minato nodded, slow and sluggish. “Just… whatever…”

Akechi took in a breath and then gently gathered up Minato, starting to sing as he stood. Minato’s vision and head swayed and he rested his cheek against Goro’s shoulder. There was a heartbeat in his ear, and he wasn’t sure if it was his or Akechi’s, thrumming softly to the beat of the song that echoed like angels in his head, reverberating with a quiet affection that felt too raw and powerful for a mere mortal body. Minato wasn’t aware of when his eyes had closed, only that the darkness around him felt cold, and it was pulling at the warmth encased in his chest.

The darkness felt so safe, so steady and almost inviting despite the cold. The warmth burned him and promised pain and light, and a struggle he was not sure he could win. It would be so easy to let the darkness claim him, soft and silent, falling into it like falling asleep and sinking into the depths like a great ship to its final resting place. It would be so easy to let go.

But the song, it called him, quiet and imploring. It echoed in his soul and his heart, begging him to return to the light. It sounded like love and pain and heartbreak, and Minato was drawn to it like a moth to a flame.

The world came into focus slowly, first he could feel. He was somewhere soft, and warm. Dry too. His hand had things wrapped around it, and his other hand was being held. He was breathing. He could feel his hair on his face, something over his mouth and nose. The air smelled sterile and cold… Slowly hearing returned, the quiet beeping of a hospital heart monitor, and the singing. The song that had pulled him just out of slipping away.

Minato cracked his eyes open.

The ceiling of a hospital room greeted his eyes as he blinked the fuzz away and turned his head towards the sound. Akechi was still singing, still soaking wet, holding Minato’s hand and singing quietly to it. All of Minato was hurting right now, and the dim light of the hospital wasn’t quite dim enough for his aching eyes, but it was something. He was alive.

“What was that about me dying?” He croaked, smiling as Akechi jumped a good foot in the air, eyes opening wide and mouth slightly open. The expression made Minato laugh, and it hurt just as much as it did before.

“Minato-!” Akechi lit up like a star, and grasped his hand tighter. “How are you feeling?”

“Like garbage…” He shut his eyes with a quiet wince as he processed the radiating pain. “Feels like someone stabbed me with a rusty pole… But I’m alive.”

“It’s a miracle.” Akechi murmured, still quietly stroking Minato’s hand. The two remained there for a few silent minutes, Minato's only movement being to lace his fingers with Akechi's. He could feel the other's pulse against a wayward finger; fast and panicked still.

“... Did you ever stop singing?” Minato turned his eyes to Akechi again, curious and soft.

Akechi glanced away, and dug his teeth into his lower lip, before quietly admitting “No.” as if he was embarrassed.

Minato smiled, and weakly squeezed his hand. “You had a hand in the miracle.”

“Don’t be silly.” his companion scoffed, though it sounded sad.

“You did.” Minato insisted. “I was right between life and death and the only thing that saved me was your song. I could hear it… Echoing softly in my ear the whole time.” He thumbed the skin of Akechi’s hand.

Akechi blinked at him, as if genuinely surprised, and then smiled, weak and true, and everything soft about the world. Minato wanted to bottle up that smile and keep it forever. “If you say so.”

“I know so.” Minato murmured, still smiling, and Akechi laughed. It was enough for Minato to start laughing too, in this one moment of safety and… trust.

[bcdrawsandwrites]

Next entry for @badthingshappenbingo​!

Reminder that I am still accepting prompts for this! Check out my initial post (linked in my blog desc) for the guidelines. Also note the current bingo card on this post–the things I mark with crossbones are completed prompts, and ones with a single bone are ones that have been requested, but not written yet.

(Fics are also posted to AO3 and FFN, but please just use the links in my blog desc to get to those ‘cuz I’m too tired to make links for them.)

Aaand here’s our next prompt, submitted by @specspectacle​! This one is quite a bit more lighthearted than my other ones. I hope you like it!

Prompt: Damaged Vocal Cords Characters: Imelda Rivera, Héctor Rivera, Ernesto de la Cruz, pre-movie

Héctor and Imelda had only been married for a few weeks now, and Imelda was embarrassed to find Héctor already seeing her in an awful state—that is to say, Imelda was sick.

True, they’d known each other since they were kids, but whenever she’d caught an illness, she had stayed indoors with her parents taking care of her. Now, it was just her and Héctor. Before, he’d always insisted how beautiful she was. Now… well, she couldn’t imagine she looked all that wonderful with her dripping nose, pale face, and messy hair.

“Ay, I’m fine, mi amor,” Imelda croaked for the dozenth time, just before she sneezed again into her already-soiled handkerchief.

“Shh, don’t worry about it,” Héctor replied, gently brushing her hair away from her face. Her braid had come loose again and she was too tired to fix it up. “You’ll be over this soon.”

Still she found herself glancing away from him as she wiped her nose. Ever since she’d woken up that morning, she’d kept thinking back to the things the other women of Santa Cecilia warned her about—how as wonderful as Héctor seemed now, that would all change when he saw her at her worst, when she wasn’t pretty. She’d brushed it off then—Héctor had never, ever been like one of those men—but now, with how awful she felt, she found herself muttering, “I suppose I’m not exactly the beautiful woman you married, am I.”

She hadn’t meant to say it out loud, and winced when he gave a startled “what?” But rather than being angry, he went on: “Are you kidding? You’re as beautiful as the day I met you, mi amor.”

Imelda paused, and turned to give him a look, but Héctor only grinned—a genuine smile, not a mocking one. She could feel how damp her hair and skin was from the sweat, and her nose was starting to drip again, and she truly, honestly had no idea what he was looking at. But seeing him smiling at her like an idiot even when she looked like a disaster, she found herself dissolving into tired laughter.

Unfortunately the stupid sickness had to make itself known again, and her laughter turned to dry coughs.

Héctor’s hand was immediately at her back, rubbing gentle circles until the coughing fit subsided. Groaning, Imelda rubbed her upper chest. “Weren’t you supposed to be playing with Ernesto today?”

“That can wait. I think I’ll make us some tea now—maybe it’ll soothe your throat.”

And so the next few days continued like that, Héctor spending much of his time taking care of her while they waited for the sickness to pass. He made her hot drinks to ease the pain in her throat, and with her help made some simple broths that she could easily swallow with her throat swollen as it was. Sometimes he would even bring out his guitar, playing and singing her favorite songs to lift her spirits.

He did go out to play with Ernesto when Imelda insisted that he needed to work, but evidently he found it difficult to focus, and would often leave early to be with Imelda again. This, of course, didn’t sit well with Ernesto, and a few times the other músico begged for him to come back and play “just a few more songs.” Héctor had already taken a break from playing music with his friend while he spent his first married week entirely with his wife, and he’d only just gone back to playing music in the plaza when Imelda had gotten sick. While part of Imelda felt bad for keeping Héctor distracted from his work (and part of Héctor certainly felt bad about that as well), she was grateful he considered her more important than his music.

The sickness lasted a few days, and while the symptoms had finally started to fade, the constant dry coughing had taken its toll on her throat. It still hurt to swallow, and her voice had been rough already, but then she woke up one morning to something she hadn’t expected.

“Buenos dias,” was what she’d meant to say when she saw him stirring by her side. What came out instead was a breathy croak that hurt her throat to force out.

Immediately she put a hand to her mouth, blinking in surprise, and tried again to speak, only for a barely-comprehensible squeak to come out instead.

Héctor, meanwhile, opened his eyes, and looked like he was about to smile at her before he saw the look of consternation on her face. “Imelda?” he asked, pushing himself up on his elbow. “What’s wrong?”

I don’t know, she tried to answer, but her sore throat wouldn’t let the words come out.

Now Héctor was sitting upright, looking down at her in worry. “What happened to your voice?”

Imelda tried to speak again, only to break down into dry coughs. Wait… was that it? The coughing had worn her voice thin? She hoped that was all it was, anyway. Biting her lip, she sat up in bed, holding out her left hand flat, and making a writing motion on it with her right hand.

“Hm? Oh! Sí, un momento.” Scrambling out of bed, Héctor stumbled over to his writing desk, shuffling through the piles of loose papers before finally finding a blank one. He then came back with a pencil, a sheet of paper, and a book for a flat surface to write on. “Is it your throat?” he asked, handing her the items.

She nodded, brow furrowing before she wrote: Do you think this is permanent?

Reading over the paper, Héctor looked just as worried. “I… don’t know. I don’t think so?” He thought it over, then perked up. “Oh! Wait, wait, this happened to my… my papá once, when I was little. His voice was gone for a few days, so he couldn’t shout orders at work.”

We could send for a doctor—

“Eeeeeehhh…”

Imelda rolled her eyes. Did he always have to be this way about doctors?

“Look, Imelda, my papá got his voice back then, and I’m sure you’ll get your voice back soon, too. You just need to rest for a few more days and you’ll be good as new. All right?”

Heaving a sigh, she nodded. She would like to get back to work rather than sitting around all day, but she supposed she couldn’t exactly go to the market if she couldn’t talk with the shopkeepers. …Oh! Quickly she scribbled onto the paper: We do need to go to the market today.

“Don’t worry, I can handle it!” Héctor insisted. “Just write a list of the stuff we need and I’ll grab it for you. Now c’mon, let’s get you something warm to drink.”

Aside from not being able to talk, the morning was pleasant enough. Warm sunlight shone in through the windows, Héctor managed to make a decent breakfast for the both of them (the last of their eggs and a couple pieces of fruit, though Imelda was unable to finish her apple), and the tea did soothe her throat a little, even if it didn’t heal enough to talk. After that, they spent the morning together to finish some of the chores Imelda was able to do, and getting together a list of things that Héctor would need to pick up at the market. He asked if she would like for him to play any music for her, but she declined—they could do that later when Héctor came back, so he left his guitar sitting by the door.

When Héctor finally left, Imelda rested on a chair by the window. For a short while she tried to read a book, but found it was putting her to sleep. Shrugging, she set the book aside and leaned into the chair, allowing herself to doze. Maybe a brief nap would do her some good while she waited for Héctor to return.

A few minutes later, the door flew open with a bang.

At first Imelda thought that Héctor must have forgotten something, but he never slammed the door open like that. For a split second she felt a jolt of panic, wondering what might have happened to make him rush back in like that so shortly after he’d left, when she heard a voice call out:

“Héctor!”

Rolling her eyes, Imelda stood up from her chair and turned to see that Ernesto had barged into the house, and was frantically looking around. “Héctor?” he called again before his eyes fell on Imelda. “Do you know where he is?”

Imelda’s first instinct was to ask him what he was doing, coming in uninvited like that, but when she opened her mouth, he immediately cut her off.

“I don’t get this whole thing about needing to take care of you,” Ernesto muttered, looking her up and down. “You look fine to me. He can’t keep up that excuse.” With that he marched toward the kitchen, leaving Imelda dumbfounded.

Well, it wasn’t like she would’ve been able to say anything to him, anyway. She briefly considered grabbing some paper to write on, but leaving Ernesto alone for a moment too long sounded like a disaster waiting to happen. Heaving a frustrated sigh, she followed the man into the kitchen as he continued to rant, still searching for her husband.

“Honestly, if he keeps ducking out of his responsibility, he’s going to get rusty.” He turned to peer out the kitchen window, looking for Héctor in the courtyard in spite of the fact that Ernesto had just walked through it. “How are we supposed to become world-renowned musicians if he’s not playing every day?”

Playing still counts even if he’s not playing for a crowd, Imelda thought, wishing she could say it out loud. Ay, he’d only been there for barely a minute and he was already grating on her nerves.

“This is ridiculous,” Ernesto growled, turning away from the window. Imelda tried to approach him, but he took no notice, walking right past her and striding to the bedroom. “Héctor! Are you in there? Don’t tell me you’ve slept in!”

Anger burning in her chest, Imelda hurried up to him. The bedroom was not clean—they hadn’t bothered making the bed that morning, Héctor’s desk looked like a very large book had exploded over it, and the rest of the room was cluttered. Not to mention, it was their bedroom. Don’t you dare barge into the—

“If you don’t wake up right now I’m going to drag you to the plaza myself.” With that, he threw open the bedroom door and walked in. Fuming, Imelda followed him.

Not finding Héctor there, Ernesto breathed a frustrated sigh. “This is getting ridiculous, where could he—” He broke off into a yelp when Imelda suddenly stepped in front of him abd shoved him back out into the hall. “Dios mio, mujer, are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

She leaned against the door frame, unimpressed, and sharply gestured out the door. Stay out of our bedroom. And the house, please.

“You could have at least said something,” Ernesto went on, brushing himself off and turning away. But rather than turning to leave, he headed toward the guest bedroom instead. “Where is he?”

What—no! Get out! Imelda followed him as he peered into the empty bedroom, and yanked on one of his suspenders.

Yelping, Ernesto spun around and blinked at her in bewilderment. “What’s wrong with you?” he cried, reaching back to re-adjust his suspender. “Tell me, Imelda—where is your husband?”

Imelda crossed her arms once and then pointed in the direction of their front door. He’s not here, idiota! Get out of our house!

“Oh, out there?” Walking past her, Ernesto opened the front door. Instead of leaving, however, he peered around the courtyard. “I don’t see him anywhere.”

Fighting the strong desire to grab the nearest object and crack it over his thick skull, Imelda buried her face in her hands for a moment before stomping her foot to get the man’s attention. When he finally looked back at her, she drew in a breath, and tried again to speak: Héctor is not here, she wanted to say, but her voice came out in a few breathy squeaks.

Ernesto stared at her for a long moment, as though looking at a particularly tricky line of sheet music, and finally his eyebrows flew up in recognition. “You can’t speak, can you?”

Imelda stared at him in exasperation. No, she mouthed.

“So that’s why you’ve been following me around like a stray dog instead of saying anything,” he mused, rubbing his chin. “I was thinking you’d missed me.”

Missed him?! She’d just gotten married! Why would she miss hanging out with another man?! Unable to protest, she gave him the best expression she could to convey the anger and frustration she felt.

Still Ernesto continued to look her over, eyes narrowing as the gears turned in whatever rusty contraption passed as a brain for him. Something seemed to click, and his face brightened. “Well then,” he said, a seemingly-genuine smile crossing his features. “I suppose Héctor would appreciate it if I stayed here to help take care of his sick wife.”

Qué.

“Knowing him, he won’t be out for long. Hopefully. But until he returns, I don’t suppose he’d mind if I made myself at home.” With that, he walked back into the kitchen, leaving Imelda with her mouth agape.

Oh, you have got to be kidding. Gritting her teeth, Imelda followed him into the kitchen to find him opening their cabinets and hunting around their table. He spotted an apple sitting on the table and snatched it up, taking a bite. It was their last one, but at least Héctor would be getting some more at the market—it was more frustrating to see him helping himself to their food uninvited. Still, she waited for him to finish eating before tapping him on the shoulder and pointing firmly in the direction of the door.

“Hmm?” he asked, setting the apple core on the table. “Is there something you want to show me, señora?”

Sí. THE DOOR. Pointing again, she eyed him until he turned to look where she was pointing. She relaxed as she watched him finally make his way to the door again, and turned to dispose of the garbage he’d left behind.

“What was it you… oh!”

To Imelda’s confusion, she heard the sound of something heavy being lifted off the floor, and her eyes widened in horror. No, idiota, you know that’s not what I meant—! Hurrying back out of the kitchen, she found Ernesto standing there, holding up Héctor’s guitar and tuning it.

“Of course, Imelda, I’d love to play some music for you.” Flashing her a smile, he pulled the guitar strap over his shoulder and began to strum a few chords. “Do you have any requests?”

Imelda grit her teeth. Sí, for you to go away! She pointed at the guitar and gestured back to the side of the door, where Héctor had left it.

Ernesto ignored her, looking off to the side as he began to think something over. “Let’s see… what was the one you liked? Ah, La Llorona, right?”

Blinking, Imelda stepped back. She hadn’t expected him to remember she’d liked that one—it was one of the first songs she’d heard Héctor play. Perhaps allowing Ernesto to show off a little wouldn’t be too bad. It would certainly be less annoying than anything else he’d been doing. She nodded at him.

“Very well.” Ernesto played a few opening chords, closing his eyes as he began to sing, “Ay, de mi Llorona… Llorona de azul celeste…”

With a soft sigh, Imelda took a seat on a nearby chair. If she couldn’t get rid of him, she might as well enjoy the music.

“Y anque la vida me cue—hey,” Ernesto said, opening one eye and glancing over at her, “you’re not singing along.”

She gave him a deadpan look.

Shrugging, Ernesto pressed his hand against the guitar strings to break off the music. “Well, since you can’t sing along to your favorite songs, perhaps I can sing something different.”

Oh, wonderful. Of course it wouldn’t be that easy. No, she mouthed, but of course that wouldn’t stop this great idiot.

“Perhaps a more romantic song?” Strumming a few more opening chords, Ernesto cleared his throat to begin a different song. “Everyone knows Juanita…”

AAGH! No, not that one! Imelda waved her arms in a request to stop, but of course Ernesto ignored it as he continued singing the awful song. Part of her wanted to grab her shoe and beat him over the head with it, but she’d hate for Héctor to come home to a sight like that. What kind of person would he think he’d married, if he found her attacking his best friend? She’d just put up with it for now, until Héctor came home.

She just hoped that would happen soon.

“…and so, I became more of a mentor to him, you know?”

Imelda dragged her hands over her face. Ernesto had given up halfway into the third dirty song, and she was frankly impressed he’d lasted that long, given how much he depended on an eager audience for his songs. Now, though, she almost wished he had kept it up, because his singing voice was at least marginally more pleasant to listen to than his normal voice.

Especially when he was rambling about himself.

“Of course, we are still best amigos and always have been, but I taught him everything he knows.”

No you didn’t. He taught you how to play the guitar when he was five. I know. I was there. Not that it would make any difference, since Ernesto seemed lost in his own world as he rambled about his warped version of his own life to Imelda, as though she didn’t already know a great deal of it.

Just when she was certain he would never shut up, the front door opened and Héctor stumbled into the room, carrying several baskets full of food. “¡Lo siento, mi amor! I didn’t mean to take so long, but—” He paused, noting that two people were in the room. “Ernesto? What are you doing here?”

Imelda thought she would never be more happy to see her husband again. But just as she stood to greet him, Ernesto stood as well, already reaching out to help him. “Ah, hermanito,” he said, quickly taking some baskets from his friend, who sighed in relief. “I was just paying your wife a visit! I wanted to play her a few songs to lift her spirits.”

You lying little—!

“Oh, that’s great!” Héctor said, smiling at his friend. “Good to know you’re there to help us, amigo. Hang on…” He rushed into the kitchen to set the baskets down, and hunted through them for a moment before pulling out a couple beef empanadas and rushing to bring one over to Imelda. “Here! I grabbed something for the both of us.”

Her anger over Ernesto’s pestering quickly melted away as she took the food, resisting the urge to lean in and kiss her husband (she didn’t want him to get sick after all of this). Instead, she leaned in to give him a side-hug, which he gratefully accepted.

The hug only lasted for a few moments before Imelda could sense a certain persistent moron behind her. She found herself tensing in annoyance, and Héctor looked up.

“Not to interrupt, this uh…” Ernesto gestured at the two vaguely before shrugging. “But Imelda seems to be doing a lot better now, aside from her voice. Don’t you think she’ll be fine on her own, now, without you needing to interrupt our music to check on her?”

Imelda wrapped her free arm around her husband more tightly, partly to keep herself from slugging Ernesto.

“Eeeehh… I don’t know, Ernesto. I’d like to give it another day or two, just until she’s mostly better.”

“You can’t keep slacking off like this—”

“I’m not slacking off!” Sighing, Héctor looked down at Imelda. “What do you think, mi amor? Should I go back to the plaza now, or would you like me to stay home a little longer?”

Under different circumstances, Imelda would have said no—while her voice was gone, she was mostly fine otherwise, and didn’t really need help on her own. On the other hand… She took a quick glance at Ernesto and nodded, pulling closer to Héctor.

“That settles it, then. Lo siento, Ernesto, but you’ll have to give us a few days.”

“I—!” Ernesto seemed to puff up for a moment, like a rooster that was about to start squawking, but he looked between the two and quickly deflated. “Fine, fine. But in two days, then! In two days, the plaza will once again hear the music of Ernesto y Héctor!”

Imelda rolled her eyes, but Héctor laughed. “Of course. I’ll see you then! ¡Adios!”

Finally Ernesto left. Imelda let out a sigh, leaning into Héctor, who gratefully leaned back for a moment before pulling away, holding out the empanada still in his hand. “Well, now that that’s done, are you hungry?”

Imelda nodded, following Héctor over to the table to eat. Part of her wanted to tell Héctor just how infuriating Ernesto had been, but she couldn’t anyway, and honestly she really didn’t want to make Héctor feel bad, especially when he was going out of his way to help her.

Besides… it wasn’t like she couldn’t confront Ernesto on her own later.

A couple days later, Imelda’s voice had mostly returned, and, as promised, Héctor had gone out to meet Ernesto in the plaza, Imelda joining him. To both their surprise, Ernesto had been leaving them alone. Héctor took it to mean his friend was respecting their wishes, while Imelda wondered if Ernesto had realized that she might confront him once she had her voice back, and was deliberately avoiding them. She supposed they would soon find out.

…Possibly.

Héctor walked in a circle, head twisting this way and that as he scrutinized the plaza. “That’s strange… Where is he?”

“I don’t know,” Imelda replied, her voice still a little rough but mostly better. “Wasn’t he supposed to meet you here?”

“Sí… He could have forgot—no, he was asking nearly every day. He wouldn’t have…” He spun around, giving Imelda a worried look. “Do you think something happened to him?”

I think he might be hiding, Imelda thought, but shook her head. “Perhaps he’s still at home. Should we check?”

Already heading in the direction of Ernesto’s house, Héctor nodded, and Imelda followed. It didn’t take them long to get there, and Héctor immediately began knocking on the door. “Ernesto?”

Imelda waited patiently, not quite as worried as her husband, but curious if Ernesto really was hiding, or if something else was at play. She perked up at the sound of slow footfalls within—so he was home. Good. Now she could finally give him a piece of her mind.

Héctor seemed a little relieved, looking over at Imelda to say something before they both heard familiar wracking coughs on the other side of the door.

…Well, that was interesting.

Finally the door opened, and a very tired, very pale Ernesto gazed out the doorway. He looked like he was about to smile at Héctor before his eyes fell on Imelda, and he scrambled backward, clutching his throat.

“Ernesto!” Héctor cried. “Are you—?”

“That cough sounded awful,” Imelda said, covering her mouth as though she were shocked (in reality, hiding a smile). “Is your throat all right?”

“I—”

The single syllable he managed to get out was hoarse and barely audible, and he doubled over in another coughing fit.

“Oooh…” Héctor winced. “It sounds like you caught what Imelda had.”

“Qué terrible,” Imelda said, looking away and swallowing a laugh. She could see Ernesto nodding hesitantly out of the corner of her eye, and turned back to see him staring at her warily.

“I, uh… guess we won’t be playing today, then.” Héctor’s frame wilted, but then he immediately perked up again, looking at Imelda. “Hey, could he come over? We could make him some soup.”

Imelda’s gut reaction was to reject the idea, but she stopped herself, glancing back at Ernesto, who seemed to have gone a shade paler. She grinned. “That’s a wonderful idea, Héctor! I’m sure he would appreciate the gesture.”

Catching the look in her eye, Ernesto put his hands up in defense, shaking his head. “No, no,” he managed to wheeze out, his voice barely there. “I don’t… want you getting sick.”

“That’s true… Well, we’ll make you something and drop it off, then. ¡Adios! Feel better soon, hermano.” And with that, Héctor and Imelda turned to leave… but not before Imelda gave Ernesto a smirk, which quickly turned into a grin at seeing the man flinch.

She had to admit, she’d been looking forward to finally confronting him again now that her voice was back. Giving him a piece of her mind had seemed like it would be rather satisfying, and she was almost disappointed she hadn’t been able to do it. However… giving him her cough wasn’t a bad alternative.

Maybe now they’d finally have some peace without that idiot bothering them.

[jergilbrt]

rebekah’s rager:  at the end of a long night, jeremy and nicola catch up  //  @sunnysxrcasm

Tonight had been a mess. After her breakdown in the bathroom with Isaac and the subsequent clean up she had to do to her face, she wasn't feeling the party mood of those who stayed oblivious to the horrors of the night. She didn't need to go outside to know what had happened - just like Lydia, she had seen it. So, she took a break in the living room, sitting in a slightly quieter area than most and simply people watching, as peacefully as she could. Until someone sat beside her. 

while this hadn't been his first rodeo at a mikaelson mcmansion party, tonight had been wildly different than any of the others.  silver lining?  no one would yell at him for drinking now that jeremy was an adult.  when he saw nicola sitting by herself, he grabbed a drink for himself and one for her and decided to join her.  "you look like you could use this?"  jer passed it to her.  "having a rough night?"

"Oh... thank you." Nicola accepted the drink readily, pausing before downing at least half of it - crying apparently made you thirsty. She held the cup in both her hands, shuffling in the seat to angle her body towards Jeremy, so she was at least facing him and not the crowd of people. "You could say that. I've been to calmer raves than this." Even though she tried for a joke, her usual 'sunshine' (as Liam liked to call it) didn't quite shine through.

"didn't turn out like prom at all, did it?"  he assumed regular kids' prom nights didn't involve near-death experiences or actual deaths, but jeremy wasn't sure he'd ever been to a dance where someone's life wasn't on the line.  "do you wanna talk about it?"

She couldn't help the small giggle at his call back to their conversation. Somehow, she wasn't nervously stuttering this time, no doubt because her nerves had been fried. "No, it's nothing like the prom. And to think I got all dolled up for hell to break loose." She had been staring at the drink in her hand most of the time, but upon his question she looked up. "I'm... not really sure you want to hear it."

"honestly, i wouldn't know.  i didn't go to my prom."  hard to attend prom when you're dead.  jer gave a small smile.  "i don't know about where you're from, but getting dolled up just for hell to break loose is pretty standard for me."  he took a quick drink and met her gaze.  "only if you're comfortable talking about it."

"Oh... If it makes you feel better, prom's aren't all that interesting. I went alone to mine, which was frowned upon by literally everyone, and I was so bored I left. Suppose no one wants to dance with the lonely girl though..." She cleared her throat quickly to dispel the memories. "Well, Ohio isn't exactly this exciting so I'd say it's unusual for me." She finished the drink, ignoring the burning of her throat. "Buckle up, Pretty Boy, as I tell you the tale of how my night out went to shit."

"must have just been your school.  any of my other dances were always killer."  he hated himself for the awful joke, but it brought jeremy a little bit of solace in this otherwise terrible night.  "hm.  virginia was a nonstop party for me, but please do continue."

"Well, it started when I picked this stupid dress in a bid to get someone's attention, which didn't work. Then I had a fall out with a friend. Then somebody died in the garden and I had a breakdown in a bathroom over it... And now I'm sat here in wonderful company trying to recover from it all." She fiddled with the cup in her hand before placing it down. "So there."

jeremy gilbert was an observant man as far as the supernatural was concerned.  but romance?  not even a little bit.  "i don't think your dress is stupid at all.  and, uh, sorry about the fall — somebody died?"  what the hell had happened when he was fighting with rebekah?  holy shit.  "okay, you win for shittier night."  silently he passed off his own cup to her, nearly full.

She glanced down at herself, huffing. "You don't? Because the longer I wear it the more ridiculous I feel for trying." She gladly accepted his drink, finishing it off as well before placing the cup next to her own. "Oh yeah. It's a mess out there, I'm sure." Nicola sighed, trying for a smile. "But hey, I'm enjoying this a bit more now."

"no.  i mean, i'm just some guy who knows shockingly little about fashion, but it looks like a really nice dress to me.  and you look really nice in it."  she was hitting on him, right?  he wasn't out of line for saying that?  "did you — did you see it?  did you know the person?  are you okay?"  why was she so calm about someone dying?  like he was one to talk, but there were reasons for that.  "you are?"

"...Thank you. You don't look to bad yourself." She smiled, genuinely smiled, for the first time in an hour. At least something good might happen at this party, even if it was just a decent conversation with a guy. "I didn't see it happen but all you have to do is look out of a window." She didn't feel like explaining the banshee thing. "I didn't know them, I'm okay... well, now I'm okay." Nicola hesitated for a second before nodding. "Yeah. I really am."

"thanks.  i call this look:  the one suit i own.  took me hours to put together."  jer laughed, and it was the closest thing to a genuine laugh he'd felt all night.  "don't take this the wrong way, but you sound super chill about seeing someone die."  and he was super chill about hearing about it.  "well i'm glad you're okay.  and that you're enjoying yourself now."

Nicola burst into a fit of giggles before putting on her best fake posh accent. "Well I say, Mr Gilbert, it's fabulous." The smile dropped, however, at the mention of her calmness. "Well... Part of it is shock. The other is because I'm used to uh... seeing death." She wasn't going to bore him with her tragic backstory - no one wants that. "And the latter is all down to you, so thank you."

"much appreciated."  jeremy nodded.  he understood.  more than almost everyone at this party, except maybe its host, he understood.  "i know what you mean.  and not just in a  "oh i understand what you're going through"  bullshit way.  i mean it."  he felt like there was something she wasn't telling him, but he was also guilty of that, so he wasn't going to push it.  "oh.  wait, really?"June 13, 2020

“It sucks, doesn’t it? Losing time and time again...” Hers was a lonely existence, she had known that since she was sixteen but it didn’t make it hurt any less. Still, Nicola felt bad for lingering on something so negative at a party, especially after seemingly unloading a bunch of emotions already. “Yes, really. Is it really so shocking to you that someone would enjoy talking to you?”

"everyone i've ever loved dies."  he wasn't saying it for pity.  it was just a fact of his life.  and maybe a little bit of a warning.  "so i get it."  dead parents.  dead aunt.  dead sister.  no less than three dead girlfriends.  and alaric, status unknown.  "honestly?  a little bit."

“Everyone I’ve ever loved either died or abandoned me. Mom left, grandmother died, a loads of my friends died and then my dad kicked me out... so I guess we get each other.” Her smile was more of a soft one this time, different to the usual grin she had. “Why?”

"yeah.  i guess we do."  tentatively, he reached his hand out towards hers.  "i've been going it alone for the past few years, so regular old conversation's a bit foreign these days."

She glanced down at his hand before gently taking it in hers. “Well, unluckily for you, I am probably the chattiest person in town... as you embarrassingly saw earlier.” After she had calmed down from the insane night, she’d be back to her old giggly self and she knew it, so she was taking full advantage of her weird confidence.

"listen, nobody does embarrassing like me.  i'm sure i'll figure out a way to top it."  jeremy's entire human life was an embarrassment as far as he was concerned, so it probably wouldn't take long.  "you're just chatty because i look good in a suit."

“Mhm, sure, is like to see you try to be more embarrassing than ranting about how attractive someone is to their face.” She laughed, so easily and carefree the first time through the whole party. “I’m chatty anyway. I’m extra talkative to guys who can pull off a suit this well.”

"okay, yeah, fine.  that's definitely up there.  gimme time, i bet i can think of something.  i was such a stereotype annoying little brother to my sister and her friends growing up.  i'm not sure there's one standout moment as it is fourteen years of cringe."  jer hoped the lighting was bad enough to hide the little bit of red that had appeared on his cheeks.  jesus, he was rusty.  "right.  and i'm sure the alcohol has nothing to do with it?"

“Fourteen years and you can’t think of a single moment, right now, that beats me blabbing on to you about how you’re cute? Oh my god, how dumb am I?” She shook her head in disdain at herself, but a smile remained. “I’m not drunk, if that’s what you’re implying. I’m hardly even tipsy, but I have enough liquid courage to say you’re hot all the time, not just in a suit and not completely regret it.”