#i NEED new angry music it itches my brain right

[confinedinthisflesh]

the fact their next album COULD be a revisit to whatever the fuck they put into the fourth album

[moonctzeny]

Promotion

This is technically a part 2 of my fic Work for it but it can be enjoyed on its own!

pairing: supervisor !johnny x intern ! female reader x assistant !haechan

genre: smutty goodness (this will send me to hell vip)

word count: almost 14k

summary: “After you fuck the Sales’ department supervisor, Johnny Suh in your office during an overtime, you’re left to deal with the unavoidable lingering emotions that come with getting his dick on the regular. At the same time, his assistant and your best work buddy, Donghyuck, who initially helped you with getting with his boss, realises his growing crush on you that is too big to be ignored at this point. With their masterful skills in seduction, you’ve ended up tangled in a sexual game with the both of them, all the while trying to move up from an intern to a permanent worker in the company”

warnings: threesome w/ two doms, alcohol consumption, mention of food (meat, lettuce, eggs), oral, overstimulation, thigh job, at some point- reader borrows a shirt from haechan and it’s mentioned that it’s ‘too big on the shoulders’, thigh riding, office sex, pussy slapping, choking, fingering, sir kink thrown in there at some point, a little degradation bc this is my fic we’re talking about

a/n: omg it’s finally done! I really love this so I hope you guys like it as well :)

taglist:  @rainodanna​, @markresonates​, @unknown5tar​, @yoongsicles​

For every other worker in the office, virtually nothing had changed. 

They relive the same mundane routine, Monday after Monday, the same excruciating 8 hours and short cigarette breaks. The same trees, stuck in their ceramic imprisonment would greet them in the company’s entrance. Rigid and dusty and reeking of cheap plastic. It’s not like they’d come alive, open their little mouths on their thylakoid membranes and tell everyone you fucked mr. Suh, the Sales Department’s supervisor, in your office during your overtime. No, that’s not possible, you reminded yourself when you pass by them every morning, giving them a side eye for good measure, as if that would scare them off their zombie state.

And you were the same too, completing your tasks and meeting your deadlines. Blending in with the rest of the company’s human resource, with the exception of the occasional double take of some tactless male worker here and there.

Donghyuck, however, said supervisor’s assistant and your best friend, wasn’t your typical office worker. He noticed the extra layer of cherry lip gloss coating your lips. He noticed your new perfume, sweeter than the one you used to wear. He noticed the knowing smiles between you and his boss, the heat of your body when you were around him. And it wasn’t just because he was sharp overall.

He was the one who practically got you together, planted the seed in Johnny’s head about the cute new intern of the Financial Department. He was the one who convinced him to finally make a move on you, tired of seeing you trying over and over again to seduce the supervisor to your bed. 

And when that seed finally sprouted, in the form of Johnny spitting in your mouth and taking you on your office chair like you were his last fuck on earth (according to the hair-raising description you gave Donghyuck the morning after), he should’ve been happy, right? 

It didn’t really affect his life in the slightest.

You were just y/n. His friend, his work buddy. The person whom he was close enough to let you know you had a piece of lettuce stuck on your teeth from that sandwich you had on your break. The person who texted him funny gifs of pandas falling asleep during the most boring of meetings. With your nerdy glasses and that ugly brown suit you loved wearing so much. The person he dreamt of fucking every time he fell asleep.

When you told Donghyuck you had a crush on his boss he wasn’t shocked, but the stinging buzz in his guts surprised him. He would see you waltz right past his office all perked up and pretty, to see the person you really came for, nervous as you hung from every word that left Johnny’s mouth. He’d put up with the sound of you giggling over every stupid joke that left the older man’s mouth patiently, just to wait until he’d smell your sweet perfume as you’d walk past him again. To tease you over something that would make you mad enough to notice him, glare at him, maybe even hit him.

And Donghyuck wanted to hate Johnny, he really did. His stupid boss who asked for his coffee specifically made, who was rude and cranky on Monday mornings and got the credit for all his hard work, yet Johnny was nothing of the sort. He was helpful, and kind and let him off early. He was funny and good looking and taller than him and had a six pack, damn it. If Donghyuck was being honest, he didn’t just like his boss, he admired him. It was pathetic, he thought. Most days he’d live vicariously through him. 

Sometimes he would lay on his bed at night, picturing himself to be the second lead of a romance drama that would sweep you off your feet. Everyone gets second lead fever, right? In his rem cycles, he’s handsome and hilarious and much more interesting than the main actor. He would imagine himself stretching out his rays, like the full, rising sun that he was, until they overcame the big mountain that was Johnny and reached your skin. So hot against it that you’d have to undress, remove the clothes sticking on your sweaty skin to embrace him. 

He thought about your body a hundred times too many for it to be considered healthy. The curve of your ass in your pencil skirts, the little hairs on the nape of your neck that stuck out from your tight ponytails. The runs on your tights that he wished were caused by the sharpness of his fingernails. He listened to your voice carefully, all 90 Hz of it, and played it inside his head as if it was an instrument. Putting together chords and harmonies, composing a music piece of all the ways his name would sound like coming out of your lips.

Donghyuck, Donghyuck, Donghyuck

“Earth to Donghyuck? Are you listening to me?”

It was unlike him to be out of it, especially when he was around you. He blames it on skipping coffee this morning or the shade of red of your blouse that fits you so well. Either way, he had to respond, and keep the pink from flooding his cheeks further. There’s no way you could’ve known what was going on inside his head.

“Uh, yeah, yeah. So, let me get this straight. Weren’t you the one who didn’t want a relationship?”

You were upset, he could tell. After the night of the overtime, you and Johnny had indulged in a few more nights of each other’s presence, but had kept it at that. Sex. Delicious, mind blowing, porno worthy sex, but nothing more than that. And you were starting to itch for a little bit more.

Donghyuck was right, of course. You were the one who told Johnny that this wasn’t the right time in your life for any sort of commitment, especially with someone in the workplace. This was your internship, and you were determined to get a permanent position soon, that should be your first priority. Get the bag and go. There were men everywhere. But why was your heart aching for that particular one with the long hair and the caramel eyes and the flower tattoos? 

“I just don’t want people at work to gossip about us, you know how they get. But seeing him so nonchalant about it gets on my nerves.”

Leaving his apartment at 2 am when he was sprawled out on his bed, in just pyjama pants and the light layer of sweat from the athletic sex you just had, hurt enough. It was a sight so beautifully hidden under his work attire that it soon became addictive, the withdrawal symptoms too intense for you to have your dose only once a week. 

Donghyuck scowled when you first let out a frustrated sigh, your eyes pitifully following his boss’s silhouette around. He knew you’d never really complain about it, you were set on that promotion and you deserved it too, but it was hard not to get angry. Everything he ever wanted stood willing and ready for taking in front of Johnny’s lap, how could he not claim you?

He hated seeing you sad.

“Let’s go for a drink. I think you need it.”

Even he surprised himself with the sudden proposition, blinking back at you to gauge your reaction. You were best work buddies, sure, but you never hung out after office hours alone. It would make sense for you to refuse, Donghyuck told himself, trying to soften the blow of a potential rejection. You’re probably tired from working, or maybe you’d feel awkward to be alone with him for so long. Maybe you hated to drink, or maybe you hated him. Oh God, what if you hated him? What if you only spent time with him out of social obligat-

“Sure, sounds good. Pick me up after you’re done? Since you’re on the top floor.”

Donghyuck nodded back at you, too eagerly for his liking, the gears in his brain already trying to figure out where he should take you. You excused yourself back to your office, the small pat you gave his shoulder making him grin like an idiot.

This is not a date, he reminded himself. 

He had dreamt of this moment for months now. He thought about you every time he walked past that korean bbq place, promising himself that one day he’d muster the courage to finally ask you out. This wasn’t exactly the case today, but it was as close to his imagination as possible. This is not a date.

He repeated that phrase over and over again, let it resonate inside his head. This is not a date because he is a coward and you like someone else. Was he a bad person for taking you out today? Was he taking advantage of your slight disappointment? Was that why you ever said yes in the first place? The self deprecating thoughts lit a fire in his belly and he tried to extinguish it with every shot of clear liquid that disappeared from between his full lips. Like he expected, you weren’t far behind on the drinking either, enjoying the grilled pieces of meat blissfully, moaning in satisfaction with every delicious bite.

You looked pretty before, but now, through the pink coloured glasses of intoxication, you were stunning. There was a halo of bright light surrounding you, making you look so celestial chomping on that piece of lettuce. If it was anyone else, he would pull a face of repugnance at the sight, yet Dongyuck thought that you just looked so cute, so content in that little moment and he wished he could just lean in and leave a kiss over your filled cheeks.

No, that was a dangerous thought. This is not a date, pull it together.

Donghyuck desperately tried to focus his attention somewhere else, anywhere but you would suffice. His eyes finally landed on a bowl of marinated eggs on the table, and it reminded him of the three boiled eggs he makes for breakfast every morning. He was a man of habit, following the same routine until he’d see you and you’d colour between the lines of his life, making it interesting finally. Donghyuck would fill the pot with more water than needed, just enough so that it doesn’t overflow. He liked to be closer to you than he could handle, close enough but never touching you.

Lost in his daydream, he doesn’t realise that he hasn’t talked in minutes. And when you touch his hand lightly with yours to bring him out of it, he almost feels the boiling water burning his skin.

“You’re so quiet”, you say with a chuckle, and Donghyuck makes a mental note to add this harmony to his composition, “you got drunk before I did? Are you really Lee Donghyuck?”

“Well see, I drank all this soju, so I wish I was someone else for the night.”

The statement saddened you, and you withered a little in your seat. Why did Donghyuck drink so much tonight? You came here for you to cheer up, didn’t you? Or were you so caught up in your little personal drama - that you caused yourself - that you missed hearing about his cat dying? You must offer your condolences. Did he even have a cat?

You don’t want to bring up his dead cat in case he did so you just lift your hand next to his head, and weave your fingers through his locks. He has been growing out his hair for months now, and the look might not be the most corporate-professional but it sure fit him. The ash blonde shade that he decided to colour it, brought out the tan of his skin nicely, and the hair itself though bleached was still soft to the touch. 

You see him react to the work of your fingers instantly, his expression shocking you. His mouth is hanging open in a loose ‘O’ shape, small wrinkles forming on the space between his eyebrows. You pick out small pieces of hair, one by one, letting gravity do the rest by allowing the individual hairs to return to their previous state. 

“What are you thinking about?”, you ask so softly it’s almost a whisper, and Donghyuck can only sigh.

YOU, he wants to scream, you’re in my mind all day long and I think I’m going crazy! He is full on staring at you now and there’s nothing in the world that can take his eyes off of you, off your worried eyes that seem to hold all the stars in the sky, or the soft skin of your neck that he wants to kiss and suck and break so badly. But he doesn’t, and the soju calls him a coward for it, so he settles for the next best thing.

“You are pretty”

It was just three words but they sent your mind in a frenzy. Why did it matter so much to you that Donghyuck found you pleasing to look at? He has complimented you before, even flirted with you a lot of times, yet it was always said half-jokingly, followed by a diss. But this time he was serious, no signs of alcohol clouding his eyes. He was so solemn in fact, that those three words made the heat burn on the skin of your cheeks, rising up your throat and hindering you from responding with a human sound. 

He takes one more shot, washing away the embarrassment of his sudden confession and offers to order one more fatty dish to sober up, then take a walk in the city.

The walk was relatively quiet, less awkward than it was 30 minutes ago but Donghyuck was still being uncharacteristically silent.

“I thought you said that alcohol doesn’t make you red”, you say teasingly, trying to spark conversation. 

It doesn’t actually. You were the culprit of the wash of burgundy all over his skin, accumulating even more pigmented around his ears and the freckles of his nose. You were walking side by side now, and Donghyuck thought that for the passersby you two must look like lovers. He let his brain entertain that fantasy, his hand itching to hold yours. He’d intertwine your fingers together, give your palm a little rub with his thumb. Then he’d lift the bundle of fingers on his lips, kiss the thin skin of your wrist and make the aunties that are looking at you now coo in adoration.

“Says you. You look so fucked right now.”, he jokes and you’re relieved to see him go back to his teasing self. You don’t know if it’s the chilly night, but you’re overly aware of the heat his body emits, and the smell of his cologne makes your head spin just a bit more. You’ve been sitting so close to him this entire time that you can list off most, if not all, the ingredients in his perfume. Rose, chilly pepper, orange blossom, lavender. 

“Donghyuck, I will step on you.”

“Mmm, tempting”

You shove his arm playfully and he reciprocates, but his strength is not as controlled as he thinks. The heels of your boots, slippery against the wet floor that the drizzle caused earlier, make you trip on your steps, and Hyuck is luckily there. With his quick reflexes he catches your elbows first, pulling you up against his chest and you grab his left bicep to support your weight. 

You take a deep breath, to register that you did not fall head first on the floor, and that’s when you realise how close Donghyuck is to you. His bangs are tickling your forehead, your deep pants fanning them apart. You admire his glowing skin, the wrinkles of his lips, the two moles lined parallelly with the bridge of his nose. You’re not sure what comes to you, but you raise your free hand and place it over his hot cheek, your thumb connecting those two moles with an invisible line. A raindrop, fresh out of the sky and signifying the start of a new drizzle, falls on his face and follows the trail that a tear would, his voice weak and breaking when he speaks again.

“I’m sorry”

He dips down his head then, connecting your lips and letting the plumpness of his mouth reel you in. You’re over the initial shock almost immediately and kiss him back in vigor, surprised with the heat his kiss has spread to your chest and belly. It was an ember at first, glowing in the very depth of your insides but it was soon starting to spark up uncontrollably, and you were scared of how rapidly it was fueling up. This was your friend you were kissing. So where did all this hunger for him come from?

You pull back when you realise you’re in a road full of people, and you can’t bring yourself to look at him in the eyes. Donghyuck looks disheveled and anxious, and he apologizes again before he urges you to keep walking with him.

“It’s starting to rain. We should get home.”

You walk next to him in complete silence now, stealing quick glances of his reflexion at every surface that made it possible -  the windows of the parked cars, the puddles of water on the sidewalk, a passersby’s glasses. The look on his face is unreadable, pensive if anything else, and it’s rare for the expressive Donghyuck you’re used to dealing with. Your homes are towards the same direction, his a little closer than yours, and it doesn’t take too long for you to reach the entrance of his building, your clothes not even half wet from walking without umbrellas.

Donghyuck fumbles to find his keys, his hands shaking from the adrenaline his body released from the kiss earlier, the feeling still too fresh against his lips. He stresses thinking of what to do next. Should he hug you goodnight? Apologize again for kissing you? Unlock the entrance without a word and never speak to you again? 

“I’m here”, he states dumbly, as if you’d sit at the porch of a strange house and he avoids your eyes as if you were Medusa, “Goodnight.”

You smile back awkwardly at him, waving with a hand made of clay as you wish him the same. He has turned around to unlock the door, key already at the keyhole and you turn to leave too when his voice stills you in place.

“He’s an idiot.” His back is still facing you, and when he turns to look at you his eyes finally lock with yours, as honest and earnest as ever. “Johnny. If it were me, hell, if you wanted me like that I would grab that opportunity- grab you in an instant, convince you to be mine any way I could.”

You’re stuck looking at him like a fool, trying to comprehend what he’s saying and the complications of it. He puffs out through his nose, chuckling to himself and shaking his head.

“It doesn’t matter. Goodnight y/n.”

Donghyuck is half inside the entrance now and your body suddenly exits its frozen state, blocking the door from closing with your boot. He’s shocked with the sudden movement and he opens up the door further for you. You get inside the little hall without thinking, sitting firmly in front of him, a puzzled look on his face. 

“What if I told you he hasn’t even crossed my mind this whole time we were out? What if I told you I haven’t stopped thinking about you since you kissed me? Would it matter then?”

He opens his mouth momentarily, as if to speak but decides to stay silent. He already said everything he needed. It’s up to you now.

And you aren’t ready to leave yet.

You take a step forward to close the distance between you, your chests touching and you pick up the distinct smell of soju in his breath. You’re not sure if it’s that smell or the proximity but you feel drunk all over again, the yellow light of the hall shining disturbingly bright down at you and urging you to do something.

You plant a kiss over his neck, leaving a trace of the remnants of the pink lipstick you applied at the start of the workday. It was tentative, but you could still feel his raging pulse from under your lips. You could feel it get faster too, the rhythm going higher along with his body temperature and you decide on a path. A path of kisses starting from the same spot you’ve turned glittery pink, up his jawline and all the way to his earlobe.

Donghyuck clenches his jawline, you feel that too, and something snaps inside him. He just can’t take it anymore, having you so close to him, your lips on his neck and doing nothing about it. The boiling water finally spilled over the pot, hot and overflowing, and he doesn’t care if he gets burned.

You feel the cool wood against your back before you taste his tongue a second after. He has pushed you up against the entrance door, you realize, but it’s hard to comprehend anything around you when he kisses you like that. It’s the steamy, purposeful continuation of the kiss you shared earlier, and with the lack of prying eyes Donghyuck has a good idea of where he wants it to lead.

He shows you too, pushing his knee between your thighs and he feels your heat almost melt the rough fabric of his jeans. There are so many things he wants to do, so many lines he wants to cross but there is one thing he must ensure.

“Tell me you want this.”

You glide your hands upwards from his pecks to the slope of his neck and wrap them around his neck. Your body seems to act up on its own, and you feel yourself grinding down his leg that is still positioned against the wall. It feels dirty, the desperation of it all, and you connect your chest with his again before answering him.

“Lee Donghyuck. I want you to make me cum” 

You grab his hand before he gets to respond, the cool silver of his watch digging against your fingers, and you drag him to the elevator door. As if the universe had sensed your urgency, you find it waiting for you at the bottom floor, and you pull him inside with a tug of his tie.

In no time you find yourself pushed up against the wall again, and you can’t see much beyond Donghyuck’s lips, but you do catch him clumsily pressing the button to his floor with your peripheral vision. Once the elevator is in motion you feel like you can finally submerge yourself in his lips and the way his kisses take your breath away, not sure if the funny feeling in your stomach is from the sudden change in altitude or the arousal. You’re already taking his clothes off, removing the jacket of his suit off his shoulders and working the top buttons of his shirt open.

It’s him that drags you to his apartment this time, urging you out of the elevator as soon as the robotic declaim of his floor number rips through the wet sounds of you kissing. His keys are already easily accessible in his front pocket from your conversation earlier, and when he manages to unlock the entrance with trembling hands you walk inside as if you own the place.

It’s small and cozy, decorated minimally. The first thing you notice is that it smells like Donghyuck, something that should be obvious but it still overwhelms you. It’s maybe a bit stuffy from the hours he was gone yet this is the smell still lingering in your nose from his skin you were sucking just moments ago, trying to distract him from the easy task of opening the door. It’s addictive and you want it stuck on yours.

And Donghyuck does stick on your skin, discarding his tie on the floor with a strong pull and finishing the task of unbuttoning his shirt that you started in the elevator. His movements are impatient and soon he’s half naked, and you barely have time to admire his caramel skin before his hands are all over you. They start safely at the dimples of your waist, then sliding upwards to your ribcage and copping a feel of the underside of your boobs by sneaking his thumbs under the wire of your bra. You want to feel more, encourage his probing fingers so you reach to the clasp on your back, unfastening the garment and removing it through the hem of your blouse. 

Donghyuck can’t take his eyes off your chest, nipples hardened from your arousal and poking through the thin fabric. He takes his thumbs, the same thumbs that lit a fire in your belly earlier and flips the bud, toying it around and rubbing circles around it. The response from you is immediate, moans that start off soft and build up to a crescendo bouncing off the walls of his apartment.

It drives you crazy, a little bit, that smirk he has on his face now. It’s so familiar in between his features, you’ve seen it countless of times, especially during his typical teasings of you, yet is carries so much newfound weight now, so much sex appeal. He’s already giving you what you need but the climaxing is too slow for your liking, you want more and you want it now. You want what you asked him for in the lobby of this building.

Donghyuck can either read your mind or read through the increased frequency of your moans because he undresses down to his boxers, forming a trail of clothes from his living room to his bedroom, where he has led you. He doesn’t even bother to open the lights, relying on the moonlight from his window for lighting and pushing you down on his bedsheets. 

He climbs up with you, hovering over you and you move back a bit so that your head rests comfortably over his pillows. If the smile he gave you earlier had affected you, then the hungry look on his face right now almost makes you come untouched, his eyes raking up and down your body as if he doesn’t know where to start.

He decides on your calves, kissing them and moving upwards slowly and sensually, not missing the sensitive skin on the side of your knees and paying extra attention to your inner thighs. He’s still at it a minute and a half later, and you can’t tell in the dark but you’re sure they must be decorated by bite marks by now, his close proximity to the source of your pleasure making you squirm in his hold.  

It feels like ages since you last felt his fingers when he grips the soft meat of your thighs and spreads them apart. They soon move up to the hem of your skirt, rolling the fabric upwards and over your ass. You feel his breath against your pussy, making it tingle and twitch even more than it already has, and the wait feels like a new level of hell in Dante’s Inferno. 

A single finger pets you over your underwear, drawing lines over the damp fabric from your clit down to your entrance and then up again. You whimper and whine at the sensation that is half a step from what you consider satisfactory and he hooks a finger on the black lace, moving it to the side and letting you experience the cool air of the room all over again. The full exposure brings heat to your face and you breathe through the embarrassment that arouses you even more.

“Hey, Donghyuck?”

“Yes?”

“Is your cat still alive?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

He licks one long stripe over your entrance, and you feel the goosebumps spreading all over your arms and legs. Nimble fingers spread your folds apart, and you hold your breath as he lets his cool spit drip from his lips and land onto your lower ones, then starts sucking over your clit. His tongue is wet and his breath is hot, the combination driving you insane. You grip the comforter, digging into it with your nails to keep yourself grounded.

“Oh my god, yes, right there”

The praise motivates him to keep trying hard, not that it will take a lot of effort to make you come undone. Donghyuck’s unprecedented touches and the newfound sexual tension they have ignited had already worked you up, his skill in oral accelerating the build up to your climax even more. And just when you thought it couldn’t get better than this he starts a series of kitten licks right over your clit, each one sending a wave of pleasure stronger than the one before.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum”

You’re grinding on his face, trying to find the right pace when you finally come undone, thighs shaking and desperately trying to push his hands away to cover up your sensitivity again. His hold is steady and he continues to lick you keenly, the lewd sound of him slurping your wetness filling the room. Your eyes open wide and you can only stare at his white ceiling during your overstimulation, the cracks and crumbling plaster caused from humidity looking like constellations in your orgasm-drunk mind. The second climax hits you suddenly but forcefully, unable to control the volume of your voice, not that you can hear yourself clearly in your daze. It’s an array of moans and screams and tiny whimpers of Donghyuck’s name, his beautiful symphony coming to life.

His appetite for you is finally satiated, and he decides to take mercy on you and remove his lips from your pulsating heat. You look so beautiful right now, he thinks, skin illuminated by the pale moonlight that is reflected on the wetness dripping from your pussy. He hovers over you again, pulling you into another kiss and you lazily reciprocate. His member is painfully hard, sliding over your slickness. You squirm and yelp everytime the fabric of his underwear grazes against your clit, your nerve endings screaming in sensitivity.

“I don’t have a condom on me”, you whisper against his lips, the taste of yourself on his tongue engaging you in the kiss again.

“I’m too tired to fuck you like you deserve anyways”

It would be criminal from you to leave him untouched like that. He looks so hot over you, messy hair and chin glistening in your juices. You absentmindedly place your nails on his collarbones, then scratch your way down over his navel. Donghyuck hisses at the numb stinging of pain, hips buckling against your pussy in the pursuit of some sort of friction. 

You move your hand even lower, slipping your fingers past the waistband of his boxers. You move past the bristles you find and grasp his member, that is not too long but an impressive girth. You manage to free it from his underwear, and you can’t really tell in the dim lighting but you bet it must have turned a purple-ish red colour. It’s leaking.

“But we don’t have a condom”

You take one of his hands in yours, giving it a kiss to calm him down, then place it over your left boob. He toys with the mound of your chest, squeezing the softness. You had other plans for him.

Connecting your knees together, you let the softness of your thighs connect, with only maybe a slither of space between them. Your hands are still on Donghyuck’s cock and you reach to hold his balls, massaging them slightly and pulling him towards you.

He takes your cue and leans forward, sliding himself between your thighs. The moan he lets out is guttural and elongated, laced with the beautiful metallic tone of his voice. He lets go of your breasts and wraps his arms around your knees, putting your calves on each of his shoulders and continues to rut his hips against you. 

“Fuck. This feels so good”

You look up to see Donghyuck’s face, contorted in a frown that can only be described as desperate, his lips puffy and red from all the licking and kissing and sucking. 

He looks painfully sexy, and you momentarily imagine all the things you would do to him if the serotonin of your double orgasm and the alcohol in your belly weren’t weighing you down. You’d gladly stay up all night for him, tugging on his long hair as you’d let him bend you in any position he wanted. You bet that thickness would feel amazing stretching you out and you moan at the thought, your thighs flexing involuntarily and making him moan even more. 

Soon he has picked up his pace, the tip of his cock reappearing between your thighs more frequently and you can feel his thrusts getting sloppier by the second.

“Fuck fuck, I’m coming”

He suddenly pushes forward, almost collapsing on top of you as a string of satisfactory groans leave his lips. His hips still with a stagger and you entrancingly watch the ropes of white dripping from his cock and landing on your blouse. It was a mess, but you can worry about it in the morning.

Donghyuck fucks your thighs slowly for a little longer, elongating his pleasure for as long as he can and soothing the crescent moons his nails formed on your skin with his fingertips. He reaches one hand to his bedroom floor where he finds a -what you hope is- clean t-shirt, and pats his cum off your blouse as best as he could.

It has gotten late and you’re both exhausted, Donghyuck’s comfortable weight on top of you lulling you to sleep. He’s hugging your hips now, head resting on your stomach and occasionally kissing your hip bones tenderly. You’re not sure when you slip out of consciousness but you do hear Donghyuck mumble something against your skin, something the kiss of Morpheus doesn’t allow you to make out.

You wake up to a white ceiling. Not just any white ceiling- a cracked, full of moisture pockets ceiling and you wonder when you let the humidity mess up your apartment this much. The culprit of your awakening, the morning sun rays that shine right on your eyes; way too bright than what you’re used to, force your eyelids to open, and it takes you a moment to adjust to the abundant light. This isn’t your apartment.

The sight of a man that greets your barely recovered rentinas shocks you, and you rub your eyes just in case you’re stuck in a lucid dream or something. You see the mess of ash blonde hair and the pile of work clothes discarded on the floor and your mind soon is flooded with last night’s events, buzzed out in your foggy memory. You sense another buzz as well, a physical one this time and you wiggle in place when you feel something hard and metallic digging in your butt. You prod a little with your fingers, trying not to wake up Donghyuck too abruptly and you realise that yes, you’ve been sitting on a phone all night.

Shouldn’t it be a Tuesday today? It’s very bright for it to be that early but surely Donghyuck must have set an alarm for the both of you last night. You yawn involuntarily, deciding to play with your phone until he wakes up as well when the bright white display pulls all the blood from your face.

8:40. You have to be at work in 20 minutes.

“Donghyuck! Hyuck!”

You didn’t care to make your touches light. They were shoves, really, pushing at his shoulders frantically to get him off of you and pull him out of his slumber. He wakes up with a gasp, trying desperately to keep his balance and failing, to then fall unceremoniously on the floor.

“What the hell?”, he groans out with a hoarse, groggy version of his voice, “My head is pounding”

“It will hurt even more once I’m done with you! You didn’t set an alarm last night? Today’s a work day!’

With his eyes bulging, he launches himself forward, grabbing the phone from your hands. 

“Shit, shit, shit”. He’s fully awake now, hands rubbing his face to come up with the next logical steps to take, in order to have you both at work on time and looking presentable. “I have a mouthwash and hairbrush in my bathroom, I’ll get ready here”

“And what the fuck am I supposed to wear?”

“Yesterday’s clothes? Are you really that concerned about recycling an outfit right now?”

You roll your eyes, pushing your blouse down and dragging his comforter off your body. 

“Did you forget about this?”

You straighten out the fabric for him to see, and the big, grossly dried out cum stains aren’t hard to notice. His face looks worried, but not necessarily apologetic, and you can almost see the scenes from the sex you shared last night play through his eyes like a porn film. 

“Your skirt is fine, right? I’ll find a shirt that fits you”

You’re spitting out the fluorescent blue liquid when he timorously walks in the bathroom to leave the piece of clothing he promised. It smells heavily of those moth-repellent sachets and looks slightly wrinkled, like something he pulled out from the depths of his closet but you don’t really have the privilege of playing Suzy Menkes right now. You pull and tuck the fabric in creative ways, in order to style the garment into something you might walk into work wearing one day, yet it’s painfully obvious to you how misfitted it is; too big around the shoulders as one would expect from a man’s shirt.

You exit the bathroom after giving up, pressed by the limited time and the sound of Donghyuck’s uneasy steps through the door. You let him freshen up as well and use the time to collect your things that are scattered all over his place - he was kind enough to bring you your bra that was discarded in his living room floor along with his shirt - and soon you were rushing out of his house and into separate cabs so as not to raise suspicion.

The rest of the day was normal, well- according to this new definition of normalcy for you. Where everything and everyone seems to follow this movie script of what a typical company must look like, while you worry that someone will probe uninvitedly into your thoughts. God knows what they would fish out. A broken record player of Donghyuck’s moans when he cums, the burn of his thick sex rubbing against your thighs, the paths of his neck veins you memorized by heart. 

You shake your head to clear it from the intrusive thoughts, and click the refresh button of your emails. The sound of keys being tapped and printers being put to use lands you back to reality, and you calmly click on the new incoming message from the Sales Department.

It was Johnny.

You’d think that after having his dick down your throat for about half a minute, getting butterflies in your stomach from the mere sight of his email address would stop being a recurring event for you. But alas, here they were, tapping their little wings in a flutter that turns into a hurricane of anxiety, and you sarcastically thank the universe for having to deal with Johnny while looking like an 80’s librarian.

You walk up the stairs like your ankle’s dragging a ball and a chain, the piece of paper in your hands getting slightly ripped from the abuse of your nervous fingers. It was a stupid document, barely half filled with any valuable information and you think it can’t be worth the calories you burned with that trip. It certainly wasn’t worth entering hell, aka mr. Suh’s office, and just the thought of him waiting for you in his fitted suit and gelled back hair is making you light headed. If Johnny was Hades then Donghyuck definitely was Cerberus, guarding his boss with his three heads and his big dick.

You leave a breath out when you realise he isn’t there, making your way onto Johnny’s office with lighter feet. He smiles brightly when he sees you, handsome as ever, and you carefully leave the document on his messy desk.

“Well, isn’t it my favourite intern”

You laugh at his sing-song tone, enjoying how warm he was being today.

“You used to avoid me like the plague and now I’m your favourite?”

“You always were my favourite”, he winks, and pushes back his hair like he knows the effect it has on you, “If someone is avoiding anyone like the plague that’s Donghyuck. I would have sent him to you but I can’t find him anywhere.”

You gulp dryly at his words, an invisible awl pinching your chest. You could feel Donghyuck slipping away from every place that you might share, in a very subtle way, but still noticeable from you. He left the kitchen hastily when you walked in to make your coffee, excused himself out of the lunch break through which you always kept him company, and now he was gone as well. Was last night such a big mistake in his point of view?

“I’m kidding, I just wanted to see you.”

He motions you to come closer and you timidly oblige, serenaded by the sound of his voice but not missing the hunger his eyes hold. He’s still seated in his big leather office chair, thighs spread out in a way that turned you on embarrassingly much, and you fit yourself in the space between his long legs. 

“He is very jumpy though, Donghyuck. Do you know what happened to him?”

Your whole body tenses up, muscles hardening defensively. “Why would I know?”

“I don’t know. It’s just that you guys are so close.”

Close. Close as in having his knee between your thighs, close as in being pushed up against his chest and the elevator mirror. Close as in knowing how his tongue feels massaging your clit. 

“Have I seen you in that before?”

You’re confused with the sudden question and when you search for the context you realise he’s talking about your- Donghyuck’s shirt. Did he smell the sex on you? The overwhelming scent of pheromones and Donghyuck’s cologne that your nose just couldn’t ignore?

“I don’t think so”, you try to answer as nonchalantly as possible, “it’s new.”

“No”, Johnny insists, and pinches the fabric with his fingers. He’s very knowledgeable about fashion, always complimenting you on your outfit choices and you know he wouldn’t let this one go so easily. “I’m sure I’ve seen this before.”

You follow his line of sight towards the ivory fabric too, as if you expected there to be written “YOUR ASSISTANT GAVE ME THE BEST HEAD OF MY LIFE LAST NIGHT”, in a bright red marker. It was a prison, in the form of 99% cotton and 1% pure anxiety, and you know you had to distract Johnny out of this subject one way or the other.

“You like it?”, you ask seductively, tucking a stray piece of hair behind his ear.

“I’d like you better without it.”

With just one strong, yet calculated pull he has you sat over the length of his thigh. Your hands land on his chest for stability, right over his pecks that fill your palms easily. There’s nothing you want more than to suck on those perfectly sculpted lips of his, but you’re not too faithful on Donghyuck’s mouthwash so you settle for the earlobe that isn’t pierced instead.

He loves the feeling, the activation of his erogenous area and the suction of your lips that resembles one of your favourite activities together.

“I like this shirt”, he starts, unbuttoning your chest into plain view, “and I love this skirt”

He runs his big hands over the plumpless of your ass, squeezing it then retracting his fingers back on your thighs. They’re cold against your burning skin and the contrast causes goosebumps to erupt in the shape of his handprint.

“You love all my skirts Johnny”

“I do. Because I can do this”

His fingers roll the hem of your skirt up your thigh, the only thing separating your heat with the smooth fabric of his slacks being your skimpy underwear. You’re pretty sure the wetness must be transferring to it already, your thoughts of Donghyuck and all the things he could do with you having you desperate for a release. Johnny pets your clit over your panties then, just a light graze of his finger that elicits a moan from you.

Your hips move on their own, slowly humping his thigh that flexes from under you. You grab his tie to help your movement when your pace picks up, enjoying his body heat that coated you. 

“Someone might see us.”

His desk chair was large, sure, but so was Johnny, and even though his back was facing the door of his office, no one could mistake the sight of you riding him as anything else. 

“I told you, Donghyuck keeps disappearing. And it seems like it won’t take you too long to cum with the way you moan like that, right babe?”

“Johnny…”

You were a whiny mess at this point, humping his leg to reach your high. He was nice enough to help you, his hands guiding you as you mess up all over him, lips stuck on the patch of skin right under your ear.

“You know, I kind of miss you calling me Mr. Suh.” he whispers as he’s sucking on your neck, and you shiver at the tone of his voice, “What do I have to do next time you come over to have you call me like that?”

You can’t contain your whimpers anymore, the stinging tears of arousal threatening to roll down your face, so you close your eyes to keep the moisture in. Everything is just too much, the pleasure of your clit rubbing on him, his nails that dig in the flesh of your hips, the heavy suggestions in his words; your orgasm was hanging by a thread and it was a matter of seconds for it to snap. And it did snap, with a bite on your neck, and along with it your eyes snapped open as well.

Donghyuck was staring right back at you.

Your eyes crossed in pleasure, blurry vision making it hard to focus on him. You were falling apart over Johnny’s body, legs shaking and insides melting with his praise. Donghyuck took the sight in from the opened door, eyes studying your face of pleasure and bare chest decorated with Johnny’s kisses peeking from his own shirt. You’d be lying had you dismissed the fact that his presence intensified your orgasm times a hundred. The exposure of your act, the naughtiness of getting caught and by him of all people. You watched as he retreated outside from the office with silent steps, to give you privacy or recover from the embarrassment or both.

And Donghyuck would be lying too, had he said he didn’t like the sight. The mere memory of your face all fucked out flushed his own in crimson red. He remembered it all clearly, from your plush lips to Johnny’s mess of a hair, to the tremble of your body. It refused to leave his mind, the scene of you getting satisfaction from another man, but not because he wanted to erase it. He thought he fit right in, right in that scene between you and his boss.  

You texted him later that day, apologizing for what he had to witness and promising him you would return the shirt as soon as you washed it. He politely allowed you to keep it, not at all acknowledging the incident from earlier, nor the night you spent together. You didn’t have the guts to ask, for you didn’t know that Donghyuck didn’t regard last night as a mistake, like you thought. He was tired of boiling in the guilt of his feelings, selfishly admitting to himself that he did not regret a single thing. He was into you, he meant every word that came out of his mouth, so why was he avoiding you all day yesterday? He was still the fucking coward.

The next day came rolling along, and with it came a long list of things you wanted to avoid. The first one was arguably dealing with your best friend, the lengthy paperwork you had to fill out being a close second.  

Your mind was occupied with a plethora of thoughts, with Johnny holding the main spot. You’d seen him in your sleep last night, starring in the extremely detailed wet dream your brain fabricated for you, hot breaths and deep thrusts forcing you into the disappointing consciousness of today’s morning.

And the pictures he had sent you right after you decided to get up weren’t helping either. His tall, half naked build occupied most of the shot, skin glistening in the after-shower steam. His toothbrush was hanging from his foamy mouth, in an attempt to make the picture look nonchalant, yet you knew his motives. You let your eyes drink up the sight of his defined abdomen, then moved downwards along the dark happy trail that peeked from the towel, loosely hanging from his waist. Hip bones teasing you and all. Just drop the fucking towel Johnny.

Needless to say, you were a mess when you arrived at the office. The cats in heat outside of your window, the phallic shaped baguette your baker generously treated you with this morning; everything seemed to remind you of the heat between your legs that you couldn’t bring yourself to ignore. You tried rubbing your thighs, drowning in the paperwork, even locking your phone in one of your drawers so as not to be tempted to look at Johnny’s thirst trap again. But he had won.

You grab a bunch of documents that seemed important enough, shove them in your favourite binder, and make your way to Johnny’s office upstairs. 

You knew you had to deal with Donghyuck. It was the unavoidable repercussion of messing up your life like that, getting men that were too good looking for this boring ass company tangled up in what seemed to be a simple internship. Taking a deep breath, then two more for good measure, you start to strut confidently in a straight line that led to Johnny’s office door.

“He’s on call, come back later.”

Your head instinctively turns to the source of the sound, to find Donghyuck staring at the display of his laptop that seemed to be much more interesting than you. The matter-of-fact way he formed his sentences was not unlike him, yet something in you begged for a little bit of attention. Blame it on how horny you’ve been all morning, or the fact that now that you’ve seen him naked, the strict tone affects you much more than it should.

Bothered by your thoughts and thinking about having to sit back at your office for the rest of the work day, you let the binder slip from your hands and drop on the wooden floor. You lean down to collect the scattered pieces of paper, your heels making it hard for you to keep your balance easily, and soon enough you sense a movement from behind you.

“No panties huh?”

It was supposed to be a surprise. Payback for the dirty thoughts Johnny planted in your head this morning. You’d walk in all innocently, sit right across his desk and give him a little Basic Instinct Sharon Stone moment. Then leave him high and dry again, while mentally keeping a note to clear out all your plans for the weekend. But see, he couldn’t give you what you wanted after all, and your resolve started to break. Whatever it was you wanted, you wanted it now.

You get up, unfolding your body slowly and refusing to look at Donghyuck, much like he did when you walked inside. The smirk playing on your lips couldn’t be concealed through your voice.

“Like what you see?”

You gasp as he presses up against you, the only contact you have with one another being his hard-on that nudges your ass. Following your body’s orders, you push back against him too, and you can tell the breath he lets out is ragged and full of tension.

He reaches for your binder with an arm around you, flipping through the pages as he sucks his teeth in disapproval.

“These are last week’s reports. Are you really here for these or are you looking for another quickie with Johnny?” A moan escapes you then, and the little thrust that Donghyuck allows himself drives you both crazy. “Thought so. How insatiable are you? I made you cum two nights ago, Johnny helped you out yesterday. If you really are that desperate you could’ve just come to me for help, doll”

His soft palm rests on the front of your thigh, slowly sliding his way under your skirt. You squirm in his hold in anticipation, and you have to bite your tongue to hold in the noises that threaten to leave you. 

“Donghyuck, Johnny is sitting right through that door. He could come out any minute now and see us”

“And?”

“Your boss is sitting right through that door. You could get fired”

“I could die after this”

His thumb ficks your clit swiftly, and Donghyuck takes this opportunity to slip his other one inside your gaping mouth.

“But-“

“Shh. Don’t talk with your mouth full, baby”

You’re melting in his hold at this point, your back still resting against his chest, lips sucking his digit. The scent of his cologne that you’ve grown so familiar with overwhelms you, painting all your surroundings in a red tint of lust.

“Spread your legs for me”. You oblige with his orders immediately, your arousal not allowing you to keep him waiting. “Wider”.

You take a quick look behind your shoulder to check that the door is still, indeed, closed, only to be met face to face with Donghyuck. His breath is hot against your face, eyes locked on his thumb toying with your lower lip and you completely forget what you initially turned around for. The kiss was natural, your lips melding easily with his ones. The need for him washes over you like a heatwave and you lift your skirt to urge him to continue before you go insane. 

He gets the hint and moves his hand lower, middle finger tracing your opening ever so slightly. It makes you shiver and you realise how quiet the room has fallen, the only source of sound coming muffled through the closed door to Johnny’s office. It excites you and it must show through the wetness between your lower lips, and Donghyuck patiently collects it all. He transfers the moisture over the bud of your clit, his finger smoothly massaging the sensitive skin. It feels divine and there’s no way you’d ask him to stop yet you know there’s something else Donghyuck is after, the sweet tightness that he didn’t get to experience that night at his apartment.

It was a bit much to fuck you out there like that, even for his exhibitionistic tendencies, but nothing could stop him from feeling the next best thing. 

His first finger enters you unhurriedly, careful of your reactions. You moan out his name and he moans at how tight you are, soft pussy practically sucking his finger in. He soon enters his ring finger as well, slowly moving them inside you until you feel every stretch and curl. Your wetness starts to drip at this point, coating his fingers with your juices.

“Such a dirty girl, making all this mess at my office”

The leisure pace ruins you, your eyes shut close in search of patience. You feel his other palm move from under your skirt as well, resting flat against your lower abdomen. He wants to feel himself inside you.

“Donghyuck, please. More”

A chuckle is heard from your left ear, and you can vividly imagine how his face must look like now. The cocky smirk, the tongue poking the inside of his cheek. The next pump has you muffling your whimpers with the back of your fist, his fingers curling just right and fucking straight into your g-spot. 

“More? Look at you. Pretty slut.” 

He’s full on finger fucking you now, and swallowing your moans is gradually becoming more and more difficult. The world crumbles from under your feet and you let yourself get carried away in the intense pleasure, the fast pumping making your legs shake.

“You’re gonna cum?”, he whispers again, and you can only respond with a nod, “That’s my fucking girl”

The orgasm’s intense, shaking you as you bite your hand and hold onto Donghyuck for extra support. He continues to move his fingers afterwards, drawing out your euphoria for as long as he can, then finally leaves you empty once your moans have died down. You immediately cover yourself up again once you sober up from your high, suddenly embarrassed by Donghyuck’s intense stare. He’s moving his eyes through all the features of your face, only for them to fall frozen on your lips, and lifts his hand up to rest his two fingers over them. You get his initiative and put them in your mouth, tasting yourself on your tongue.

“Unless you want us both to get fired I think you should go back to your office. I don’t think I can contain myself around you”

You release his digits with a pop, your eyes full of seduction.  

“What would you do to me?”

Donghyuck growls at your question, turning you around so that you’re fully face to face and chest to chest. 

“You’d look so pretty on your knees, mouth full of cock”. He grabs a handful of your ass, bringing you flush against him and proceeds to grind his painfully hard dick between your thighs. Your noses touch and you feel dizzy at the proximity; the words he mutters against your cum coated lips. “I’d peel those clothes off of you, find the nearest mirror. Stretch you out against the glass so that you see how good you take it.”

You shiver as a response, then force yourself to put some distance between you before you do something stupid. He kindly helps you collect your things in silence, those useless documents that were laying scattered on the floor, and in a moment of weakness you let him pin you against the wall right before you go.There was something so addictive about him and your chemistry, and your lips burn at the memory of his kisses. You’re not sure how much longer you can contain that hunger anymore.

The end of a shift and the beginning of another overtime. It felt like deja vu at this point, after all the countless extra hours you’ve put into the internship, seeing people grab their briefcases and their car keys as they empty the space around you. You take a moment to appreciate the view of the setting sun from the small window of your office, inhaling deeply as you wrap the hair that’s been bothering you in a ponytail. Your neck hurts and the tension of your body is translating into a dull pain, so you stretch it a little, bobbing your head from side to side.

You jump a little in your seat when you feel a set of hands on your shoulder blades. They massage the sore spots, treating the muscle knots and helping your blood flow freely. It was obvious Donghyuck didn’t have enough of you earlier, and you pout at having to turn down another visit to his apartment because of your overtime duties. 

You were ready to scold him off, tell him you’re busy and that you promise to make it up for him another time, when you feel his soft lips kissing the most sensitive spot on the slope of your neck. You let out a long sigh, subconsciously exposing your neck more for him, and a high pitched whine rumbles in your chest. It’s released as a moan of Donghyuck’s name.

“Donghyuck?!”

You freeze in the uncomfortable arch, your ears confused by the deepness of the voice belonging to the man behind you. Not even the confusion laced in it can cover up the lack of airiness and clarity you’re used to when it comes to Donghyuck’s tone. It’s Johnny.

“I… We-“

You’re left speechless, clueless as to what to say next. You know you don’t have to explain yourself, it’s not like you and Johnny are exclusive. Yet his shocked face at the sound of his assistant’s name coming so lewdly off your lips has your brain scrambling to find some sort of explanation. Thankfully, he’d interrupt your panic in a second.

“The big boss wants you upstairs. I offered to come get you.”

He doesn’t sound angry or upset, nor disappointed. It’s a fresh air of relief before you realize that this is not what you should worry about right now. What the hell does the CEO of the company want to talk to you about? Are you getting the boot? It must be it, but why? Your numbers have been great, you’re always on time - except that one morning, but technically it was Donghyuck’s fault - and you’ve been praised by your supervisor numerous times during your internship.

Unless- What if there’s cameras in the office? 

You start to panic at the thought of an involuntary sex tape become the cause of your dismissal, so caught up in your thoughts that you’re completely unaware you’ve spent the entire trip up the stairs with Johnny in silence. When you enter the CEO’s office, heartbeat echoing loudly in your ears, you notice that all of the department’s supervisors are present in the impromptu meeting as well. You sit next to Johnny, in an attempt to calm yourself down, and you see the head of your department send you an encouraging smile.

“Shall we start?”

A briefing of your work in the company ensued, numbers and graphs that wouldn’t make sense to anyone other than the people in the room. Thirty minutes have passed and no surveillance tape has been whipped out, turning you more confused than ever. The numbers were good, the words from your supervisor are complimentary, so why would they fire you? 

“That is all for the briefing. After seeing your progress and the contribution you’ve made to the company, we’ve decided to offer you a permanent position, if you’d be interested of course”

Oh my god. You can’t believe this day finally came. Your face was glowing, and you tried to convince yourself to stay calm while you talked about your new position and the raise in salary that came with it. With shaky hands you sign the documents, and your boss congratulates you once again, dismissing you off your overtime. 

You waited for everyone to leave the hallway before jumping in Johnny’s arms. He caught you easily, strong build supporting you and lifting your feet off the ground before landing you safely again.

“Good job intern, I’m so proud of you”

“Hey, I’m not an intern anymore!”, you complain by bumping his chest with your fist and he pats your head lovingly in return.

“Why did you have to be in the room as well? Did you know about my promotion?”

“No, actually, they just told me an hour ago. It was hard to keep myself from telling you everything right away.”

The excitement coursed through you, and a sudden urge to kiss him until your lips were numb overwhelmed you. You were ready to turn your thoughts into reality, when you saw Donghyuck from the corner of your eye, instinctively smiling at your obvious happiness.

“What’s the occasion?”

“I got promoted!”

Donghyuck gasped, a huge smile spreading across his face. Your excitement’s contentious so he tackles you without a second thought, his embrace so tight that you can barely breathe. You can see that he’s trying his best to contain a kiss, his glance moving back and forth between you and Johnny. He still kept a possessive hand around your waist once he let you down however, a gesture that could seem innocent yet you knew better.

Johnny smirks at the sight of you two, confidence dripping off his body and making you shiver. You get dizzy at the thought of Donghyuck not knowing that Johnny knows about you, yet Donghyuck knowing about Johnny but not giving a fuck.

“So how do we celebrate?”, the older man asks, with a playful tone that might as well be your active imagination.

“Wanna go for a drink?”, Donghyuck suggests, boldly keeping his eyes at you only while he does so.

You pout in thought, humming pensively when an idea pops into your head. 

“How about you come over my place for one?”

You should have thought this through more thoroughly, is all you can think about as you’re trapped between Johnny and Hyuck on your couch. Well, not really- there is a sizable distance between you three, yet the atmosphere in the room is so dense it’s nearly palpable. Three glasses, half-full of the alcohol of their choice are sitting on the coffee table in front of you, and you awkwardly stare at the sweat that falls from your glass and forms rings on the wooden surface. 

Your body has loosened up from your drink yet your heart can’t stop racing, not when Donghyuck is looking at you like that. He looks like a man starved for days while you’re the meal presented deliciously in his arm’s reach, and he can’t wait to have you alone and curve his growing appetite. And you ignore Johnny’s cheeky smiles and flirtatious winks as well, carrying on a conversation that doesn’t belong in the inescapable tone of the room but flows easily, until it ends and you’re met with heavy silence and the ticking analog clock on your wall again.

You ask them if they would like some water, getting up before you receive an answer, and you yelp a little when you feel a strong arm halting your trip to the kitchen before it even started. You lose your balance and wobble a little in your spot before unceremoniously landing on Johnny’s lap.

He doesn’t help you up, but loops and arm around your waist instead, holding you in place. In circumstances other than the ones that have already made their mark on your sexual history, staying in this position with his assistant still in the room would be highly inappropriate.

“You’re all we need”, he reassures you with a voice made of silk, then repositions you with a jerk of his knee, your heat grinding right against his half hard member.

“When were you gonna tell me?”

You open and close your mouth sequentially like a fish out of water, choking out a reply after the insistent tick-tock that resonates through the room and gives a tempo to your anxiety.

“I’m sorry?”

“You know what I’m talking about. A little birdy told me I’m not the only one enjoying this perfect little body. Is that right Donghyuck?”

Donghyuck’s eyes bulged out of his skull, almost choking in the sip of the drink he was enjoying when the unexpected question hit him. Sizzling heat floods your face as he stares at you sternly, and you shake your head defensively.

“I didn’t tell him-“

“Well no, not exactly”, Johnny interrupts and places his big hands over your thighs, “I was just kissing her neck, trying to get her to relax, and lo and behold, she starts moaning your name like its a fucking reflex. You’ve really gotten into her head, apparently”

Donghyuck swells up in pride, that much is evident, yet he’s way too distracted to say anything in response, too busy staring at Johnny’s fingers spreading your thighs apart to expose your damp underwear. Johnny’s lips are planted on your neck, teeth nibbling on your earlobe and you wince when you feel the sharp sting of a slap on your inner thigh.

“You aren’t being a good hostess, baby. Open up your legs more, let Hyuck see your pretty pussy. You remember what word to say when you want me to stop, right?” You whimper the designated safe word while opening your thighs further, digging the heels of your feet in the couch’s pillows. “Good girl”

He dips a hand through the band of your underwear, busying his fingers under the fabric. You moan as they slide through the wetness and he smiles a cocky smile when he sees Donghyuck palming himself through his slacks. He removes the skimpy thong with the help of your hips moving to assist him, to then push the fabric inside your mouth with little to no resistance from you.

“Isn’t this pussy divine? I swear when I bottomed out inside of her the first time I thought I lost my damn mind”

He toys with your opening, only dipping half a finger in to challenge Donghyuck to pay attention.

“We haven’t actually…”

“She only let you play with her?”, Johnny teases him, then pushes his point and middle finger all the way inside you, making his assistant’s imagination run wild at what your pussy must feel like sucking him in. “You’re missing out man”

“I’ve made her cum probably twice as many times as you’ve ever have”

You chuckle at his smart remark and Johnny glares at you, softly slapping your pussy to keep you at bay.

“No one addressed you. You’ll get to make all the noise you want in a sec, baby”

You squirm in place, letting out a muffled apology through your gag and Donghyuck looks seriously affected by the sight.

“Isn’t she obedient?”, Johnny asks while grazing your g-spot, and you moan from both the praise and the stimulation.

Hyuck unbuttons his pants at the lewd sound, pulling his dick from the slit of his boxers and you admire his impressive girth. He lets his body decline comfortably on the pillows behind him, spreading his own legs at shoulder-length. The mouth-watering sight of him jerking himself slowly with the aid of his precum clouds your vision; you’re just as needy for him as he is for you.

“She’s a little brat”

“I guess I know how to make her listen”. Johnny lifts your dress over your hips, then helps you off of it through the hem. With a rehearsed flick of his fingers he discards your bra as well, leaving you completely naked for Donghyuck’s eyes to feast on. His hands immediately grope your breasts, playing with the mounds and putting on a show. “I could undress you over and over and over again”

You feel his fingers retract from inside your pussy to form a ‘V’ over your lower lips, making your hole even more visible along with the wetness that’s dripping out of it.

“Will you let Donghyuck use your pussy baby? I feel a little greedy using it all on my own”

You groan in the anticipation and let your head fall back on Johnny’s shoulder, nodding pathetically and mumbling through your thong.

“Oh god, yes, yes, yes”

Donghyuck has heard enough, and with Johnny urging him on he’s standing half naked in front of you in seconds. His boxers are discarded next to his trousers on the floor, tie hanging loosely from the collar. He still has a hand wrapped around his angry sex, red tip and veiny details making you swoon.

“Go on”, Johnny encourages him, “she’s more than wet enough”

Donghyuck rests his left knee on the cushion of the couch, right between your foot and Johnny’s thigh. A little foiled square is getting ripped by his nimble fingers and you bewitchedly watch him wrap up his cock. He slaps it over your entrance a couple times, coming in contact with the other man’s fingers that are still keeping you fully exposed, then finally thrusts himself inside you. A conglomerate of what seems like three different curses leave his lips, eyebrows furrowed in a pleasureful expression.

“Fuck”

“Tight, isn’t she?”

“So fucking tight baby, damn”

Johnny may have a cock so lengthy that most men are envious of, yet Donghyuck’s girth is really something else. It stretches you out more than you've had in months, dull pain getting numb with every release of serotonin from your brain. You almost cry when he removes the entire thing out of you.

“I have to feel that again”

And indeed he does, submerging himself in the tightness of your walls only his fingers had the privilege of experiencing thus far. You feel amazing wrapped up around him, pussy hot and burning in desire as he dips himself further inside you, pushing you up against Johnny’s chest. You hiss in the sting and whimper softly, prompting the man behind you to ungag you finally.

“What is it baby? Hyuckie’s dick is too big for your tight little hole?”

You nod affirmatively while keeping eye contact with the man mentioned, big glossy eyes awakening something dark inside him. He wants to ruin you.

“Maybe you don’t fuck her hard enough”

You can’t see Johnny from the way you’re seated but you know he must have a smile on his face, well aware of the confidence he possesses for his own abilities in the bedroom. His big hands leave your labia and make their way over to your calves, bending you in a way that is almost painful.

“How about you show me how it’s done, then?”

Donghyuck is always up for a challenge, so he wraps a hand loosely around your throat so as to gain leverage. He pulls his hips backwards, gaining momentum, then slaps them forcefully against your own. You moan loudly at the depth, hands scrambling to find something to hold on to as he’s nailing you against the couch. Johnny’s there to catch your sounds with his lips, eating them up eagerly as he slips his tongue inside you and continues to play with your nipples. 

“Is that hard enough for you?”

Continuing his brutal pace restlessly, Donghyuck tightens his grasp around your neck, enough to hamper your blood flow and drool around the other man’s mouth. You’re so out of it at this point, dirty sound after another leaving your lips and you gasp at Johnny’s fingers that are suddenly circling around your clit.

“I’m close, please”, you manage to whimper from between them, Hyuck’s pace only fastening in the sound of your plea. The tip of his cock, thick like the rest of him, grazes against your sensitive spot again and again, not missing a single thrust. He digs a thumb in the softness of your cheek, pulling you away from Johnny and connecting his forehead with yours. By the sounds of his grunts it won’t take long until he comes as well.

“Made just for me”, he whispers against your lips, and you gasp when you feel the heat overflowing in your sex area, vision blurry as you let go and scream in complete pleasure. Donghyuck basks in the confirmation of how good he’s made you feel, hips stuttering as he empties his cum in you and inside the condom. His thigh muscles may be contracting in tiredness yet he doesn’t halt his movements, milking your orgasm for all its worth. You’re basically putty in Johnny’s lap at this point, sex drunk and high from your release.  

“Not bad”, he admits, even though he had some credit to claim with the fast fingerwork he showed earlier. He holds your thighs again, closing them up to help you relax and you wince at the pain in your haunch, the result of staying in a flexibility-demanding position for so long.

You wait until your heartbeat slows down, turning around to face Johnny as Donghyuck ties up and discards the used condom. He sends you a warm smile, petting the messy hair out of your line of sight and you relax in the feeling of safety, batting your eyes up at him cutely.

“What about you?”, you practically meow, moaning softly as you feel his boner twitching from beneath his trousers.

“What about me? Didn’t you have enough?” 

He knows your appetite, knows there’s no way you’d be satisfied by one round only. And how could you, when he sits so deliciously from under you, his big body reeling you in. You know what he wants to hear.

“Please, Johnny”, you plead, playing with the thin tie still neatly keeping his shirt in place. “I need you”

“You need what?”, he growls against your lips, trying to coax as much desperation out of you as possible.

“I need your big cock inside me, please”

“Ass up”

You get up from your seat, complying with his commands and getting on your knees before your tired legs betray you and leave you a mess on the floor.  His hands cup your ass in admiration, giving it a little spank before he slides them over your dorsals. A careful push forces you to arch your back even more, and your cheeks burn at the eager position he has bent you in. You shiver when his cock enters you halfway.

“You’re still not used to me babe?”

“It’s not my fault that you’re so fucking big, Johnny”

“Then maybe I should stay still? Since you can’t take it?”

“No!”, you oppose, tears of frustration threatening to spill out of their ducts, “I can take it, just move!”

You howl as he bottoms out, his long length making you lose your mind. It’s been a while since you’ve had anything more than his fingers and you’ve missed the way he fits inside of you. You hear shuffling from behind you and soon he’s bending over you, wrapping his tie around your neck. With a pull you’re flush against his chest again, and the buttons of his shirt are already leaving little indentations on your skin. You wish it bruises.

“Do you remember what I wanted you to call me the other day?”, he whispers next to the shell of your ear, dark tone sending shivers down your spine.

“Mr. Suh”

“Exactly. Now will you let me fuck you the way I want?”

“Yes sir”

“What a good girl”

Johnny slams into you fully, every pull of his hips resulting in the restriction of your airflow. A game of wanting more of him and sacrificing your oxygen for it begins, and it doesn’t take long for you to turn completely into a submissive mess for him. He’s whispering filth in your ears, hips keeping their inhuman tempo until you’re all out of energy and fall nonvocal. Donghyuck gets hard again at the sight.

It doesn’t go unnoticed by Johnny, who is more than willing to share your body for the pleasure he’s after- at least part of it. He waits until the younger man’s dick is fully solid in his grasp, standing tall and red right in front of you and he lets go of the constraint of your neck without notice.

You fall face first on Donghyuck’s thick thighs, his quick reflexes catching you from a harder impact. His member is twitching right next to your face, tip grazing against your left temple and he helps your head up by wrapping your hair in a makeshift ponytail that his fingers hold together. You wrap your lips around his tip obediently, twirling your tongue around his member until you reach his hairy base. He tastes a bit rubbery from the condom earlier but you choose to ignore it, focusing on hollowing your cheeks around him instead.

Every hard thrust of Johnny’s propels you forward onto Donghyuck’s cock, the bobbing motion natural yet you struggle to take them both inside you. Donghyuck enjoys the vibrations of the moans you make when the other man hits a deep spot in your pussy, Johnny groans when you clench around him as Donghyuck abuses your throat. It’s a give and take of intense pleasure and you know you can’t take much more, the men’s moans growing louder with every thrust. 

“Do you like Hyuck’s cock needy baby? Have you finally had enough?”

He punctuates each word with a slam, one harder than the other, and the rope inside your belly snaps with the arrival of your second orgasm. You try your hardest to stay in place, beg your thighs not to let you collapse as you let Johnny drive you into overstimuation.

“Yes, sir. I love it”

Johnny grunts at the sound of his title, so dirty coming muffled by another man’s dick that it’s enough to send him over the edge. You feel the hot cum filling up the condom inside you, and his spurts take so long that the little tweaks coax another orgasm from you.

Donghyuck drinks up the scene unveiling in front of him, a steady hand forcing your jaw open as he starts to jerk off quickly over your face.

“I want to see your tongue covered in my cum”

You lick your lips seductively in response, opening your mouth up to welcome his ropes of white liquid that leave his slit a second after. They fill your mouth little by little, painting the inside of it and you hold your tongue out to show him his creation, a couple of drops dripping from the corners before you swallow as much as you can. He collects whatever’s left on your jaw, pushing it in and letting you suckle on his thumb dumbly before letting go.

You collapse on the couch, exhausted after giving all that your body could handle after a work day, and you sit in silence as Johnny massages your feet and Donghyuck kisses your neck to calm you down. Your head hurts from the sex and the possibilities that this new combination can bring to your love life, belly tingling in excitement at the same time. You don’t know where this will lead, or when will be the next time you’ll indulge in the company of the both of them stuck on your body. All that you know is that this promotion, at least the celebration of it, tastes really, really sweet. 

thank you for reading ❤ feedback is much appreciated! If you liked Promotion you can check out Work for it to see where it all started! :) 

[cryinginthebackseat]

you’ve got more poison than sugar - part i

AO3    part ii

Fandom: Call Of Duty 

Pairing: Russell Adler x Bell

Words: 4.009

Summary: Russell Adler should have known better that it wouldn’t take an entire nation or continent to bring him to his knees.

Warnings: just swearings, sexual tension, blood, mentions of past abuse and brainwashing. adler being that manipulative asswipe like usual. 

Author’s note: i don't know what i'm doing. one moment, i was watching the walkthrough of the new call of duty game, found myself curious, acutely curious by that guy with the scars and shades on- a younger, shadier (no pun intended) Robert Redford in Spy Game and oh my... fast forward to 2 weeks later, here we are.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

A house somewhere on foreign soil,

Where ageless lovers call,

Is this your goal, your final needs,

Where dogs and vultures eat,

Committed still I turn to go.

I put my trust in you.

A Means To An End - Joy Division (1980)

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It's mystifying how little she talks. Or when she does, it's always in fragments. Like a crossword puzzle in your local newspaper, but several letters are missing. He initially thought maybe MK-Ultra fucked her head or worse, if it hasn't worked at all, but the more he watches her, the more he realizes it's just the way she is. And it's ironic because he named her Bell. He expected her to chime like a goddamn goldfinch yet here they are. 

But he won't be fazed. Russell Adler is a man who's stopped at nothing in getting what he wanted before, he sure as hell won't stop now for a close-mouthed science project.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“We've got a job to do, Bell."

It intrigues him, every time, the way the words trigger something deep within her psyche, the way her eyes change, her body stands a little straighter, like a machine ready to function at his disposal. It reminds Adler of one of those cartoons he watched when he was a kid about wizards and magic words, except there are no musical dance numbers playing in the background or a talking cricket perching on his shoulder. This is his power over her, over the USSR, over Perseus. That monstrous filth. It really does take a beast to tame another. 

Although he surmises calling Bell one would be superfluous. 

She barely looks like one, but Adler knows too well than to underestimate her. Just because Bell hasn’t shown her set of claws, that doesn’t mean she’s harmless, delicate, like a miniature China Doll in his breast pocket.

Bell never offered him her reply before, but now, now, she nods, head almost bows, obedient pretty thing, and says:

“Yes, Adler.”

So it goes.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It takes West Berlin for Adler to realize she’s left-handed. 

She wears her watch on her right hand, smokes with that same said hand only when she’s writing or moving her pieces for an impromptu late-night game of chess against Lazar. And she always wears her gloves all the time- leather, black, lined with silk and pretty, small buttons on the cuffs, covering those striking red nails underneath. Whether it is for the theatrics or an old habit of hers, he can't really tell.

He doesn’t know why he begins to take notice of these mundane details about Bell, but rationalizes because he’s never been in the same room with this version of her, post-brainwash Bell, for more than 10 minutes. And for all intents and purposes, there’s still a lot of question marks surrounding her character; who is she? Where did she come from? What is her connection to Perseus? 

Are they in a possession of a walking, breathing bomb about to destroy them all or the West’s only salvation?

He supposes he’ll find out soon enough.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Adler hears Bell from his table, typing busy on the computer- barely blinking- all soaked up in that caffeine-infused energy at 1 am. She's always like that, he learns, when it comes to working, always with that steel determination, pulling out all the stops as long as it gets the job done- that Soviet discipline at it's finest.

Reminds him a little of himself when he's young.

Adler walks up to her. 

“You done for the night?” A shake of her head is her only response. He sighs. “You should go home, Bell.” 

“You go. I’ll lock up behind you,” Bell replies, low and monotone; that youthful stubborn.

If she was any other person, he would probably commend her for such fierce willpower, but she is Bell, the walking conundrum, his ace in the hole. Call him paranoid, but the idea of her having the safehouse for herself does nothing but raises every alarm in his head.

“No, we’re going home,” he says instead, tone brooking no argument and she frowns at the screen, her fingers stop moving then looks up at him with those goddamn empty eyes. "Come on, it's late anyway."

She doesn't say anything. Adler wishes he could read her mind- or crack that lovely skull on the back of her head, dissect her brain, learn its secrets and answers. 

Adler has his gun with him. It wouldn’t take long. A quick, true shot to the heart to keep the brain intact. He’d have Hudson contact one of his people inside BND and he'd deliver the brain himself if he has to. They could do it. He heard they’ve been studying inmates' brains for decades now, anyway. 

Before he has a chance to entertain the idea further, though, Bell nods once and rises up from her seat. 

Bell walks past him. Her scent, like honeysuckle on ice, hits him like an uppercut in the face. Adler inhales, as if against his will. 

He thinks he could get drunk on it.

“Hop in. I’ll drive you back to the hotel,” he says once they’re outside, regretting the decision the moment the words left his lips, but he knows he can’t just leave her on her own at this late hour.

The irony isn’t lost on him, though, considering he just thought about unspooling her brain a few minutes ago.

Bell complies without a protest. Getting inside the passenger seat, wordless still, fingers toying with the radio. An angry, krautrock music comes blaring all over his car. Adler winces, but at least the riot is loud enough to muffle the one's brewing in his head. 

"How's your memory these days?" 

Bell shrugs. "Nihil novi sub sole." There's nothing new under the sun.

Good, he muses. The least she knows about herself the better.

Though that doesn't mean he's out of the woods yet.

"Listen, from now on, I want you to keep me informed if there's any new progress about your memory or if you've developed any new symptoms. I want to know everything." He steals a sidelong glance at her, making sure she is listening (she always does, but Adler needs an excuse)

(An excuse for what?)

"Alright, Bell?"

"Of course," replies the woman in question.

"Good." Adler shifts his attention back to the road. "Good." Taking a long drag, he considers trying to appeal to her sentimental side. It's not something you'd improvise last minute- at least not with someone you brainwashed to believe you are her mentor/confidant for the past decade, but he's itching to know where he stands with her.

"You know, I'm just tryin' to look out for you, kid."

Her lips twitch but the rest of her visage remains impassive and faraway, more like a flick knife than a woman. The correlation is uncanny.

That's when she inches closer. The space between them bridged. He freezes. Hyper-aware of just how dangerous this is, but can’t bring himself to pull back, to look the other way. Not when her hand reaches out to pluck the cigarette from his mouth, eyes still glued to his, and curls her lips around the filter. One heavy pull, and then she rolls down the window and tosses it out on the side of the road.

"Thought I'd reciprocate the sentiment."

And with that, she leans back in her seat before Adler could even process what has just transpired.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Welcome back to the land of the living, kid,” Adler greeted her, about a month ago. 

Park had insisted that he had to be there for her when she woke up (naturally, Adler had balked at the idea, but at the English woman’s fact-of-the-matter explanation, also because it had somewhat dawned on him last minute the logic behind her machinations- “both of you are supposed to have known each other for years now. If she doesn't see you by her side, she’s going to wonder why”- thus, here he was)

“How are you feeling?” 

Bell blinked owlishly and stared at the older man with those bottomless, cat-like eyes that had haunted him since January.

Her gaze eventually softened as recognition flickered across her face.

“Like someone just hit me in the chest with a bulldozer,” she said hoarsely. “Where are we?”

“St. Dismas’ hospital, Pittsburgh.” Adler got up and fetched her a glass of water from the table. “Although not a bulldozer, but bullets did. That, and you hit your head really hard on your way down. Thought we’d lost you there, Bell.”

Bell drank in silence. She’s still watching him, thinking. This was the first time he realized that he couldn’t exactly read her expression and somehow that threw him off.

“What happened?” she asked, one hand mid-air, like she was deciding which to touch first, hesitating and abandoned the idea. 

“You don’t remember?” She shook her head. Adler pretended to look remotely distressed about it. “The doctors warned me about this. It must have been because of the fall- heck, I could even still hear that sickening crunch from here.” He dragged his chair closer towards her bed.

“We were in Amsterdam. Remember Fohler?” she shook her head again. “Well, we’d been tracking this son of a bitch for months, but we were chasing him in Amsterdam. He was running away and climbed up some scaffolding. You were about to go up after him,” he recited the fabricated story he, Park and Hudson had crafted. “He shot you and you fell and hit your head against the pavement.”

Bell looked away first, silent. Her hand gingerly touched the back of her head and winced, albeit only slightly. 

Adler was almost impressed, if not, disarmed by how calm and composed her reaction was to all of this. But then again, after having had witnessed first-hand how the woman barely flinched under any kind of interrogation technique they threw at her- a personality built for wrestling tigers- he really shouldn’t be surprised. 

“Bell, what is the last thing you remember?”

Bell frowned. “Not much. I remember ‘Nam, but-”

“Vietnam? Kid, that was thirteen years ago.” Adler watched the way her throat bopped, like she was swallowing her own blood and the color drained from her face, just like the first time he’d seen her, and proceeded to drop the bomb:

“Bell, the year is 1981.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"Bell dear, would you mind taking a look at this?" 

Park's voice sails from across the room. She says it like it's a compound word: Bell-dear. Like the two words belong together. Bell-dear. 2 syllables, 1 word, 9 characters and that just might be the weirdest thing he hears this year and he heard many things.

"Bell dear?" Adler asks much later, his gravel-and-smoke voice reduced to a whisper, when she delivers a document to his table.

Park shrugs as if that explains everything. "What? I like her." 

He's tempted to say you really can't put a term of endearment and someone you brainwashed into submission in the same sentence, but what else is new?

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

They wind up in a bar. It’s called Die Stube and the place’s brimmed with artists and all sorts of leather-clad, Bowie-esque dramatic, chromatic blue eyelids young people chattering over a dirty cloud of smoke.

The two of them colonize a lone booth in the back. It’s dark and the quietest. She orders a beer and he, a scotch and they drink in silence. There are moments where her head would twist to the side, as subtle as a needle and survey the phantasmagorical scene before them, like studying something from a petri dish. 

While he’s watching her.

Only to tear his gaze away to the nearest object he can find.

It lands on his watch.

"It’s almost ten. Hudson's contact should be here soon," he announces, if anything to distract himself. She nods mutely in reply, as always, and runs a finger around the rim of her glass.

"The place ain't much of your scene?" 

She shrugs, like it's self-evident. "I didn't know this was a scene, though."

"Well, that’s West Berlin for you. A worry-free playground for the hedonists, hipsters and proto-electro NDW enthusiasts with drugs on tap," Adler says, sipping his drink in practiced nonchalance. "Always makes my head spin."

"I guess I remember it differently," Bell replies, tinged with something akin to begrudging. 

That warrants his full attention. "What do you remember?”

Bell shrugs again and lights a cigarette instead, menthol, one of those long, skinny cigarettes they only market for women; biding her time, making him wait. She lets the smoke flares from her nostrils so her eyes are veiled.

"It’s hard to explain, but I suppose it’s grittier?” she gesticulates, searching for the right word like she’s skim reading the entire Oxford dictionary in her head. “Bizarrely, infinitely grittier and dimmer? Like being in an underground tunnel and there's not much to see."

Interesting. Maybe she’s recalling one of her ops for Perseus or her mind is confusing her with the world on the other side of the wall.

“Maybe you’re remembering one of our clandestine ops here. It was a few years after Vietnam,” Adler supplies, passing over the tale like bait.

She falls for it, hook, line and sinker.

“Ah, I guess that also explains my fluency in German.”

“I taught you that.” It’s only logical, he decides, that she learned from him. She’s supposed to be his protégé after all. 

An elegant brow quirk. "You did?"

"Yeah, though you were already fluent in Latin, Russian, Vietnamese and Portuguese when we first met anyway. You have quite a natural ear, kid.”

She gives him a look. He really can’t categorize it, but it makes it a whole lot harder to fight against her stare.

 “What else did you teach me?” 

If they were anyone else, the lines could have a potential to entice, to seduce, that winsome, catty-eyelashes coquette, but they aren't anyone else and Bell does not voice it like that. Yet the implication behind the question stirs something in the pit of Adler’s stomach anyway, that tight knot of confusion as it is buried with something else and he finds himself, once again, uncharacteristically speechless.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

That particular question of her stays, even hours later, unbidden. Interspersed with her scent and face. 

His emotions are a minefield whenever she’s near now. It evokes that newfound rush of terror within him, like walking on a tightrope or being thrown into the pit to face hundreds of hungry lions, bare hands. It makes Adler questions his every decision, and he can’t have that in his line of work. 

Adler lights his sixth cigarette, contemplating everything, nothing. Anything to distract him from her. It's 4 am and he’s exhausted, but his mind won’t stop whirring. This isn’t like him at all- like he's lost somewhere in a Dali-style labyrinth that is his head and he wonders if this is a byproduct of his fear or fascination or confusion for the young woman.

He fears it is all of them.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

(They're only 10 minutes away from East Berlin when he senses it, something akin to burning on his peripheral vision, pulling him like weight.

Bell is staring at him from across the seat.

He cocks his head slightly to the side.

Adler catches the quick, telling quirk of her lips, like she's about to smile but lights a cigarette instead.)

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Did you hear that?”

Krauss has just crossed the wall and their soles are slippery from the rain. She's panting. Her breath is white like a fog. Adler muses it must be from the running, until his iris trails down to where her hand is clutching his jacket sleeve, the leather creasing like a modulation signal.

“What is it?” Adler asks, hushed. There are no Stasis here, but even one can't be too careful.

“The TV.” She’s gaping at the broken TV next to them. Adler looks at the said object, frowning, then back to her. ���Y-you didn’t hear it?”

"Heard what? Bell, the thing's dead."

Bell withdraws from him. Stepping back until her back meets the walls, her eyes seeing and unseeing, like a lens finding focus in the dark, then she closes them, as if trying to regulate her breathing. Adler has never seen her scared shitless of anything before. The sight confuses as it intrigues him. 

"Bell, what's going on?" Adler steps closer, but he dares not to touch her. 

She shakes her head, dismissive. In just a span of seconds, Bell dons that mask she likes to wear again; deadpan and frustratingly distant. A spike of annoyance drives through him. Just when he thinks he can get through her, there she goes again, retreating behind her palisades.

"Nothing." Bell turns away abruptly and she’s walking again."Let's just go. The others are waiting for us."

He doesn't pry about whatever she heard on the TV- Adler knows better than to beat a dead horse, thank you very much- not even after they save her from Volkov's clutches, after she bashes his head against the steel door and reeks his blood all the way home, it seems superficial at the time.

Until two days later.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The day starts, as it mostly does for the team, with a briefing. 

Fifteen minutes in and something like a gasp pulls his attention to her. 

That’s when he notices it; her hands are shaking, coffee spilling out of the mug over her hand. A shatter follows. Her mug smashes to smithereens at her feet. She’s swaying, near collapse, like a house of cards about to fall, a hand on her nose.

Adler catches her before she tumbles to the floor.

“Bell!” His arm around her waist tightens, trying to keep her steady. Lazar rushes to their side in a flash and helps him move her to a nearby chair. 

"Jesus Christ," he curses, more to himself than to her as he watches blood, a bead of angry red, trickling down her nose. "Sims, get me a washcloth from the bathroom."

He kneels before her once Sims returns with a damp cloth. Nicotine-stained gloved fingers tentatively grasp her chin, holding her still. 

“Kid, you alright?” Adler asks, worry bleeds into his voice without him realizing it. He firmly presses the cloth under her nose, his other thumb touches the pulse at her throat- it's almost sickly affectionate. “Bell, talk to me."

Bell looks at him, discombobulated, like he's a figment of her imagination, then blinks. Again and again until she heaves a deep breath.

"I-" she hisses. One hand flies up to her head. "Fuck. My head.”

Adler’s eyes immediately search for Park’s. A knowing look passes over her face and he knows without saying that she's thinking the same thing, like they're attached to the same brain-wire:

MK-Ultra.

There’s a fraction of pause, then Lazar asks, "Should we give her something?” 

Before Park can voice her answer, Bell beats her to it. "I already took an anticonvulsant this morning. It should have helped.”

“Wait, this has happened before?” Adler asks.

Bell looks away, a hesitating look shadowing her face. He fears the worst.

“Bell…” he tries again, a slight warning to his tone.

She sighs loudly, as if mentally preparing herself before walking into a storm. 

“Yes. Two days ago."

His mind instantly refers to East Berlin, the TV. Trying to connect the dots in his head. It seems far fetched, but now he wonders if she saw something that triggers this. Although he's never read about this on other subjects before, the correlation is just impossible to ignore.

Fuck. He heaves a breath, willing himself to calm down, to think. They can't afford complications at times like these. Not when there's so much at stake right now.

Adler snaps his attention back to Bell when she tries to scramble awkwardly to her feet, swatting his hand away. The hand on her neck immediately reaches for her waist again and pushes her back down onto the chair. His grip's tight enough to leave marks on her skin, but he doesn't care.

"Bell, for fuck's sake, stay still or so help me," he says, exasperated, not letting go of her waist. 

"I feel better now." Stubborn little shit.

He is tempted to scream at her face and grab both of her shoulders and shake. “The hell you’re not. Stop fighting it. You’ll only make things worse.”

Her face sours, if only for a millisecond before it morphs into guilt. “I’m sorry.”

Adler watches her for a long moment. It’s only now that he realizes that he’s still holding her waist and the cloth on her face. 

He backs away from her like he’s been burnt. 

“You should have told me. I thought I made it clear the other night to keep me informed regarding this,” he scolds. 

“I’m sorry,” she utters again and she looks so pliable like this, a blank canvas perfumed with obedience and lethal mind. It makes him almost feel sorry for what he has in plan for her once the shit show is over.

“Look, just go back to the hotel and take a day off.” Her mouth cracks open. He raises a silencing hand. “That’s an order, Bell.” But she merely scowls, looking more like jagged ice than a person. Hudson may have just met his match, after all.

“I told you I’m fine.”

“That’s not how it looks to me.”

“It is. It’s my body and I know what I’m feeling, and I’m telling you, I. Feel. Fine.”

His jaw clenches. “Are you disobeying a direct order, agent?”

Bell doesn’t answer, but her whole face remains challenging and hard. Undeterred.

Adler holds his breath. He feels the whole room collectively does the same. It’s like staring down the barrel of a gun and there’s an awful sort of danger to be found in that. 

Just when he thinks an imaginary bullet would dig itself into his skin, however, Bell utters, “Of course not.”

And so the woman resumes to her normal, docile self at a drop of a hat. Even when Park steps in and whisks her out of her seat, drives her back to her hotel with Lazar on shotgun. 

It doesn’t assuage his worry, though. He’s still restless throughout the day, like a roaring ocean inside a bell jar. She’s never done this before, openly rebels against him. Now, the situation is just bad. Not casually bad or almost-got-shot bad, this is the-entire-Europe-could-turn-into-a-nuclear-wasteland bad, an-armageddon-waiting-to-happen bad. 

What if this is the beginning of her old self trying to scratch her way out of the surface? Adler’s blood goes cold at the thought. He is going to have to keep a close eye on this development.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

West Berlin - 1 am, local time.

“How is she?”

“Stable. I’ve administered another dose of Propranolol before I left the hotel. She should be fit as a fiddle in the morning.”

“Tell me, what do you think happened to her?”

“My theory? Traumatic brain injury. A cumulative product of torture, trauma-based mind control and chronic stress. I've read reports about cases like these before in MI6. None of them is still alive to recount the tale, unfortunately."

Adler grips the phone. 

“How long do you think we have?”

“Theoretically, 2-3 weeks tops.”

“But?”

He hears Park sighs on the other line. “But then again, none of the subjects I’ve encountered before were like her. So, I suppose it’s still a little too premature to determine at this point."

Adler kneads his temple, feeling the start of that familiar Bell-induced headache forms in his head. Can things just be fucking simple for once? 

“We don’t have that much time anyway, Park. And if Hudson gets a wind of this, he’ll want her gone by morning. I can’t let that happen. Not…” he pauses. “Not when we are this close.”

"What are we going to do about her, then?" 

Adler sighs.

"Raise the dosages of her drugs,” he says. “And keep an extra eye on her. I think we may be heading into uncharted waters now.”

Tagging: @mvalentine cause you said to tag you with everything i write so  👁👄👁

[vintagedolan]

alone (egd)

it’s not very often that you and ethan get the house to yourselves... and you’ll be damned if you don’t make the most of it

word count: 8k (holy shit haha)

warnings/tags: smutty smutty smut lets goooo, christening the house hehe,  ITS A WILD RIDE 

feel free to send in requests! and check out my masterlist if you wanna :)

It was almost like watching a scene in a sappy romance movie, but instead of the typical girl in the sundress with the handsome man, it was two handsome 6 foot tall men standing outside the airport, staring at each other uncomfortably.

“Just make sure you text me when you land. You got your charger and everything?”

“Yeah E, I’ve got it. I’m gonna miss my plane man, I gotta go,” Grayson said, but he wasn’t moving, obviously unsure of what exactly to do.

“Bye Gray, have fun and be safe,” you decided to step in, giving him a goodbye hug. He squeezed you back, swaying a little bit back and forth.

“Keep him alive and fed for me, will yah?” Gray teased, ruffling your hair like he always did before letting you go.

“I think I can manage that for four days,” you teased, stepping back. There was an odd awkwardness in the air - the twins weren’t very experienced in saying goodbye.

You stood to the side, watching them hug. It was a genuine one, with just a hint of unease in it - the boys hadn’t spent this much time away from each other since they did their one week without each other video. 

When they were done, the two of you waved at Grayson until he was out of sight inside the terminal. And then you climbed back into the tesla, you in the passenger seat like usual.

And it was time for the real fun to begin.

Riding in the car with Ethan was one of your favorite little parts of your relationship. It was such a simple thing, to sit next to him in the passenger seat with the music playing. And his hand was always on you somehow - fingers intertwined, pressing kisses to the back of your hand. But it wasn’t often that you didn’t have Grayson in the back seat. This time was different.

As soon as he was merged back onto the highway, his hand was on your thigh, thumb rubbing over the bare skin left by your shorts. It was innocent enough to start, but his fingers trailed higher and higher with each mile he drove, and when you looked over he was chewing on his lip - one of his tells.

“Mind on the road,” you teased, but you opened your legs just barely anyways.

“Baby I drive a tesla. My mind can be anywhere,” he reminded you, a bit of his ego popping through.

“We’re five minutes from home,” you breathed as his hand moved further up, brushing over the zipper of your shorts. There was a nervous energy filling the car, and it reminded you of how you felt before you slept together for the first time. You felt giddy at the thought of having Ethan all to yourself, and the house empty except for the two of you, for four whole days. 

“Wanna make sure you’re ready,” he said, voice low and gruff. It sent chills across every inch of your skin. 

“Oh trust me, I am,” you sighed, squirming just barely as he rubbed over your skin. He knew exactly how to press your buttons and get you worked up in a matter of minutes.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, squeezing your thigh. He edged the speedometer up, wheels flying over payment in a desperate bid to get home even a few minutes earlier. 

“Hey, we can’t fuck if you crash before we get home,” you reminded him, messing with your nails. When you looked over at him, his pupils were blown wide, incredulous. The easiest way to get him worked up was with your words, and you used it sparingly, knowing if you always said all the dirty things in your mind that it wouldn’t hold the same effect when you decided to use it. It was the only way you could even the playing field - Ethan could have you in a puddle with one touch. 

He slowed down, but only a fraction, and you were itching to get home just as much as he was, maybe more. The gates at the end of the driveway felt like they took an eternity to open when Ethan punched in the code, and you had already undone your seatbelt before he even had smooth cat in park. 

You both jumped out of the car, giddy like unsupervised teenagers. He took your hand, lacing his fingers with yours as he started towards the house. To your surprise, he didn’t open the door immediately. Instead, he turned to you, catching your hips with his hands.

“I have a proposition.” 

“Oh do you now.”

“New house. All to ourselves for four days.” 

“Mhmmm.” Not sure why we’re not acting on that right about now, you wanted to say, but you held your tongue. 

“Christening.” The word hung in the night air for a moment, slowly disappearing into the song the crickets were making. Images flashed through your mind of all the furniture, the floor plan, the layout. Fuck.

“You bought a very large house, with a lot of rooms,” you started. His face fell just a fraction, and his lips parted as he started his rebuttal. You stopped him with a finger. 

“We better get started.” 

night one, 11pm, living room two

You’d never realized just how soft the purple sectional was; probably because this was the first time you were naked on it. Ethan had made quick work of everything you had on as he lead you in the door, past the small living room, through the kitchen and dining room, and into the small sunken living room two, as they called it.

“Odd first choice,” you mused, not really caring where you were. All you were worried about was the fact that Ethan was still fully clothed, which was wildly unfair in your opinion. 

“Well, we’ve already done our room and bathroom, so no need for repeats. Not gonna do Grayson’s room or bathroom, cause that’s just weird. Figured we could work our way across the house. Living room two, dining room, kitchen, living room one. Come back and get the office, guest bathroom, laundry room.” He listed off the rooms like he was reading from the floor plan as he shed his shirt and started to work on his belt.

“You’ve really got this planned out huh. Been daydreaming about having sex with me all over the house?” The smirk on your face was playful, and he just laughed, shaking his head as he shoved his Louis V pants down his legs along with his boxer briefs and stepped out of them.

“I’m always thinking about having sex with you. Duh.” He crawled over top of you, coaxing you to lay down flat on the couch. One of your favorite things about sex with Ethan was that it was always versatile, and not just in positions. You’d had every mood of sex in the book - playful, funny, dirty, kinky, angry. You were so comfortable around each other it wasn’t even funny.

So you weren’t surprised in the slightest that he nudged your hip with his knee and muttered ‘scootch’ so he could get himself comfortable above you. And you also weren’t surprised when you both realized that there was no way in hell that this position was going to work in any way, shape or form on that narrow ass couch.

“Floor?” He asked.

“Floor,” you confirmed, following him as he rolled off you and onto his back on the rug. Now you were hovering over him, straddled over his abs. His hands found the back of your thighs, pushing lightly.

“Come up here,” he grinned, and you knew exactly what he was asking for. You maneuvered your way up until you were hovering above his face. 

“Let the christening... begin,” he said in his most dramatic voice, smile wide on his face as his hands came up onto your thighs to pull you down closer to him.

“That’s the cheesiest shit you’ve eve- oh.”

“Mmmm, what was that?” He asked, pulled away from where he’d just been.

“Nothing! Nothing,” you squeaked, suddenly desperate for him to put his mouth back on you. He obliged, starting to work you over slowly. You shifted your weight onto your knees so you could get closer to him, hands going to his hair, which was finally getting just long enough for you to get a grip on. 

It didn’t take long for him to set a rhythm with his tongue that has your hips grinding, thighs shaking just barely at the tension of you holding yourself at just the right height. He’s always been so damn good with his mouth, even since the first time you slept together.

But it wasn’t until you bit down on your fist as you came that you hear him groan, and he’s tapping on your thigh, signaling you to dismount. You climbed off, catching your breath and relaxing your muscles, coming down. 

“What’d you bite your fist for?” He asked, sitting up and moving towards you like he had on the couch, coaxing you down onto your back again, his fingers ghosting over you.

“Didn’t do it on purpose.” You were still a bit breathless as he ducked down to kiss you.

“Well for once we don’t have to be quiet. Wanna hear you babe, while we can,” he said, more of a request than a demand. You nodded in response as he lifted up slightly, lining himself up. You let your legs fall open to the sides, giving him more room as he dipped down, grazing over your folds. 

You let out the breath you’d been holding as he pushed in, moving slow and easy. He held himself up on his hands, which were splayed on the floor above your shoulders to hold you in place. You bit down on your lip, a force of habit.

He grunted above you, moving down to his forearms, rolling his hips as he shifted his weight to one side so he could bring a thumb up, guiding your lip out from under your teeth.

“What’d I just say,” he groaned, a hint of dominance creeping into his tone. You just nodded, overwhelmed as he continued to stretch you out.

“Fuck E,” you moaned, hands coming up onto the skin of his back, nails dragging down. A tiny part of your brain realized it felt weird to be so loud, but the pleasure took over that as you felt everything start to tighten, an overwhelming feeling that you’d become familiar with.

“God, I can feel that,” Ethan breathed, speeding up the roll of his hips, somehow getting even deeper than he already was. “Shit baby, you feel so good.” 

“Don’t stop, please don’t stop,” you whined, pulling him as close as you could, lifting your hips up just barely to meet him. The new angle was electric, just the tiny shift making all the difference, and suddenly your thighs were shaking and you could feel him release, filling you up before he collapsed on top of you. 

“Holy shit,” he breathed, rolling off you smoothly. You were only on your back for a second before his arm wrapped around your shoulder, rolling you over onto him. 

“We’re gonna have to pace ourselves if we’re gonna make it through every room in the house,” you laughed, trying to catch your breath. He ran his fingers over your back, feather light over your spine. 

“Fuckin’ hell, you’re gonna wear me out,” he laughed with you, reaching his other hand up to run through his hair.

“Your fault, you bought a big ass house,” you grinned, squishing your cheek against him, smiling when you heard the rumble of his laughter in his chest.

Eventually, he somehow mustered the energy to get the two of you to your feet and back towards your room, the unspoken agreement that you were done for the night. 

“We should shower,” you mumbled.

“Oh yeah, for sure,” Ethan answered, crawling onto the sheets.

“E! We’re gross!” 

“Totally disgusting,” he agreed, curling up further into the bed. You thought for a moment about trying to drag him to the shower, but it was no use. If he didn’t wanna move, you couldn’t make him - you’d learned that lesson many times.

Instead, you gave in and crawled over to him, peppering kisses on his bare back. “You’re washing the sheets tomorrow.”

“Deal,” he sighed, twisting to wrap you up in his arms before you both fell asleep.

morning one, 9:42am, kitchen

As you did every morning, you headed into the kitchen alone. The wood was cold against your bare feet, sending goosebumps up your legs. You’d thrown on one of E’s shirts out of habit, but skipped the shorts when you remembered that the house was empty aside from a quietly snoring Ethan. 

You made yourself a cup of coffee and turned on the speakers, just loud enough that they might wake Ethan up. The playlist that was just a massive dump of every song the three of you liked started to roll through, and you danced along to it, deciding to make a more complicated breakfast than normal. If there was one thing you could cook, it was breakfast. 

The boys had started to branch out and find more vegan substitutes, so you were happy to find all the ingredients you needed to make vegan breakfast bagels - an egg substitute, vegan cheese, even veggie sausage that would work great. While everything cooked away, you cut up some fruit and sipped at your coffee, getting more and more into the music as it played, especially when your favorite Cudi song came on - the boys had gotten you hooked as soon as you moved in, said it was a ‘house rule’ that you stan Cudi.

Lost in your own little world as you scrambled the ‘eggs’, the poke to your hip made you squeal and almost drop the spatula. You turned and saw E, a goofy close lipped smile on his face.

“What’d you poke me for?” You grinned, getting up on your tiptoes to kiss him good morning. He answered by poking your cheek again, then squeezing it gently between his thumb and his index finger.

“Just makin’ sure you’re real, and that I’m not dreamin’,” he sighed, brushing some hair back from your face, proud of the blush he brought to your cheeks.

“You’re such a simp.” You turned back to the ‘eggs’, cutting off the burner, happy they were done so you could give him your full attention for a few minutes.

“Am not.”

“Are too,” you countered. “Okay maybe not a simp, but definitely a sap. Over here poking me to make sure I’m not a dream,” you teased, but you loved every second of it.

“But you are a dream,” he said in his most dramatic voice, hands going to your waist to guide you away from the stove. With one swift move he spun you around and lifted you up so you were suddenly sitting on the island, now just a hair taller than him.

“I wake up to you, cooking a damn good vegan breakfast in my kitchen, with Cudi on the speakers, in my shirt-” he reached for the hem, moving it slightly up from where it sat on your thighs, obviously expecting shorts. He groaned when he didn’t find any.

Immediately, his hand was coming around to the back of your head, fingers curling in your hair as he pulled you down towards him, lips on yours. Usually his kisses were a bit lazy in the morning, but right now he was more than awake, and you could tell. 

It wasn’t another minute before he was guiding you backwards and you were laying on the counter, cold marble setting all your nerve endings on fire as his fingers hooked into your panties and pulled them down in one swift motion.

He pressed kisses to your thighs, morning scruff tickling your skin as he made his way up, coaxing your legs to open for him. It was on odd sensation being out in the open like this, but you didn’t have the energy to care once his mouth was on you.

“Fucking shit,” you groaned, the sensitivity left from last night elevating things immediately. 

“All good?” He murmured, looking up to you for reassurance. He knew your body almost as well as you did by now, knew you’d be sensitive.

“Yeah, yeah keep going.” You were practically begging for it already and it had only been a few seconds. He started with long, flat tongue licks that he knew would have you squirming, even if he didn’t add a finger like he did.

“Jesus E, fuck,” you whimpered, fingers grasping at the smooth counter, desperate to find something to hold onto as he worked you over. He just hummed against you, satisfied that you were being vocal and adding to the sensation all at the same time. 

His tongue moved up to your clit and you gasped, sitting up slightly and grabbing at his head, fingers trying to find purchase in his short hair. It didn’t faze him in the slightest and he continued his work, knowing you were close.

“Fuck, fuck fuck fuck,” you squeaked, body tensing up and then relaxing all at once, causing you to collapse back onto the counter. You barely had enough left in you to make sure that your head didn’t hit the marble. 

“Well, kitchen can get checked off,” he breathed, pressing kisses to your skin as you tried to settle back down. After a few moments he helped you sit up, leaving you to relax while he picked up where you left off with breakfast as if nothing had just happened. That was one of your favorite things about Ethan - he was a giver, through and through, and he never did anything to get something in return.

But that didn’t mean you weren’t going to repay the favor.

“You are getting the best head of your life later, so prepare yourself.” You tried to stay serious, but your voice was still a bit breathless as you came up beside him. 

“Like I said. Absolute. Dream. My fuckin’ girl,” he smiled, reaching a hand around to cup your ass and pull you up against his side as he continued to cook. 

evening one, 6:33pm, the laundry room

You watched him put the blue liquid into the washer, filling up the little cap and putting it into the little container on the right side. You weren’t sure why, but watching Ethan do domestic shit was one of the hottest things to you. 

“Did you just put fabric softener in with the sheets?”

“Of course I did,” he responded with a smirk. 

“Absolute. Dream. My fuckin’ guy.” You quoted him from earlier with a smug grin, moving from where you were watching in the doorway to right beside him. The washer started to hum, filling up with water as you spun him around so his back was against it.

“Oh?” He quirked an eyebrow, looking at you in surprise - you weren’t usually the one to initiate things, not because you didn’t want to, but because Ethan usually beat you to the punch.

You didn’t answer. Instead, you pulled on the waistband of his shorts and briefs, reaching down to find his cock, which was already rising to your attention.

“Laundry huh? That’s what does it for you?” Ethan said, trying to seem unaffected, but his breath was already catching in his throat. He always got very overwhelmed when you took care of him like this - he was so used to being the giver, sometimes he wasn’t exactly sure what to do as the receiver. 

“Shhh, just relax. I told you to prepare for this, remember?” You teased, getting up on your tip toes to kiss him while you pushed his shorts and briefs down. They pooled around his feet and you followed them, sinking to your knees.

“Fucking shit.” He breathed it out, barely audible over the machinery behind him that he started to brace on as you took him in your mouth. 

You just hummed as you worked him over, knowing exactly where to get him weak in the knees. He liked slow, long strokes at first, but you surprised him by coming up to cup his balls, rolling them in your hand.

“Oh fuckkkk,” he whined, thigh twitching and hand coming down to your hair. His fingers tangled in it and you didn’t ease up at all, knowing you were about to get him right where you wanted him. 

You backed off for just a second, just to see his reaction as you looked up at him. His eyes had been closed for a bit, knuckles white as he gripped onto the washer. But with the loss of contact they flew open, just as you wanted them to.

With his eyes on you, you grabbed onto his hips, opening wide and taking him as far down your throat as you could. You fought the urge to gag, grinning a bit when his hips stuttered and his breath hitched. He even bent over slightly, body unsure of how to handle feeling so good. 

He wasn’t even forming words anymore when you started to suck again, paying special attention to the vein that ran along the side as he practically came undone.

When your hand came back up to his balls, he was done for. He came quickly, and you let it slide down your throat, leaving him in your mouth until he guided you off. 

You stood up proudly, wiping the corner of your mouth with your shirt while you waited for him to catch his breath. 

“You are incredible,” were the words he chose, boosting your ego and making you blush all at the same time. 

But you didn’t get a chance to respond, because suddenly he was bending down, your hips colliding with his shoulder as he scooped you up, grabbing onto your legs as he stood up.

“Ethan!” You squealed, bracing your hands on his lower back to hold yourself up. “Your ass is literally in my face.”

“You love it,” he teased, reaching up to give an easy slap to yours, making you  squeak as he headed to the next room.

evening one, 7:07pm, guest bathroom

He didn’t even sit you down - he just waltzed right into the shower, opening the glass door and turning on the water. 

“Cold, cold cold cold!” You gasped as the water ran over your back, hitting your shirt and soaking the fabric through. 

He didn’t react to the water - he only squatted down so he could put you on your feet, hands immediately going to your waist to push you up against the wall. The water was starting to warm up, but the tile was so cold that it still took your breath. 

It wasn’t helping that Ethan’s touch was making you feel like your skin was on fire, flushed and warm as he bent down slightly to catch your nipple in his mouth through your shirt. You moaned at that, back arching off the tiles when he nipped at it with his teeth. 

“Not supposed to shower with clothes on,” you whimpered, already overwhelmed by just his hands on you.

“Not gonna shower, don’t even have soap in here. Christening, remember?” He whispered it, barely audible over the sound of the water hitting the floor. You didn’t have to ask his plans - he showed you, one hand moving to cup your core. He groaned when he felt a different kind of wet.

“All this, just from sucking my cock huh? Don’t deserve you, truly,” he grinned, hand coming up to the waist of your panties and yanking. The fabric tore, making you gasp.

Somehow, Ethan was already impossibly hard again, ready for another round. He pinned your hips back against the wall, foot pushing your legs just a little wider so he could line himself up. He pushed up in one swift stroke, stretching you out yet again. Somehow, it was even better than the day before, and you were so lost in the bliss you barely felt him pull your shirt over your head, leaving you completely naked.

“Fuck E, feels so good,” you moaned, arms going around his neck as he started his rhythm, deliciously slow yet fast enough at the same time. Only he could fuck you like this, you were sure.

“Tell me how good baby, tell me how I make you feel,” he urged, hands moving to the tiles behind your head as he thrust into you, grunts and groans falling from his lips with every move.

“So good E, so fuckin’ good baby, you’re so deep, fuck,” you let the words tumble out, not thinking twice about them. When he leaned in to kiss you it made you clench all over and he hissed against your lips at the feeling.

“So tight for me baby girl, fuck, my fuckin’ pussy.” The mixture of his groans and the filth coming out of his mouth was enough for you to get yourself right to the edge.

He felt it, felt you lift up on your tiptoes, felt your walls tighten and start to flutter. He reached between you, fingers finding your clit just in time. He rubbed quickly, causing you to stop breathing as every muscle in your body tensed and then you were shaking, so hard your teeth chattered. If his dick wasn’t still inside you you probably would have sunk to the ground. 

He pulled out of you as soon as you were done, leaving you feeling entirely empty. You watched with hazy eyes as he turned off the water. 

He came back over to you, strong arms wrapping you up and lifting you with ease, even with your skin slick from the water. You let him do whatever he wanted, just relaxing into his shoulder as he carried you out of the shower with your legs wrapped around his waist.

“We’re gonna make a mess on the floor,” you mumbled, watching the water fall off his body and drip onto the wood.

“Shhh, it’s fine,” he reassured you, pressing a kiss to your shoulder as he started to walk towards your room. You couldn’t help but feel that he was still hard, practically throbbing below your entrance as he carried you. 

“Where we goin’?” You asked quietly, sitting up. 

“Our room.”

“No repeats, remember?” you mumbled. “Put me down.” 

He did as you asked, but there was already concern written all over his face. He kept a hand on you as you wobbled slightly, knees still a bit weak.

“Baby, you don’t have to-”

You just took his hand.

night two, 7:30pm, living room one

“Sit down,” you instructed him, pulling him towards the couch. He plopped down on the gray fabric - you knew there would be a wet patch there when you all were done, but you didn’t care. 

Before you could say anything else, he reached out, hand on your thigh, thumb rubbing over the skin.

“Sweetheart, it’s okay if you’re not up for it. Really, I mean it. The whole christening thing is just for fun.” His voice was so soft - he was obviously worried that you were overdoing it. After all, you did have a history of being too sensitive for so many rounds in a row; Ethan always took it as a compliment. 

But now, you were somehow still horny, and you knew he was painfully hard, especially since it was his second go round. So, you decided to prove to him that you were perfectly fine, leaning over, hands going to his thighs as you got in his face.

“Are you trying to convince me not to sit on your dick right now?” You said it slowly, drawing out your words. “Do you not want me to ride you?”

You actually watched him swallow, and he shook his head like a school boy being scolded. 

“That’s what I thought,” you grinned, climbing onto his lap.

You wasted no time, bracing yourself on his shoulder so you could lift up and sink down onto him. There was barely a stretch this time, and you were glad, because you could immediately start up the pace you wanted. You went to your knees so he’d stay deep inside as you started to roll your hips like you knew he loved.

“Shit,” he choked out, hands moving to your ass, squeezing the flesh there as you leaned forward, adding a bit of a bounce to your movements - having your tits in his face was just a bonus.

“Not gonna last, fuck baby, just like that.” The words disappeared into your skin as he buried his face in your neck while you kept moving. Wanting to see his face, you tugged on his hair until his head came back up and you could kiss him.

His hands were desperate, wandering all over your skin as he tried to keep it together, lips rough against yours. It took so much focus for you to keep your pace as your own orgasm started to build, especially when you felt Ethan rising up to meet you, trying to get impossibly deeper.

“C’mon baby, cum for me.” You didn’t care that it had only been a few minutes - you knew he was so close, you could feel it.

He groaned at your words, and you gasped as his hands came to your hips, actually lifting you slightly just so he could pound into you harder. And just that slight shift of angle was enough to build you up in just a few strokes, and suddenly you were cumming with him, seeing stars as your body tried to process the third major orgasm of the day.

“Holy shit,” was all Ethan could say once he caught his breath. You were still speechless, body totally spent as you just sat there, exhausted. “Three in one day, that’s a lot for you,” he praised, pressing kisses to your temple. “My pretty girl is all fucked out huh?”

“Mmmm,” was your only response, and even you didn’t know what it was supposed to mean. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he said, moving so he could stand up. He shifted inside you, making you whimper until he was able to lift you off of him. He mumbled an apology, hands coming around to your ass to hold you up. You rested your cheek on his shoulder as he carried you back to your room. 

Ten minutes later and the bathtub was full with hot water, waiting for you as you rinsed off in the shower first, deciding your hair desperately needed washing. Ethan watched you through the glass door as he waited in the water for you, soft smile spreading across his face when you finished up and headed to join him, limbs heavy.

He sat up to help you step into the massive white tub, immediately wrapping his arms around you as you settled back against his chest.

“You remember how you said we needed to pace ourselves?” He murmured in your ear. “Well, we only have two rooms left. We’re beasts.”

“What’s gonna happen when we have our own house? We could do this every weekend,” You teased, twisting around so you could rest your cheek on his shoulder, pressing a few kisses to his neck and collarbone.

“Do you want our own place?” 

You thought on it for a moment, as much as your blissed out haze would let you. “Not for a while. I like living with Gray.”

“Wait. If we didn’t live with Gray, would you just walk around with no pants on all the time?” The seriousness of his tone made you giggle.

“Probably,” you shrugged.

“That’s it, we’re moving, I’m getting on Zillow right now-” he sat up slightly as if he was going to get out of the tub, making you laugh and cling onto him.

“Stop, you know you love living with your brother. You miss him already and it’s only been like a day.”

He sighed, chest rising below you. “You’ve kept me plenty distracted.” But you both knew that you were right.

morning three, 10am, office

Your second whole day at home alone was so... soft. There was no other way to put it. You’d woken up on your own time, thrown on some comfy clothes and went together to your favorite vegan bakery, getting lattes and the best banana bread.

E had driven you up to a lookout and you’d had breakfast together watching the waves crash on the coast. And when you got home, you spent the whole day just moseying around the house, dancing around to the music on the speakers, playing cards, cuddling on the couch and watching movies. 

“Can’t wait till this is us in our house with a few little mini you’s running around,” Ethan had said, pulling you closer to him on the couch.

“Mini me’s? Why not mini you’s?” 

“Oh god, I wouldn’t wish a mini me on anybody, just ask Li,” he’d teased back. And the night had devolved into the two of you talking about what you thought your lives would look like in the future - living either in Jersey or LA, but definitely with Grayson as a neighbor. Two or three kids running around, not too far apart in age. You could picture it all in your head so clearly, and it had even seeped into your dreams later that night when you fell asleep on Ethan’s chest.

So when you woke up on the third morning, you pouted a bit when you didn’t find Ethan beside you in bed. You climbed out from under the covers, rubbing the sleep from your eyes and going in search of him - you wanted to tell him about the little mini-him’s you’d dreamed about, and how cute they were. You checked each room as you went along, finally hearing his voice and peeking into the office. 

He was spinning slightly in the office chair, cell phone pressed to his ear.

“Yeah, I think that’s fine. If we restock in July, then we should have enough time to get enough surplus built up before the holidays.” He caught sight of you then, face lighting up. He waved you in, wanting you to join him. 

You could hear the voice on the other side of the line as you got closer, and recognized it as Nathan, one of the main product managers for Wakeheart. He’d made sure not to plan any meetings for the days you had the house to yourself, giving himself a ‘mini-vacation’, but you knew he couldn’t stay away from work that long. You didn’t mind - his ambition was one of your favorite things about him.

So you simply headed over to settle onto his lap, nuzzling up into his neck as you straddled one of his thighs and cuddled up. 

He pulled the phone away from his ear for just a moment, turning his head to kiss you good morning.

“Do you think we should make a holiday line? Grayson and I were talking about it, or we could just run some specific packaging deals, with mini’s or something.” He kept talking, spinning about 45 degrees in the chair and then back again, using his foot to move him.

What he didn’t realize was that just that movement was making your core shift on his wide thigh, and your thin panties weren’t doing anything to help the situation.

You still had a bit of residual sensitivity, but it didn’t hurt - now it just made it that much easier to get turned on. You tried to ignore it for a minute - Ethan always took his work so seriously, and you really didn’t want to interrupt. 

But soon it was too obvious - you knew that if he didn’t already feel the wetness on his skin, he was going to soon. Almost against your own will your hips started to move just slightly, desperate for any type of friction across your throbbing core. 

And of course, Ethan noticed. You sat up, trying to get a new angle and his eyes were blown wide, mouth actually hanging open slightly because holy shit, you were actually riding his thigh while he was on a business call. 

With a devious grin, he bounced his leg once, and you squeaked so loud that you had no doubt that Nathan heard it. Your hands immediately went up to cover your mouth, cheeks bright red in embarrassment. 

“Just my floor, sorry. What’d you say?” He played it off, pressing a finger to your lips and still smirking at you as you started to grind again, one hand going to his shoulder, the other bracing against his right thigh to give you leverage. 

“Yeah, we could do two separate mini bundles, with one set for enterlight and the other with the signatures, maybe spruce it up with some festive packaging.” His voice was devilishly calm, and somehow that only turned you on more. The fact that he could be so unaffected by you literally getting off just using his leg had your skin flushed and hot, a mixture of embarrassment and want. 

“We’ll have to run it past Gray once he’s back. Right now it’s just me and my girl at the house, Sterling isn’t even here, so it’s just us.” His eyes were on you, but you didn’t realize how intensely he was watching you until he brought his other hand up to grab your jaw, tilting your head back until you had no option but to stare directly at him. 

You bit down on your lip hard, fighting with yourself to stay quiet as you worked yourself up, moving fast, the chair starting to creak just barely with your movements. A few whimpers still slipped past your lips and you could actually see his pupils blow wide at the sound. 

“Yeah, uh, actually Nathan I think Y/N needs me for... something. Can we finish this up later?” There was a slight gruff to his voice now, the first real sign that any of this was getting to him. “Alright, talk soon. Bye.”

His phone hit the desk hard as he practically dropped it, both hands moving to your hips as his mood turned on a dime.

“God you drive me insane baby. Don’t know what’s gotten into you lately but I love it,” he groaned, gripping onto your hips as you continued to move, so lost in the feeling that you barely even heard his words.

“Fuck Ethan, I’m close, I’m so fuckin close,” you breathed, digging your nails into his shoulder hard enough to make him suck in a breath through his teeth.

“There you go baby girl, c’mon, get yourself off on my leg, c’mon, you’re almost there,” he encouraged you, starting to barely bounce his leg to give you that extra little bit of friction you needed.

“Fuck, fuck fuck fu-” your breath caught in your throat, cutting off your words as your whole body tensed up, thighs closing together to squeeze around his as your toes came off the ground and every muscle in your legs started to shake. It rolled through you in waves, keeping you tensed up for almost 30 seconds before you were finally able to breathe. You gulped down the air you’d been missing, collapsing forward onto Ethan’s chest as his arms wove around you. 

“Woah. That was a good one huh?” His voice is soft as he rubs up and down your back as you caught your breath. “If you needed me, all you had to do was ask.”  

“Was just comin’ to tell you about my dream,” you stood up, moving to close your legs and sit on his lap sideways instead, too sensitive to stay like you had been. 

“Oh yeah? And what did my girl dream about, hmm?”

You launched into the story, talking about how the two of you had a daughter and son, both with dark curls like Ethan’s that bounced around while they played in the treehouse that Grayson had built for their kids to share. 

“It really sent the baby fever into overdrive,” you sighed, tracing over his collarbone tattoo as you finished.

“You know,” he leaned down, getting closer to your ear. “If you want a baby, you gotta at least give me a chance to get my dick in you.” 

“Stopppp,” you blushed, burying your face in his neck. He just laughed.

“Oh so now you’re gonna get bashful on me huh? Just came in here and rode my thigh into oblivion while I was on a business call, but me mentioning putting a baby in you, oh no, that crosses the line.” 

You sat up and pouted at his teasing, but he just kissed it right off your lips with a laugh. “You know I love it, don’t be embarrassed.” 

afternoon four, 3:32pm, dining room

“Babe, c’mon, if we’re late Gray’s gonna be pissed,” you called out, grabbing Grayson’s water bottle from the counter and filling it up - you were always thirsty after a long flight, and you figured he’d appreciate the gesture.

Ethan came around the corner then, taking one look at you and immediately turning around with a groan, heading back to your room.

“E!”

“You’re wearing that? You don’t even have a shred of mercy for me, do you?” He was exasperated as soon as he came back into the kitchen.

You looked down at yourself - you just had on a sundress, it was no big deal.

“What do you mean?!”

“I’m already trying to get over the fact that you’re gonna start wearing pants again all the time and you’re out here looking all... all tempty,” he pouted, and you couldn’t hold back your laugh.

“Tempty? That’s a new one. And hey, technically I still don’t have on pants,” you offered, quirking an eyebrow. 

“Is that supposed to be helpful right now?” He asked, making you realize that pointing out the fact that your were in a dress probably wasn’t helping the already growing bulge in his pants.

With devious eyes, he glanced over at the clock. You had a few minutes to spare before you absolutely had to leave to avoid being late, and he knew it too.

“Ethan... no. No,” you cautioned as he started to walk towards you, but you were laughing at the fact he looked like a cat on the prowl.

“C’mon, we never finished our christening! All we have left is the dining room! You know I hate giving up.” He was pouting again, even sticking his bottom lip out as he kept walking and you backed up until you bumped into the wooden table. 

“We’re gonna be late,” was your last possible defense, and even that was half assed. You were already wet god dammit, all he had to do was look at you.

“Please baby? We’ll be quick, I promise.” 

You answer by turning around, bending over and reaching back to flick your dress up over your ass. His knees almost give out at the sight.

“Absolute.” He leaned down and presses a kiss to your left asscheek. “Dream.” He kissed the other, making you laugh.

“Thought we were gonna be quick,” you teased, secretly loving all the attention. As excited as you were to see Grayson, you sure as hell were gonna miss this.

“So greedy,” he chuckled, moving up to catch your thong with his fingers and pull it down to your knees. You heard the rustle of him getting his shorts down, and a gentle tap at your slit with his tip was your only warning before he pushed himself in.

“Fuckin’ shit baby,” you croaked, hands balling into fists at the sensation. You weren’t sure how it felt so good to be stretched out so nicely - surely you’d get used to it eventually, but you secretly hoped you never did. 

“Hmm, feels nice huh? You feel so good every damn time,” he praised, hands squeezing at your ass as he pulled out to the tip before thrusting back in. “Always so soft for me.” He was lazily rolling his hips, giving you just enough to get you worked up but not enough to get you there.

“Fast Ethan. We’re going for fast,” you reminded him, a bit of sass creeping into your tone. You didn’t want to deal with a cranky post-travel Grayson if you were late.

He stilled his movement entirely, leaning forward to nip at your ear. 

“You asked for it.” 

And then he was moving, pulling your hips so he could slam into you fully, only letting go to reach around and rub at your clit, making your whole body tense up at the sudden change in pace.

“Fuck yes Ethan, fuck just like that, yes, yes yes yes,” you whimpered, a hand even coming to smack at the wood on the table as you tried to process all the sensation happening so quickly. 

“Already tightening up, look at you.” His breathing was already labored as he continued pounding into you, grunting with the force of it. Neither of you were going to last long, it felt too good. “C’mon baby, wanna feel it. Cum for me, I know you’re close.”

You brought one hand down over his, guiding him to just the right spot over your clit, the callouses on his finger giving you just the right friction that had you tumbling over the edge. 

You collapsed onto the table with the force of the orgasm, smiling when you felt Ethan chasing his own high and spilling into you only a few moment later, only your name falling from his lips. 

It took a few minutes for you to calm down, and then you were waddling off to the bathroom to clean yourself up quickly before pulling your panties back up. Ethan watched you with a smug smirk as you tried to walk normally, his ego bursting.

“Shut it,” you threatened, pointing a finger at him. “This is your fault.”

“I said nothing.” But his smirk was enough. “Better get that figured out before we get Grayson, or he’ll never let us live it down,” he grinned, offering you his arm as you rearranged your dress and let him lead you out to the car. 

40 minutes later and you were climbing out of the car, legs not giving too much away as you watched Ethan run around the car and engulf his twin in the biggest hug, both of them more than ecstatic to see each other.

“Missed you bro,” Grayson smiled, looking over at you. “Missed you too munch,” he said, throwing out the nickname that only he was allowed to call you. Once Ethan let him go he moved over to you, giving you the biggest bear hug and spinning you around. Ethan reacted before you did, reaching a hand out to keep your dress down in the wind.

“Woah, easy, that’s only for my eyes,” Ethan huffed, pulling you to his side once you were back on your feet.

“Righttt, I forgot. But hey, I’m home now, so you’re gonna have to start wearing pants around the house again. Sorry to ruin the no-pants party,” Grayson smirked, watching the blush spread across your cheeks as you whirled on Ethan.

“You told him?” You squeaked, embarrassment running through you from head to toe.

“Thanks bro, real fuckin’ nice,” Ethan said over your head before looking at you. “That’s the only thing I told him, I swear.” 

“You’re so dead,” you narrowed your eyes at him, and he knew he was in for it later.

“Ahh, so nice to be home,” Grayson grinned, wrapping you both up in a hug as he laughed.

-----

SORRY this took so long guys. also if u love me u should message me which room was your favorite just for fun haha thank you for reading, ily guys!

[sunshinejins]

if i was dying on my knees (you’d be the one to rescue me)

(title from brother by kodaline)

so, hi!  jatp has reignited my desire to write again and this time i think i might actually finish a whole fic.  so uh, here it is :) please let me know if you like it, I’ll hopefully update asap, but i’m in uni so asap may be in like two weeks.  unless people really like it.  then, probably sooner lmao.

pairing: julie molina x luke patterson

fandom: julie and the phantoms

warnings: death bc rose, and i swear once but other than that i think nothing else?

Julie didn’t want to be frustrated, she really didn’t.  In fact, she wanted to be sad, mourning, depressed, or literally anything other than slightly pissed off all the time.  It’s incredibly exhausting to be angry all the time, and she felt like being sad would at least give her blood a break from simmering.

But her mom died.  And apparently her body only knows how to process grief by developing a rather annoying tendency to be irritated constantly.

She tries to forget it though.  Instead of wallowing in the negative feelings that cloud her family in the months following Rose Molina’s death, she throws herself into distractions.  She gets a job at a coffee shop near the USC campus and puts almost all her effort into becoming a top employee.  Her grades don’t drop because thankfully her professors seemed to all inherently understand that she just couldn’t sing anymore.  Like at all.

The world kept spinning.  Julie could only hope to hold on.

That’s how she ended up, six months later, complaining over a milk frother about her very well-intentioned best friend to the only person she knew would listen.

“Flynn just doesn’t understand,” Julie moans, shutting off the machine and dumping the contents unceremoniously into a to-go cup.  Her coworker, Allison, raises an eyebrow and swipes a rag at the milk spill that pools under the cup.

“Did she try to get you to sing again?”

“Surprise karaoke night with her girlfriend and a couple kids from class.  Her intentions were pure though so I don’t even know why I’m upset.” Julie shoves a lid onto the cup and slides it across the counter to a pre-occupied businessman who doesn’t notice the extra milk soaked into the bottom.  Allison nods thoughtfully and starts dumping coffee beans into the espresso machine.  Julie watches her with slight awe.  Allison was one of those people that terrified Julie when she met her; everything about her felt polished and put together down to the blunt cut of her pale blonde hair and the curve of her smirk when she smiled.  Soon enough, Julie discovered that she was as warm as any of her other friends, but it had taken a lot of closing shifts and smoothie runs to come to that conclusion.

Allison sets down the bag of coffee beans and gives Julie one of her solemn looks; it’s the sort of look where Julie thinks Allison could probably read her mind if she tried hard enough.

“Maybe they’re going about it wrong.  You haven’t been around music properly in what?  A year?  What if you just need to sit and listen to music again to just get you used to the environment?” Julie thinks for a moment.  Allison raises a fair point, and it’s the complete opposite tactic that everyone else has been trying, which has been to shove music in front of her to sing and give her expectant and hopeful looks. It’s a trial run.  Something casual.

“Where would I go?” Allison smiles a bit and passes Julie a container of oat milk to put away.

“There’s a bar off Sunset that’s hosting an open mic tonight.  Very relaxed and casual vibes.  I could pick you up from your apartment and take you.  We haven’t hung out since that movie night a while ago.”  Julie hesitates.  It’s not that she’s opposed to spending a night with Allison, but a small part of her feels like she’s cheating on her current circle of emotional support humans by agreeing to go. Not that her dad or Carlos or Tia would mind, but Flynn would possibly take offence and that alone stalled Julie for longer than she realized. Allison clocks the look on her face and amends the statement.

“Flynn is obviously welcome too.”

A mind reader, Julie swears. 

“Hell yeah. Let’s do this.”

***

Julie’s feeling significantly less optimistic when Allison’s car has been driven away by the valet and herself, Flynn, and Allison are all standing in line outside the club. Julie can feel the bass of the songs playing more than she can hear them, but the proximity of music is enough to make her palms sweat. Other than the music the coffee shop plays and the strains of country she hears through Carlos’ wall, Julie hasn’t heard proper music since Tia Victoria sang “Amazing Grace” for her mother’s funeral. Flynn notices her nervous look. 

“Chill, Jules. It’s all very chill. We’re just gonna listen to a couple bands.” 

“Flynn’s right. And if at any point you want to bail, we can go get soft pretzels.” 

“But we should try and stay for the whole thing!”

“However, we’re also going to respect you if you can’t do that,” Allison punctuates this sentence with a meaningful eyebrow raise and Flynn nods vigorously. Julie swallows and tries to mimic the courage she had a few hours ago.  The bartender scrutinizes their IDs for a moment before allowing them to sweep into the bar and Julie’s jaw nearly drops at the volume of people contained inside.  Nearly every seat is filled, and the standing areas are packed with people all jamming to the band onstage that’s currently playing what Julie has to admit is a pretty kick ass cover of “Somebody Told Me” by The Killers.  

Allison somehow discovers a table near the edge of the bar, and disappears off to get them drinks.  Flynn’s rocking out already, and Julie feels a few of the nerves in her stomach even out as the realization that she doesn’t have to sing sinks into her bones.  Allison was right, unsurprisingly.  If she focuses hard enough, she can even push out the memories of coming to these sorts of open nights with her mom.  Flynn shoots her a large and grateful grin and Julie lets herself smile back.  She’s taking a step.  She’s doing it.

Allison returns as the band switches and a new band begins to play a hyped up cover of “Africa” by Toto.  The three girls lapse into quiet appreciation of the music, with Flynn singing along to every song played, Allison bobbing her head to herself and occasionally letting out a few notes in her vocal range, and Julie just quietly appreciating the fact that she doesn’t feel like throwing up.

It’s all very casual, just like her friends said.

Until it’s not.

As the third band of the night begins their last song, Julie retreats to find the bathroom.  It’s hidden nearly backstage, and she’s just about to make it to the door when she hears the panicked shouts of someone from near the curtain which separates the small backstage from the actual performing area.

“Dude, I cannot believe he bailed on us.”

“Are you really surprised?  Bobby was a piece of shit.”

“Hey, he didn’t use to be!”

“Calm down, Reg.  You know he’s been treating us like garbage ever since that record label thought he had a ‘marketable voice’ or whatever they said.”

“Guys he bailed on us, what are we supposed to do?”

Julie, despite all the “stranger danger” lessons running through her brain, backed up far enough to see into the backstage area.  Three guys stood there, two with a guitar and a bass each and one with drumsticks he was nervously twirling.  The one with the guitar had his face buried in his hands and kept swearing heavily under his breath.  The other two seemed frozen in their own panic as well.  Guitar Player removed his hands from his face and Julie caught a glimpse of worried hazel eyes and dark curls.  Bass Player opened his arms and Guitar Player tumbled into them for a hug while Drum Player rubbed his back.  The three guys looked absolutely wrecked.

Here’s the thing: Julie had an uncontrollable urge to help people.  It’s how she got roped into half of Flynn’s schemes, how she ended up teaching Carlos all of his second grade science curriculum herself, and how she somehow became the unofficial backbone of her family after her mom died.  Seeing three guys utterly wrecked because, presumably, their fourth bandmate had bailed on them?  It activated that uncontrollable urge deep in her stomach.

Here’s another thing: Julie hasn’t played music or sang in six months.  She’s had no desire to, and every time she’s tried, the distinct urge to throw up overtook her.  Tonight was supposed to be the baby step that showed her whether or not music was something she could seriously consider again; whether or not she could feel that itch to perform anymore.

“Hey, do you guys need a fourth?”

She felt the itch.  

The three guys looked up in varying levels of shock.  Drum Player recovered first, and stepped towards her hesitantly, wringing his pink hoodie as he did.

“Um, what?”

“It sounded like someone bailed on you.  I can play.  If you need it.”  Guitar Player recovers next and nearly bounds over to her in barely contained excitement.

“You can play rhythm guitar?”

“No,” the three boys deflate, “I can play piano though.”  Guitar Player tilts his head to the side as though playing a melody through in his head.  He turns back to the other two.

“Bright could fit piano.”

“We never wrote the music for a piano component,” Drum Player wrinkles his nose.

“I did,” Guitar Player admits.  The other two don’t look phased, though Bass Player does raise an eyebrow.  “I was bored!”

“Okay, but we don’t want to put you out,” Drum Player turns back to Julie and she swallows.  

“No, I offered.  Let me see the music.”

“Okay, but you have like ten minutes!” Bass Player finally chips in with a surprisingly cheerful tone.  Guitar Player hands Julie what looks like a piece of notebook paper and her eyes skim the words and notes.  It’s feasible for sure, but she can feel the nerves prickling at her stomach.  Guitar Player leans into her space and she clocks how ridiculously attractive he is up close.  He gives her a smile.

“We alternative verses like this, see?  And I don’t know your range, but we can figure that out on the go.”  Julie gives him a small smile.

“Somewhere between mezzo-soprano and soprano.”

“We can work with that.” Guitar Player seems to vibrate with energy.  “Are you sure you wanna do this?”

“No pressure,” Bass Player adds.

“Like seriously, none.  We can just go home and cry,” Drum Player says.  Julie isn’t sure.  She really isn’t.  In fact, she’s pretty sure she should just run away and hope she never sees these guys again.

“I’m sure.”

Well, that’s that.

Guitar Player sends her a smile that looks genuinely like someone has funnelled sunlight into his body and Julie feels the nerves lift for half a second.  Then, they’re called to the stage and all of a sudden she feels like she could puke all over again.  Guitar Player grabs her hand and squeezes it.

“You got this.”

Julie files out with the rest of the band and she’s extremely grateful her friends aren’t sitting in her direct line of sight.  The piano is definitely worn out from use, but her fingers settle naturally on the keys and Julie tries to focus on the budding itch to perform in her stomach rather than the urge to throw up.  She’s supposed to start this song.  This song that she became aware of ten minutes earlier.  She catches Guitar Player’s eye and he nods encouragingly.

She presses down on the keys and opens her mouth. 

Sometimes I think I'm falling down

I wanna cry, I'm calling out

For one more try to feel alive

And when I feel lost and alone

I know that I can make it home

Fight through the dark and find the spark

[jonah-aesthetic]

That One pt. 4 I Jonah Marais

Jonah Marais X Reader / Ivette X Daniel Seavey

Plot: Jonah escorts the reader to the gala finding out the pull to her wasn’t one sided.  

Word count: 6.0k+

Author’s Note: I really struggled with this piece but I got her done! It’s been almost two weeks and I’m happy I got it finished. The piece is a whole roller coaster so enjoy!

Rating: 16+

One Two Three 

--------

The sapphire dress was pulling tight around the small of your waist to your bust. The sleeves were circling your upper arms and resting just below your shoulders. The skirt of your gown flared at your hips lightly and continued to cascade upon the floor. There was a slit in the left side of the blue skirt reaching your high thigh.

Most of the day was spent with Ivette pampering yourselves for the gala that was taking place tonight. When you both came back Ivette’s entire team had been waiting in the den impatiently. Caroline a blonde stylist rolled her racks of shoes and jewellery. Aurora a brown skinned British hair stylist with a curling wand glued to her waist. Gamila an Arabic Makeup artist itching to use her brushes. 

Together they made an incredible team and you knew why Ivette always picked them for her events. Aurora respected your request for a simple hair style and only vaguely curled it into soft loops. Gamila created a stunning blue cut crease smokey eye look that colour matched your gown. Caroline picked silver heels that went with your gown like a perfect combination. 

The wounds on the tops of your feet had officially healed perfectly into light scars. You were now ready to slip into a pair of heels without wincing in pain. Just in time for the gala. 

Staring at yourself in the body length mirror resting in Ivette’s bedroom. You could hear the fashion team bonding out in the den as if they did projects together often. It blew you away at how they could make you look like a Richie in a few hours of work. You didn’t know if you enjoyed the view or despised it.

You watch your best friend’s head pop in pass the door frame. A proud smile stretching onto her red lips, “He picked a good dress, fits you like a second skin.” Her voice light as she came into the room hands resting behind her back out of view. Her black gown flowing around her body like the damn dress was made of her. Scratch that the dress was definitely made for her.

“I knew Daniel was a scheming little devil, but you? I trusted you.” You playfully narrow your eyes at her in fake accusation. She shrugs and the gown follows the movement. It was parallel to her personality, a stunning jet black gown. A deep ‘V’ neck ran down the front and kissed the waist band. Revealing the curves of both her breasts, and circled her shoulder into a long sleeve. The skirt of the gown flared and parted in the middle, the slit reaching her thighs.

“Just give him a chance he’s a good guy.” You turned around and faced her, taking a step back not realised how close she was.

“I’ll think about it as soon you stop doubt Mr. Drummer.” Her face falls at that,

“I brought a gift.” Her voice optimistic as Ivette steered from the topic of the man in question.

“I know. Did you really think I didn’t notice your hands hiding behind your back the entire time you’ve been in here?”

“It was worth a try.” She playfully says pulling her hands front behind her. A dainty crown immersed in diamonds sat into the palms of her hands. Your heart beamed recognising the head piece instantly wanting to melt in the presence of it.

“It’s a replica of the crown Harlow Reed wears in the book to movie adaptation of The Redemption Of The Wolf. This gala is the closest thing to ball and I don’t think you’d be complete without this.” Ivette’s eyes were hopeful as she offers the crown to you.

Your hands were claps to your lips holding the excited shock you wanted to let out. The chilling accuracy of the diamond placement and the detailing in the swirls. Almost made your blood run cold, you could’ve swore this was the exact crown Mavren gave Harlow as a piece offering.

“How much was that?” Were the first words to spill from your tongue. Ivette gives you a bored look saying ‘Really I’m offering a prop from your favourite book series. And that’s what you ask?’

“Come nerd, Aurora is itching to thread it into your hair.” Ivette links her arm in yours guiding you out of the room. 

-----

The overwhelming aroma of the gala made you excuse yourself from your table, leaving Ivette, Daniel, Jonah, and Corbyn behind. the contents in your stomach was threaten to pass your lips. A tightening sensation pulsed in your abdomen as you reached the most expensive ladies room. The main door blurred out most of the suffocating noise of people.

You rushed for the first open stall, shutting the door you realised it was more of a mini room then a stall. Locking the knob you could finally hear your own breathing letting the sound of it calm you down. It’s been years since your last panic attack. At first it didn’t click in your brain that you were having one. Must of been the reason why Ivette kept asking if you were okay, she knew.

You were laughing and in deep conversation and all of a sudden it dawned on you. The loud noise of many people and the rumble of the music, you began to suffocate in your mind as your body heated at the first sign of panic. The shine of the slowly spinning car in the middle of the room made your breathe quicken and bile raise in your throat.

Back pressing against the door you slid to the floor and paced your breathing pattern. How did Ivette live and survive a life style like this? You couldn’t last a few hours without wanting to throw up and go home.This was a horrible fucking idea, you didn’t belong here with all these high held people who knew they could afford that car without a dent. A car like that would cost your entire life and some.

You wondered if Jonah and Ivette would notice if you slipped out the door and into your bed?

You closed your eyes pretending to wrap your hand around a paint brush and create a new story. It surprisingly helped with negative feelings like this. Wasn’t long before your heart slowed and your body heat regulated. Gathering yourself on your feet you unlocked the door and headed for the sinks. You looked as if you didn’t experience a panic attack on the floor of the bathroom. You were fucking grateful.

Not a single crinkle creased into the skirt of the gown. The crown threaded into your hair never loosened nor was a strand of hair out of place. Ivette was right this was the closet you were going to get to a ball and it was damn close. although you never anticipated your fear reaching the surface. You weren’t Harlow, she was a badass with a dagger and you were....well you. As much as you wanted to be something from a fantasy novel you had to be patient with yourself.

“Not all of us were made for this life.” The sickly sweet voice had you twirling around. Julie stood there wearing a delicate pastel green gown gasping the aesthetic of princess Tiana perfectly. Confidence oozed out of her pores as she took in your entire outfit. “I must say you do look the part, but your expression tells me you’re overwhelmed.” She says watching your vulnerable presence fumble for words.

“Once you’re sucked into this life everyone knows your business. Enjoy the normalcy while you can.” Julie says not letting you grab onto words to share with her. As quick as she came Julie disappeared behind a bathroom door leaving you confused. Was that a threat or a warning.

Shaking the entire encounter away you catch the door handle in your hand. Stepping out you collide with another body, embarrassment gathering in your cheeks you’re about to apologised. But Jonah’s green wolf eyes catch your glance and you sigh. The plan to sneak away without catching their attention flew out the window.

Massive hands rested on your bare shoulders to stead your wobbling form. Familiar warmth bloomed against your skin. Beginning to travel down to your wrists, caressed the wings of your shoulder blades. You fought the instinct to shudder under his comforting touch. Your body reacted to him in such a way you didn’t want to admit.

Concern was carved into his eyebrows. “Are you okay?” His voice was chillingly gentle, Ivette must of told him.

“Yes, I just needed to use the rest room.” You cleared your throat with a forced grin that never reached your ears. “You sure?” He softly pressed with an expression that was unreadable. Sighing in defeat you caved into his gentle presence.

“No, It’s all a little much for me, I’m not cut out for any of this.” You felt frustrated with yourself. As if you didn’t finish something in time when you know you were fully capable of doing it. Angry at yourself for not adapting to this life the way your mind adapted entering a new book world.

“Close your eyes.” He says,

“What!?” You asked a little too loud catching a few eyes. His small command threw you off the train track.

“Close your eyes,” He repeated with a light smile. You stare at him searching for any wrong intention but you come up dry. Maybe it was his soft smile or the way his hands were placed, thumb rubbing comforting circles into your skin. But you comply closing your eyes cutting your vision into the dark trusting him fully.

“Now breathe. Inhale the positive through the nose, exhale the negative through your mouth.”

“Why?” You asked with a small giggle feeling like the exercise was childish.

“Just do it.” Jonah playfully snaps at you making you laugh more, taking the anxious thoughts away.

“Okay.” You say before doing the breathing excise you learned when you were six. You did it once, twice, and a third time. Your brain was calm and content once again and you were perplexed on how a useless calming exercise worked. Or so you believed when your mom told you to use it to chase away the icky bad feelings.

“Take my hand I want you to come with me.” You kept your eyes closed as you felt his hands leave your shoulders. Tracing the warmth down your biceps and down your forearms. Causing you to genuinely smile at the sensation but fought against the shudder your body wanted to make. Softly his hands entered your palms, heat spread like it always seemed to.

“Keep your eyes closed, follow my body.” Before you could respond you felt the muscles in his fingers and hands tense. Gasping lightly Jonah pulled you slowly and your body followed him.

“Good.” He says watching the way your body followed him. Trusting him with everything you had. Faster he pulled you through the ocean of people. A colossal of a function held in the city’s legendary museum, massive rooms connecting with spacious hallways.

With your vision gone your other senses heightened. Your nose drowning in his cinnamon scent. Callouses embedding into his finger tips from the strings of his guitar. You could feel the aroma of other people passing, hearing conversations near and distant.

You clung to Jonah’s arm then knowing he was guiding you through the sea of nightmares. Anxious blood running in your veins then washing  out of your system as him warmth engulfed your whole body.

Jonah’s head strained down to see you nuzzle into the sleeve of his blazer. Crown digging a tiny tear in the fabric, he could care less as a proud smile grazed his lips. “Are you okay?” His voice was dripping in honey, “I am now.” You hold on tighter to him feeling content like this with him as he never once tired to pull away.

It was a small journey to his destination.  You had a hunch he had brought you to the ball room. Delicate music flowed louder and bounced off the halls carrying it back to the centre of the room. The flooring was more slick like butter under your heels a lot different then the other rooms.

You knew Jonah was planning to stop as his muscles strained and weigh sifting in his body. Standing beside him you relied on the movement of him more then anything. He was silent as he grabbed your hand and placed it upon his left shoulder. Seconds later his slender fingers dug into the fabric of your gown and pulled your waist to his.Your body pressed into his fitting like missing pieces from the same puzzle. You let a breathy gasp pass your lips as you felt the shudder work through your body on its own accord.

“Follow my lead.” His voice smooth and deep at the close proximity of you. Words lodged into your throat and all you could do  was nod at his words. Now familiar with the way his muscles strained and shift you fell in sync with him on the first step. Slow pacing into the shape of a diamond. Jonah began to pick up the pace in the same pattern, noticing you syncing with his foot work perfectly.

“Why are my eyes closed?” You asked getting familiar with his body and falling into the melody of the music. “Personal experiment.” He says continuing his dancing pattern. Adding a body circle letting your dress flare with the quick movement.

“And would that be?” You asked feeling his fingers crawl to the middle of your back. Pushing your body further into his causing your breath to hitch. Your arm instinctively wrapped around his neck as your breath began to mingle with his.

“To see how your body reacts to mine with your eyes closed your reaction would be raw and real. because your mind isn’t conscious of who you’re with.”

You’re quiet as Jonah brings you into two ratios of his dance pattern.“Why would you want to know that?”

“I’m drawn to you in a way I cant explain and no matter how much you want  to deny it you are too. Tonight proves it.”  At that pure fact your eyes flick open. Jonah’s immediately connect while fierce passion swam in them. Your face mere inches away from his and you could spot out the things he’d might find as flaw. The crease in the middle of chin, or the way one side of his top lips was bigger. You couldn’t help adore those things.

Dancing in his arms all you could see and feel was him. Unaware of the other couples dancing in one of the most historic ballrooms the world as seen. Taking away the fact Jonah wrote you into your own fantasy world.  

Noticing your stare he smirked, green eyes shifting to your lips. Tongue poking out as he began to stare at them like they were the only source of his survival. “It’s rude to stare, Rockstar.” You mumble not sure if you should lean in and bring your lips to his. If you did you had no idea if you would be able to stop, Jonah was right you were drawn to him and you had no fucking idea why.

“Not when it’s you, Princess.” the intimate nickname caused the blood to rush upon your cheeks. You broke eye contact quickly looking at the way your feet chased his on the dance floor. A deep chuckle erupted against his chest and vibrated into yours. “I’ll let it go this time since there happens to be a crown on my head.’ You threaten playfully.

His eyes caught the sight of it in all it’s glory, “You should wear it more often, it fits you perfectly.” The diamonds sparkled into the green rings rounding his pupils. You almost snorted as you asked “Do you really think aimless flirting is getting you anywhere?”

“Usually does. Especially with the professors.” He winks at you teasingly. “God you’re so cheesy it wounds my soul to hear it.” You giggle and watch him beam at the happiness he managed to pull from your soul. Your eyes were brighter in the presence of him and Jonah never failed to notice it.

“Do you trust me?” A sudden question out of the blue,

“Seems like a trick ques-” You yelp as he twirled you a few times, hands still connected over your head. Anxious butterflies enter your stomach at the fast motion. You began to miss the warmth he brought you as if you were always meant to me in Jonah’s arms indefinitely. You giggle as Jonah pulls you back and you're relieved by his cinnamon presence.

“I trust you.”

“I know.”

The rest of the night is spent dancing in his arms, Giggling and feeling genuinely happy for the first time in along time. So distracted in him you both missed the auction. So lost in him that you hadn't noticed the couple danced a few feet away had been Julie with Trey.

------

A few weeks later 

The moon hung high in the night sky as the harsh wind howled against your old windows. The blue glow of the television washed over your sleeping form. Curled like a kitten into the wall until a loud pounding at your door woke you. Mind hazy and confused as you were brought to consciousness. The loud banging started again as you heard a deep slurring voice. “Y/n? Y/n are you home?” 

You almost felt like you were still wandering in dreamland. Who would show up at your dorm in the dead of night drunk out of their mind? Scurrying out of the covers you walked a couple steps to your door, your dorm was the small. Pulling the lock free you turn the knob and open the door. 

Jonah stood in the hallway swaying on the balls of his feet. The bitter scent of alcohol engulfed you. He looked so wasted, a state you’ve never seen him in. you always saw him sober even at parties his frat liked to throw. Crinkles and strains littered his clothing, a rip was torn in the collar of his shirt, blotches of dried blood spotted the light fabric. Eyes dazed as he glanced at you, dark bags weighed under his eyes. Bruises and cuts were spread across his face.  

“Jonah?” You asked beyond shocked, 

“I saw him and I lost it.”  Jonah lazily shrugs losing balance and his shoulder run into the frame of your door. Groaning he continues to lean against it too drunk too hold himself up. “I needed to see you..b-because you’re the only one that-” 

“It’s late Jonah you should go.” You say regretting your words, holding the door you’re about to close it. “Please.” Jonah begs trying to nudge the door with his shoulder. But leans his entire weight against the door instead causing it to fly out of your grip and bang upon the wall. Jonah falls to the floor with a softer then you thought. 

Without thinking you’re at his side helping him to his feet and you wonder how he got into the building. Once he’s onto his feet you guide him slowly to your desk and tell him to sit. He already barged in there was no point on kicking him out now. Shutting the door you flick on the light and your brain scolds you for it. Turning back to him you noticed blood seeping through his shirt on his side. 

“What the hell did you do?” You asked him gently shaking your head as you walk to him. Jonah doesn't say a word as he watches you gather his shirt in your hand. Lifting it you spot a large scrapping wound running up his rib the chest. Dried blood covered his chest not too badly scraped like the side of his rib cage. Blood ran down his side that wasn’t there before. The wound tore open when he face planted to the floor.  

“Take your shirt off I’ll fetched the first aid kit.” You speak to him sternly. “Yes ma’am.” Jonah chuckles darkly in a flirtatious manor and you ignore it. He didn’t have a right to that, not after dodging you like the plague for the last week. 

You could’ve swore Jonah’s chest is something forged by angels. perfect sets of muscles tempted you to drop the aid kit and sit in his lap. A lazy smirk played on his lips and you had to look away, Swallowing the attraction down you forced yourself to focus. 

“I don’t  want to know how you achieved to look like this.” You sitting down on stool and catching the rubbing alcohol from the kit. “I wasn’t planning on telling you.” He pointed and your heart wrenched at his response. 

In silence you drown cotton balls in the liquid and dab it on to his rib. They slightly shrink and expand sharply as he seethes through his teeth. You pull your lips in tight to stop the laugh that wanted to come out. It amused you to see him squirm at your hand. It was short lived as you remembered the situation between to two of you.

“Why are you dodging me like a bullet right now.” The liquid slides down his middle with ease. “I’m not.” He sucks onto his teeth as you work your way through his wound. Disinfecting it like he had that night at Chocolate Spot, taking care of you like no one else ever would. 

“How can you say that when we were..friends or whatever you want to call it. We saw each other every day from dawn to dusk, almost spending every hour together. I accidentally fell asleep in your bed one night with Sawyer when we were watching Cars. We got ice cream every second day cause if we went every day Marcel would cut us off. We walked through the city and you showed me your favourite places. You pushed me to start painting again, I came to your band practise so often Jack started calling me your groupie. “

“Then one day you didn’t answer my text, you weren’t answering my calls either. Daniel was a complete asshole when I dropped by the fraternity house. You stopped getting coffee with me and you never saw the way I progressed with my painting. You abandoned me Jonah, but maybe you’re right that you didn’t.” 

Your focus was surprisingly on the task at hand, not once did you look up at him. If You did you knew you would crumble into the palm of his hand and you were making good process. He was silent as he watched you work through it. You honestly didn’t know what you expected from him but it wasn’t silence.

Just over halfway through his wound and a few cotton balls later is when you felt  your eyes sting. Blinking softly hot tears rolled down your cheeks and you could feel you nose get stuffy. “I’m sorry.” His voice is a gentle slur. 

“Why are you sorry? It’s my fault for thinking I was different. It’s pathetic the way I believed you.” You both fell into silence vulnerable hearts beating the same rhythm, scared to say the wrong thing. 

Wasn’t too long before you finished disinfecting the wound. Plastering a bandage to his rib cage where the wound was deeper. Leaving the cuts on his face alone because that’d take too much mental energy to tend to them. 

“I don’t know why you chose to come here, but I think you should take your shirt and leave.” You say throwing the bloodied cotton balls in the trash and sliding the first aid kit back under the bed.  “Which one?” He noticed the shirt that your body was clad in. First failed band merch he lent the first time you were at his house and you weren’t planning on giving back. You liked sleeping in it. 

“The one you came in.” 

“It has blood on it.” 

“I don’t care, just get out.” You say heading for your bed way too tired to deal with him at the moment. “Wait.” Jonah’s hand catches your wrist and slender fingers wrap around it. A small shiver runs down your spine as if you were deprived of his touch. Body soon growing content from the skin to skin contact of him. Pulling lightly he turned you to face him, regret dripping in his eyes.  

“What?” You ask sharply almost in a snap. 

“I loved the time I spent with you, watching you fit into my life like you meant to be there. I see the way you get along with the band goofing around with them like they’re siblings. How you treat Sawyer as if he’s your dog, doesn’t help that the canine is in love with you. I just can’t help think that you deserve better then me. You know my past and you know who I was...still am. You don’t deserve to worry about me and expect to clean me up.” Jonah’s green eyes sparkle. 

You narrow your eyes at him. Yanking your wrist from his grip and cross your arms over your chest. “What gives you the right to tell me what I deserve Jonah?” Your voice filled with anger. “I think I’m the one who decides that okay?” You asked pointing a finger to his still bare chest. He only nods watching the fury burn from your ears. 

“I know who you are Jonah, and I’ll keep choosing you because no one. And I mean no one as ever made me feel the way you have in those few weeks.” 

Passion burning in Jonah’s eyes like nothing you’ve seen before. Fingers dig into your wrist again as he pulls you into him. You yelp at the sudden action and let yourself get entirely lost in him. His hands are delicate as they cup the sides of your face. Soon guiding your face to his giving you time to reject him, but you don’t. 

Once your lips meet his you swore you felt the entire world fall into place. He tasted of harsh vodka and coca cola while his whole being was drowning in the scent of it. You could care less in this moment as you melt into his arms perfectly. His kiss is gentle and careful as if pressing more into the kiss would shatter you into dust. 

Pulling away from the kiss you look to your nightstand breathless and rosy cheeked. Instantly you felt bare without his warm touch upon your skin. It was weird the way your body always reacted to him as if this man was your whole life line. Like your body couldn’t get enough of him. 

Jonah’s fingers caught your chin in his soft grip forcing your attention on his drunk hazy eyes. Exhaustion was wearing on his body now and you watched a dopey smile spread on his lips. “Beautiful.” His mumbles a soft slur of syllables as he tucks a few strands of hair behind your ear. 

“You’re tired,” You respond back with fond smile.

“Can I stay with you?” Hope begins to dance in his eyes and you nod, “turn the light off.” was all you said before you pull from his grip and crawl into bed. 

The light flicks off and you’re engulfed into the darkness only hearing light shuffles that Jonah makes. Soft thud of jeans hit the floor before you feel his body sink into the mattress of your bed. You giggle feeling him press his head into your stomach. The giddiness reaching your brain as his weight pushes into your legs. 

“God I love the sound of your laugh.” He says into the fabric of your shirt. You smile in response and thread your fingers into the curls of his hair. Jonah pulls you thighs tighter against his bare chest and you feel his sigh contently in your arms. And you too were content in him and you begin wonder if this is what home felt like. 

Jonah is quiet for a long while before you sense his breathing patterns slow and light snores erupt from him. You pull the blanket to your chest and surrender to sleep for the second time that night. This time was more rewarding then the first, because you had him. 

-------

Late morning sun light floods into the dorm through light mesh curtains. Mind growing conscious while you felt the man cuddling against you nuzzle his face deeper into stomach. Looking like a sleepy puppy while doing it. You smile softly to yourself and comb your fingers into his chocolate curls enjoying the moment. 

Until the Tuesday morning dawned on you, and by the bright light you knew you missed the first half of your eight am lecture. Desperately trying to get out of Jonah’s grip, he pulls you closer to his body instead. Rolling your eyes you try again, prying is arms from your thighs, but his hold is stronger then your resistance. 

“Jesus what the hell is in your protein shakes?” You asks more to yourself, 

“Protein.” Jonah murmurs into the fabric of your shirt. “You’re awake?” You asked surprised still trying to force yourself out of his grip. “Yes. Now stop trying to escape.”  

“Can’t and because of you..” You groan digging your fingers into his bare bicep and push. “..I’m really late for my morning class..” Your grip slips and you yelp. “...Let me go!” You sigh in defeat and fall back into your pillows. 

“I might be able to spare you.” He says reluctantly and pulls his arms from around you. You missed the feeling of them circling your body and as much as you wanted to put then back you couldn’t. 

“Thank you.” You say gratefully and scoot yourself to the edge of the bed. Jonah crawls higher on the bed, back muscles glistening against the sun beams. He face plants into the pillow abruptly and moans into it sending shivers down your spine. Wondering what it would sound like on the shell on your ear as you reach of your phone.  

The time displays on the screen and you swore under your breath as Jonah stirs in your bed and hums in question. “It’s 11:30am I missed the entire lecture, I still have time to get to my second class. I might have enough to grab a coffee on the way.” 

“Me one too?” He asked in a coo and looks up at you. Gasping lightly you rush to him and grab his face to inspect the swelling of a yellowing bruise. It definitely didn’t look like that last night and must’ve grown in the night. Softly you finger tips dance onto the swell and Jonah curses at you and winces out of your grip. You muffled a small laugh, “Sorry, I wanted to see how bad it was.” 

“Yeah I bet you did.” He snaps at the pain you caused him. 

“Okay I’ll let you rest Mr. Attitude..” You tease him. “..I have a class to get to, and you know your way out.” You gather up your bathroom things in your catty and before you head out the door, you glance to see Jonah already sleeping peaceful in your bed. 

----

After a long lecture you walk into Golden Biscuit and find Ivette already waiting for you. Ready for your two o’clock lunch date as she had ordered you an iced coffee and a sandwich. she sits in a spacious booth and you wonder how long she’s been sitting there scrolling on her phone. 

“Hey.” You greet sliding into the seat across from her. Instantly she puts down her phone, screen kissing the table. “Finally what took you so long?”  

“You do realise I don’t have a car right? Not to mention it’s a twenty minute walk from the lecture hall.” You reach for your sandwich and sink your teeth into it. “Calm down I know I was only teasing. I missed you and your dumb ass.”  She says and you roll your eyes as your mouth was full of a deliciousness. 

With Jonah on hiatus for the last week you kept to yourself. You didn’t think it was fair to come in between her relationship with Daniel. Especially since he was Jonah’s best friend and band mate. And in that time Jonah was avoiding you Daniel told you ‘if he wanted to be found you would’ve found him’ Honestly a dick move on his end of the plate but you understood his reason. 

You knew Ivette would tear out his throat for that one despite what she felt for him. She’d do absolutely anything for you, that’s who Ivette was. It’s the reason you never told her about it and said you needed space. Because at the end of the day Daniel was the only whose ever made her feel secure in a relationship. You weren’t about to take that away from her,  she’s happy with him.

“I missed you too and your loud personality.”  You take a sip of your coffee to wash down the bread down. 

“Speaking of loud I heard that a certain someone forced his way through your dormitories last night.” The excitement glowed in her brown eyes as she took a sip of her own coffee. 

A small smile crawled onto your lips at the mention of the man that slept in your bed last night. “Yes..” You start and tell her everything that happened last night. That he woke up at two in the morning absolutely wasted and bruised from the waist up. How you weren’t too pleased to see his face after everything that happened between the two of you. Yet you still tended to his massive wound that ate at his side, saying how you felt the need to do it even after feeling that resentment for him. How you two made up and kissed and fell asleep in each others arms like you were meant to. 

By the time you finished your coffee was gone and your sandwich was half eaten. Ivette held her coffee in both hands looking at you with an expression you couldn’t place. “The way you describe him tells me you’re in love with that one.” He voice is soft and light. 

You choke and cough on a piece of bacon, shocked by her words. “Me and Jonah aren’t together together. At least I don’t think we are, he never asked. I can’t be in love with him, not yet. That-that would be almost im-impossible.” You scramble for the words. Desperate to deny the idea out of your mind.

“The way you talk about him is as if your souls are made from the same stars. It wouldn’t be that impossible.” 

You muffle a small laugh, “That’s from a movie.” You point out, 

“I know. What do you expect from a theatre major who doesn’t devour books the way you do?” She shrugs and takes a bite out of her panini.  

You shake your head playfully as your phone vibrates in your back pocket. Eyebrows knit together while you fish it out. A white notification from eBay with a picture of you lion painting pops up. Blocking a picture of you and Ivette when you went to Disneyland last year. 

You tap on it and it takes you to your listing of the painting. A green banner is displayed at the top and in white lettering SOLD is written inside it. Your eyes fall upon more zeros then you could count, your phone slips from you grip. “Holy fuck!” you shout and clamp your hands to your mouth in pure shock at how much your panting sold for. Phone clattering to the phone and you could care less if the screen cracked. 

“What?!” Ivette leans onto the table with an urgent expression. eagerly wanting to know what caused you to respond the way you did. Hands shaking vigorously against your mouth as your eyes almost popped out of their sockets. Ivette watches you like this for the next five minutes letting you comprehend what the hell just happened. 

Slowly you remove you hands from you mouth and look at her bug-eyed. Still in shock. “My painting sold.” Your voice is just above a whisper as if you said it any louder it’d go away. 

“How much?” Ivette matches your tone, 

“Five-hundred-thousand dollars.”   

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

I just wanted to say thank you to everyone who has supported me through this series. It honestly means so much to me since I’ve struggled heavily with this part.

Which was your favourite part? Mine personally was when Jonah took the reader to the ball room and danced with her. 

Don’t be afraid to message me if anything offended you with my POC characters. This is a safe space for everyone and I want to make it right!

Taglist:  @jonahlovescoffee​ @randomlimelightxxx​ @someinsanefangirl​ @evans-dejong

[whats-rambled-rambled]

Smoke&Mirrors - playlist

You can find it on Spotify here.

Let’s start from the beginning:

Imagine Dragons - Smoke and Mirrors

Okay, so with Stuck in reverse series everything started with one song that inspired me to write something, and you know what happened later.

With this new series, the idea came first (prompted by @vaneilla​’s wonderful brain, and you know what? I actually went back to check that bit of convo, and it was all because @gallifreyan-uprising​ did what she did to TP, so I guess thank you both, ladies!), and then I was looking for THE song, that could serve as an inspiration and as a title.

And because all my best ideas come to me while driving, and I had Imagine Dragons in my car’s CD player… BOOM.

//I'm starting to cave

I'm losing my flame

I wanted your truth

But I wanted the pain

To disappear

Dream maker, life taker

Open up my mind

All I believe

Is it a dream

That comes crashing down on me?

All that I hope

Is it just smoke and mirrors?

I want to believe

But all that I know

Is it just smoke and mirrors?//

This just felt so fitting for Reader and her struggle a little later in the series, and smoke and mirrors alone seemed like just what I needed to capture the essence of the main conflict between Neil and R.

Chapter 1: Imagine Dragons - Natural

I had the title, I knew what I wanted to do in the first chapter, but I still had doubts if I could switch to this new dynamic. -Neil being mean? I mean how even-- I needed a good playlist to get myself in the right mood to set the tone for the whole series, and even when I found a few songs that were good enough, I knew that none of them was the one. And then again, on my way to work, this time from my Spotify playlist - Natural. I literally started screaming when I realized that it was exactly what I’d been looking for. Not only because of its badass vibe, but those lyrics, holy shit -

//That's the price you pay

Leave behind your heart and cast away

Just another product of today

Rather be the hunter than the prey

And you're standing on the edge face up

'Cause you're a natural

A beating heart of stone

You gotta be so cold

To make it in this world

Yeah, you're a natural

Living your life cutthroat

You gotta be so cold

Yeah, you're a natural//

This is R.  “A beating heart of stone / You gotta be so cold / To make it in this world”. Because she might be all spiky and angry on the outside, but why is she that way? Because she has to. Because nothing ever came easy in her life.

And this is Neil, too. A true natural, as TP calls him. But he also plays a role, because he was put in a position he didn’t want. And not only by TP, but also by R. That scene in the bar? He really hopes to clear the air between them, but she is not ready to listen, and keeps antagonizing him. *sigh* We know how it ends up. Anyway -

bonus: Willyecho - Welcome to the fire

Found this one when I was looking for the vibe, and then those lyrics--:

//I'm focused

I've been watching for the omens

I've been listening to everything you've said

Its been running through my head

Locked and loaded

I've got the feeling that you've noticed

Yeah I've only just begun

I won't stop until it's done

'Til you're broken

So welcome to the fire

I'm the one who lit the night up//

-- because yes, R’s that mad at him, TP, the whole world at this point, really.

Chapter 2: Florence + the Machine - What kind of man

So you know, one of the challenges I’d set for myself for this series was to finally write a proper smut. God, was I stressed out (shoutout to my lovely friends who had to listen to my self-doubting whines for quite some time). And as I knew it was supposed to happen in this chapter, and I already had an appropriate build-up in mind, I needed a song. And it wasn’t this one, although it made its way to the chapter’s playlist. But as I actually wrote the whole thing down… I felt it had that vibe.

//You were on the other side, like always

You could never make you mine//

Oh R, my sweet summer child.

//To let me dangle at a cruel angle

Oh, my feet don't touch the floor

Sometimes you're half in and then you're half out

But you never close the door

What kind of man loves like this?//

And that part is just so fitting with the whole confusion.

bonus: Graffiti Ghosts - Last man standing

The one behind the shooting range sequence:

//Your trigger finger better think about your future

You’re getting twisted thinking I don’t want to shoot ya

I’ve been waiting for a long time

and I’m coming back to get what’s mine

Sick of living with your little double faces

I’m getting itchy and so livid I can taste it

I’ve been waiting for a long time

and I’m swinging til I get what’s mine

but I’m not going down

I’m not going down//

Can’t say that R isn’t fantasizing about shooting Neil at some point, it’s all I’m saying. And the vibe was all right, and worked for the sparring scene as well.

bonus:  Zayde Wolf - New Blood

I needed decent background music to write that sparring scene, you know - to hype myself up. And then found this song. Look at the lyrics:

//I spent my whole life chained to the wall

Hunger for more, not afraid to fall

Had to cut a man down to get where I am

But someone had to tumble, and someone had to stand

Don't try to fight, nothin' you can do

I'm gonna run all over you

It's too late to try, there's nothin' you can do

I'm gonna run all over you//

and

//Most of my life was heavy and hard, yeah

So many days, so many scars

But it was all of those years who make who I am, yeah

But I broke through, and here I stand, yeah//

Added to the playlist instantly. You can see it too, right?

bonus: Nothing But Thieves - Itch

I love this band and I’m eternally grateful that my dear friend @connie-nikas​ itroduced me to their music. Spotify suggested that it fit the mood for the playlist I already had for that part, so I checked the lyrics and YES:

//There's a hunger in my heart

It's full of promise, promise

There's an itch under my skin

It's under my skin, under my skin//

...

//There's a blood red on my shirt

And it's shining, shining

There's a sharp pain from my face

I kinda like it, I like it//

...

//I just wanna love

I just wanna touch

I just wanna see

'Cause I, I just wanna feel something real

'Cause I, I just wanna feel something real

Wanna feel something//

It fits more than one moment in the series, but that blood part seemed accurate for sparring, so it stayed in this chapter.

bonus: Dorothy - Wicked ones

Another Spotify suggestion, and it works pretty well for these dumbasses, although this part:

//This night ain't for the faint of heart

For the faint of heart, for the faint of heart

This night ain't for the faint of heart

'Cause the faint of heart gonna fall apart//

--this got me going while I was having heart palpitations as I was getting closer to the locker scene lol.

And then:

//Ain't no sleep when the wicked play

All we do is get laid, uuh uh uuh uuh

Ain't no love when the wicked run

All we do is try to lay off, lay off, lay off

We're the wicked ones, wicked ones//

Fits, right?

bonus: Muse - Undisclosed desires

I -blame- have to thank M for this one, and it was my initial title song for this part. Just see for yourselves:

//I know you've suffered

But I don't want you to hide

It's cold and loveless

I won't let you be denied

Soothing, I'll make you feel pure

Trust me, you can be sure

I want to reconcile the violence in your heart

I want to recognize your beauty's not just a mask

I want to exorcise the demons from your past

I want to satisfy the undisclosed desires in your heart

You trick your lovers

That you're wicked and divine

You may be a sinner

But your innocence is mine

Please me, show me how it's done

Tease me, you are the one//

It just -- it’s not only about that one scene. Maybe it would be even better for part 3? Anyway, could be sung to R almost word for word, right?

Chapter 3: Nothing But Thieves - You know me too well

One of my favourites from this band, and I knew it had to be a title of some part of the story. Because:

//I gave you a call

Baby, I could come by, help forget it all

'Cause in this sticky weather, oh, it's really hard to sleep

As you know all too well

And when we dig together, oh, you make me feel so cheap

But I can't help myself

Filthy impetuous soul

I wanna give it to you

Oh, just to see what you do

'Cause I'm so drunk on you

Baby, you're all that I want

I want you all to myself

Oh, but you know me too well//

So yeah, filthy impetuous soul was only fair to use for that bathroom, right?

//And maybe you're right

We don't get on so well, when we lose the high//

That’s them at this point, all right.

//'Cause every love story always end in tragedy

If you wait long enough//

Oh hello, R’s beliefs here, clear as night.

//Renew me 'cause sometimes I forget

Got my own two hands clenched around my neck//

Could be said by both of them at this point, tbh.

bonus: Leann Rimes - Can’t fight the moonlight

So let me be frank - I knew I wanted to put that bathroom scene somewhere for quite some time, so it’s written purely for self-indulgence. I just needed to find an opportunity. And during one of the brainstorming sessions with A (because she was so kind to help me out with figuring things out when I stumbled over certain plot points, and I can’t thank her enough), the idea of karaoke night came to life and she gave me this song and fuck yes! That was it!  

One of my favourite Neil headcanons is that he likes cheesy songs, and Coyote Ugly movie has a special place in my heart, so I just knew it was the one for him! Especially because:

//Under the lovers sky

Gonna be with you

And no one's gonna be around

If you think that you won't fall

Well just wait until

'Til the sun goes down//

it’s just perfect if you wanna kinda seduce/kinda embarrass someone, right? And also:

//You can try to resist

Try to hide from my kiss

Don't you know, don't you know

That you, can't fight the moonlight

Deep in the dark, you'll surrender your heart//

Because yes, he wanted to kiss her in that locker room, that’s a thing you do when you’re attracted to someone, right? He thought it was just because of this whole angry sex thing, but was aware of that all the time, that’s why R’s reaction in the bathroom alarms him. I mean it would make him stop anyway, but still.

bonus: Ruelle - Until we go down

The mood progression in this song fried my brain, absolutely amazing!

The lyrics, too:

//And I feel it running through my veins

And I need that fire just to know that I'm awake

Erased, I missed till the break of day

And I need that fire just to know that I'm awake

Until we go down//

bonus: Bishop Briggs - Wild horses

Another song that captures the spirit of what’s going on in R’s head.

//You hold me down in the best way

No quarter from these chains that I've

Slept on my heart for a feeling

Why can't I let my demons out?

Keep screaming into the pillow

Cause your taste still gets me stupid high

Oh glory, I'm a believer

Oh glory, I'm a troubler//

At this point, she’s well aware of the effect Neil has on her, and the internal conflict is strong in this one.

//You call my truth in the worst way

Through the dirty lands of a broken smile

And I swear I'm not a pretender

Sometimes it's love who's the baby's cry

So, I keep on damning the devil

And you keep on saying it's alright

Oh glory, I'm a believer

Oh Lord, I'm holding tight, but//

And the whole vibe of this song, it’s like fuck I’m losing my mind, but I want you and I want you now. Just makes my breath hitch.

bonus: Transviolet - Bloodstream

And as I needed a certain mood, -(ended up actually writing with TENDER in the background because apparently I need a complete opposite mood seeping through my headphones to write any smut at all but anyway...)-, and this song is just...wow.

//Fingertips drip down my spine

Cruel desire, danger in our consequence

You look my way and I lose my…

Hey, you wanna rule the world?

Outlaw love, make you lose control

Hey, hey, boy you got me like whoa

White hot, adrenaline baby

In my veins, you got me praying

Whoa, whoa, whoaaaa

My pretty blue lips begging

Take me, I need you in my bloodstream

Hold me, break me

My breath is for holding, overdose me

I need you in my bloodstream

Hold me, break me, break me//

Hot. I won’t be taking any notes.

Chapter 4: Aimee Mann - Save me

You remember that part 4 was supposed to be the last one? Don’t ask me, I don’t know how I would manage to get that emotional progression from these dumbasses by the end of that part, so I’m glad y’all voted on splitting it into 2 (and then another 2) parts. But I already had a playlist for the finale, and then had to make a new one, and then had too many possible title songs.

Why did this one win? Because in my brain it’s directly connected to my OTP and also fits this part of the story. I battled myself if it was a spoiler or not (and also had trouble getting to terms with R ever admitting that she needs to be saved), but then thought - eh, what the hell, it has the right lyrics and a proper mood, and here it is.

//You look like a perfect fit

For a girl in need of a tourniquet

But can you save me

Come on and save me

If you could save me

From the ranks of the freaks

Who suspect they could never love anyone//

and that shift to this part, oh my heart:

//Except the freaks

Who suspect they could never love anyone

Except the freaks who could never love anyone.//

bonus: Jamie O'Neal - All by myself

Okay, so the car scene was in my mind for a little while, and in the initial outline, aka part 4 is the finale I couldn't find a place for it and thought I might end up making a one shot out of it, so when I actually had enough time to write it into the story, I was so excited!

I was looking for a song, and the first one that came to my mind was Air Supply - All out of love, but I could never beat what Jensen Ackles did in the outtakes of that one Supernatural episode, so I had to abandon that song, sadly. And then I thought about the one with basically the same vibe and *ding ding ding*.  And of course Neil would know it. And would know what movie this is from (just look at him and try telling me he doesn’t like British rom-coms, I dare you). And would tease R about it. (and that’s why I used that cover of this song).

//Hard to be sure

Sometimes I feel so insecure

And loves so distant and obscure

Remains the cure

All by myself

Don't wanna be

All by myself

Anymore//

bonus: Meg Myers - Motel

I’ve discovered Meg’s music just because of Spotify’s recommendations, and oh my god, it’s amazing! And this song just felt right for their talk during the stakeout, just look at the lyrics:

//You're weak, broken in a motel

You blink, tears are falling down, down, down

And you're free, free inside your own hell

You speak, someone let me out, out, out

And I can't stop this pain, it only grows

Tell me why I always feel alone

And I can't fight this feeling anymore

Show me what I'm really living for

I wanna love, wanna live, wanna breath, wanna give

But it's hard and it's dark and we're doomed from the start

I wanna love, wanna live, wanna breathe, wanna give

But it's hard and it's dark and I'm falling apart//

ahh, nothing like a good old angst, am I right? Perfect for writing about the more vulnerable sides of them.

bonus: Fear Of Men - Sane

There is just something in this song that resonates deeply, you know?

//I see you drowning

Half flesh half stone

With ambitions that drain your health

You hear me

(Secrets)

You run from me

You hear me

(You hear me)

I know

You hear me

(Secrets)

You run from me

You hear me

(You hear me)

You know, you know, you know

It’s in your eyes when you’re perfectly sane

It’s in your blood when you can’t bear these heavy thoughts again

It’s in your eyes when you’re perfectly sane

It’s in your blood when you can’t bear these heavy thoughts again//

bonus: Laura Doggett - Beautiful undone

That track almost ended up as the title. When I stumbled upon this song, I was completely blown away, as in I-had-it-on-repeat-for-4h-straight blown away.

//I took you walking

Through the murmurations of my mind//

that line just strikes me right through the heart, and it gets even better later:

//I'm looking down and my heart's connected

I'm feeling love from a different view

We learn the most when we least expect it

We learn the most when we break in two//

I don’t think that any of them expects to learn more about each other during that one mission. I mean sure, Neil counts on it, but doesn’t know what it's gonna be. And if she lets him into his head at all.

//You know you're beautiful undone

(Shine on)

So beautiful undone

You look beautiful undone

(Hearts connected)

My boy of blue.//

My boy of blue. I don’t know why it screamed Neil to me, but it did.

//It's the cracks that let the light shine

It's the cracks that let the light shine through.//

And that’s exactly it.

Chapter 5: LAUREL - Blue blood

Okay, THIS song, as soon as I heard it, I was like - this is it, this is her.

//You woke me up for your blue blood

Made me come undone

Can't believe you've been here the whole time

Too nice to pass you by and I can't believe

You've been here the whole time

You made me feel again

Made me dance circles 'round the pieces of your heart

You made me feel again

After the last time, didn't think that I could love//

That “was he always so gorgeous” moment, right? When she just sees him for the first time this way. And is slowly coming to terms with her feelings.

bonus: Prep School - Come as you are

So this one… We all know the original song (or this is my old ass talking), but only when I heard this cover, I really felt it, you know?

//Come as you are, as you were

As I want you to be

As a friend, as a friend

As an old enemy//

Just made me think about R being ready to get to know Neil better. About the shift in their dynamic.

//When I swear that I don't have a gun

No I don't have a gun//

She lets her guard down, and is ready to trust him.

Also - how great is the mood of this song? That crescendo just takes my breath away, and that calmer moment at the end? Good god. Utter perfection.

bonus: Ray LaMontagne - Such a simple thing

I’ve been sitting on this song for quite some time, and just had to find a suitable moment for it. And this was it.

//Tell me what you're feeling

I can take the pain

Tell me that you mean it

That you won't leave again

Tell me what your heart wants

Such a simple thing

My heart is like paper

Yours is like a flame

I can't make you see

If you don't by now

I'll get through these chains

Some how, some how

Take it if you want it

I'm so tired I just don't care

Can't you see how much you hurt me?

It's like I wasn't there//

My heart just aches while I listen to this song. It’s so tender, and yet so heartbreaking.

bonus: Keane - Hamburg sing

When A sent me this song, god, the way I screamed. Because this is so Neil.

//I don't wanna be adored

Don't wanna be first in line

Or make myself heard

I'd like to bring a little light

To shine a light on your life

To make you feel loved

No, I don't wanna be the only one you know

I want to be the place you call home

I lay myself down to make it so

But you don't want to know

I give much more than I'd ever ask for

Will you see me in the end

Or is it just a waste of time?

Trying to be your friend?

Just shine, shine, shine

Shine a little light

Shine a light on my life

And warm me up again//

At this point in the story, he already fell for her hard. And can just hope that she sees him at one point, too.

You know, writing that first really intimate moment between them-- I know I was supposed to be on R’s side, but I knew what was going on in Neil’s head at that point (that’s why I was so happy when Chels asked that one question that made me write Come as you are) and... I don’t know, I’m so soft for this idiot, I just want to hug him.

//Fool, I wonder if you know yourself at all

You know that it could be so simple//

My dumbasses.

Chapter 6: Phantogram - You’re mine

We’re gonna save this one for the very end, just mentioning it here as we move to the next chapter.

bonus: Adna - Night

You know that sad music montage thing that the movies do after a breakup scene or something? This song has that exact vibe.

//Silence grows and you're all i know

Eyes are closed, I'll see your smile, your love

Thinking

This is what

It could be

Knowing

It is all

It would be

In the night

When you see

What i see

In the night when you feel

What i mean

You're my knight

And my dream

And my only sight

Oh you

Oh you

Stay true//

For me, it’s the beginning of chapter 6. R is almost heartbroken, and that almost comes from the part of her that still thinks that still fights the idea that she might have any feelings for that blonde idiot. Conceal, don't feel, or something. But she’s being haunted by random memories from their time together.

bonus: Snow Patrol - Make this go on forever

This song makes my heart ache and clench and oh my god--

//Please don't let this turn into something it's not

I can only give you everything I've got

I can't be as sorry as you think I should

But I still love you more than anyone else could

All that I keep thinking throughout this whole flight

Is it could take my whole damn life to make this right

This splintered mast I'm holding on won't save me long

Because I know fine well that what I did was wrong//

This works for the sad montage thing I’ve mentioned, but it was all about this line:

//First kiss and the first time that I felt connected to anything//

I was listening to it on my way home one day and my eyes welled up. Because that’s what I wanted both of them to feel right then.

//And I don't know where to look

My words just break and melt

Please just save me from this darkness//

and these lines just brought the image of Neil stumbling over his words and, well, that was it. I knew it had to be done like that.

bonus: Walking On Cars - Speeding Cars

This song is about something different, but there is one part that resonated with the story:

//Even the half smile would have slowed down the time

If I could call you half mine

Maybe this is the safest way to go//

Just fits. Had to be there.

bonus: Etham - Before I lose my mind - Stripped

I think I found this one a while ago, and then it came on when I had Spotify on shuffle, and oh myyyy goooood. That heart-wrenching yearning? So, so on point.

//Look at the state I'm in

I couldn’t say where I've been

Lord knows that it ain't felt like home//

This is as much R’s song, as it is Neil’s.

//I don't know what

I've been running from, running from

Or what I thought I would find

All I know is

You're the only one, only one

I need you tonight

Before I lose my mind//

and this part:

//Don't tell me that I’m too late this time

So much I couldn’t see

With words that I didn't speak

What do I have to do to make you mine?//

This part of the playlist is just utter heartbreak and yearning, but it was only fitting. Just moments before the confession.

bonus: Nick Wilson - Let me hold you

On repeat for the whole part with Neil’s confession. This song is so goddamn beautiful, I can’t--.

//We've been there before

Reaching the end but forgetting the reason we started this for

In all of our flaws

Laid out beneath us, there's no need to keep building up these walls

(Oh we can't go on)

Just let me hold you

I'll run my fingers through your hair

Let our ghost loose

Let me know that you're still there//

bonus: Liz Longley - Rescue my heart

This, on the other hand, started playing right after, and I partially blame it for R’s breakdown. I was just staring at that line about her being afraid to lose him and I was like “where the hell this came from, girl?” and then, as I was trying to push them both further into the plot, but they kinda refused to let each other go, so I was sitting there like “you guys really needed that, huh?”

I know what it sounds like. But when I spend so much time with my characters, really fleshing them out in every possible way, they kinda develop minds of their own, and later they guide me through the dialogue parts, and even sometimes ruin my initial plans. Because they know best how they would behave right then. So all I have to do is just follow them. Or try reasoning with them. (Had a moment like that at the end of the first scene in chapter 6, like had this feeling that R just wanted to dwell on the nature of her relationship with Ives, but I didn’t want to put it there so openly, I was happy with leaving a line here and there, so I had to put my foot down pff - and it switched into that bit about friendships in general)

Right, back to the song:

//Lying to myself I can make it on my own

Making it alone is lonely

Twisting and I'm turning

Oh I'm crashing and I'm burning

So reach out your hand to me

Come down

Rescue my heart I'll drown

Without you//

This is it.

bonus: Madonna - I want you

You know, one of my favourite parts of the writing process is just bumping the ideas around, and I have been blessed to have a wonderful friend such as M, who’s always there when I need to discuss different ideas or just got a bit of dialogue I really want to share. And knowing what I was writing, she sent me this song.

And I’ve been listening to it a lot ever since, and when Neil started his confession, and struggled with words, I wrote: "I want…you.” He moved closer. “The right way.”

I stopped, staring at that line, like really, Neil? This is it? Then the next song from the playlist started playing and:

//I want you the right way

I want you, but I want you to want me too//

So I just sighed and moved on, dropping a short message to M on the way.

bonus: Welshly Arms - Need you tonight

Spotify recommends the best covers, hands down. I love the original song, but this right here? It’s everything.

//How do you feel

I'm lonely

What do you think

Can't take it all

What ya gonna do

Gonna live my life

So slide over here

And give me a moment

Your moves are so raw

I've got to let you know

I've got to let you know

You're one of my kind

I need you tonight

'Cause I'm not sleeping

There's something about you girl

That makes me sweat//

bonus: TENDER - Afternoon

Every song of theirs is just incredibly sensual, so I thought it was only fair to include one of those for the scene (thank you again A, their music is everything, I swear). And this one was particularly accurate:

//I'm spendin' all of my time tryna open up

Let it breathe, let it breathe

It all comes down

To whether you love me anymore

God, I hope you do

'Cause I can't tell, I can't tell

By the look in your eyes//

bonus: Layla - Weightless

Another one for that moment.

//A silver whisper, take flight and steal into my mouth

An urge to kiss you and let this secret pleasure out

Your touch so tender, a helpless roar of golden play

This youthful slender, hallucinate my woes away

We are weightless

We are invincible

Nothin' like this

Flyin' like cannonballs//

bonus: Rob Simonsen - Soft center

While I was discussing the main plot points with A, we knew there had to be a morning after scene, and she had just a song for it. Utter perfection.

end credits: Phantogram - You’re mine

I know I say it a lot, but when A sent it to me… The way I screamed. I couldn’t believe it. The story was already like 2 parts in, I think? And this song...every line was about them. Every. Goddamn. One. And the overall  I just thought to myself “oh, end credits rolling right here.”

//You don't talk to no one

Don't you look at nothing

Focus on me

Look into my eyes

Come a little closer

Let me tell you something

Eat your ego honey

Honey swallow your pride

You don't talk to no one

Don't you look at nothing

Focus on me

Look into my eyes

Come a little closer

Let me tell you something

You ain't going anywhere

'Cause you mine//

And from this part it gets even better:

//I used to be a rifle

Yeah I had my distance,

Whistling like a bullet in the sky//

//I used to be a psycho

Yeah I had my demons,

Crawling like a spider up my spine//

*incoherent screaming*

And the next part took me right back to the very first scene.

//I spotted you the second I walked in the building

I knew that you had let me get you high//

Right? Right???

//I wanna hear the things you say when no-one's listening

But that don't matter anyway...

'Cause you're mine//

And that’s it.

Damn, what a wild ride that was.

Thank you for staying with me until the very end.

[fallen-gravity]

Forever Together

Five years ago, he’d received a “not now”, and for days after the self-hating part of his brain had interpreted it as “no, never”.

It was a few weeks after his “corruption fiasco”, as he referred to it, that he shot up in bed in the middle of the night, finally processing the weight behind Connie's choice of phrasing. At the time of the proposal he’d been heartbroken, but that night his heart was beating so heavily in his chest that it made his ears ring. Not now wasn’t even necessarily a no. He knew, logically, that it didn’t make them engaged, but the realization that woke him up was that not now meant that if he asked again in the future then her answer could very likely be yes.

Five years after Steven Universe left Beach City, he comes to the peak of his journey of self-discovery when he realizes his life just wouldn't be the same without Connie in it.

AO3

Or under the cut: 

Steven Universe is 22 years old. 

Ever since he left Beach City at sixteen and a half, he’s felt peace he never knew was possible. It’s not like he hated living there, or that he never wanted to see anyone who still lived there ever again, oh no. It’s just that when he finally had time to really process what his dad had been trying to tell him, along with a few more listen-throughs of his dad’s Kerry Moonbeam CD, he came to the realization that yeah, maybe a change of scenery really would do him some wonders. It wasn’t running away from all his problems, like he’d originally thought when he was too angry to process what Greg had been trying to tell him, it was a journey of self-discovery. 

And when he finally chalked it up to tell Greg he wanted to move on, he had been expecting shock, or wave upon wave of waterworks. And, okay, maybe there had been waterworks, and maybe most of it had been on his own side, but to his surprise, Greg was super supportive of his decisions and told him he was ready to help him start packing as soon as he was ready. It’s not that he wanted Steven to leave, or anything, he just wanted to be as supportive of his endeavors as possible, something he never received from his own parents.

“I had to crawl out my bedroom window, even with two suitcases that probably weighed about 25 pounds each!” he’d exclaimed, and even to this day Steven can’t tell if he had been joking or if he had been dead serious about it. 

Either way, Steven was grateful. Grateful for the support not only from Greg, but from the Gems and all of the townsfolk of Beach City as well. If he hadn’t gotten their immense support, he’s not sure if he’d even gone through with it, and he never would’ve had the opportunity to discover so much about himself and the world around him. While he made ground-breaking progress discovering himself and his mental health through therapy and time alone with his friends and family, the time he had all to himself now that he was on the road finally gave him time to discover even the littlest of things about him, the things that made him human.

Like how he’d discovered, upon stumbling across a music store, that for someone who could masterfully play the ukulele and the piano when he was six, that he sucked at playing wind instruments. 

Or that it isn’t just hometown bias, and Fish Stew Pizza really is the best in the state.

Or that he really, really missed eating fried eggs, and that one month where he’d only drank protein shakes for breakfast was the biggest mistake of his life.

Or even the fact that not only were some of the surrounding states still selling Cookie Cats, but some places were even selling flavors other than the classic vanilla-strawberry.

All these little things that really made him realize that maybe his dad had been speaking metaphorically when he’d mused about his first time trying a taco.

But despite all of these discoveries, and changes, and new experiences, there was always one consistency he could always count on when he was on the road. One consistency that made everything just that much more magical than any mission he’d ever been on with the gems. One consistency that reminded him that wherever he went in the world, wherever he’d end up, he’d always have-

Suddenly, his phone starts ringing. It’s just one five little note ringtone, but it’s enough for Steven to start grinning from ear to ear. He doesn’t even need to take his eyes off the road for half a second to check the caller ID to know who it is. He adjusts his phone’s place on the car clip Pearl had gifted him on his birthday a few years prior, and slides the screen to the right to answer the call. 

“Connie!” he grins again, despite the fact he knows that she can’t see him. “Just on time, I just pulled into town. You done with classes?”

“Just finished about twenty minutes ago,” she replies, and even without being able to see her he can tell she’s grinning too. “I wanted to get a head start at packing so you wouldn’t try to carry all of my stuff out in one go to try and impress me”

Steven blushes. “That was one time!”

She giggles. “That was winter break, Steven. It wasn’t that long ago. Plus, I only have half the stuff to take home with me, since spring break only lasts the week”.

“Awww, only a week?” he replies in mock-disappointment, a stand-in for his lack of ability to pout at her right now.

She snorts. “I’ll be home for the summer a month from now, Steven”

“I know”, he replies, pulling into a parking lot across from her on-campus apartment. “I just can’t stand to be apart from you” he whines exasperatedly, to which Connie replies with hysterical laughter. It makes his heart skip in his chest.

Connie.

Connie Maheswaran, the love of his life, has been without exaggeration, the best piece of consistency in his life he could ask for. Every time she wants to visit her parents at home in Beach City, or every time she wants to go on a short weekend trip of her own, or even just when she wants to grab breakfast somewhere other than her campus dining halls, she calls him and he picks her up without a question about it. Truth be told, she got her license about six months after he got his, but even five years into their relationship she’s told him that she loves any excuse she can to be around him. And he’d be lying to everyone in the galaxy if he tried denying for even a second that he felt the same way about her.

Five years ago, he had asked Ruby and Sapphire for relationship advice. Five years ago, they had both eagerly suggested proposing marriage, and five years ago he went through with it out of desperation for any sense of consistency and assurance he’d have at least one person in his life that wouldn’t leave him behind.

Five years ago, he’d received a “not now”, and for days after the self-hating part of his brain had interpreted it as “no, never”.

It was a few weeks after his “corruption fiasco”, as he referred to it, that he shot up in bed in the middle of the night, finally processing the weight behind her choice of phrasing. At the time of the proposal he’d been heartbroken, but that night his heart was beating so heavily in his chest that it made his ears ring. Not now wasn’t even necessarily a no. He knew, logically, that it didn’t make them engaged, but the realization that woke him up was that not now meant that if he asked again in the future then her answer could very likely be yes. Had it not been 2:45 in the morning when the thought came to him, he would’ve called her right then and there to talk about it.

There’s a sudden light knock on his car window, startling him out of his thoughts so suddenly that he yelps. He turns to see who it could be, and he’s met with Connie’s grinning face as she silently waves hello to him.

“Connie!” he grins, and scrambles to unclick his seatbelt as he opens his car door to greet her. They exchange a tight, squeezing hug, followed by a soft, sweet kiss.

“What kept you?” she asks, once they pull away from the kiss. “I thought you said you wanted to help me pack, but you never came upstairs after we hung up”

“Huh?” Steven blinks, but a quick glance behind her and he notices that she already has both of her bags with her. He blushes, rubbing at the back of his head. “Oh, sorry, I, uh…” he coughs awkwardly, the blush on his cheeks only worsening. “I was just...thinking”.

She gives him a soft smile, but doesn’t question further. She drags her bags to Steven’s Dondai, opens the back door, and tosses her bags inside before closing the door again. On her way over to the passenger’s side door, she stops, places a gentle hand on Steven’s chest, and kisses him on the cheek. “Full of mystery as always,” she teases, gently patting his chest where her hand lay. His blush worsens even more, and it must practically be written all over his face at this point, because Connie snickers again. “You haven’t changed a bit”.

“Heh, well, you know me, Steven Universe” Steven’s voice cracks as he goes to open Connie’s door for her, and she giggles once more before he finally settles into his own seat on the driver’s side. Once they’re both strapped in, and finally sure that yes, they’re done kissing, they swear, Steven settles his back against his seat and sighs comfortably.

He taps rhythmically against the steering wheel. “So…” he says, turning his gaze towards Connie once again. “What are you thinking? Diner first, or are you itching to get home?”

“Pshh, like you even have to ask”, she smirks. 

The first time that Steven had driven up to visit Connie on her campus, they had accidentally stumbled across a little diner called Rosa’s when they’d been looking for somewhere to eat. They’d shared awkward giggles over the pink roses scattered all over the sign advertising the place, and decided to check the place out “just for the joke”, but were soon to discover that Rosa’s sold the best pie slices either of them had ever had, and took it upon themselves to try a different slice of pie every time they went there. He’s yet to find one better than their cherry pie slices, but Connie always teases him with the increasingly likely fact that it’s just because it’s the first flavor he ever tried.

This is the kind of consistency Steven is talking about. He can visit the gems any time, he talks to his dad on the phone on an almost nightly basis, and his weekly escapades with Lars are still going strong. But nothing makes him feel more consistent, more human, than when he’s with Connie. Looking forward to things as mundane as pie slices, or silent car rides, or very not-so-silent car rides, or  cloud gazing, or stargazing, or anything he gets to experience with her makes everything in his life feel that much more cheerful and exciting. 

The morning after he woke up in the middle of the night with the words not now repeating over and over in his head, he called her as soon as he woke up and told her he wanted to talk about what happened after he returned home from the hospital. Good news this time, I promise, he had told her, and minutes later they were right back where they had been, walking hand and hand down the shoreline. They talked all morning about their relationship, and the future near and far, and after dozens of rejected apologies on the grounds that Connie insisted he didn’t need to make them, they shared their first real kiss. 

And Steven had felt like he was on cloud nine. 

And for every kiss after, every phone call, every date, that feeling of cloud nine never really went away. It felt unreal, being with Connie.  

Five years ago, if he’d been asked, he would’ve said he couldn’t live without Connie. He’d say he needed her, like his life depended on it, like he wouldn’t have a future without her. If someone asked him now, he’d say sure, he could live without Connie, but he can’t possibly imagine why he would ever want to. 

Not now.

That had been when Connie was a sophomore in high school. They were sixteen. She hadn’t even taken the SATs yet (whatever those were), let alone gotten accepted into any of her colleges of choice. They were still kids, stuck in their pining phases, too scared to make the first move, let alone call the other their partner to their face.

Connie’s a senior in college now. She’ll be graduating in a month and a half.  She’s been working on job applications since the end of her junior year. Her birthday is coming up in a few weeks. Where they once giggled at the idea of holding hands, it’s now harder to catch them with their hands apart. They’re inseparable when they’re together. Ruby and Sapphire have Garnet. Steven and Connie have Stevonnie, but he realizes now he doesn’t need Stevonnie, just as Ruby and Sapphire don’t necessarily need Garnet.

He doesn’t need to be with Connie forever to be happy; he wants to be with Connie forever because she makes him so happy.

If he weren’t so focused on driving a car right now, the thought would’ve slammed into him a lot harder than it did. As a matter of fact, he’s almost surprised he didn’t accidentally slam the breaks of the car on, the way those thoughts seemed to crash into him. He takes a quick moment to glance over at her in the seat beside him, and she’s staring dreamily out the window, looking just as lost in thought as he just felt. 

The idea crosses his mind that she could be thinking about the same things as him, and it brings a pink blush to his cheeks once again. He quickly turns his attention back to the road, and practically sighs in relief when he sees that they’re pulling up to the diner. Once parked, he takes a deep breath as quietly as he can manage, and turns to Connie.

“Hey,” he smiles in an attempt to assure her that there’s nothing wrong. “You think you can go in and get our table? I’m gonna give the gems a call and let them know we’re on our way”. He hates lying to her, but it’s the closest he can come to the truth without blatantly telling her he’s thinking of proposing again, so he brushes it off as “not counting as lying”. 

As if she’s trying to read his thoughts, Connie glances at him for a few moments, before she leans over to kiss him on the cheek. “Sure,” she says, and unclips her seatbelt and steps out of the car. She leans on her door for a moment, smirking. “Don’t take too long,” she teases, and it’s with a grin and a silent wave from Steven that she closes the door and heads into the diner. 

As soon as he’s sure she’s gone, he scrambles for his phone in his pocket, and shakily scrolls through his list of contacts until he reaches G. He takes a deep breath, to center himself, and hits call. 

“Hello, Steven” Garnet answers after only two rings. “It’s so good to hear from you. I assume you and Connie are on your way home?”

“Yep!” Steven replies cheerily, but rubs awkwardly at the back of his head. “But, uh, that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about”.

“Oh?”

He closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath. Here goes nothing. 

“I’ve been thinking about proposing to Connie. For real this time”.

There’s a painfully long silence. Steven’s almost worried he accidentally hung up, or that there’s terrible service, until suddenly there’s the sound of  “STEVEN!!! STEVEN STEVEN STEVEN!!!!” from Ruby’s voice screaming into the other end of the ear piece. “I KNOW I’M HORRIBLE AT ADVICE BUT DO IT!! DO IT! YOU TWO ARE SO CUTE TOGETHER!! DO IT DO IT DO IT!!!!” she squeals, and Steven laughs, albeit a bit uncomfortably. 

“Oh, hey Ruby…” he says. “It’s great to talk to you, but I was really hoping I could talk to-” he starts, but there’s the sound of the phone dropping to the floor on the other end followed by another short pause.

“Me,” Garnet finishes his sentence for him. “Sorry, those two just can’t contain themselves when they hear any talk of weddings. You were a terrible influence on them”, she teases, and Steven blushes again.

“I know….” he replies, but then he shakes his head to reorganize his thoughts. “Wait, no, I don’t have a lot of time, Connie’s waiting for me in the diner”.

On the other end, Garnet chuckles. “Wow, you’re really serious about this”.

“I wasn’t going to do it right now!” Steven squeaks, face burning hotter than it’s ever felt in his entire life. “I don’t even have a ring yet,” he mumbles, nervously playing with his hair. “I called you because I wanted to ask if you thought I should go through with it”.

“Hmmm….” Garnet hums, like she’s actually running the numbers in her head. “Well,” she finally says after a painfully long pause of what couldn’t have been longer than three seconds. “Do you love Connie?”

Garnet’s going to kill him, he swears. He’s going to melt into a puddle right here on the seat of his car.

“Yes, I love Connie more than anything else in the world!”

“Do you think she loves you?”

“I…” Steven freezes. “I’m pretty sure, I can’t exactly speak for-”

“Do you want to take care of her?” Garnet cuts him off.

The question suddenly makes him tear up. He wipes at his eyes. “I-I mean, she can take care of herself, but if she’d let me-” 

“Then I think you should.” Garnet replies surprisingly nonchalantly. “Steven, I want you to listen to me very carefully. The reason your proposal didn’t work out the first time was because you and Connie were very young. You know that. The probability of Connie saying yes or no doesn’t have anything to do with the fact that you would be asking her the second time. Your proposal to her this time wouldn’t be any less valid because you thought you had wanted the same thing when you were sixteen. Connie’s answer can’t be swayed by me looking into your future. I can look all you want into hundreds and thousands of different futures, and it still won’t matter. If you want to propose to Connie, all you have to be sure of is whether or not it’s what you truly want. You have to be absolutely certain that you love her to the moon and back and you need to have the self-confidence to tell yourself that she loves you just the same. You need to want to take care of her just as much as she’s going to take care of you. You have to understand that Connie is your equal, not what makes you whole. You have to look inside yourself and ask if you believe your love for Connie is strong enough to withstand anything.  You can ask me to look into whatever future you want, but the person you should really be asking these questions is yourself. So tell me, Steven Universe, do you believe it’s the right thing to do?”

His vision is blurry with tears again. “I do.”  He wipes his tears with his wrist. “Thanks, Garnet”.

“Don’t thank me, thank yourself” she says, and then, after a short pause, “I love you, Steven”.

He giggles. “I love you too”.

Clicking his phone off and placing it back into his pocket, he exits the car to join Connie in the diner. And if he thought he felt euphoric the first time he came to this conclusion, when he was skipping around Beach City gathering flowers and a suit and his own wedding cake, that’s nothing compared to how he feels now, when he’s not even planning to propose until he can stop by the jewelry store just outside of Beach City, and he can’t even do that with Connie in the passenger seat of his car.

He stops at the door of the diner, fixes his hair in his barely-visible reflection in the window, and steps inside.

“Steven, over here!” Connie waves at him from a table towards the back, and his heart starts beating so hard in his chest he wouldn’t be surprised if she could hear it. “Everything okay back home?”

He grins. “Well, Garnet fell apart on me,” he shrugs, intentionally pausing long enough to raise concern, “but that’s just because Ruby really wanted to talk to me”. 

She snickers. “Well, after all that proposal business, I’m not surprised”.

The color fades from Steven’s face. There’s no way she could’ve overheard his phone conversation from in here, could she? He wasn’t projecting his thoughts to her phone again, was he?

“What?” 

She reaches across the table and takes his hands in his own, smiling softly. “Steven, I’m kidding. I just meant that I’m not surprised she falls apart so easily”.

“Oh, “Steven practically sighs in relief. “Well, you know them, falling apart to win a baseball game against Homeworld”. He says, trying desperately to cover up the slamming of his heart.

She laughs again, retrieving one of her hands back from him to cover her mouth, a habit she never quite broke from when they first started dating, and it’s this little meaningless gesture that Steven finds himself falling even more in love with Connie. He starts giggling too, and he’s not quite sure if it’s because of his own set of thoughts, or if it’s because Connie’s laughter is just that adorably contagious, or maybe it’s some kind of beautiful mixture of both.

Either way, he can barely finish his slice of pie when it comes to the table. 

“I guess I’m just...really excited to get back home again”, he explains when she asks about it once they’re back in the car, which technically isn’t a lie either. 

“Mmm, me too” she agrees sleepily, curling up against her seat in the car. “Kinda makes me wish I ate less so I’d be awake when we got there”. 

He chuckles, sparing a glance over to her. Her hair is already falling over her face, and her cheek is squished up against the seat. God, he loves her so, so much. “Yeah, well, if you’re still asleep when we get to your parents’ house, I’ll carry you to your room myself”.

“Mmm,” she murmurs, like she wasn’t fully paying attention to what he actually said. “That sounds nice”.

He laughs again, quieter this time, and takes the rest of the car ride to let himself stew in his thoughts. There’s nothing he wants more, he realizes, then to be able to do this every day with her. Not just casual dates to local diners for dinner and slices of pie, but for moments like this, falling  asleep in the car on the way home, trusting the other enough to safely guide them home.

She’s still asleep when they pull up to her parents’ house, and, a man of his word, Steven carries her all the way to her room (with assurance to her parents that she’s fine, she’s just tired from the ride, she’s okay with being carried). 

Dr. and Mr. Maheswaran, who love their daughter more than anything, who’ve known Steven for less than a decade, simply nod their heads and let him handle everything.

That’s a silent blessing if he’s ever heard one.

On his way out the door, he wishes them a good night, and once in his car, makes a beeline for the jewelry store. He makes it to the store just before closing, and takes it as good a sign as any that it’s now or never.

And the moment he parks his car on the beach in front of the temple, Garnet’s there, and as soon as Steven steps out of the car and into her embrace, he’s laughing, and he’s crying, and it’s the hardest he’s cried in five years, and the best he’s felt in even longer.

-

Despite everything, despite the driving and the diner and all the catching up he’d been doing with the gems and his dad last night, Steven is running on the least amount of sleep he’s ever gotten in his life. 

It’s not that he spent the whole night worrying that she’s going to say no, it’s that he’s not sure he’s ever been more excited in his entire life. Call him cheesy, call him cliché, but he’s been planning his own wedding for as long as he can remember, but now that it might happen in the near future? With Connie? 

He’s not sure how he’s going to handle popping the question, let alone how Connie’s going to react to it.

His phone tells him it’s 8:30am, but he’s already been awake for so long that it feels much later than that. He’s lucky that Connie never broke her early bird habits in college, because if she had made him wait even another hour he’s sure that he would’ve exploded from anticipation. He’s standing in front of the mirror in the bathroom, trying to fix up his hair to look nice, but not so nice that it’s obvious something’s up, and once he’s satisfied with how it looks he takes one more look at himself in the mirror.

“Take a good long look,” he says to his reflection, “because the next time you see me you may be looking at Steven Universe-Maheswaran”.  Just hypothetically attaching her last name to his own makes him grin, so he repeats the name under his breath again, and again, like he’s six years old again telling himself in the mirror that he’s a Crystal Gem too. 

His phone buzzes in his pocket, and there’s only two words on his phone screen, but right now they feel like the most important words in the world.

“I’m here.” Sent by Connie at 8:39am

He takes one more deep breath, exits the bathroom, and grabs the ring box from the kitchen counter before he steps outside.

“So...what’s so important that you just had to tell me so early in the morning?” Connie asks as they walk down the steps of his house.  He tries to shrug and act as nonchalant as he can, but fails miserably. He takes her hand in his own, and squeezes it gently.

“Take a walk with me”.

“Oh,” Connie blinks, like it wasn’t what she was expecting him to say at all. “Okay,”

As they’re walking away from the house, down the beach and out of the view of the temple and even further out of view of the rest of Beach City, Steven looks around and thinks back, back to the hundreds of times they’d walked this very beach together, as innocent friends, as comrades in battle, as boyfriend and girlfriend, and now, if things go right….

He stops in his tracks, gently. “Connie?” 

“Yes?” 

He places his hand on top of hers, gazing into her beautiful, soft brown eyes. Keep it together, he tells himself, his breath already getting shaky. Slowly, to steady his balance and his rapidly pounding, he sinks to one knee, and Connie, quick as ever, takes a step backwards.

“S-Steven?”

“Connie….” He pulls his ring box out of his pocket and pops it open to reveal a beautiful, sparkling engagement ring. “Will you marry me?” He asks, his eyes sparkling brighter than they’ve ever sparkled. Before she can open her mouth to say anything, he places the ring box on the sand and takes Connie’s hand in his own again.  “Connie, I love you so much. I love you more than every planet in the galaxy, more than every single gem on Homeworld combined. I want to be with you for the rest of my life because I can’t imagine life without you in it.” he shakes his head.

“I know I said the same thing when we were sixteen. But I don’t mean it the same way now that I did then. You’re strong, and you’re beautiful, and you’re smart, and it’s like Garnet once told me, your soulmate is your compliment, not your missing piece. I want to be your compliment, Connie. I want to be your cheerleader. I don’t care if I’m thousands of lightyears away on some escapade with Lars, or you’re working towards getting your PhD, I want to be there for you. I want to experience everything with you, the same way we used to when we were kids.” He picks his ring box back up. “I want to marry you, Connie” he grins, finally caving in on the tears rolling down his cheeks. “No Stevonnie required”.

There’s a pause, and for a moment, Steven can’t see anything through his own tears. He blinks to clear his vision, and she’s staring at him with her hands covering over her mouth, failing miserably not to cry herself. Her gaze keeps glancing from the ring box to Steven and back again.

They make direct eye contact for the briefest of moments, and she practically dives on him. “Yes, yes yes!” she sobs. “Yes, of course I’ll marry you!” She beams, and out of heat of the moment euphoria, Steven picks Connie up in his arms and starts spinning her around and around until there’s a bright flash of light surrounding them and, ironically, Stevonnie is standing alone on the beach with their arms wrapped around themself. 

Upon realizing what’s happened, Stevonnie start laughing, and laughing, and they drop to the sand on their knees, and they don’t stop laughing until the force and sheer joy of it splits them apart into Steven and Connie, sprawled over on top of each other on the sand.

Connie rolls over from where she’d landed on top of Steven, but turns to face him so she can pepper his face with kisses. “Of course I want to marry you, Steven”, she reiterates, grinning from ear to ear. She takes his face in her hands like she’d done dozen of times before. “I love you so much. You didn’t need to prepare some big speech for me, Steven. It’s like I’ve always said”, she stands, and offers her hand out to Steven to help him stand to his feet.

“I want to be a part of your universe”.

[ruluxe]

First Line Tag Game III

Hey hey hey tagged by @gaytaiga this time, tysm my dude! (ALSO tagging you back if you want to list more!!)

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line. Then tag 10 of your favorite authors!

This will likely be more finished works than wips because I deleted wattpad all other writing accounts that had wips a long time ago. I might throw in some excerpts from my unfished webcomic series though!

Tagging anyone else who wants to do this again, so make sure if you do it to tag me! 

1.  Pollution  — Character Bible Series [Christian Cavanaugh/Luca Braun wip]: The brain's ability to remember and conveniently forget is a peculiar thing. It often represses the bad memories, trauma's strange like that. Someone could live an entire lifetime without remembering anything yet the slightest sensation could trigger the worst memory locked away in the darkest depths of the psyche and worlds could come crashing down. [2019, Original Work]

2.  Pollution — Character Bible Series [Benjamin Keller/Parker Madison/Oz Hellsinger wip]: His skin is sticky beneath the mask; mouth and nose obstructed but his eyes are not. Still, it serves its purpose of concealing his identity-- or at least Benji hopes it does. The heat from his breath rises while beads of sweat swim down his brows and into his eyes so he can’t stop blinking rapidly. The contact in his right eye starts to shift and his vision is blurred momentarily before he's able to blink it back into place. Someone beside Benji urges him to hurry up. [2018-2019, Original Work]

3. (I Found You) In a Melody [galahau/abandoned]: The ivory beneath his fingertips is cool and smooth, making the stroking motion of his fingers waltzing across keys as easy of an action as breathing. Mellow notes flood the lounge as the cello kicks in, and Galahad’s eyes slide shut so he can tune into the music; the slow rattle of the snare or the bass drum kicking in at the perfect intervals, the taper of the cymbals and the resonating pluck of the cello strings. The sharps are chiming off the airwaves like dewdrops and finally the soft-silk flow of the lounge singer’s voice is the finishing touch to round off the harmony. [2015, Gangsta.]

4. Binding Patience [galahau]: Perhaps anyone with impatience wouldn't waste the time, but Hausen has all the time in the world when the end result is Galahad trembling on his knees at the edge of the bed, arms and hands bound in intricate patterns of rope behind his back, tethered and wound thick around his ankles like cast iron fetters. [2015, Gangsta.]

5. Radio Silence [galahau]: There's an audible click as the playback device ejects Doug's tag, and despite Galahad doing his best to clean off the blood, his eye still catches laces of it tarnishing the shineless metal. [2015, Gangsta.]

6. Turnabout’s Fair Play [Worick Arcangelo, character study]:  It starts with him splayed out and down on his knees, covered in the grime and filth of Ergastulum still clinging to his bruised and broken skin. He should have known better than to leave the sanctity of home by himself, but it’s getting harder and harder to look Nicolas in the face when all he sees is the shadow of his family’s blood splattered across it. [2015, Gangsta.]

7. The Aftermath [XS/1029]: Long after the chaos dies down and everyone’s left the hospital, Squalo’s not supposed to leave his bed but it doesn’t stop him from sauntering off to Xanxus’s private room. He suspects to find the other propped up against the many embroidered satin pillows he demanded from Lussuria with his brows drawn pensively, a miserable scowl on his face despite him supposed to be at peace in slumber. [2015, Katekyo Hitman Reborn!]

8. The End of Things [8059/yamagoku]: It starts with a kiss, slow and sensual, warm like the rising sun and just as bright. Yamamoto's pretty sure this will be the most memorable kiss of his life, knows it'll be the best kiss of his life, with the spicy smoke lingering off Gokudera's tongue etched into his brain; that's something he'll never forget. [2015, Katekyo Hitman Reborn!]

9.  Pyrexia [aokise]: When Kise wakes, it's to a throbbing headache and dull pain behind the eyes. His throat is burning raw and his joints ache, his muscles ache, everything is sore. He groans, feeling the heat of a fever spread through his skin like the heat of an unforgiving July sun is bearing down on him. [2015, Kuroko no Basuke]

10. Once. [deliyang]: He doesn't think before he moves, he just does. It's with snap-quick reflexes that he rips his gun from it's holster and aims it at the men in front of them. And Erica. Erica's there too... but it's not really Erica, is it. Things are never once what they seem. [2015, Alter End Series, Gangsta.]

11. Lightweight [D18/dinohiba]: It's quarter to four in the morning when Dino hears the scrape of metal against metal, the dragged out clinking of the keys against the lock. He's a little irritated, if he's being totally honest. It's not unusual for Kyoya to come home at this hour but it isn't unusual for Kyoya to not keep in contact during the day and explain himself or his whereabouts either. But perhaps there's a good reason as to why he's arriving home at four in the morning. In their line of work it's not like it isn't possible, but it had better be good if it's going to keep him in Dino's good graces. [2015, Katekyo Hitman Reborn!]

12. Mood  — Permanent Petals Epilogue [8059/yamagoku]: It isn’t that Gokudera wakes up in bad moods, in fact for the last few years waking up has been as pleasant as getting a full night’s sleep; no more shadowed insomnia plaguing the soft pale underneath his eyes, no more jittery and short cut patience – he is currently very content with his sleeping arrangements in this moment and all other moments that have passed and ones he has to look forward to in the future. [2015, Permanent Petals Gift Fic, Katekyo Hitman Reborn!]

13. Domestic [deliyang]: The house smells of eggs and rice, the heady aroma of rich-brewed coffee clings to the air. With an appreciative inhale, Delico’s lips slide into a smile easy as he makes his way downstairs.

14. : Advice [aokaga/abandoned]: Kagami isn't fond of days like these, no practise or games to keep him busy and the lack of a distraction leaves his mind to wander to thoughts that end up leaving a bad taste in his mouth.Aomine has been avoiding him lately, he's been distant and more acerbic than usual and Kagami can't bring himself to ask Aomine what the problem is. [2015, Open Spaces Series, Kuroko no Basuke]

15. When Time Stands Still [8059/yamagoku]: Sometimes you sit there for hours, your expression blank and your limbs numb and everything around you is eerily quiet but you can’t turn the volume down on the static noise that buzzes frenetically inside your head. You grit your teeth, you cover your ears but that can’t stop the sound. You get drunk, you take pills — despite your hatred for all things medicinal — but no amount of haze can muffle the shrillness. [2015, Katekyo Hitman Reborn!]

16. Broken [imahana]: It ends with Hanamiya on his knees, scuffed and scabbed and bloody and Imayoshi can’t be sorry for choosing the blacktop that’s as cracked and overused as Hanamiya is. There’s something about having him out here in the open, stripped of his clothing and dignity that sets Imayoshi’s skin on fire, gets him hot and irritated and he needs Hanamiya’s raw vulnerability to ease the itch whenever he gets it. [2014, Kuroko no Basuke]

17. Living the Dream [sourin]: Sousuke's shoulder aches and the near scalding hot water does little to soothe the pain. He's an idiot, he knows without a certain redhead having to tell him this, but determination is something that's bred into him and he just doesn't seem to know when to quit. He grits his teeth through the blinding white when he moves his shoulder just slightly and it jars him with enough force to make him nauseous. It makes him angry, makes him wish for a time machine so he can go back and do things differently. [2014, Free!]

18. Youth [S80]: It begins with standing on a ledge, too high to come off from for it's your only salvation now that you no longer have the resolve to live. But it's when the no-good boy with the large, round eyes saves you and tells you there is hope that you begin to believe. It's the smell of the baseball diamond, the warm sun and the air of dirt and sweat and perseverance that make you feel like you're where you should be. It's the fleeting feelings when you dash from base to base and slide in to home plate that make this age in time seem like an eternal stretch that you never want to leave. [2014, Katekyo Hitman Reborn!]

19. Rewind > Pause > Play [aokaga]: They had been fighting all day. Stupid, trivial, bickering arguments that had mounted into several, major shouting matches which in turn, had nearly lead to the end of their relationship. The months prior to this, Daiki thinks, should have been a warning of what was to come. [2014, 2021 REVISED, Kuroko no Basuke]

20. The Sidelines [aokaga]: Everyone thinks because you're stubborn that must make you dense. Everyone thinks because you're so self centered that all you see is you. Perhaps that were true in the later years of your Teikou run, perhaps that were true until you met him. You're curious about that enigmatic red head that has managed to surpass Kise and Midorima. You're intrigued of Tetsu's new light. When you find him out on the court that day, it isn't just coincidence. You need to know what this guy is all about. So you offer up a game of one-on-one. [2014, Kuroko no Basuke]

[sloppy-butcher]

Angel of Music

The Wraith (Philip Ojomo) x Survivor!Reader 

ok so

I’m probably very late to this, like 3 years late, but whatever just hear me out

My smooth brain has been going crazy lately for Phantom of the Opera and i just realized how similar Wraith’s “Angel of Music” cosmetic is to the drama (i mean, i known it is inspired by it but like). 

so now with this glorious revelation, me and the monkeys in my head have come up with the brilliant idea to write a Phantom of the Opera inspired Wraith fic. gods speed you funky lil dudes. 

note;; this is going to be very OOC for him. I’m am going to model wraith to be more like the phantom he is dressed as, thus expect a more devilish, seductive creature rather than the tree-man we already know. also, he can talk now. maybe sing

literally no one asked for this

word count: 4110

TW: Death and blood. Stalking and obsession. Musicals 

This place is an undeniable and indisputable nightmare. An eternal night that twists and corrupts all with shadows and despair. From the repetitive game of cat and mouse that almost always ended in death to the ever-present feeling of eternal damnation, there is absolutely nothing inherently good about the Fog. There wasn’t even light. As if stuck in the haze of an ecstasy-trip, time bleeds into itself seeming to stretch on forever yet also never move an inch. A true paradox.

And to make matters somehow even worse, you had started to hear voices in your head.

It first spoke to you on one of your regular trips into the woods. Scavenging for tools and items that could be used in trials, you hummed to yourself. Oblivious to the world around you, lost to the music playing in your head. It was easier to forget the horrors of the night and give in to the melody of some old song than to ponder on dangers yet to come. You found personal peace in singing, drowning out all your earthly worries by the power of your own imagination. The fog swirled and swelled with the rise and fall of your song and out in the darkness the voice made its presence known. ‘Sing louder.’ You obliged willingly.

Initially, you had chalked it up to your heightened sense of purpose and inner monologue being superimposed so as to form its own being. You would command yourself in third person, detaching and driving your body as your thoughts spoke. Intuition personified. This theory made sense; endless panic often causes those to develop the most peculiar of coping mechanisms. In passing conversations with the other trapped souls you realized that they too had their quirks; one had a rubber band that he snapped on his wrist whenever scared, another rubbed dirty into her palms to stop them from sweating and so on. Unfortunately, you had developed the most bizarre habit out of everyone else. You only started to question the voice’s true intention when its orders became more sinister.

‘Leave him.’ It spoke over your shoulder referring to your teammate dying on hook, an open exit gate before you. ‘Run away.’ It commanded to your half-way through healing another when you spotted the killer fast approaching. All these new and selfish instructions, although ensuring your survival, left you feeling hollow inside. You escaped but at what cost? The lives of your friends. If it really was your true self talking to you then, by default, did that mean you were as evil as the voice was? No! You plead. You were a good person. By God you were human, and the weight of all the death and suffering inflicted by your obedience to the voice began to crush your conscience. You couldn’t even look the others in the eyes anymore.

You couldn’t just ignore the voice either. When it spoke there seemed to be an almost physical force behind it, driving it and giving it momentum. Sometimes it even felt as if someone was standing right behind you reaching out and instructing you with their hand as they whispered in your ear. There was also the fact that you drew strange comfort from the voice. In this desert place, so drained of softness and angry with hate, you depended on what little gentleness the voice offered you.  

It even occurred to you that maybe, the voice wasn’t even yours - as in it belonged to someone else entirely. An unknown watcher, a ghost or phantom, who somehow had a deep connection to you, a one-way mode of communication. A large part of you wanted desperately to believe that who were just overreacting and that it was all just in your head. Regardless, you just couldn’t shake the feeling.

For what felt like days now the voice had been uncharacteristically silent. You noticed it in your first ever trial with the killer that could go invisible with the toll of his bell. There was no guidance, no consoling vector to take your hand and help you through your problems. You had been left alone like a new-born chick, blindly searching for the love and warmth of a guardian. Feeling completely lost, the panic that sat on your chest was overwhelming in that trial. But oddly enough, no matter what you did wrong, how many times you blew up a generator or accidentally revealed your position, the killer never disturbed you. You didn’t even see him until the end where, standing in the exit gate looking in on the realm, you spotted the figure. Bright eyes gleamed back, a bloody weapon in his hands. He allowed you a moment longer to gawk at him before ringing his bell and disappearing into the night.

Even after escaping the voice didn’t return. Your ears yearned for the sound of it, hungry for its filling noise. You sat alone at the campfire, eyes staring unblinking into the mesmerizing flames. It was so lonely, the panic and unrest mixing into a dangerous concoction in your head. There was nothing good anymore. Why do you keep on trying? Perhaps it would be better if you just gave in already. You almost jumped out of your skin when, as if manifested by your desperate cry, the voice called.

‘Come.’ It sounded from the treeline, darkness bending and beckoning you into it. It didn’t feel real. Perhaps you were imagining it. ‘Come,’ It said again sensing your hesitation. You looked around at the other survivors none of which appeared to notice the disturbance. You faced the forest again, it opened to you like the mouth of a great fish. Your feet itched to run to it. There was a powerful pull and before long you followed it.

The woods were freezing, broken branches grabbing out as you passed them. Through all these adversaries, pushing past doubts and warranted skepticism, you kept your eyes focused ahead. Even with all the warning flags the voice had given you, the pure desperation you had to find anything even remotely kind lit the fire of will under your feet. Besides, what was the worst that could happen? You were dead either way. The trees swayed and whined as a tired wind blew through their crumbling leaves, oddly not even making a noise. As the voice continued to call, luring you away from the safety of other people and fire, you spotted something ahead of you. There just through the fog, like a lighthouse over a raging sea, was a light. It bobbed and sway and wondered away from you through the trees. It was hypnotizing to watch the light flicker deeper into the trees, your feet not needing motivation to follow.

The light and voice mingled in your head, overwhelming every sense until it felt like you were walking through a dream. Your pace was sluggish and sloppy, you couldn’t feel the ground anymore. Just as it seemed you’d never catch up to the light, it suddenly stopped, blinked a few times then popped out of existence. You went to its last location, looking around for any possible signs of anything to help you but instead found yourself completely surrounded by an all impressive mist. It danced through the trees creating unbreakable walls of wood and water. It felt wrong to be here, your head spin around for an exit which came to you in the form of an out-of-place stone archway.

The bright yellow of the stone contrasted brilliantly against the somber atmosphere it lived in. Your mind wasn’t your own as you unknowingly went to it. Beyond the mouth of madness lay a beast in wait, purring as he felt your impending arrival. Eagerness overtook him and slowly the wooden door creaked open to welcome you inside. The tunnel that lay behind was one lit by old candles tinting the world with a much-appreciated golden light. It stretched on for miles, leading down into the earth where, at the bottom drifting up to you like a breeze in a cave, the voice beckoned.

‘Come.’ You stepped inside. ‘Come to me.’ If, by some strange miracle, you could have stopped yourself for a brief moment from descending the tunnel, you might have noticed the voice’s odd word choice. You might have even noticed the person on the other end licking his lips and smiling. Walking as if through honey, you unhurriedly made your way to the yearning voice. Before long the warm light that had bathed you drew back its loving embrace and faded back to absolute darkness.

At the edge of the last candles reach was a room - so large and empty of light that it appeared to have no roof, no walls, no end. You couldn’t help but feel like you had walked into the lair, the most secret and quiet place, of a monster. You couldn't shake the feeling that you had passed the point of no return. The artificial night swallowed you whole; your eyes strained in the pitch black, your ears burning from the total silence save for your own beating heart. The shadows inspected you, looking you up and down while you were none the wiser. His eyes also ate you up, so pleased to have you alone that he let the moment slip into an uncomfortable length.

You wanted to speak, make your claim against whatever had brought you here. You could sense something out there just outside of your already limited view. But the silence held you tight in its suffocating grasp. You dared not even breath. You had to wait for him to make the first move.

“Bravo.” The voice called from somewhere behind you, startling you to the point of drawing a gasp. “Bravo! Bravissimo!” Someone started to clap. You could hear him stepping around you, his voice echoing endlessly around the room, impossibly loud and booming. Although there was something deeply unsettling about the voice, the only thing you could take from it was odd comfort. It was real. A person. A guardian Angel! You spun around on your heels desperate to see the source of your guidance however he managed to remain hidden in shadow. You swear you could hear him grin at your confusion.

“You listen well, my dear.” There was no denying it, it was the voice. Although only now, when it spoke so openly, did you notice that it was inherently male. So relieved with the news that you weren’t going completely mad with disembodied voices, you glazed over the other implications this reveal came with. If it wasn’t yourself than just who have you been talking to all this time? And, the more pressing matter, just who were you stuck with in the room.

The stranger claps again and moves around in the black, shuffling from one side of the room to the other and at times seeming to even be above you, looking down. “I am beyond impressed my dear.” The stranger smiled, unbeknownst to you getting closer with very advance. “Do you know where you are?” No reply. Honestly you had no clue. You had never been in this place before - it felt so detached, so different when compared to all the other realms you had grown accustomed to in the Fog.

“Hell.” The voice answered, purring like a cat with a trapped mouse, teasing it - relishing off its fear. “The deepest pit. And, what’s more, you came here all on your own free-will.” He moved again not content to stay in one spot for too long, trying to view you from every possible angle before he made his last move.

“Won’t you sing for me. My Angel of music. You know the one I mean.” His words hit you like a ton of bricks. A song? As you wracked your brain for whatever he could be referring to, a faint idea began to materialize right in the tip of your tongue. Words of a melody that you swear you had never heard before but still feel familiar with in your heart. The voice, it sang to you. How could you forget!  

“Every night I was there. Whispering my song to you in hopes that one day, you could join in with me.” That was true. Each time you dared to drift off to sleep, the voice would appear. He sang to you, gently and softly, talking into your ear to lull you safely away - only to wake hours later with no memory of the night before. Perhaps that is why you were always so attached to the voice, why its absence impacted you so deeply. There was a build of pressure behind you and suddenly he was there. The stranger towered over you without even looking, his chest pressed tight to your back. Exploring hands went down your arms and slowly brought them up like the two of you were about to start a dance. His head hung low to your ear, his breathing touching your exposed neck. He sucked in and exhaled meaningfully, taking in your smell and touch and your reaction to his closeness.

“Sing.” God, his voice was so smooth, demanding and rich. A sonorous tone that had never been shown to you before this. It shocked you to your core. He sighed again, one hand moving to caress your neck with the other holding your own hand. “Sing my Angel.” Up till now you were passive, sitting ideally in a dream-state as you let the stranger do as he wished. But now you wanted answers.

“Let me see you.” No answer came from the man be it verbal or physical. He remained completely unphased and unchanging.

“Sing.” He commanded again, no anger or annoyance in his tone only patience and hunger. He yearned for you to sing with him, to join in with his symphony. For too long has he gone silent, his soul dying along with his music. The bells no longer tolling and his music fading out like a lit match in the rain. When he found you, fallen like an angel right out of Heaven, humming alone to yourself, he felt the fire of passion ignite within him. You were perfect to him and now, you couldn’t resist him. You were defenseless, night having accustomed you to its unfurling beauty to the point that you were addicted to it – needed it, just as he did. There was no way either of you could go back now. You breathed into him, your nose filling with the smell of pine and smoke, and hesitantly after closing your eyes, you began to sing the words now burning hot in your head.

“Say you’ll share with me,” It wasn’t really singing, rather just breathless talking – a whisper that only the keenest of ears could hear. Regardless of what you sounded like; the stranger cherished every word that left your mouth. He started to shake, his hands holding on to you for support.

“One love, one lifetime.” He joined you now, singing as you did in a volume that only you could truly appreciate. His raspy, low-pitched voice mingling wonderfully with yours, sounding almost desperate to get the words out. Lips grazed your ear sending shivers down your spine.

“Say the word,” His hands tightened their grip as if to empathize his lyrics. “And I will follow you.”

“Say you love me.” Your combined voices bounced around the darkness stirring whatever creatures lay in hiding, your harmony compelling and immensely sorrowful. While a part of you faded into the song’s words, swaying and melting with the stranger content for once, something crawled into your head. The song was ending, and while you wished to stay forever in this blissful embrace, you demanded to know the face behind the voice. Your moment was coming.

“That’s all I ask of -” Slipping out his grasp at the moments climax, you spin around to finally lay your eyes on the stranger. He froze under your gaze, surprised by your sudden action. Looking up at an incredibly tall man, you felt your knees threaten to give out. Staring back were the glowing eyes of a killer, the very one that had, not long ago, tormented your friends. You couldn’t help but gasp and step away from him, breaking his hold on you. You inspected him as best you could in your lack of light, squinting your eyes as hard as you could but nothing in the darkness made itself known to you save for his unmistakable eyes. The stranger noticed your efforts and, fuming at your defiance to play along with him, raised a hand.

“You wish to disobey me? Fine!” The ground shook under foot, his shouting voice ricocheting off the rooms stone walls and sending the world into disarray. “Look at me Angel! In all my glory!” He snapped his fingers.

Suddenly your senses were overwhelmed by blinding white light. You flinched, shutting your eyes to the dramatic change in the room. When next you opened then you found the room to be hazed in familiar yellow candlelight. As if by magic, all candles had all be simultaneously lit. Your attention darted around like a trapped bird before resting on the man standing in front of you, his arms open and expression unreadable. Bathed in new light you could see him in immaculate detail.

Yes, it was the invisible killer, no doubt about it. But something was off about him. He looked different somehow; maybe it was his prim suit, navy fabric decorated with golden lace that fit his slender body snugly giving him a sense of proper and divinity. Behind him hung an extraordinary cape that fluttered in a non-existent breeze. On his face sat a white mask, crooked and dirtied from years of neglect which, in all honesty, covered little to none of his truly disfigured and burnt flesh.

Unparalleled fear began to rise in your chest. He was so tall, powerful and strange that it terrified you to be standing next to him. You stepped backwards, edging closer to the exit. The stranger’s eyes flickered. How could you fear him? He had never hurt you, Angel. All he has ever wanted was to be by your side, to never be lonely in the dark again. He has given you no reason to distrust him, he has never shown you his monstrous side. Yet still you shrunk away from his touch, choosing rather silent suffering than a lifetime of music with him. He felt something break inside him.

You saw his hand twitch, his off-center head bobbing as his labored breathing intensified. He took a small step forward and you replied by taking a large one back. He halted and so did you. Next to the broken thing that rattled around in his bones, he heard something else. A beating heart, weak and faint but somehow still alive. It moved and leaped, reaching out for you to take it and hold. Just standing in your company he heard music start to swell in his ears. You had listened to him once before, maybe he could get you to again.

The stranger's head dropped; through the lumpy cape you saw his shoulders deflate. What was he doing? Playing possum so as to catch you off guard? Whatever it was, you didn’t let the tension ease out your legs. You waited for his next move, ready to run if he tried anything suspicious. You didn't expect the sound of his voice to suddenly start singing again.

“Say you’ll share with me,” He sang his solo, his voice that of an airy murmur as if afraid to sing alone. Every word he sang clung to your ears, kissing your heart and mind with a complex sorrow. Your guard started to halter.

“One love. One lifetime.” He paused, swallowing the lump building in his throat warning to overflow and render him speechless.

“Lead me,” He raised a cautious eye to find you still waiting, offering him the chance to try coax you closer. A fist clutched his chest in an attempt to sooth his aching heart. “Save me from my solitude.” He was certain he was crying but he couldn’t feel the tears; you had his undivided attention.

“Say you want me here...” He faltered here, hand itching to reach out and grab you. “Beside you.”  The stranger could barely form audible words anymore, so slurred and choked up that you unknowingly leaned forward to try hear him better. 

“Anywhere you go,” He tried again, begging you to close the distance and join him. It was heartbreaking, this phantom, this person and the way he sang to you, each syllable dripping with an ocean of unimaginable pain and beastly hopelessness. It was infectious really; you could feel his sadness take over your heart shaking it in an iron grasp. Miserable eyes glared you down as you took the smallest step forward. “Let me go too.”

He didn’t continue - he couldn’t. The horrors of the whispering darkness and this god-awful place left him near-drained. Everything pushed down on him, suffocating him until he thought he was going to pass out. He could only keep his eyes on you. Blurry from tears he held onto your figure like your were a buoy in a raging sea, his only safety, his air. The stranger heaved from trying to maintain his composure. Finally the curtain fell and you gave in. 

Your foot falls were the only sounds that broke the silence in the room. You approached him with little to no conflict in your mind. Yes - he was scary. Yes - he was a monster. But the way he looked at you now, the way he sang and spoke; no killer would beg to be loved the way he did. It was like he was afraid of the dark, of being alone, of being condemned to an existence of pitiful silence. You craned your neck to look up at him, sucking back the wreckage still wavering just outside his control. 

“Pitiful creature of darkness,” The words tumbled out of your mouth, through teeth unfazed by their possible repercussion. You were speaking from your heart. A small hand connects with his unmasked cheek taking in the feeling of old, burnt skin and years of mud. He leans into your warm embracing having forgotten what it was like. “You are not alone.” 

Even on tip-toes you still were short of his lips. It was only when he gave in and leaned down that you were able to kiss him. Eyes closed, shoulders tensing, you melted into the kiss. His lips were rough, chapped, but gentle. He didn’t give anymore pressure until you asked for him, dragging you tongue along his bottom lip asking for entrance. He opened to you gratefully. Inside his mouth housed monstrous sharp teeth and an excited tongue and moved inside your mouth, tasting ever inch of you. He was greedy, demanding everything of yours. When you had nothing more to give, he relented and let you go.

You sank back on your heels gasping for breath. You noticed he was smiling, an odd sight of such a distorted and sad face. 

“My Angel. My Muse.” You felt him move on top of you, a hand sneaking behind your back making to bend over so as not be pressed uncomfortably against his chest. “I have many names of which to call you. I am eager to use them all.” He laughed, the sound rattling your whole body with its bass leaving you quivering. “But you, can call me Philip.” He tilted his head in a mock bow, his free hand grabbing the edge of his cape and fanning it out in respect. You offered you own  meek nod. His smile only widened at your compliance. 

“Come now,” Philip said standing up to his full height, his hand still securing your back. “Let me take you away. Away from all this numb light and into the darkness where no one will find us.” He raised his arm and cape and quickly brought it down around you, sweeping it around the both of your until he had you cocooned. 

The world fell into black again and all you could sense was him; his breathing, his reinforced arms cradling you. You could also hear a faint thumping when you put your ear to his chest - his heart. Once diseased and weak now pumped with vigor and delight. He had you in his grasp and he was never letting you go. You were his everything; his Angel of music.

[c0ry-c0nvoluted]

THE ENEMY IS NOT A SKIN COLOR. THE ENEMY IS A CLASS.

White privilege. The phrase implies special rights. The phrase implies having a jumpstart in the race by way of DNA. What it doesn’t imply is that that white-skinned Jim or Judy is gonna win that race, just that the game is rigged in their favor.

I don’t hate the concept. The validity of it, I mean. It honestly rings some-kind-of-true in my brain when taking into consideration the general social status of people of color. But there’s a problem with it. Not in its validity, but in its generality, its assumption, and the overall affect it has on our society.

The biggest and most obvious problem with it is that there are tens of millions of white people (if not hundreds of millions worldwide), who are all struggling just to make ends meet (if they can at all). There are “poor white folk” everywhere. And there are white kids who are terrorized by their own parents. There are white boys and girls getting bullied at school or in their neighborhood. There are white people suffering at the hands of violent criminals, scam artists, corporations, policemen… And I’m not talking about white criminals suffering, here...

I worked with this insanely gorgeous blond who was one of several dozen (I don’t remember the actual number) of women who were raped by this cop in my city (San Diego). He’d follow them from clubs, pull them over, take what he wanted from them, then send them on their way. He got away with it up until he didn’t, but how many cops still do? His choice of victim was young and white, as are most serial killer victims, but does their skin color matter? In the sense that they’re preferred as targets, yes, but not in the sense of right and wrong. Their white skin, in this case, wasn’t doing them any favors.

But let’s get back to the topic at hand.

Is “white privilege” real?

Well that depends on what you consider “white privilege” to be, and I think that’s where our signals are getting crossed. I think that if you look at it on a more psychological level you’ll see that, yes, “white privilege” is a real thing in that “white people are less likely to be demonized or judged negatively based solely on their skin tone.” (But not on their appearance. If a white person is dressed like a thug, he/she is going to get negatively judged the same way a Hispanic would. Whereas vice versa, if a black person was dressed like a total bookworm, they’re going to get judged as such, not as a criminal.) But blacks being judged more often solely on skin color is 100% true. Black-skinned people have been demonized throughout our nation’s history (and many other nations) and this demonization, along with insidious, covert attacks on black communities by those in power, have caused two things (among a plethora of others, but two for the sake of my point). 1: It’s caused non-blacks who are not racist but are just recognizing the patterns they’ve been force-fed by the media, to unintentionally relate black-skin with ignorance, violence, and criminal behavior. And 2: It’s brought about disparity, anger, and emotional trauma in the black community that is the cause of the higher crime rates in those communities and more black-on-black crime than white-on-black crime (by the people, I mean. I’m not counting by the government because that’s a whole other fuck-storm of shit that isn’t only aimed at blacks, but at any who are considered “lower-class,” which, yes, the majority of blacks in our country are. That’s not to say there are more poor black people than poor white people. I really doubt that’s the case. But the percentage of blacks or other minorities who are poor vs the percentage of whites who are is likely leaning in the direction of exactly what makes “white privilege” a valid argument. But I’m not a “facts” guy. The numbers are just ways to distract from the problem, so you’re not gonna catch me quoting them to cry foul on the BLM movement. The reality is that yes, there are probably more poor white people total than blacks in this country, but the psychology, the demonization of blacks, is a real thing.)

But there’s a problem with looking at this as “white privilege.” Number one: if we do that we (unintentionally) discredit any white person who is or has suffered. Those who are, or have suffered, will absolutely not take kindly to being told that they are “privileged”. And what happens when they are told this? It makes anyone with white skin who has suffered or is suffering (and there’s a fuck ton of us) think to themselves, “Oh, fuck no! You think I got it good? You think you’re the only one who has problems? You think you’re the only one who’s getting fucked by the system? Well fuck you, and your white privileged bullshit excuse to whine to the guilt-ridden middle class to get your free handouts! The government has fucked me over more times than I can count!” And what does this mind-state do? It creates a racial class-war between those who have white skin and are suffering, and those who have black/brown skin and are suffering. And who wins in this scenario? If you guessed “the upper-class” you get a prize. (Whatchoo want, a fuzzy bear? A goldfish in a plastic tub? G’ahead. Pick something nice out. You earned it.) So now you got poor white people with guns itching to shoot any black person with or without a gun who supports a movement that indirectly claims that their suffering is invalid. And what does this “civil class war” accomplish? It creates more “criminals” for the fucking private-owned prisons to make money off of, further separating the upper-class from the lower, creating more suffering, more anger, more hate, MORE RACISM.

So is white privilege real? Psychologically, yes, to the extent that our society psychologically favors white skin over black/brown. But has it ever made me any more money? No. Has it ever stopped the cops from pulling me over and searching my car? Fuck no. I’ve been detained, searched, followed, fined, towed, impounded, harassed more than most people you know, regardless of your color. I’ve lost count of how many damn times I’ve been harassed by the cops in my city. Shit, I wrote a goddamn rap song about it back in the early 2000’s called SDPD, smashing on the fuckers for harassing a guy who was just trying to get by. And I was NEVER a criminal. I NEVER had any weapons or hard drugs (ok, some pills and plenty of pot, but…), I was NEVER robbing anyone or breaking into cars or homes or gang banging (maybe just a smidge of graffiti, but that shit’s art), or causing any kind of…ok, no, there was some drunken shenanigans, for sure, but that was mostly my boys, not me. Lol The point is, being white DID NOT stop me from getting constantly harassed by the cops in my city. You know what did? A new car, less homies in the ride, no smoke blowing from the windows, and a slightly more tempered demeanor while driving. I still bump my rap music, but I’m not in a car full of teenage “trouble-makers”. I still speed, but I come to a complete stop at them signs, bruh. I still run red lights, but I look reeeal fucking carefully when I do. I still zip in-and-out of lanes on the freeway, but I keep it below 80 (mostly). So the only thing that’s changed is that I “appear” to have more money (with a nicer ride), and I show more maturity in being on the road. My skin color hasn’t changed, but my run-ins with the cops have.

The bottom line: Crying out “white privilege” ain’t gonna help anyone but the rich who’re sitting back and raking in the dough off all the drama and weapon sales and fines and arrests and damaged property that needs to be rebuilt. So don’t make our society’s problem about a skin color. When you do that you divide people into groups when you should be uniting them. Divided we fall. I know most of your intentions are righteous, (and this goes out to white people too who’re acknowledging their “privilege”), but you’re doing it wrong. You’re creating enemies by unintentionally discrediting anyone with white skin who has suffered at the hands of the system, claiming that you own the rights (the privilege?) of deciding that they’re the ones who are privileged, all while they’re slowly rotting in inequity right beside you.

THE ENEMY IS NOT A SKIN COLOR. THE ENEMY IS A CLASS.

And that class is the rich. The 1%.

Are most of them white? Yes. But will that stop them from stealing money from poor white people? From bankrupting small businesses with corporate industry? From putting blue-collar white people out of work and replacing them with machines? From taking their homes when they can’t pay back their loans? From putting them in prison when they fight back right next to you for equality? No. Because the 1% only care about profit, and they don’t care who they have to manipulate, rob, demoralize, or demonize to get it, or what skin color those people have. Let’s get our heads right. Open them angry eyes and see who the enemy really is. And fight THAT enemy, not the enemy that their manipulation has created for you.

How? The real solution to “white privilege” and inequity and inequality is a very simple concept but an incredibly complex task. It involves creating a society where money is obsolete. When this happens there will be no more inequality. There will be no “superpowers” or 1%. There will be no poor. There will be no rich. There will be no profit other than the profit of betterment, progress, knowledge, discovery, science, quality of living. But there’s only one way to make money obsolete, and that’s by removing labor from our society. Sound crazy? That’s because you don’t realize how close we are to doing it anyway. A fully automated society is right around the bend, my dudes. We have the technology to make ALL LABOR OBSOLETE, in which case no one will have to work, in which case money will have no significance. What will have significance? RESOURCES. But this is a topic I’ve discussed before and will again soon and more directly. So for now what can we do? We demand a society that serves the people’s interests, not the corporations’. Unfortunately I can’t tell you how to this because I’m not into politics, I’m into actual change, not perpetuating the same system that’s fucking us all. My advice? Start spreading the concept of a RESOURCE BASED ECONOMY as loud and as often as you can. This type of society eliminates corruption and inequity and is only just now becoming possible thanks to advancements in technology. Look into it. Spread the word. AND STOP CREATING SEGREGATION AMONG OUR PEOPLE. Please, for fuck’s sake, stop adding to our problems and start moving towards eliminating them. #fightsmarter2020 Thanks for reading. -cc

[insidious-intent]

This is the interlude of how fratbro!Michael and emogay!Alex got together the night of the frat party. Be warned, here there be smut. Part one, part two, and part three exist already

Alex woke up, groggy and sweaty, senses slow in a way only a night of drinking and smoking get him. The room came into focus a little at a time, dark colored walls lined with posters of football players and…Ruth Bader Ginsberg? Fairy lights and random lamps litter the walls and floor. He tried to move and realized he was alone in an unfamiliar bed, sheets pooled around him, and he was entirely naked.

The hangover wasn’t bad enough for Alex to not remember what had happened last night. He was so fucked. Literally. 

Last Night: 

The party was full. The house was warm, bodies everywhere, music blaring loud enough to beat through his whole body. Alex squeezes through the gyrating masses, with Guerin close behind him. Alex felt an itch all over his body, the day’s frustration, lack of alcohol, and Guerin’s shirtlessness were all wounding him up fast. 

Guerin grabbed his elbow and dragged him to the kitchen, where a giant pool bucket sat on the counter, neon blue liquid halfway full. 

“Let’s get you drunk,” Guerin declared, making Alex roll his eyes. The kitchen was empty, so Alex could breathe a little, think a little clearer. 

Guerin proceeded to make good on his claim, plying Alex with cup after solo cup of burning liquid. The drinks burned going down at first, but Alex needed a win, so he stopped thinking and accepted every cup Guerin handed him. Random dudes kept walking into the kitchen to chat up Guerin, and Alex realized most of them had to be his frat bros. 

Alex felt hot, muscles loose from drinking, body heating. He must have lost his coat at some point, and he took off his sweater too. Leaning back against cool kitchen counter, watching Guerin do some caveman heterosexual dance with his fratbros, Alex realized he needed to slow down on the drinking. 

Alex instead spent the time staring at Guerin - his stupid perfect body, and those stupid curls. Guerin, with his tiny waist, and an ass that wouldn’t quit. Alex wanted a whole night to worship that ass, on his knees, on his back, any way he could. Guerin’s lips that looked like they belonged stretched around Alex’s cock, long lashes that Guerin would look up through as he stayed on his knees. 

Alex looked around to grab another drink, anything at this point, to stop this insane horny for Guerin loop he was caught in. But then he felt a body crowding him, and turning around came face to face with a smirking Guerin. 

“You like what you see, Manes?” Guerin’s voice was low and scratchy, eyes on Alex’s lips. Alex couldn’t help but return the favor, and felt heat pool low in his stomach. 

“You wish, Guerin,” Alex tried, voice trembling from the effort. Guerin’s smirk turned deeper. 

Guerin tilted his head and brushed his lips along his jaw, caging in his body with arms on the counter on both sides. “I saw the way you were looking at me. Do you. Like. What. You. See?” he asked, punctuating his question with soft brush of his lips traveling up Alex’s jaw. Alex felt his breath stutter. 

“You mean a sweaty drunk frat dude who probably thinks Tarantino is poetry, but probably can’t recite a single line of actual poetry? I see him, sure,” Alex knew he was being harsh, but the alcohol had loosened his tongue already. 

The lips on his jaw stop moving, and Guerin pulled back to stare. “That’s what you think about me, Alex?” he asked, eyes flashing in a way that was entirely too sober for Alex’s good. 

Before he could even think of a response, Guerin put his arms around Alex’s waist and pulled him close. “I think I could run laps around you with poetry, emo boy,” he said, voice low and dangerous. Alex would deny the responding whimper till his dying day. 

Guerin’s smirk was infuriating. “I bet I can suck your brains out through your dick,” he said. 

Alex smiled, this was a challenge he could easily win. “Okay,” he said, “lead the way, bro.”

Guerin grinned bright for a split second, then pushed off him only to grab his hand and pull him up towards the stairs. The people dancing and making out on the stairs greeted them, and more than a few of Guerin’s “brothers” thumped his shoulders in approval. Alex barely remembered the walking until he was suddenly in a room, and the door was being closed behind him. 

As soon as the door closed, Alex pounced. Shoving Guerin on to the bed, he climbed over and straddled him. “Let’s see if you’re all talk now, dude,” Alex said, making quick work of Guerin’s belts and shorts. Guerin had him out of his shirt halfway already before Alex’s brain kicked into gear and he moved, taking a moment to remove his clothes and shoes. 

Oh fuck. 

Guerin, standing gloriously naked, with his strong thighs, and thick cock, was a wet dream come to life. Alex couldn’t decide if he wanted that cock in his mouth, or inside him, or create a sculpture to worship at for the rest of his life. 

Guerin smirked, seeing Alex’s stare. Grabbing lube from...somewhere, Guerin stalked closer and pushed Alex back on the bed. 

Alex pushed up on his elbows and raised an eyebrow. “You want a written invitation, Guerin?” 

“Oh so you do know my name. So I know you’ll be screaming the right name later.” 

Alex rolled eyes and waved his hands in a universal gesture of ‘get to it already.’

Guerin slid down his chest, lips a hot brand on his nipples, then his chest and stomach, finally coming to rest at the base of Alex’s cock. He stayed a moment, mouthing at the base, making Alex’s eyes roll back in his head. 

Alex forced his eyes open, just in time to see Guerin swallow him whole, lips stretched obscene around his cock, sweaty curls plastered on his forehead. Alex wanted to push his fingers into those curls and pull. So that’s what he did. The resulting moan from Guerin vibrated up from his cock all the way behind his eyes. Alex couldn’t breathe. 

Guerin pulled off for a moment to breathe, and bite the inside of Alex’s thigh, making him keen. He went back to his ministrations with a diligence no straight boy should be able to, and Alex silently apologized for making assumptions about Michael Guerin. Almost as soon as he started though, Guerin stopped and pulled off completely and Alex couldn’t help but whimper at the loss. 

“You’re not straight, are you?” he asked between squirming from Guerin’s hand on his dick. 

Guerin smirked. “Welcome to the SigEp party. It’s a real bisexual blast around here.” 

Alex used the pause to flip them over, and pinned Guerin’s wrists down. “Well let me show you how I party, Guerin,” he said, grabbing the lube with one hand and got to work on himself. 

He teased himself slowly, making sure his fingers were slow and deliberate. Alex had to close his eyes, lips parting as the first finger entered him. Beneath him, Guerin’s breathing got heavier. 

“Oh fuck, fuck let me see Alex,” he pleaded, trying to get up from his position. Alex pushed him back with a hand on his chest. But he quickened the pace, knowing neither of them were going to last long anyways. Grabbing a condom, he put it on Guerin, relishing the groan he heard when he touched Guerin’s dick. 

Lowering himself slowly, Alex bent over, nipples brushing Guerin’s, lips close. He moved his hips a little, enjoying the way it made Guerin throw his head back with a groan, eyes closed. Guerin’s hands came up to circle Alex’s waist, long clever fingers moving him just the right way to punch a moan out of both boys. 

Alex moved over to kiss Guerin, biting his lips and moving his tongue with his. Guerin looked and felt exquisite, and Alex couldn’t even begin to remember why he was so angry at the boy earlier. He wanted to keep kissing those lips, keep his fingers deep in those curls. He pulled back a little and stared at Guerin, who stared right back, eyes wide and soft and full of awe. 

“I like my body when it is with your body. It is so quite new a thing,” Alex whispered lips right on Guerin’s. “and possibly i like the thrill of under me you so quite new.” 

“Fuuuuck you Alex,” Guerin responded, in the same low tone, “Cummings, really?” Alex smiled, of fucking course Guerin knew his poetry. He snapped his hips up to move them faster, but Alex didn’t let him continue. They moved in rhythm, in sync with each other’s breathing, not fast, but not slow either. 

Alex closed his eyes and moved his hands all over Guerin’s chest, pinching his nipples, circling his shoulders. In turn Guerin moved his hands from Alex’s waist to his thighs, cursing every time Alex snapped his hips and clenched around him. 

Alex didn’t even know when Michael moved up and swung them over so he was on top. The next time Alex opened his eyes, it was to see Michael looking down into his eyes, golden curls framing his face, lips upturned in a soft smile. 

“Of everything I’ve seen, it’s you I want to go on seeing,” Guerin spoke softly, deliberately. His voice wrapped around the diminished alcohol haze of Alex’s mind. “Of everything I’ve touched, it’s your flesh I want to go on touching.” Alex had to put a hand to his mouth to stop him from continuing, Guerin’s voice and Neruda’s poem mixed in his mind, fireflies of something more than desire. 

Guerin stopped as if he understood what just happened, and moved one of his hands to grab Alex’s dick instead. Alex closed his eyes and let the strength of Michael Guerin’s body, his undeniably male smell, his smoke on whiskey voice carry him into a powerful orgasm. He felt more than heard Michael coming soon after, but he couldn’t find the strength to open his eyes. 

They stayed there for a moment, Michael on top of Alex, still and inevitably there. He heard Michael get up with a loud groan and took a second to appreciate the view as he got up to get rid of the condom and grabbed a towel to clean them both up. Once they were both relatively non-sticky, Michael grabbed Alex and arranged them under the covers, snugly covering Alex as if he was a precious stuffed toy. 

“So,” Guerin started, and Alex tried not to groan, “I totally rocked your world and won that challenge. Now you have to go out with me.” 

Alex rolled his eyes, “there were no challenge and we never agreed to any terms. You also failed to ‘suck my brains through my dick’ like you said.” 

“Admit it, dude, you lost.” Guerin pulled him in even tighter. “And we’re going out tomorrow.” 

“Fine,” Alex grumbled, “now go the fuck to sleep.” 

Silence settled around them easily, even though Alex could hear the noises of the party below, but they were muffled, distant. 

Michael pushed his face into Alex’s neck, lips brushing skin. “Alex, I like kissing this and that of you,” Guerin’s smile was wide against Alex’s neck as he whispered. 

“Me too, Michael.” 

*** Now

When he got out of the bathroom, with a clear head and brushed teeth, Alex realized Michael stood at the door, recently showered and dressed. An uncharacteristically nervous look on his face, a drastic change from the ultra confident Michael he met last night.  

“That was quite some drinking last night, Manes,” he said. Alex realized with a jolt he was being given an out, a way to sweep last night under the rug and end all possibility of any conversation with Michael right there and then. 

Alex moved closer and put his hand on Michael’s chest, and looked up into amber eyes, and smiled. 

“i like your body. I like what it does, I like its hows,” he said softly. He watched as Michael’s face lit up, eyes bright. “I like to feel the spine of your body and its bones -” 

Michael didn’t let him finish, pulling him in with both hands on his waist, kissing him deeply. The kiss was unhurried, not laced with drunken lust. Here in the sober light of morning, Alex kissed this lovely boy, a rowdy frat boy, a secret poet. 

They pulled apart to beam at each other, and this was so much better. The delight on Michael’s face that was reflected on his own, and the knowledge that they had found each other at the beginning of something, settled in his bones. 

This was going to be fun. 

[vaguekiwi]

Whom Shall I Fear?

@tony-is-my-daddy​ posted this and my brain fucking broke down.

Whom Shall I Fear?

Pairings: Tony Stark x Peter Parker

Summary: 1 Samuel 16 - 17 but it’s Starker. (David in Saul’s Service, David and Goliath.) Tony is David and Peter is Jonathan and I have so much to say about this but I’m gonna put it at the very end.

Characters: David:Tony Stark, Jonathan:Peter Parker, Saul:Richard Parker (background unnamed Samuel, Goliath, and Merab.)

Word Count: ~2000

Other Inspiration: Sight by Sleeping at Last

Warnings: Biblical crossover/speculation, safe for work, not safe for church, hint of homophobia, inappropriate use of Biblical concepts/language

When they met, they were both still young.

There was a new attendant in the king’s court. He had dark hair and his neck was curved toward the instrument, so Peter could not see his face. But he handled the lyre carefully, almost reverently, as he played.

Peter itched for the man to turn his face, longed to see the rest of the full jaw in his view, wanted to see the colour of his eyes. Eyes which captured the lyre with an earnest focus, eyes which Peter was sure enamoured anything and anyone they looked at.

“Peter!” Peter started at the sound of the king’s voice, but was glad he did not sound angry or resigned.

“I apologise, my lord king.” Peter bowed when he addressed his father. He could feel those eyes on him now, fought the urge to turn.

“Peter,” King Richard straightened himself and waved his son in, “come, meet Anthony.” So Peter faced the musician who stood to bow.

Peter could see immediately that he could do more than play the lyre. His frame was strong and his eyes - Peter had been right - were bewitching pools of brown; traces of green and gold flashed in the man’s gaze as he looked Peter up and down.

“A warrior, too,” King Richard sighed as Peter shook Anthony’s hand, “yet to truly prove himself in battle, but that time will come. I find his songs… soothing.”

Anthony finally spoke, his cadence rough and gaze never leaving Peter’s face, “I am fortunate the Lord has blessed me with such a gift, my king.”

“Yes, thanks be to God.” The king mumbled, then shook his head. “To think your talents were being wasted so— herding sheep! It is good you have come here, Anthony.”

“I am grateful to be here, my king. And grateful too, for the beautiful instrument you have provided me.”

The king mumbled at that, and made a motion that he should continue playing. So Anthony sat down again and lifted the lyre.

Peter knew he had effectively been dismissed, but he lingered outside the door. He pressed his back to the wall and listened to Anthony’s music. He wondered why his cheeks were warm, and what the stirring in his stomach meant.

—

Anthony’s music did more than soothe the king. It stopped any temperamental episodes all together. The entire castle grew to welcome the sight of the young man with the lyre who could keep the king’s demons at bay.

He was not there all the time. He often went home to his family. Said tiredly that he needed to look after his father, help his brothers, and of course continue to watch the sheep.

When he was not there, King Richard became paranoid and angry. He threw things and spat heresy. The rumours troubled him; the ones that said King Richard had lost favour with God, that God had sent prophets to anoint a new king. Peter didn’t know whether to believe them or not, he just continued to pray for forgiveness for his father.

Then Anthony would return with his lyre, always carefully tuned and polished, and he would play to ease the king’s heart.

He sang too, beautiful homilies of faith and wonder; stories about far-off lands and battle glory. It was because he sang that Peter first got to know him.

“Anthony, are you alright?” He found the young man bending over a desk, a quill rolling between his fingers, lower lip tucked into his mouth.

“Prince Peter,” The shepherd looked up and their eyes met, and Peter wished they hadn’t. He did not want to feel surrounded the way he did by that gaze, like there was pressure on all sides and he was held down by it. Like he desperately needed to come up for air, but could not unless the strength and assurance in Anthony’s gaze gave such permission.

It was a strange feeling of authority, between prince and subject. But it also felt right.

Then Anthony turned his worried gaze back to the paper and he sighed in exasperation. “I am having trouble writing,” he admitted at length, “the words don’t come as easily as some might think.”

“What is it about?”

Peter stepped further into the room, wanting to thumb away the anxiety creasing Anthony’s forehead.

“Fear,” Anthony chewed his bottom lip and anxiously rubbed the fingers of one hand together so flakes of ink fell to the top of the desk. Peter looked down at the paper, the jumble tight print against the page.

The wicked advance against me to devour me, the armies besiege me, war breaks out against me.

There was no music written to the lyric, but Peter could imagine it easily. Could hear Anthony’s lilting voice while his fingers strummed the lyre.

Peter spoke, and put his finger to the top of the page, “if it is about fear, then what is it that gives you strength when afraid? Write about that.” And so Anthony put his quill to the page again and scrawled

The Lord is my light, whom shall I fear?

Then he went still and looked up at Peter.

“It’s… difficult to write, my prince. With someone watching… like this.”

Peter took several steps back which were too big, putting more distance between them than they needed. “Of course, I’m sorry.” He said and turned away. The wicked advance against me, armies besiege me. What did that mean? What did Anthony, the shepherd with the king’s favour, have to be afraid of?

Before Peter left, Anthony called:

“Thank you, Prince Peter.”

And so that became routine. Short moments in the afternoon sitting in an abandoned office; Peter prompted and Anthony’s words flowed. And come evening Peter snuck to the king’s chambers and listened for the finished song.

—

 King Richard was right, Anthony did eventually have cause to prove himself in battle.

Peter watched from afar with a trembling lip as Anthony shed the armour he’d been given.

Anthony cast aside his sword and declared the Lord was with him. It was a haughty sentiment, Peter thought, when in theory the Lord was with all of them.

Peter watched the musician push his way to the front lines with only a sling and five smooth stones in hand. Peter turned away, feeling a deep loss at the prospect of his friend’s death. The man who had brought peace to the king’s tortured mind.

The army jeered. King Richard shook his head sadly.

Peter thought of the tales of heroism which had been borne from Anthony’s mind - and what a brilliant mind it was - and sent a prayer for the Lord to protect His servant.

Afterward, when Anthony held the enemy commander’s head aloft, when their army roared and their foes retreated, Peter looked cautiously to his father. They could hear the chanting from here:

Richard has slain his thousands

And Anthony his tens of thousands!

A thinly-veiled insult to the king, if ever there was one.

King Richard’s face was unreadable as he turned to an aide. “Bring the shepherd boy to me.” He ordered.

And Peter thought God must be weary by now of his prayers.

—

But the king did not kill Anthony.

Peter was waiting outside the tent when he emerged. Blood still stained his hands and his clothes were still torn, but now a handsome purple mantle had been draped over his shoulders.

“Anthony!”

“Prince Peter.”

They stood just a bit too far apart from one another, a setting sun casting them in golden light while the cheers of victory and scent of sweet wine filled the space between them.

“My father…”

“He did not hurt me,” Anthony shrugged off the mantle and trudged away. Peter hurried to follow him.

“Are you alright?”

Anthony took them away from the festivities, toward the back of camp and to the seclusion of the streams and veld beyond.

When they were too far for anyone to hear them, but probably still in sight, Anthony said: “Our lord king has asked me to stay with him. To advise. To lead your army.”

“That is a great honour,” Peter said, even though his heart clutched with worry, “your family will be proud.”

“Prince Peter,” Anthony stopped now and turned to face him. He rubbed two fingers together, they watched flakes of dried blood sift off and settle to the ground.

“Prince Peter, I fear I am an enemy of your father.”

Peter glanced furtively back to camp before asking, “Why do you say that?”

“Have you heard that another man was anointed by the prophets? To be king in your father’s stead?”

“Yes.” Peter was conscious of his heart racing in his chest. He had a suspicion of what Anthony would say next, he did not know if he was afraid of it or wanted it to be true.

“Peter, I cannot lose a battle.” With the honorific prince cast away, Peter felt like his own skin had been peeled back, like Anthony was looking down at something raw and something secret. Anthony shook his head and kicked his foot into the desert ground, “I can go up against a ten foot tall general without a sword and still win… apparently.”

Peter whispered: “If you are the man the rumours are about, then the king will want you dead.”

“Or he will want me leashed,” Anthony replied, “he has already offered your sister’s hand. A fine home. A title. He is already afraid of me.”

“There is good reason to be afraid of any man with the Lord’s favour.” Peter mumbled, and then gasped when Anthony stepped forward. He put one hand on the small of Peter’s back and the other on the side of his neck, Peter could still smell the blood on it. The stench of sweat flooded his nostrils and they were very close like this, pressed flush against one another.

“Are you afraid of me, Peter?”

Peter didn’t completely understand the question, but he understood what was happening. He understood the danger of it, the horror of it. He understood that anyone could look down on them from here, and if not recognise them they could recognise the sin of two men so close.

His voice shook, “This is an abomination, Anthony-”

But Anthony only held him tighter, “The Lord is my rock, my protection, my Saviour. I can run to him for safety. He is my shield and my saving strength, my defender.” They were his own lyrics, his breath hot on Peter’s neck as he growled them out, “the world cannot touch me, Peter. Not unless He wills it. And He won’t, His plans for me are grander than this one battle.”

They were both quiet, Peter’s breath was hoarse but he let himself hang in Anthony’s grip, pressed his chin into his palm.

Again: “Peter… are you afraid of me?”

“If the Lord has chosen you to be king, then whom shall I fear?”

Anthony smiled, and it was genuine. It was happy. It was born from goodness and patience, from peace, joy, and love.

And Peter reached for the soft woollen britches which Anthony wore, torn at the knees and along his thigh from the battle.

“May I worship my king?”

Anthony growled. It was a sound that sent a spike of heat through Peter’s whole body. That made his head white with electricity when their lips met.

“Only if I may reward my servant.”

--------

Notes from Grace:

Okay, there’s SO much potential to this story. Everything I have written here is before the Bible actually mentions David and Jonathan making their covenant together. Like after this, there’s chapters on King Saul hunting David, Jonathan helping him to escape, Jonathan manipulating and lying to his father to protect David, Saul lowkey realising they’re in love so lying to Jonathan and accusing David of stealing his son away and corrupting him. There’s this actual dialogue:

**David: Your father knows very well that I have found favour in your eyes

Jonathan: Whatever you want me to do, I’ll do for you

Jonathan: Don’t be afraid, my father Saul will not lay a hand on you. You will be king over Israel, and I will be second to you.

And these actual verses:

“So Jonathan made a covenant with the house of David, saying ‘May the Lord call David’s enemies to account.’ And Jonathan had David reaffirm his oath out of love for him, because he loved him as he loved himself.”

“Then they kissed each other and wept together — but David wept the most”

And David being on the run and Jonathan straight up sneaking away from his dad to meet up in a secret liaison like who can possibly say that wasn’t gay as hell?????

And Saul offering David two of his daughters’ hands in marriage and David being like “... nah.” while ‘affirming covenants’ with Jonathan left and right.

But this is all I wrote. If anyone’s into it I would encourage/welcome you to continue it and would love to be tagged in any such continuation.

**(I use an NIV Bible for 99% of my Bible needs)

[overwatch-does-stuff]

Overwatch: Minor Lacerations

Summary: Into the Night- by Big Black Delta Oh I am just a knot, on a string That you drag the world around with Oh baby not, everything, needs to burn There's no need to fight into the night Don't let that temper loose now

Or: Moira has a short temper. Taking care of Subject Sigma requires patience. Trigger Warning: abuse

The words were moving like a flowing stream of data, running down a computer screen faster than a brain could register that there were words at all. Each one creating the bigger picture but their individual worth was not apparent. Painting a picture, composing a song, the most beautiful song-

No no no. Not the song again. He really shouldn’t be thinking about music at all considering what happened when he did. Anyways. 

Where was he again? Oh, right, the words were like datapoints, slipping past into a system, out of reach.

“Sigma!”

Sigma blinked and came crashing down- literally. He was falling, experiencing quite a different sort of weightless feeling than that which he had been experiencing prior. He hit the padded floor. His limbs were jostled out beside him and he was out of breath and he knew he needed to sit up right away. So he did.

In front of him- Moira. Normally he would call her by her formalities but there was no time now. Her face was contorted into scowl. She was yelling now, filling the room with harsh consonants. And her white lab coat jerked along with her movements reminding him of the glistening of stars.

A sleeve of that white lab coat fluttered closer to him, close enough to reveal a core of purple within. Purple limb and purple shapes attached to that limb. They came closer and closer and then suddenly something happened and his face burned with pain and he fell backwards.

“Focus, Sigma, you feeble-minded creature!”

No, he was not tumbling through stars or galaxies or whatever miseries his brain decided to conjecture today! He laid on the padded floor and his face hurt. Streaks of burning pain raked their way across his cheeks and a warm something was coming out of them.

Each prick began to fade away, though. More data points, lost to the computer banks. Soon the information was old news and outdated and quickly discarded. Variables changed so fast when it came to gravitational sciences. One minute they were stable and the next they weren’t.

And sometimes the stars themselves changed and their orbits would affect the weave of the song and everything would grow unstable. The math changed. The very laws themselves changed. 

Perhaps he just needed to think about it more and it would all make sense.

---

“When did I receive these injuries?”

Siebren gingerly touched his face. The pressure caused the scratches to briefly pulse with discomfort. 

Dr. O’Deorain came over to the chair where he was sitting with a silver sprayer filled with golden liquid. She adjusted the knob and the sprayer, then did a little test squirt into the open air.

She cupped Siebren’s face with one hand, gently lifting his chin up. Her hands were soft. Instinctively he closed his eyes. He let out a gentle sigh.

She let go and a few moments after he felt the gentle puff of the mist settle onto his face. It felt cold, refreshingly so, and he basked in it. There was a slight itching feeling as the wounds closed. He opened his eyes. He reached up to feel his face to find the skin smooth and whole again.

Dr. O’Deorain was turned away, putting the sprayer bottle back onto a nearby rolling tray. She spoke as she did so. “You don’t remember?”

“No, it seems I don’t.” He replied. “I don’t remember much of yesterday. I was hoping you might enlighten me.”

She turned back around. “You scratched yourself in the midst of your ramblings.”

Siebren looked at his fingernails. They were short, nestled against the skin of his fingertips. He touched his thumb to each finger one by one. He looked back to Dr. O’Deorain.

“You must have trimmed my nails after.” He said.

“I did. To prevent any further harm.” She replied.

He stood up from the chair. “Thank you for healing me, doctor. I suppose I shall run along to my lab now?”

He began walking over to the door. Dr. O’Deorain came up alongside him. To escort, of course.

Then she grabbed his arm just before they reached the exit. “No. You will be going back to your room today.”

“Why? I’m stable today.” He turned to face her.

“Yesterday you were not. The council was not pleased.” She replied.

“The council? What happened? What did I do?”

“The council needed your expertise for a mission. When you were unable to provide, they became quite angry towards you. . . and towards me.” She said, in a bout of uncharacteristic quietness. “To see you walking about today might inflame those tensions.”

“Angry at you? Please, don’t tell me you’ve been punished because of me?” He felt a pang of guilt.

She shook her head. Nevertheless her eyes pierced like daggers. “Not punished, restricted; my abilities and my focus questioned. But it’s alright.”

It was not alright. She was clearly hurt, even mad, but Siebren couldn’t blame her for it. He would certainly be angry if he was in the same position. He vowed to himself that he would try and be on his best behavior for the week that followed.

But then Dr. O’Deorain reached towards him. He caught a glimpse of purple wrapped in a white labcoat sleeve. Everything within him tensed and dreadful chill filled him and he stepped backwards. He let out a short gasp and before he knew it he was floating off the ground.

Dr. O’Deorain withdrew her scarred hand and covered it with her other one, but peeks of it still showed through. Siebren tore his gaze away from it and met her eyes, trying to find an answer within her irises, but her expression seemed more horrified than anything. He looked away again.

“Siebren, are you alright?” She asked.

He struggled to overcome the lump in his throat. “I. . . I don’t know why I’m feeling this way. I’m sorry.”

She took a step closer but before he could protest she stepped around him, hitting the door panel behind him. 

“Follow.” She commanded. 

He heard her footsteps tap down the hall but couldn’t bring himself to turn around. His eyes were full of tears and it was taking just about all of his willpower not to sob.

Dr. O’Deorain, came from behind and grabbed his hand, spinning him around to face her. Her scarred hand, he noticed, she had tucked neatly behind her back. 

She came back by his side instead of walking in front of him. Together she walked and he glided down the halls. Many twists and turns later and they were back at his room. The locked doors came undone one by one. She led him into his padded room and then left his side. The doors closed.

---

Log, day ___,

Due to my lapse in discipline, an unknown amount of trust has been lost with Subject Sigma. On the surface, Subject remains amiable towards me but clearly some part of his subconscious remembers what I did. My worst fears have been realized.

Ideas to prevent further distress: gloves, more nurturing(?) touches, classical conditioning (remove negative association), , ,

Perhaps time will prove to be the most effective remedy. His memory fades more rapidly than most. Perhaps he shall forget, given time. The question is when.

This new role as therapist/caretaker is completely outside of my normal field of work, and my most recent mistake is evidence that I am not suited to the role; although observing the most recent machinations of the council it does not look like my situation will change any time soon. Bringing up my hesitations now would only serve to further worsen their opinion of me.

Perhaps the most pertinent lesson for me here is the need for better control over my temper. I cannot let this happen again. Siebren is our tool, and like any tool, it must be treated with respect for it to function properly. 

End log.

[cygnusfae]

i loved you more than i meant to

in which roman reminisces on his first meeting with logan and has the gayest birthday morning ever. a background to my romeo and juliet au with romantic logince

word count: 2.1k

tws: alcohol, beheading mention, implied internalized homophobia, implied period typical homophobia

a/n: shoutout to my lovely beta reader @airiervessel as i cannot grammar for the life of me

read on ao3

This party was a disaster. What else could be expected of an event that didn’t have any of the amazing Roman Escalus’ creative input? It was absolutely dull, lacking true substance and a certain panache. A je ne sais quoi or whatever the French said. 

Currently, Roman was sat at a free table, idly spinning an empty silver wine goblet before noticing his cousin, Count Janus, and his disapproving glare from across the table. Him and his stupid creepy face. Roman stuck his tongue out at him and slammed the goblet back onto the table, reaching for the bottle of wine next to it. He could almost hear Janus’ scolding. Whatever. This party stunk anyway. More guests began flooding in after being announced, high nobility and that sort of thing. All of them sounded the same to Roman anyway.

He took another sip of this bitter wine. “You would truly think”, Roman grumbled under his breath, “that being prince would allow Thomas to get the finest wine possible. It's absolutely abysmal.” He let out a truly dramatic sigh, and dropped to rest his head on the table. Really, the decorations were hopeless. The tapestries were so last century. And what kind of goblets were these? 

“I would have at least chosen the gold goblets to complement the purple drapes.” He let out another theatrical groan and closed his eyes, then opened them again. He turned to the entrance. A true spectacle was about to begin, it seemed.

The squire at the door coughed loudly. Eyes around the room seemed to settle on him. “Announcing, Lord and Lady Montague, with Lord Patton Montague and Lord Logan Montague.” 

It was like a fairytale. Roman loved those. He loved reading them as a child, the romanticized ideals of the world and of love. He wanted love like from a fairytale, once upon a time. But fairytale love wasn’t in the books for someone like him. So he gave up on having his own romance and decided to put his passions in art, in his creative pursuits. Into helping others, providing justice and being like the princes in his books. Even if he never got to woo a handsome knight, that was fine with him. He was fine with the occasional flirt, a short lived tryst or daring escapade. That was fine with him. Kind of.

But if Roman didn’t know any better, this was as close to the fairytales as he could get. It was as if he was enchanted, spellbound by the man before him. He sat up, gripping the silver wine goblet in front of him. This Logan Montague- Who was he? He briefly remembered hearing about the Montagues and Capulets, rival merchant families. Something about a big feud. He didn’t care for it much, but now he started to pay attention. 

This Logan… he looked fascinating. Like an enigma. His face seemed bored, casually unreadable. Everything about him was sharp and angular, geometric and cutting. Even his spectacles, rectangular cut glass, stood sharply on the bridge of his nose. He looked as if he were carved from marble, sculpted by the finest artisans and craftsmen. He had to talk to him. This was a challenge he couldn’t resist. Roman nodded, as if to himself. He took a swig of his wine, turned it from one sip to three then four then just decided to finish it. He steeled himself, and got up to meet him. But Logan disappeared into the crowd.

Roman frowned. How did he get away so easily? The floor was a mass of swirling robes, colorful figures winding around each other in perfect step to the music. Roman almost growled. “Curse it all!” How difficult could it be to find one devastatingly handsome man? His blue tunic was very distinctive, a particular dark blue shade that reminded Roman of the night sky. Just look for that. How difficult could it be?

Very difficult indeed. Roman must have spent almost the entire night looking. The guests were slowly trickling out, but the Montagues still remained. He had even gone to Montague's son, Patton, and asked but to no avail. However, he did have a lovely conversation with the gentle young lord, so at least he may have gotten himself a new friend. But not what he was looking for. Great. Now he had missed a chance to be with someone new rather, than seem clingy and desperate and go back to one of his previous conquests. Roman sighed, standing at the edge of the room, his refilled goblet in hand. His eyes narrowed, taking a long, slow sip of the wine. He’d had enough of people watching. He needed fresh air. He stepped outside to the courtyard and found himself almost walking into a dark blue tunic. 

Logan was standing next to a fountain, eyes toward the sky and back to Roman. He didn’t even seem to notice that Roman was there at all. He cleared his throat, but there was no response. Logan shifted, moving to sit down next to the fountain. Still, he looked up towards the moon and stars. Roman moved closer, leaning on the wall next to the fountain. Nothing.

 “Good evening my dear fellow. Kind sir, would you oblige me and give me a word?”. Logan finally turned to look at him, but his face seemed annoyed and irritated. Well, Roman felt his enchantment lift slightly at the other man’s sour expression. “The moon is high and wits are waning, apparently, as I am not your dear, nor in the mood for the exchanging of words.” Roman blinked. He was a feisty one apparently, but he was not one to back down from a challenge. He put on his most dazzling, charming, roguish grin as he leaned in towards Logan. 

“Well, not so gentle fellow of mine, how can I refrain from dubbing thee ‘my dear’ when thou art dearest to mine own heart?” Logan made a sort of angry growl in the back of his throat, which should not have made Roman’s heart feel larger than his chest. 

“Do not presume me foolish, Roman Escalus. I do not wish to partake in one of your famed escapades, nor be a battle that you intend to conquer.”. Oh no. Roman might have misread the young man entirely.

“Why my dear Montague, if you only wished to tell me that you held affection for another fair maiden, then why didn’t you tell me thusly?” At this, Logan flushed. Oh no. Roman might have misread the situation incorrectly twice.

 Logan, now turned a lovely pale rose, quietly grumbled under his breath. “‘My dear’, I hold affection for no maid nor do I hold affection for such fairer of the sexes.” Now it was Roman’s turn to flush. But Logan wasn’t finished. 

“Now, ‘my dear’, I believe quite firmly that tis you who art behaving quite unfairly. You believe me some fragile damsel when perhaps you should reconsider your phrasing.” Strike three for Roman, but he was nothing if not persistent. 

“Sweet, gentle Montague, I do not believe thee a helpless maiden. Why, I think thou art the loveliest of the faeries, enchanting me, luring me away to the woods.” Roman lifted his head, looking to their silvery reflections in the water before hearing Logan snort and quietly snicker. Roman’s head whipped back up to meet Logan’s gaze. “How rude! I think that was a lovely compliment!” 

Logan adjusted his glasses before staring straight into his eyes. “The existence of the rumored fae folk is highly unlikely and unrealistic. Thou shalt have to be cleverer in an attempt to woo me, my dear Roman Escalus.”. 

Roman’s heart performed a strange flutter in his stomach, which worried him slightly. But he still gasped in faux horror. “Oh Logan Montague, the blasphemy! Queen Mab shalt have your head for the feast tonight, as consequence for your insolence.” 

“Fae are but beings of fantasy and whimsy, and I put no faith in such things Roman!” 

“Oh, truly, it pains me to hear of your untimely demise due to your disbelief.” 

“I swear-”

Roman grinned as Logan began on a passionate rant. Perhaps this party wasn’t so dull after all.

                                                              ---

Roman blinked open his eyes. Sunlight filtered through the open window, curling wisps of breeze floating in from under the edge of the curtain. He was in his room. The dream was truly vivid, as if he was back at their first meeting only four years ago.

He shivered slightly, gooseflesh rising on his bare arms. His palms were warm, resting on Logan’s arms. He was still asleep, his mouth slightly parted with the quietest of sighs. How lucky he was, to be blessed with the sight of such an enchanting and lovely creature in his arms. 

Roman gently laid the barest of feather light kisses along his shoulders, his lips resting gently on the pulse of his neck. Logan shifted slightly, burying his face deeper into Roman’s neck. If he was to die now, it would be a gift from the heavens to die in this position. 

He gingerly lifted his hand to run his fingers through Logan’s hair, moving it away from his forehead. At this, Logan began to lightly stir. Eyelashes fluttering open, Roman got a glimpse of his pale blue eyes blinking at him. He groaned, slumping father down into the blankets and resting his head on Roman’s stomach. Slightly muffled, he muttered, “Who gave the sun the right to part night’s dark curtains this early?” 

“Tis only the eighth hour of morning, my dearest star.” Logan lifted the covers higher, bringing them over his head. 

“Still too early.”

“Well my dear, might I at least retrieve your spectacles for you?” At his nodding, Roman reached over to where they were haphazardly placed the night before on a cushion laying on the floor. He gently lifted the blankets only to snicker quietly. Logan looked ever ruffled, like a particularly fluffy bird. Spectacles were replaced on heads and blankets were removed. Logan began idly tracing constellation patterns on Roman’s collarbone, having risen considerably more than earlier. Roman frowned. This one was familiar, itching at the back of his brain. 

“Libra? No, I give up. Cursed stars, which one is this?” Logan smirked, having one upped him finally after being evenly matched for the first few patterns. “Oh wise and brilliant prince, I would have thought you able to recognize this one?” 

Roman shook his head. “I concede; I surrender. My brilliant scholar, do enlighten me.”

“The constellation is Gemini, the star pattern you were born under.” That's why it had seemed so familiar. He had seen its shape in one of his books. He was more surprised at Logan. 

“You remembered?” Logan’s face, which was playfully competitive, had softened. “How could I not? The day of your birth must have proved a pivotal date in the turning in the earth. I could never forget.” 

Roman held Logan tighter, resting his head in the crook of Logan’s neck. Logan murmured into his neck, his warm breath making the hair stand up. “It’s your eighteenth year, our third year together. I couldn’t forget that either.”

The dream still had not left his mind. He wondered, and decided to ask, “Do you remember how we first met?” 

“Of course. The party was disgraceful, I had rather looked at the stars instead.” 

“And I would have rathered to look at you.”

“And we bickered all night.”

“A pair of squabbling hens were we.”

“Goodness, we certainly must have frustrated each other to no end.”

“Truly. Lucky for you however, I still love you.”

Oh no. He did not just say that. Roman felt panic rising in his chest, he must have said that way too soon. Logan was sure to be scared off. This was his first time truly loving someone, and he really hadn’t even expected himself to love Logan truly. Did he even love him back? His thoughts were cut off with a gentle press of lips to his. 

“I love you too. I shall love you until every star in the night sky burns out and even then will continue to love you for years after.”

“And I believed myself the more dramatic one.” Logan rolled his eyes, pressing another kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I could almost hear your thoughts travelling far away. I endeavoured to make sure you aware of my own thoughts.” Roman shushed him with another kiss.

“I love you. I love you. I love you.” Now that he said it once, he couldn’t stop. He murmured the phrase into Logan’s lips, as if to stamp the phrase onto his mouth. I love you’s were pressed into his shoulders, his cheeks, his forehead, his neck. As if to cover his whole skin, to let love melt into the pores of his skin.

“I shall love you till I part with this mortal coil and even then, for eternity in the heavens above.” Logan sighed, gently brushing his lips against Roman’s collarbone. 

“Till the sun and stars burn out and for eternities after.”

“Do you promise?”

“I do.”

[valkyriesryde]

Tough Guy - 2

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: It’s open mic night and the night doesn’t exactly go as planned...

A/N: Like I said this is going to have some drabbles in it, this is longer than I intended and for that I’m sorry but I needed this to be a drabble, we’ll be back to regular smau for the next few parts :D ENJOY

Wordcount: 1,200ish

Masterlist - Series Masterlist - Previous

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

“So when are we meeting this ‘work friend’ of yours?” Sam leaned on the table and he and Clint both wiggled their eyebrows at Wanda.

“Oh for fuc-”

“Shh, I wanna know if she’s real or not!”

Wanda rolled her eyes “when she’s finished her set,” both the men were practically jumping in their seats, they were playing a game of who is Wanda going to set up tonight, Clint or Bucky and Bucky was praying it wasn’t him.

“Come on,” Steve caught Bucky’s attention and they both stood to get another round from the bar as the lights dimmed and the music started.

He stared into the half-empty glass of beer on the counter and ran his fingers over the condensation as Steve waffled on about this and that. Someone started singing but Bucky wasn’t really listening to that either.

“Everyday I find multiple spelling mistakes or grammatical errors.”

“Closer than I thought we’d end up anyway Never cared you left in fear too hard to stay Control all my wavelengths till I find a better guy I don’t know how you do it to me time after time”

“I’m just saying if they fired all the editors you think they’d hire freaking new ones to replace them.” Bucky hummed and nodded, there was something itching at the back of his brain, something deep and sad and familiar.

“I can read you clearly like a magazine Pictures of your past are visible to me Clearly, like a magazine Pictures of your past are visible to me”

His breath hitched in his throat, there was that familiar feeling. His chest got tight but in his head, there was the warmth of the sun, waves crashing, limbs tangled and fingers drawing pictures on his bareback telling him how he’s so easy to read, asking him why he hides from the world.

“Tough guy He's Mr. Tough Guy He makes the girls cry Mr. Tough Guy”

Bucky’s head snapped to the stage, his posture straightened and his jaw locked when he saw you standing on the stage behind the mic. You weren’t looking at him, your eyes were downcast but he still recognised you, recognised your voice.

“Text my phone I don't reply ignore your calls If I was interested I'd make that clear, not anymore You really think that I'm the one to fall for all those lies Stupid just to think you were a waste of time”

“Steve I can’t - fucking hell I can’t fucking deal with this,” Bucky couldn’t breath, he stormed deeper into the bar for their table and yanked his coat off the chair before Steve caught his arm.

“What are you talking about? Where are you going?” By now most of their friends at the table were watching the two have a staring contest or a glaring contest.

“She look familiar?” Bucky spoke under his breath and nodded towards the stage but he couldn’t quite convince himself to look at you himself.

“I can read you clearly like a magazine Pictures of your past are visible to me Clearly, like a magazine Pictures of your past are visible to me”

“Oh shit” Sam stood up and took a closer look and sure enough it was. While his friends were distracted Bucky was able to duck away and he moved through the groups of people towards the door until you said it again.

“Tough guy He's Mr. Tough Guy He makes the girls cry Mr. Tough Guy”

Your eyes locked and Bucky thought maybe you looked panicked, distraught even? But surely not because of him. At that moment, as Bucky stood frozen amongst the crowd of people and you sang those words directly to him all he wanted to do was yell at you. And cry. He couldn’t yell at you now, not with everyone around and you on stage so crying it was. However, he wasn’t about to let you see him crack so when you finished the chorus and closed your eyes Bucky ran out the door and didn’t look back.

You saw him, Bucky, at the back of the room surrounded by a group of people and Wanda who waved excitedly at you. Then you saw white and thought, surely, that this was a sign and it was time to perform the song you’d kept in your back pocket for two years. So you told Peter and you refused to answer anything else regarding the matter.

When you stood on stage and sang the two covers you tried not to look for him. But as if by some superior power as soon as the last song, the song you wrote about Bucky, started, you found him in the crowd. At the bar.

As soon as the song finished you were off the stage and running out the door after him. You had to find him. It wasn’t hard, Bucky was leaning with his head against the brick wall of the building, his eyes closed and his chest moving rapidly.

“Hey Mr. Tough Guy,” you squeaked out, fingers fiddling with one another and hesitantly taking a small step towards him.

“What the hell are you doing here?” He didn’t move, he didn’t raise his voice or give any emotion either. You took another step, only a couple feet away now.

“I got a job,” you shrugged.

Bucky laughed, a dry, cold laugh that made you shiver. “You got a - you’ve got to be kidding me.” He shook his head, stepping away from the wall and running his hands over his face. “You just decide to get a job and settle in my neighbourhood?”

He still didn’t raise your voice and you tried to mask every single emotion that you felt. “Well you talked it up so much,” there was a twitch in your lips and Bucky couldn’t hold it in much longer. “Buck-”

“Don’t you dare call me that. You have no right to call me that.” Bucky’s voice was dripping with anger, all those pent up feelings were coming out and he was practically spitting them at you.

“Fine. James. I’m here okay, I’m not leaving either. I have a job, I have friends, I have a home.”

“You’re all settled. Right here in Brooklyn, where else huh?” Bucky stood looking across the street, he saw you get closer to him in the corner of his eye and he wanted to step away but instead, he turned to face you.

“Bucky just let me-”

“No! No, you don’t get to explain. There’s nothing to explain anymore!” That was it, that was the line and he couldn’t hold back his emotions anymore. “I told you not to call me that.”

“Why not, it’s your name isn’t it?” You were angry at him too, it wasn’t just one-sided, he had a part to play as well, he didn’t have to ask that much of you.

“Because if you - if you say that then I’m -” you were chest to chest now, both seething with anger and feelings that had been pushed deep down trying to rise again.

“What Bucky?” You whispered and watched his eyes drop to your mouth before quickly going back to your eyes, his hands were held in fists at his side

“I tried hating you, did you know that? I wanted so badly to hate you.”

“And why don’t you?”

Bucky’s hands held your face, his fingers pushed into your hair as he pressed his lips against yours. It was quick and rash and he gave no time for a reaction before he pulled away.

“Because you keep saying my name. Now it just hurts because you’re going to walk away again.” He licked his lips and clicked his tongue, “or maybe I will.” Then he did, he turned, and he walked away.

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

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it!

Permanent Taglist (OPEN): @witch-of-letters​ @turquoisekokiri​ @harryngtonewithyourshit​ @morsmordrethings​

Bucky Taglist (OPEN): @bxrnsfeyson​ @brilliantbellesoares

Tough Guy Taglist (OPEN): @kneel-begyourpardon @buckysdumbmetalarm @itz-kira​ @pinknerdpanda @jamielea81