#i always love dropping the 'professional clowns make more than i do'

[squeakadeeks]

talking about the strike with my students and theyre all gung-ho and supportive: 

[juyeonszn]

NECTAR

PAIRING kim sunwoo x f!reader

WORD COUNT 7.14k

GENRES smut ﹒ fluff

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, mature language, umm age gap!! reader is like 10 or so years older than sunwoo (it’s never really specified what her exact age is), reader is also eric’s older sister, there’s a bit of spanish thrown in here lol they’re in mexico for vacation what did u expect, sun eric and hak are professional baseball players, there’s a scene where a waitress is kinda icky to reader bc she’s older, i think mentions of alcohol, sunwoo is down BAD down bad to the point of no return it’s crazy, he’s also a horny impatient little shit, soft dom!sunwoo ig idk, oral (m! & f! receiving), face fucking, handjob ish, a little bit of hair pulling, vaginal fingering, So Much Praise, UNPROTECTED SEX pls be safe!!, edging, delayed orgasm kinda, missionary position, creampie, aftercare :P, the last scene is so cute and disgusting i hate couples

SUMMARY despite being nearly a decade older than him, sunwoo’s always had his eyes on you. so when your younger brother invites you to join them on vacation, you fall right into his trap. you can’t really blame him for finally taking the bait after all these years.

MORE woah hey again 😋 this one isn’t as wild as the hyunjae fic, but it has its moments LOLL if u ever read my warnings about this when it was on my wip list, then u know that this was actually an old fic back from when i wrote for anime 😭 i changed a lot tbh but a good chunk of the original plot is still there 👍 i got inspo for the last scene from a tumblr quote my irl posted on instagram isn’t that crazy anyway….. enjoy!!

PLAYLIST nectar — wayv, tangerine love (favorite) — nct dream, delicious — the boyz, passion fruit — the boyz, horizon — jaehyun, moonlight sunrise — twice

When you agreed to go with your younger brother on a vacation in Mexico for a week with his friends, you weren’t sure what you were expecting.

You knew your brother’s friends well. They'd gone to high school together and after partly going their separate ways following graduation, decided to go on yearly trips to make up for any lost time. This year, the destinations were the gorgeous beaches of Mexico. Cozumel, Cancun, you name it. You were hitting all the spots.

Those were the luxuries of being the older sister of a professional baseball player.

From the start of your getaway, every single one of your movements felt like they were being watched. Your skin burned with the heat of mocha brown eyes staring at you. Half of you wanted to point it out to Eric, but figured you’d save yourself from the drama. Besides, you were a big girl and two could play at that game.

The first instance took place before you even left for the trip.

You lived about an hour away from Eric and since you were all taking the same flight, you thought it would be more convenient to just ride to the airport together. And because he was closer to the airport, he offered for you to stay at his and Sunwoo’s apartment. Haknyeon would be meeting you there due to prior engagements with his own team.

When you arrived at your brother’s place, you immediately regretted it. You hadn’t called before going over and Eric happened to be out, leaving you alone with Sunwoo. There was nothing wrong with him, you just hadn’t seen him in a couple years and you were afraid of it being awkward.

The younger male helped you bring your things inside, huffing when he dropped your suitcases in the guest bedroom. He wipes away imaginary sweat from his forehead, blowing out a raspberry as he turns to face you.

“Did you pack bricks in there? Why the fuck was that so heavy?”

You laugh. Sunwoo had always been quite the clown as long as you’d known him. “I’m a girl, what did you expect? We never pack lightly.”

“You can say that again,” he snorts, twisting his torso to pop his back. “Uh, are you hungry? We have some leftover takeout in the fridge ‘cause you know damn well neither of us know how to cook.”

Before you can respond, you’re distracted by the sight of him raising his arms to stretch, his t-shirt riding up to show a sliver of his abdomen. From the way his slender fingers lock above his head to the taut skin peeking behind the fabric, you’re entranced. Your brain finally comprehends the fact that Kim Sunwoo was no longer a teenage boy, but rather a grown man.

He clears his throat, breaking your trance and forcing you to stop staring. Your cheeks flush slightly as you attempt to hide the embarrassment flooding your features. His lips are pulled into a smug grin, making you aware that he caught you. He doesn’t say anything though, keeping the cocky smirk as he leaves the room. (Presumably to go to the kitchen.)

With hefty feet, you drag yourself to follow. He’s already warming up the leftovers for you as you take a seat at the island barstool, resting your chin on your palm and your elbows on the counter. Your moment from a few minutes ago is long forgotten as you become transfixed by him on the other side of the island.

It’s weird for you to think about how much Eric has matured, coming from an older sister’s point of view. But having that same realization for Sunwoo is a completely different can of worms. You watch as he extracts the container out of the microwave and opens a drawer beside him to grab a pair of chopsticks simultaneously, all without skipping a beat.

He spins on his heels to place the food in front of you, pausing when he notices that you’re staring at him again. The glint in your eyes was more wholesome than before and it made his heart stutter in his chest. He slides the container across the surface of the island, leaning closer to you.

It was almost like your gaze trapped him in a spell, taking over his actions and drawing him towards you like a magnet. He’s never wanted you as much as he did right now, seeing you in his home, sitting on the stool in his kitchen. Your eyes widen when you’ve snapped back to reality.

Before he can do anything, the sound of the front door unlocking stops him and he’s stepping away to tidy up his mess as if nothing happened. Eric comes in to greet you happily and life continues on just as it had prior to Sunwoo leaning into your personal space. He acts like it never occurred, laughing along at a stupid joke your brother made.

And for some reason, you thought he would keep pretending nothing happened. What a rude awakening you were in for.

It’s a couple days into your trip and you were sitting on a lounge chair poolside, while Eric and Haknyeon had gone to get drinks. Sunwoo placed himself in the seat next to you, his sculpted chest and torso gleaming in all their tanned glory.

He knew it was wrong of him to pine after his best friend’s sister, but how could he not? There was something about your maturity that drove him crazy. But even if you ignored that, anyone who could see would find you stunningly gorgeous. The sight of you scantily clad in a bikini was enough to make the strongest men weak.

Perhaps it was also the thrill that you were nearly a decade older than him.

At this point, you weren’t sure if the warmth engulfing your body was from the sun or the brunette’s intense gaze, but you want to push your luck, the incident at the apartment still fresh on your mind.

“Sunwoo? Do you mind putting some sunscreen on my back for me?” You ask innocently, grasping the base of the tube firmly. His tongue darts out and swipes across his lips.

She knows what she’s doing, he thinks to himself.

“Yeah, s’no problem,” he responds cooly, standing from his chair to sit behind you on yours.

You’re borderline on his lap, so close that you can feel his breath on your neck. Just to fuck with him some more, you reach behind yourself to untie your swim suit top.

You’ve been on this playing field long enough to know when a man wants you, but you’ve never been an easy target. It was like a game of cat and mouse for you. Right when they think they’ve got you, you always seem to be three steps ahead.

This little chase that you were leading Sunwoo on wasn’t any different.

His fingers dance dangerously low on your back, working the lotion into your skin wonderfully. As you’ve gotten older, your body has undoubtedly changed. The fat of your thighs was far more than it was when you were in your early twenties/late teens. Your stomach was lined with stretch marks, no two the same. But even so, you remained ever confident. You wouldn’t put up with anyone who wouldn’t agree that your so-called ‘imperfections’ were beautiful.

After a few minutes, once the trap had been set, you tied your bathing suit back. The ghost of his skilled fingers lingered as you stood from the lounge chair, spotting your brother and Haknyeon walking back.

The brunette had never been denied before. He got what he wanted without fail, and he’d be damned if this was the one outlier. He’d just have to prove to you that even though he was younger, he was more of a man than any you’d ever been with. And that was a promise.

Later that evening, the four of you had gone to your respective rooms to shower and get ready for dinner. Luckily, Eric had used his brain for something good and reserved separate hotel rooms for each of you. ‘Just in case,’ he’d said.

You did the finishing touches of your makeup and checked your phone, finding a text from your brother.

[8:07] eric: we’re all in the lobby

[8:07] eric: just waiting on u

[8:07] eric: but take ur time dear sister pls don’t rush on our account

[8:08] eric: it’s not like we have an uber waiting for us or anything

[8:08] eric: note the sarcasm btw

You roll your eyes as you grab your purse, tossing the device inside. Who was he to talk about how long it took you to get ready? You were in your thirties and you were not about to be bossed around by your little brother. Back when he was still in high school, you were the one telling him to speed up his morning process.

Your dad had gotten a job halfway across the country right before his second year and it crushed him. You remember how upset he was when they broke the news, the thought of packing up his entire life and leaving all of his friends stung. So instead, you got a well paying job and bought a two bedroom apartment for the both of you, that way he could stay and finish out the rest of high school. You made some sacrifices, sure, but you were practically done experimenting in your life. You were in your late twenties by this point, what more was there to do? You’d already graduated from university so helping out your brother was doing everyone a favor.

After living together for nearly three years, you and Eric had grown a lot closer. With such an age difference, it’d been difficult to relate to one another and bond over certain things. When he’d discovered a new phase to go through, you had moved past it years prior. You were always just out of reach from each other until then. It was like the universe itself was trying to bring you together.

Even now, both of you much older, he still calls and asks to come over to your place so he can hang out. You meant just as much to him as he did to you.

The elevator dings, opening so you can stroll towards the group of young men waiting for you. Right when they caught sight of you, you started making your way to the Uber parked under the carport outside of the hotel.

The drive to the restaurant was silent, but you could feel an intense gaze on your form. Purposefully, you’d worn your most revealing outfit. A nice tight dress to hug your matured body and some skinny heels to elongate your legs. You were thankful that your brother wasn’t the type to be overly protective, well aware that his older sister could carry her own by now. However, you think even Haknyeon had started to pick up on your actions and the unspoken tension between you and Sunwoo.

You arrived at your location for the evening, stepping out of the car gracefully. You received multiple stares from other patrons and even a few employees. You weren’t sure if it was because you were just that drop dead gorgeous, or if it was another reason entirely. Maybe they were wondering what three men who looked as young as they did, were doing with an older woman such as yourself.

You don’t have to dwell on it for too long, a host showing the four of you to a booth almost immediately. Shout out to Eric and Sunwoo for having connections.

The seating arrangement ends up with you and Sunwoo on one side, Haknyeon and Eric on the other. You had a feeling this was not a good idea. They’d dropped you right where he wanted.

When the waitress comes to take your drink order, you feel the toasty warmth of a hand on your thigh, nearly tripping you up as you point out a margarita on the rocks from the menu. After she jots everything down, she taps her pen against the tablet. She then gestures between your party.

“Are any of you dating?” she asks curiously, eyeing you with a quirk to her brow. To anyone else, it’s a normal question. Eric, Haknyeon, and Sunwoo were indeed good looking guys. (One of them was your brother, of course he was attractive— where do you think he got it from?) But you could see right through her fake act. She had to have recognized the three baseball players.

“Haha, no actually. She’s my sister.” Eric chuckles, pointing at you with his thumb. She narrows her eyes momentarily before covering it up with a sickeningly sweet smile.

“Ah, tú hermana.” She tries to laugh off, but when the boys furrow their eyebrows, she realizes it fell upon deaf ears. You fight the urge to burst into laughter at how stupid they were.

“She said ‘your sister’ in Spanish. Idiots, I swear.” You explain to the still confused table. They let out a chorus of ‘ohhhh’s in response. Learning Spanish was something you’re glad you did, seeing as you sometimes needed to translate during your trip. You would definitely hold it over them when you got back.

The waitress seems to notice how close you and Sunwoo are sitting, but doesn’t call you out on it. While the other two are oblivious to her fixation, the brunette catches on quickly, squeezing the inside of your thigh as she continues her silly little version of twenty questions.

“Cuantos años tienes?” She asks you personally, realizing that you can understand her. What ever happened to girls supporting girls?

“How old are you?”

“En mis treinta.” You answer without hesitation, not exactly telling her for the sake of your own satisfaction. The press of Sunwoo’s fingers trails upward, causing you to shift uncomfortably.

“In my thirties.”

You can sense that she wants to say something snarky to you, her opposition to your age clear as glass, but she chooses not to. Whether that’s because she wants to seem like a good person in front of the boys or otherwise, you couldn’t care less. As long as you hadn’t been disrespected. And you knew if you were, Eric and the guys would jump to defend you with all their beings.

After what feels like a millennium, she finally leaves you alone, even going to the extent of switching tables with another waitress. Was that even allowed? You’re not entirely sure, but at least you didn’t have to deal with someone rude.

The majority of the dinner goes smoothly, the drinks and the food tasting unlike anything you’d ever had. Haknyeon couldn’t stop raving about the different flavors he was experiencing. At some point you think he told the waitress to send his thanks to the chef, in true Haknyeon fashion. That was the majority. The rest of the dinner was spent in absolute agony.

A certain baseball player couldn’t keep his hands to himself, eating with one and teasing you with the other. How no one paid any attention to what was happening right in front of them was beyond you. You’d even accidentally whimpered, covering it up by pretending the food was just that good.

The check couldn’t come fast enough, your body betraying you and anticipating getting back to the hotel. Your brother had different plans, claiming that the night was still young and he wanted to have drinks somewhere else. Your disappointment must’ve been obvious, because Sunwoo comes to your rescue.

“Eric, I think your sister’s ready to hit the hay.” He pats the brunette’s shoulder, one hand on his hip.

“Oh we can head back then—“ You interrupt him.

“No no, it’s fine, Eric, I'll be okay on my own. You guys have fun, don’t let me stop you.” You dismiss him. You could get rid of your problem yourself this way. No one to bother—

“I’ll go with you. Someone’s gotta make sure you get to your room safely, N/N. Besides, I'm beat. The sun’s starting to catch up to me.” Sunwoo grins, ruffling your hair. You glare at him, your irritation coming to light for the first time since you’d landed in the country. You’d done so well at acting like he wasn’t affecting you.

“Alright sick! Thanks, Sunwoo! Hak and I will see you tomorrow I guess,” Eric says. He turns to you, hugging your side. “I'll check to see if you’re still awake later.”

And that was that. You and your brother went your separate ways, ordering two Ubers for the pairs you were in.

It took all of about seconds following the ding of the elevator reaching your floor, for Sunwoo’s lips to meet yours. You jump, wrapping your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist, his large palms supporting you from your ass. It was so attractive that he could hold you like this— showing off the muscles he’s built from all his years of playing baseball, a far cry from that scrawny kid you knew when he was younger

He fumbles with his keycard, waving it frantically in front of the sensor. There’s a flash of green and he pushes the door open wide enough to fit the two of you through its threshold. Never once do your mouths disconnect, kissing each other so feverishly it raises the temperature of the room. He kicks the door closed behind him with his foot, pressing you up against the floor to ceiling mirror-wall beside the bathroom. The heat radiating off of your body fogs up the outline of your figure.

Sunwoo can’t seem to get enough of you, groping and grabbing any part of you that he can. You have to admit, you’ve never felt so needed— so wanted— in your life. In the messiness of teeth clashing and tongues tangling, your desperation begins to run rampant. You whine as he tugs at your bottom lip.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this, N/N,” his voice is husky and breathy, his soft pants filling your ears. He pecks your bare shoulder affectionately, cupping your right breast in his hand. “How long I’ve been waiting for you to take me seriously… to let me treat you like a real man should.”

His knee nudges itself between your legs, creating some much appreciated friction momentarily, his erection prominent against your thigh.

“I know that you know what you're doing when you dress like this. All slutty and revealing, showing yourself off to everyone,” his mouth hovers over the skin of your neck, goosebumps littering the surface. “But really, you do it for me, huh? You do it on purpose ‘cause you know how crazy it makes me. You know exactly what I’ve been wanting since we got here. That’s my smart girl.”

You can’t help the small moan that erupts from the back of your throat, his words and the wet feeling of his tongue circling the area he had just been sucking on going straight to the excitement pooling in your belly. He smiles mischievously, thumb running over your clothed nipple.

You’d been so lost in pleasure that you hadn’t even realized he’d moved you to the bed, your back on the fluffy white comforter and your thighs spread apart for him. He takes a hold of the back of his collar and removes his shirt in one swift motion, pushing your dress upward afterwards to assist you in discarding it.

His eyes rake your now half-naked body, the fullness of your tits nearly spilling out from the lacy nude strapless bra you were wearing. He drags a finger along your lace covered slit, his lips curling when he watches you shudder underneath his touch.

“Sunwoo, please…”

You don’t even know what you’re begging for, just that you need it. And you need it badly.

“Please, what?” He tsks, now massaging your inner thighs, working you up just like he wants. You pout, hoping to convey the message without pleading. Embarrassment floods your body when you realize he’s not gonna make it easy for you. “Use your words, sweetheart.”

You shut your eyes, hoping to will away the sheer mortification flushing your entire being. “P-please touch me.”

This fuels his ego even further. As if it could get any bigger.

“Open your pretty eyes, baby,” he coos, leaning forward to kiss you. When you obey his request, he hooks his long fingers into the waistband of your panties. “There we go. See, good girls get what they ask for.”

He slides them off, parting your legs immediately. The cool air makes you flinch. The one article of clothing that kept you unexposed was gone now, along with the confident woman from earlier in the day.

He repeats his actions from minutes ago, his pointer finger collecting your slick as it slides through your folds with ease. The squelching sound it makes is horrifying, your shame settling back into place. He kisses the plane of your stomach gently, murmuring into the skin.

“Do you hear that, sweetheart? Do you hear how excited you are for me? There’s no point in trying to hide it anymore.”

Your eyes widen at his words, opening your mouth to say something in retaliation but he takes this opportunity to bury two fingers inside of you. A gasp leaves your throat consequently, your back arching on instinct. It had been a while since a man had set aside time for foreplay. He truly was making good on his word, treating you like a real man should.

He lowers himself, positioning his face in front of your pussy and darts his tongue across his lips before flattening it against your clit. The sensation makes you shiver, though that reaction is nothing compared to what happens next. He curls his fingers inside of you, brushing that certain spongy spot that drives you insane, then begins alternating between kitten licking and sucking on the engorged skin of your clit.

You cry out, hands flying down to tug at his hair and dig your nails into his scalp. He doesn’t appear to mind at all, more like he enjoys it, reveling in the way you’re losing yourself to him slowly but surely. It's a dream come true for him. He's finally getting the opportunity to completely ruin you after waiting for-what-felt-like-ever. Horny, teenage Sunwoo would be jumping for joy over this.

He remembers the first time he met you. Eric had invited him, Haknyeon, and other members of the team over to your shared apartment for a team bonding during their second year. The only thought in his mind upon seeing you was ‘damn, I love older women.’ You were just so sure of yourself, he couldn’t help the tightness in his pants and the thumping in his chest.

And those feelings never seemed to fade.

In fact, it appeared that they grew with time. He’d dated other girls since then, especially because he was so popular in high school and in university. Yet for some reason he could never quite pinpoint, things never worked out. They just didn’t feel like the one for him, so he’d end the relationship before anyone got hurt more than they had to. Then the yearly trip would happen and Eric would update him on your life and his crush on you would come rushing back to him.

Even when you’d gotten engaged a few years ago, nothing could stop the way his heart beat only for you and you alone. He didn’t really like the dude all that much, but expressed support for you anyway because he wanted you to be happy. After Eric told him that he broke off the engagement to pursue someone else, Sunwoo just about lost it. He wanted to hunt the guy down himself. He couldn’t fathom how one could just throw away the once in a lifetime opportunity of calling you his. You deserved the world and so much more.

Everything resurfaces and it’s evident in the way his fingers dive even deeper inside of you, his appendage lapping mercilessly at your aching clit. You don’t question him even if you wanted to, your entire body feeling like it’s on cloud 9. He takes a break from licking and sucks at the sweet spot harshly, ripping out a prolonged moan from your lips.

Your release is in your field of vision now, so close that you can nearly taste it. You attempt to buck your hips up into his mouth to chase what you’re yearning for. He senses exactly what’s happening, so he slows his assault, much to your aggravation. You can’t even help the pleas that tumble from the back of your throat.

“No no no no, please,” you sit up, your hands still intertwined with his messy brown locks. “Sun, please… why’d you stop?”

His smile is almost conniving, you swear you can see his canines peeking through. He hovers above you, caging you between his torso and the bed. “You've been having all the fun, so now I think it’s time I have some, too.”

You’re about to ask what he means, when he steps back to undo his belt and zipper, pushing down his pants in record speed. Even through the black material of his (expensive looking) briefs, you can tell he’s well endowed. You rub your legs together, still sensitive from being deprived of your orgasm, and your hunger for all of him increases immensely.

“Eager, are we?” He chuckles, switching places with you. He sits at the edge of the bed, his legs open enough for you to fit between them. You bite your bottom lip, gripping each of his muscular thighs. It wouldn’t be such a bad thing to get crushed by them. It sure would be a hell of a way to die.

He leans back onto his palms, bunching up the sheets in his fists. You move forward to press your mouths in a searing kiss, cupping his clothed erection in your hand. He groans as his teeth nearly gnash with yours. You seize the chance to discard his underwear and massage his cock. The warmth and length of it makes your mouth water, almost whimpering at how flushed it is. You can tell that he’s painfully hard in the way he’s extremely responsive to all of your touches. You swipe your thumb over his slit, collecting the pre cum that’s formed there.

After deciding that enough is enough, he parts from you in favor of ordering you to get on your knees. You maintain eye contact as you wrap your lips around him, the nerves you’d been feeling all night finally washing off. Your tongue swirls around the tip a few times before it licks a broad line from the base back up along the underside. You take him down your throat this time, massaging his balls as you do so. Your cheeks hollow out as you bob your head, your hands jerking what you can’t fit.

An erratic knock at the door startles both of you and you’re about to remove yourself from him, but he keeps you there with a large hand, urging you to continue. You listen reluctantly, assuming the person would just go away if you ignored them.

However, the knock comes again moments later. Sunwoo looks down at you. His eyes tell you all you need to know, so you don’t stop.

“Sunwoo! Hey, have you seen my sister? She’s not in her room.”

You practically choke on him at the sound of your brother’s voice, but he still doesn’t let you pause. His attention doesn’t leave you as he replies.

“Uh yeah, she’s borrowing my shower. Hers wasn’t working.” He lies. His eyes bore into yours intensely, the knowledge that he had Eric’s hot older sister right here in front of him on her knees shrouding his mind.

The brunette outside seems to find that answer sufficient enough and doesn’t interrogate further. “Okay, cool. Just tell her to text me when she gets back to her room.”

“You got it.”

His footsteps can be heard padding against the carpet of the hallway as he walks away.

Your nose brushes against the hair at the base of his cock before he cups your cheeks and lifts your mouth off of him. You take in a deep breath, keeping your hands on his dick firmly. As you regain your breathing, you leave kisses all over, starting at the tip and ending down the shaft. You feel him shudder beneath you, a satisfaction coming from knowing that you’re the one who has him so weak.

You had Kim Sunwoo wrapped around your pretty little finger.

Unbeknownst to you, that’d always been the case. Since day one. But it didn’t matter at the moment. All that either of you cared about right now was wrecking each other.

He slides his cock down your throat again, loving the sight of you getting face fucked by him. You moan around him, the vibrations causing him to grasp at your hair tightly, though you don’t mind the sting either.

“You look so gorgeous like this, sweetheart. Your lips look so pretty wrapped around me. Can’t wait until I’m inside you,” he hisses when your tongue runs over his slit. “You want me to fuck you into the mattress? Until you can’t even remember your own name?”

You release him from your lips once more, nodding frantically. It’s almost pathetic how needy you are for him, your brother’s best friend, someone nearly ten years younger than yourself. “Yes, please, Sunwoo. I want you so bad. I want you to fuck me so hard, I can’t walk properly.”

His smirk from your pleads is ungodly. He swipes his thumb across your bottom lip, pinching it between his fingers before he pulls you up to kiss you roughly. Even though he has this big dominant act up on display, you know he wants you just as much. And he conveys it in the desperate way he moves his mouth against yours with such fervor.

After a few minutes, both of you get sick of wasting time and he flips you around so you’re on your back. He nips at your neck, whispering dirtily as he pumps himself in his hands.

“The only thing I want on your mind is me, you got that?” He lines his dick up with your hole, nibbling on your earlobe while he does so. “The name Kim Sunwoo is gonna be engraved in your fucking brain after tonight.”

Without any semblance of a warning, he pushes himself in, giving you no time for adjustment. His cock fills you up nicely, better than you’ve ever been before, and the feeling alone rips a particularly loud moan out of you. “Oh my god, Sun. Y-you're so big and your cock f-feels so g-good. So s-so good.”

“You’re so tight, your pussy is squeezing me. You gonna cream on my dick?”

He gives you another one of those sly grins, where it’s almost like he’s baring his canines to you, and you swear you’ve never wanted to be ruined as much as you do now.

His pace is unrelenting, nothing but sheer power going into every thrust of his hips. His cock hits places deep inside that you didn’t know existed. It amazes you how much stamina he has and it doesn’t appear like he’s letting up any time soon.

“Sunwoo, just like that— f-fuck yes— right there,”

“Look at you, Y/N, so fucking messy and all because of me.”

He hooks one of your knees on his shoulder, plunging even further into your pussy. The mewl you release is voluminous, enough to wake up anyone in the rooms surrounding his. One of his hands holds your leg in place while the other travels south, gripping your side and using his thumb to vigorously circle your clit.

The added stimulation is just what you need to nudge you closer to your tipping point, what you were deprived of earlier. He, of course, notices that and stops his attack with his finger. You whine in protest, not wanting to deal with his teasing again right now.

You open your mouth to express your distaste at the same moment he rolls his hips experimentally. So instead of complaining about his edging, you let out a choked groan.

“Sunwoo, please, let me cum. Please, I'm begging. I need to.” You hate that you’re in this position, but you can’t hold out much longer. Fatigue is catching up to you and if you don’t cum soon, you might pass out.

“You wanna cum, baby? You want me to let you cum?” He all but growls in your ear. You moan wantonly in response, quickly becoming a babbling mess. “I think you can wait a bit longer. Take it like a big girl, yeah?”

Your other leg wraps around his waist, allowing his already buried cock to kiss at your cervix. The new angle is unhinged, short circuiting your brain. Discarding any thought behind your actions, moving on autopilot, you pull him down to press your mouths together.

The combination of passion and pure lust drives both of you wild, fueling your desires. His lips part from yours and he moans breathily as you clench down on him, the exhale fanning over the lower part of your face. The sound is unlike anything you’ve heard before and you’d do just about anything to hear it again. The brunette was completely unaware of the effects he had on you, something as simple as a noise kicking you into high gear.

But it seems even he’s reaching his limits, not able to hold himself back anymore. In an attempt to finish you both off quickly, he brutalizes each piston of his pelvis. Your nails sink into his shoulders.

“F-fuck— S-Sunwoo I’m gonna— I’m gonna cum— so fucking—“

His thumb finds its way back to your clit and resumes its previous attack, the other circling around a peaked nipple, cutting you off. You arch into him, trying to bring the two of you impossibly closer. His cock rams in and out of you almost inhumanely at the rate he was going. With one particularly harsh thrust, he commands,

“Cum for me, sweetheart.”

The words send you overboard and you release around him, simultaneously gripping him like a vice and moaning so pornographically, you kind of feel bad for everyone else staying on this floor. Your whole body spasms with your orgasm, hushed moans falling from your swollen lips. Seconds later the twitch of his dick alerts you as he follows, filling you up with the warmth of his own cum. Had he not still been inside you, you were certain it’d flow right out, something akin to Niagara Falls. But you’re both too busy trying to catch your breaths to really pay attention to any of that extra stuff.

The ache was settling in your bones instantaneously, and you half-regretted encouraging him to ‘fuck you so hard you couldn’t walk properly’.

After what feels like an eternity, he slowly pulls out his softening cock, your pussy clenching at nothing and feeling empty as he presses a soft peck on the tip of your nose, his dominant personality dissipating along with it.

The moment feels strangely domestic, his coos of praise and the worry that he was too rough with you not flying over your head. Things like ‘you did so well, sweetheart’, ‘I’m so proud of you, baby’, and ‘your pussy was made for my cock’ floated around the air. He caressed your belly with one hand and your hair with the other before pulling himself away from you fully.

“Let me go get you a towel,” he smiles warmly, disappearing into the bathroom he told your brother you were borrowing. When he comes back, he has a fresh pair of briefs on and a damp washcloth on his forearm. “You know, I‘ve had the biggest crush on you since high school. The moment Eric introduced us, I practically fell in love.”

He carefully cleans up your cum covered thighs, weary of how sensitive you are. It dawns on him that you’re fighting back your sleep, but he also realizes that you can’t stay in his room, running the risk of being compromised and Eric finding out. He helps you into a sitting position and leads you to the bath.

He washes your hair and body for you, increasing the overwhelming amount of domesticity that you already started to feel. Even with his admission, you didn’t want to assume that this was something he really wanted. You’d made that mistake before, with your asshole of an ex fiancé, and you couldn’t stomach the thought of that happening with him. He was a young, hot professional baseball player. Why would he want to be tied down to you?

With a towel wrapped tightly around your body and your clothes draped over a shoulder, he aids you in your sneaky trip to your own hotel room. You fumble a bit with the key card, nervous under his gaze for some reason. When you finally get it open, you hurriedly enter, desperate to get away from him to avoid small talk. You were a grown ass woman and here you were, acting like a petulant child.

He reaches for your wrist and stops you prior to getting too far past the door frame. “Hey, hey, what’s the matter? Why won't you look at me? Did— did I do something wrong?”

“N-no! You didn’t. I just— I don't wanna misinterpret the situation...” You betray yourself and look him in the eyes, nearly melting at the soft chocolate color staring right back. He leans forward to kiss you on the lips. It isn’t rushed or forceful like any of the others from earlier in the night. It’s more like the loving one he placed on your nose. It conveys exactly what he wants to say, but can’t put into words, and rids of your doubts all at once. You instinctively shut your eyes, a smile working its way across your face.

“I’ll see you in the morning, sweetheart. Goodnight,” is what he leaves you with, scampering off to his room.

You bring your fingers up to your lips, the stupid grin not disappearing. He wasn’t kidding when he said the name Kim Sunwoo would be engraved in your brain tonight.

The next day, the four of you visit one of the beaches. You chuckle to yourself as you observe Eric and Haknyeon attempting to skimboard, but failing miserably. Your brother flies forward when his board skids to a stop and he stumbles a bit before regaining his bearings. The older laughs at him, hunching over and clutching his stomach as he does so.

Your eyes stay on them for a bit, but your head turns at the sound of footsteps approaching you and the beach towel you were sitting on. You finally glance over when a grunt fills your ears over the crashing waves. Sunwoo leans back onto his palms, sunglasses perched on top of his head. The goods you wanted were set between you, a bag nearly full to the brim with mandarin oranges.

On your way to the beach, you passed a vendor on the street selling different fruits. Among said fruits were the mandarins that caught your attention. You pouted when you realized you left your purse at the hotel, only having your I.D. on you. Being absolutely smitten with you and having no self control, Sunwoo made a promise to himself to come back when you were least expecting to buy you as many as he physically could. (Gift giving was one of his love languages.)

He smiles as your eyes light up like a Christmas tree in August, instinctively reaching for one of the oranges. You bring it up to your nose to smell the faint citrusy scent of the rind, humming contentedly afterwards. With the summer breeze blowing through your hair, the humidity painting your cheeks rosy and the sun behind you giving you a halo-like glow, you look like a scene ripped straight from a movie. Sunwoo feels like the most fortunate guy in the world knowing that he’s the only person who gets to see you like this, committing the visual to memory so he can look back on it whenever he pleases.

He decides that he could die right here right now, and he’d be satisfied with his life. He can already see it, his headstone; Rest in Peace Kim Sunwoo, 2000-2023.

You slowly start to peel the mandarin, each corner of your lips curled upwards. You pop a piece into your mouth, closing your eyes and savoring the taste of its nectar. Without pausing to think about it, you scoot closer to Sunwoo, feeding him some of the orange. A small giggle escapes the back of your throat when he smiles again, this time at how much more comfortable you are with him. (And also how yummy the mandarin is.)

“It almost tastes as sweet as you.”

He meant for it to be an innocent insinuation, but completely forgot about the fact that it could be misconceived as an innuendo. You slap his shoulder with a gasp because that’s exactly how you took it, and he raises his hands in surrender.

“Woah, I was trying to be cute. You’re the one with the dirty mind.”

You roll your eyes, shoving a few more pieces of mandarin into his mouth to shut him up. “Kim Sunwoo, you’re lucky I like you.”

His cheeks are puffed up with the fruit and he tries to smile at you, his pouty lips making him look a little silly. You press a quick kiss to them, forgetting that you were very much in public. He turns to you with eyes like a deer caught in headlights.

“What if Eric sees?” He swallows thickly.

You shake your head. “Let him. I’m happy. That’s all he really cares about.”

It befuddles you that just a week ago, you never would’ve thought this could happen. A week ago, Sunwoo was still that high school boy who stuttered whenever he spoke to you and came over to yours and Eric’s apartment every day after school. A week ago, you were still apprehensive about putting yourself out there, out of fear that you’d just get hurt again. But somehow, Sunwoo managed to change your entire perspective. And sitting here on this beach towel, feeding him mandarins and giggling at his jokes solidifies that for you.

© juyeonszn. do not steal, claim, or repost.

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

as much as i love buggy, i’m gonna request sanji for the fluffy alphabet!

let’s go foooor… C, D, N, U, and Y please! (my goldfish brain forgot if you said five at the most lol)

i love your work sm and i really wish you all the best!

Yay flirty chef!! Most of the requests for the Fluffabet have been Mihawk so far, which I am NOT COMPLAINING ABOUT I love him a very abnormal amount; but Sanji is just so precious and writing for him just

*melts into a silly giggling puddle*

Aaaaanyway. I very much want to thank you for requesting the letter U, I've kind of been looking forward to it, since it gives me creative freedom to brainstorm further and deeper into the characters and their quirks/psychologies, and I always love doing that.

Thank you for the request, and I hope you enjoy!!!

Also feel free to come back and make requests for Buggy, as I've gotten none for him yet at all. Sad clown noises.

Also also, since someone else asked, requests for the Fluffy Alphabet will remain open until all letters are claimed for all characters; and I'll still accept requests for other characters I haven't listed if I feel I can write them and do them justice, I just listed the ones I did because they're the ones I've written the most. Until I state on my Masterpost that requests are closed, they are very much open!!

C is for Courtship (How would they court you?)

“The heavens must be dull these days with their most beautiful goddess stuck down here.”

Firmly believes it was love at first sight, and Sanji is absolutely determined to win you over. As much as he wants to pull you in by your hands, wrap his arms around you, and tell you he’s loved you since the moment he first laid eyes on you; he also doesn’t want to overstep any boundaries and risk blowing his chances.

Flirty, flirty, flirty. He can’t help it, it's just what he does—but he’s respectful about it, dropping silly little lines designed to make you giggle, hopefully make you blush a little. Beyond that, though, he’s going to make every effort possible to legitimately get to know you; your likes and dislikes, your goals, your dreams, everything, wanting to ensure that you know he’s interested in you for more than just being a pretty face that happened to catch his eye.

If you flirt back, you’re never going to be able to get rid of him, he’s your responsibility now, basically a lost puppy that followed you home, end of story.

He’s bent on impressing you, so your first date he’s going to insist on cooking for you, just the two of you—meeting you with a bouquet of your favorite flowers (he made sure to ask in passing about your favorites at some point beforehand), with a light kiss on the cheek and a soft touch at your waist.

D is for Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning and other such household chores?)

“No, no, you sit down and relax, I can handle this, love. Really.”

Settling down with you would be a dream come true. He does have his dream of finding the All Blue, but if you’re willing to come with him on that adventure, then the journey there would be just as much of a dream to him as the destination itself.

It doesn’t take him very long at all to decide that he wants to spend the rest of his life with you, and he’ll do anything to make that happen.

He’s quite cleanly and organized in general—having spent the better part of his formative years working in a professional kitchen, it’s become a force of habit. If something needs to be cleaned, to be tidied up or organized, he’s going to do so automatically, without even really thinking about it. He would much rather just see you relaxing, will probably protest a bit about you “doing too much” if you lift a finger to so much as sweep a floor.

You already know that cooking is handled. Cooking, kitchen maintenance in general. That goes without saying. Even if you enjoy cooking as well and you want to cook with him (absolute bonus, he loves cooking with you), he’s going to be right behind you wiping down the counters, washing and drying all the dishes as you go before you even have a chance to drop them in the sink.

N is for Needs (What do they need in a healthy relationship?)

“I don’t know how I ever survived without you in my life, sweetheart.”

Sanji can be a bit on the needy side. It isn’t that he lacks confidence, or that he absolutely requires constant reassurance—he just adores you, and wants to spend every minute possible with you, making sure that you know how precious you are to him.

If you’re near him, he needs to be touching you in some capacity. Whether it’s subtle, his hand resting at the small of your back while he stands next to you, or his arm curled around you and touching your waist; or if he’s pulling you back against him, arms around your waist or hands at your hips, resting his chin at your shoulder and pressing a kiss to your cheek, he always wants to be close to you.

Constantly telling you how much he loves you, showering you with praise for every little thing you do. If it gets to be too overwhelming he will back off—but you’re still going to catch him out of the corner of your vision with his own eyes glued to you, smiling and sighing as if you’re the single most incredible thing he’s ever laid eyes on.

That being said, if you argue about anything at all, he’ll be an absolute wreck, apologizing incessantly and begging your forgiveness; and he might need a fair amount of reassurance after the fact that you aren’t upset anymore. He can’t stomach the thought of upsetting you, because losing you would utterly devastate him.

U is for Unique (What’s something unique about them that no one knows but you?)

“It’s fine, just couldn’t sleep. Thought I’d get a head start on breakfast. You can go back to bed.”

Cooking is of course his passion—but it can, and sometimes does, double as a coping mechanism. He has a deeply troubled past, and every so often it might plague him in the form of nightmares.

In which case you’ll often  wake up to find his side of the bed empty; to find him in the kitchen in the wee hours of the night or morning, while everyone else is asleep, either prepping meals for the day or experimenting with new recipes to set his mind at ease.

He’s happy to accept if you offer to help, or if you just decide to sit up with him and offer your company. He’ll probably try to convince you to go back to bed, that there’s no need for you to lose sleep, but he’s not going to turn you down if you insist. It’s a gamble whether or not he’ll talk with you about what’s bothering him, or if he’ll keep a bit more quiet than usual while he immerses himself in his work. Either way, he appreciates your presence and your support more than you could ever know.

The menial, repetitive task of preparing ingredients in particular offers a pillar of stability and structure that helps him to breathe a little easier, to sort through that turmoil and make better sense of it; while the act of experimenting with something new helps steer his mind back to the present rather than dwelling on what woke him in the first place.

Y is for Yearning (What’s something that they yearn for when you’re separated?)

“Oh, no, love, I assure you, I definitely missed you more.”

It would be better to ask what he doesn’t yearn for. He simply can’t stand being apart from you, for any length of time. It isn’t that he doesn’t trust you, that doesn’t even cross his mind. He knows you’ll come back to him. He just can’t stand the length of time that you aren’t there.

Your touch, your scent, your face, your eyes, your body—your smile, your laugh, your voice, your embrace, your kisses—whether it’s minutes or hours or days that you happen to be apart, you’re the only thing that he can think about, having you back by his side, in his arms, safe and sound.

Life on the sea isn’t the safest, and he’s going to spend the entire time you're apart worried that something might happen to you. Even if you’re capable of handling yourself, he would feel much better being with you, knowing that he’s there to keep you safe.

And when you are together again, he makes it very clear just how much he missed you, all but literally gluing himself to your side, incessant in his insistence of how much he missed you, how he doesn’t ever want to spend that long apart again.

Even if it was only five minutes. Doesn’t matter, time is irrelevant, any amount of time away from you is far too long.

[noisepartythumpingmusic]

Revue Starlight Thoughts before I explode, spoilers for movie and series to come.

Under a straightforward reading, Maya Tendo and Claudine Saijo of Revue Starlight together fulfill the narrative roles of setting the standard towards which our seemingly hapless main character must strive, and typifying the power that can be derived from a rivalry dynamic, the most important relational dynamic in sports-tournament-show-alikes such as this one.

However, Revue Starlight is a show that defies expectations as often as it can, and the couple of rivals most revered by the Stage Girls have a series of narrative tricks up their fur tufted sleeves.

The greatest twist, and the gayest, is their final duet. We witness a number of important, symbolic clarifications and twists. Claudine opens the number dressed masculine and calling herself a devil. A tempter and a figure who will lead others astray. She promises Maya to show her a new stage, a new challenge, a new performance that's unlike any other. As viewers, at this point, we know that Maya Tendo has been long considered the most talented and most overwhelming of the Stage Girls, with Claudine her long suffering number 2. At least, that is, until their final battle against Karen and Hikari in the main series.

In that climactic fight, Claudine and Maya were working together, demonstrating that a rivalry between two talented Stage Girls elevates their performance to the nearly untouchable. In that fight, the main little lover girls finally best these Nearly Top Stars. However, Maya falls, and the shame Claudine feels is so overwhelming that she instantly chops off her own star, shouting with a sincerity that is unusual for her that she actually should take the loss. That she can't bear the thought that Maya, her Maya, could ever lose. Her admiration and love for Maya has been her shine, her reason for always performing at the top of her game.

So, swinging around back to the movie, we know a major theme is the girls realizing their own ambitions, despite the bonds that might need to change, and sacrifices that might need to occur. The first song concludes with Maya Tendo, again, the number 1 to Claudine's number 2. However, that's when position zero is closed over with Claudine's shine driving the gears beneath the stage, and Claudine literally (literally!!!) sticks her tongue out to show the real star resting in her mouth the entire fight.

Maya claims her victory was due to her pure, empty, soulless talent. However, that leaves the door open for Claudine to do two very important, very gay inversions of the situation. 1) Force her most beloved and respected to lose, which we know she abhors and 2) Push herself for her own selfish reasons to strive to be better than Maya, to no longer live in her shadow, as the devil to her angel.

Because, of course, in Revue Starlight, to lose is to win. Win self-respect, or win new motivation, or understand the depths to which they are loved. To understand that they can exist as failures, truly and vividly exist. Claudine shouts at Maya that she thinks she's never been more adorable than when she drops the pretty, polite, professional facade and screams her head off about being the sun in the sky to a bunch of lowly dirt worms.

Because, of course, the shine we are talking about is the girls making fools of themselves, making earnest and deeply sincere efforts to out clown each other, to admit that to which they are most deeply terrified to share and as a result create the most spectacular (and gay) performance possible.

Claudine wins, framed elaborately and with flowers, and having beaten the only person to whom she would ever willingly accept a loss, or even having previously voluntarily lost to, in order to maintain the appropriate order.

However, now they learn that in order to survive, hand in hand, as they fall together and burn, it must be with their entire hearts, filthy with dark passions and no longer lying to themselves.

[serafilms]

enhypen with an idol s/o !

↳ pairing – enhypen x gn!idol!reader

↳ genre – fluff; crack; headcanons; gender neutral reader

↳ warnings – none

heeseung !

your biggest fan? yeah no that’s just him

will 100% buy multiple copies of your albums for no reason

“hyung why did you buy so many?”

“i nEED TO SUPPORT MY BABY”

actually lets out a squeal if he pulls your photocards

stars in his eyes when he watches you perform

and when he sees you speaking english

will copy your accent lmao

and pretty much when you do anything

will post dance covers of your comeback on tiktok

surprisingly fans have yet to find evidence that you're dating him

all they can confirm is that heeseung is a fan who has a fat crush on you

luckily that means he can have heart eyes for you whenever he sees you at award shows

he will always be the first to support you no matter what

jay !

mans has a cool guy façade to keep up

but you're really out here trying to bring it down

literally everything you do

sexy concept? he'll probably pass out

cute concept? would not be able to hold back his squeals

cool concept? would drool on the floor

you posted a dance cover of drunk-dazed on tiktok after it dropped and jay messaged you immediately after to praise you and fanboy over you

so so so soft for you and will give you all his uwus

would probably send reaction memes of both you and himself and you're just like "??????"

it's a thing now

you send memes of him from twitter and anywhere else and he sends memes of you

sometimes it's a while before either of you can reply but it's a good way to feel closer to one another

jake !

kinda memey vibes

aussie idols just........ yeah y'all get it

y'all were guest mc's together and there was this bit where you both had to speak english to one another

you messed up the line and you both just started giggling

everyone else was confused but y'all just couldn't stop

the producers had to separate you two after because you laughed every time you made eye contact

fans were a little sus after that but they just wrote it off as idol interactions

recite memes and vines together ("deez nUTS")

will always support you

his secret stan acc is mainly enhypen and your group

will always message you even when he's busy to make sure you're getting enough rest and eating properly

if he suspects something's wrong he'll contact your leader or manager to make sure they sort it out

is always ready to fight your company if they mistreat you

top tier idol bf material

sunghoon !

power couple vibes

think kai and jennie (rip jenkai) but make it 4th gen kpop

loves having a say in your comebacks

like he doesn't need an s/o that's super talented or perfect but we all know from i-land my dude laughs at people who aren't good

he'll give advice on how to do a dance move better or help you with lyrics or vocal techniques

also tells you what hair he thinks you should try and feels a swell of pride when you send him a photo of it after getting it done

begs your stylist to let him choose your outfits sometimes

they said yes just to shut him up but the fits ended up being surprisingly good

fashionista couple

you two are shipped together even without any interactions because of your similar personalities and great sense of style

you're both a little bit more quiet than other people but towards each other it's just constant teasing

he will clown you for every meme he finds of you on any form of sns

but don't let that fool you, he has your pc in his wallet

sunoo !

heart eyes #2

your biggest fan in the whole world

has predebut photos of you that your family sent him and sends them to you to squeal about how cute you were

will message you after every single thing you put out there

a new sns photo, a teaser photo, mv, performance?

sunoo's already on it

"y/n you look so pretty" "y/N YOU DIDN'T TELL ME YOU DYED YOUR HAIR"

would send you recordings and spoilers of enhypen’s new comebacks to try and bribe you into spoiling yours for him

you gave in very easily

it was fun at the time but now you're both struggling

it's hard enough to try and not spoil your own comebacks, let alone each other's

so now you're both just trying so hard not to let anything slip but it's too late to get out of the arrangement because you still want spoilers

jungwon !

so professional that nobody will ever suspect you two are dating

as far as netizens can tell you two are just acquaintances

like would bow at each other at awards shows but no further interaction

little do they know behind the scenes at award shows you and jungwon will meet up near the waiting rooms and eat snacks together

it's very important to him to make sure you're getting enough to eat so he always brings extra and hides them from his members

even if you two are on a variety show together you're so good at faking that you don't know each other

seriously you guys need to star in a drama

at this point you could literally be spotted outside the hybe building and they'd be like "no no she's probably just taking a walk in the area"

so subtle that if you announce you're dating the whole internet would blow wide open

niki !

puppy love

that's all i have to say

you're both so shy when it comes to pda

just like jungwon they'll never suspect you're dating

4th gen dance power duo

you did a performance stage together and the edits went on for months

the behind the scenes were so cute too

you two had to pretend you didn't know each other but couldn’t keep away from each other either

sharing glances across the room and playing around when the cameras were off

fans have noticed that you two were on your phones a lot but they never suspected that you were just texting each other across the room

but learning the dance together and practicing it was really fun even if you couldn't openly be a couple

after it was aired you two went out to get food together

it was dark so nobody saw you but you still got scolded at the dorms

but it was worth it

teen idols in love :')

[peralta-guaranteed]

(inspired by this ask the lovely @fourdrinkamy got!)

“Oh!” The Sergeant smiles widely at her phone before looking up, surveying the little group that’s gathered around her. “Do you guys mind if my husband joins us for a minute? He’s just gotten off his shift.”

There’s the typical rushed murmur of agreement and “of course not!” before Amy begins writing something on her phone.

“Who’s her husband?” One of the rookies asks in a hushed tone at the other end of the bar where the new team members had sort of congregated - they’d been a bit too timid to sit closer with the rest of the uniformed officers that Amy had invited out for drinks at Shaw’s after a particularly tough week for them.

“Detective Peralta from the first floor.” One of the less rookie-ish rookies (god they really need a better labeling system for that) answers, much to the first askers surprise.

“The... uh... the goofball?”

Gary a few seats beside them grins. That was probably the nicest descriptor the poor woman could’ve thought of when being reminded of the chaos-made-human that sometimes descended from the first floor unto theirs, bringing with him stories of crazy heists or trying to rope some of them into his convoluted plans during bigger meetings of the precinct.

“Yeah. He’s a bit odd.” Rookie Level 5 (hm, maybe that’s not a good labeling plan either) nods. “Sometimes I wonder what the Sarge sees in him, but she married him, so...” He shrugs.

“Hard to imagine someone as professional and high-strung as Sergeant Santiago going for that kind of crazy.”

“Well, you never know.” Rookie Level 5 (now marked down as bit of a creep he should keep an eye on after that wink and laugh, Gary thinks) answers.

And they really don’t know, he thinks. He doesn’t fault them for that - it took quite a while for him to figure it out too, only presented with the Santiago-Peralta team in ‘professional’ settings that Jake always tried to make as unprofessional as possible while Amy next to him huffed and tried to keep them both in the lane.

They’ll probably understand faster than him, though, given the current setting. The soft shock on all their faces when the sergeant turned up for this casual get-together in a flowery, dark-coloured dress instead of the well-pressed suit they all expected from her even out of uniform had already unsettled their pre-conceived imagie of her a little bit.

Gary’s musings are quickly interrupted by a very loud, very boisterous voice.

“Eyoh! Look at New York’s Finest drinking some of New York’s worst!”

Amy rolls her eyes at him with a fond smile while Jake makes his way through the group, greeting most of them with another joke that only half of them understand, but most laugh at out of politeness, until he settles down next to her. There’s a moment of hesitation in his movements before he leans over to kiss her cheek, as if he’s afraid she might actually pull away in this setting - he’s definitely not afraid to kiss her hello when he visits her at her desk downstairs, but it’s a different feeling to this, all eyes of her squad on them, so he quickly leans back again to grin at them all and make another quip about drink recommendations in this place if they really want to get to know each other, winkwink.

Rookie Level 1 (yeah, it really doesn’t work) scoffs and shoots Rookie Level 5 (damn, it’s kind of stuck though) a look that he repeats with a nod. Peralta is really making sure to cement their image of him for the next few minutes - immediately pulling the situation to him as the class clown that he is, entertaining the closer row of officers near him with some new story from upstairs that only half sounds over-exaggerated. He’s all swinging arms and loud noises and wide grins, and Gary wonders if any of the others are able to make out the little details that belie his persona or if he’s just too aware of them now himself.

The way he’ll turn towards Amy at the end of every story with his grin, as if waiting for her reaction first and foremost, and only continuing when he sees her smile even as she shakes her head. The fact that he remembered all of their names in his comical greetings, and even tries to pull in the rookie group at the end of the bar into the conversation. The slightest hint of a serious face inbetween his rambling, his eyes doing a quick once-over of the whole bar and their group as if to make sure everyone’s still okay - a detective skill he clearly can never turn off.

It’s not much - it’d give away the game if it was any more obvious - but it’s enough for Gary to remember that underneath all the bravado and jokester behaviour, he’s still Sergeant Amy Santiago’s husband, and for a reason.

-*-

That reason shows itself about twenty minutes later, when his first beer is finished and the conversations of the group have broken back into their own areas, talking about their week or about upcoming assignments, sharing academy anecdotes or first-arrest-stories. Gary is sure detective Peralta would happily jump into these talks as well if he only heard them, but there’s no way he’s listening to anything but Amy next to him, a tad too noisy after her second beer as she tells him about something that happened at work today.

Gary tries his best to catch Rookie Level 1′s attention, and diverts it towards the pair with an eyebrow raise and a soft side-nod of the head.

“Oh.” Level 1 (her name is Lisa, he thinks? He needs to check the rooster.) says, quietly, and he nods again. She sees. (She’s a quick one, he really needs an eye on her for future assignments.)

And what she sees is proof enough of what the Sarge sees in her goofball husband, too.

They’ve seem to have gone into their own little bubble after the main attention drifted away from them, talking in hushed tones about their son and how someone had just texted them an update on the babysitting evening. And within that bubble, it almost seems like someone had cut the strings of the muppet-like actions of the Peralta they all know.

His whole body language seems to shift - his shoulders are hanging low as he leans closer and closer to Amy next to him, his face in his hand as he hooks his arm over the backrest behind her, his eyes stuck on her and whatever story she’s telling him about right now. There’s the softest smile on his face, and a shine to his eyes as she animatedly - almost as animated as he usually is - talks between hiccups from the beer she’s drinking a little bit too fast.

The air has gone out of him, but not in a bad way - he’s far more settled than usual, like someone dialed down his usual speed. He still grins and nods and raises his eyebrows high in reactions to what Amy is saying, but he also absent-mindedly reaches over and tucks a stray piece of her hair behind her ear, his hand trailing down her neck for a second after it. Gary’s sure that as it drops down underneath the table, it definitely reaches for hers to hold.

“Yeah”, Lisa (it’s definitely Lisa, he remembers her introducing herself to him a few weeks ago more clearly now) nods towards him, quietly and with a smile. “Yeah, I get it.” as Peralta leans even closer to Amy, whispers something soft into her ear that makes her giggle, and giggle a little more when he presses a little kiss right beside her ear.

He stands up, out of the bubble, and withing seconds the persona is back as he grins at them all.

“Welp, I better take my wife home before I have to carry her home.” He extolls, before - of course - looking down again with a smile. “Just joking, babe, I know you can hold your own when it comes to New York’s Worst at Shaw’s.”

The Sergeant rolls her eyes again, but she also takes his offered arm as she stands up, tells them all to have a good rest of the night and enjoy their weekend off properly, and they could catch the slightest of winks into Jake’s direction from her if they only looked close enough.

He loops an arm around her waist as he says his goodbyes as well, and uses it to both support her and steer her as they leave, Amy clearly a bit less sure on her feet than she usually is. He wraps her scarf around her neck at the clothesrack at the front of the bar, tugs her jacket down after she’s slipped into it with waving arms and buttons the last few buttons for her that her fingers fumble at, and Lisa smiles at Gary as Amy stumbles for the door and is immediately held at bay again by her husband’s soft grip on her arm.

“Yeah, I can see it.” She says, and Gary nods.

[ohmyasmodeus]

𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘶𝘮 𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴 ❖

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

♡ 𝘭𝘶𝘤𝘪𝘧𝘦𝘳 ; 𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭 𝘢𝘳𝘵

✧   Sure, Lucifer is looking forward to appreciating art and the history behind each piece, but he finds himself much more excited to spend more time alone with you. History can be preserved, but every moment spent with you is simply irreplaceable; he ends up surprisingly spending more time gazing at you than admiring the artwork.

✧   You make him feel young again. In between displays, he sneaks kisses, mischievously pulling you away from the crowds just to hold you in his arms for a stolen moment. Lucifer adores the way you fall into his arms with soft laughter, and it makes him cradle your face between his gloved hands while he whispers about the way everyone looks at you like you’re a work of art.

“But do you?” You ask softly.

“I always do, ______.” Silhouetted by the gallery lights, he pulls you into a tender kiss full of emotion; a moment that no doubt belongs among the displays of beauty and immortality that surround you.

✧   Lucifer is the kind of person to actually read the little plaques beside the pieces that go into detail about the artist and the intentions behind their art. It takes a while for him to take it all in, but you don’t mind— it’s very cute to see him have to bend down and squint to read them.

✧   Your day hardly ends there. Even as he takes you home, he very much enjoys discussing your opinions on the works included in the gallery and the artists behind them. It’s Lucifer’s way of getting closer, trying to decipher how your mind works, how you view art pieces that are open to multiple interpretations. It’s his favourite part. He loves you and your brilliant mind.

♡ 𝘮𝘢𝘮𝘮𝘰𝘯 ; 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘤𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 / 𝘢𝘳𝘵

✧   Your demon is the definition of a kinaesthetic learner. Mammon fits right in with the kids that run around the place, tugging on your hand as he begs you to come play these games with him! He never wants to do anything without you and you end up being basically dragged around the museum. But it’s okay because he’s cute!

✧   While surrounded by so many people, it’s even easier for him to get flustered about affection. His cheeks flush red whenever he thinks too hard about holding your hand, whether it’s to bring you somewhere, or just to hold your hand for the sake of it. The back of his fingers brush against yours, making you smile.

“Hm? What do you want to show me?” you ask as you take his hand to intertwine your fingers with his.

Mammon fidgets with his free hand before shoving it into his jacket pocket, looking away with a brilliant blush. His voice is quiet as he mumbles, “N-nothing, I just… wanted to hold your hand. Or whatever.”

✧   He’s much smarter than people like to give him credit for at times, and surprises you with bits of information he picks up that you couldn’t understand. At the same time, it’s hard to stop him from gushing about how cool it was to see that chunk of sodium explode when dropped in water and how he wants to watch that over and over again.

✧   Mammon runs wild in the gift shop, especially at those little archaeology or mining kits that let you dig through hunks of sand that claim to contain a piece of gold. Of course, there are a million things the both of you want to buy for yourselves, but so little money to do so with. He settles for something small in the end, because he wants to be able to buy something small for his brothers too.

♡ 𝘭𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 ; 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦

✧   From the beginning, Leviathan is absolutely fascinated. The calming atmosphere of the museum and being completely surrounded by his element makes Levi relax, even if he’d normally panic and try to hide from the people that walk along the exhibitions with you. But even then, you make sure to hold his hand just to reassure him a little more.

✧   Just like he rants about pretty much anything he has an interest in, Levi rants about the equipment on display and compares weapons or ships from different eras to each other, as if he’s talking about mere video game stats. It’s actually kind of hot to see him act like the Grand Admiral of hell’s navy is supposed to.

✧   Treat him like a Grand Admiral, actually. His brain totally short circuits when you lean into him and put a hand on his chest and gasp about how knowledgeable and strong he is.

“Oh captain, my captain!” you sing as you pepper his face in kisses, making him squirm in your arms. His face is beet red as he attempts to cover it with his hands.

“People are- they’re going to see us!” Levi whines.

You laugh and kiss him properly, arms wrapped around him tight. “That’s the point, baby! I like it when people know I’m yours.”

✧   He actually gets a little sad when he sees the bones of massive whales or the various preserved remains of sea life on display. They all feel like a part of him. At times, he feels like sea animals understand him much better than people do, and he has to give your hand a squeeze as the two of you through the section. At least he brightens up when you tell him that most of these specimens die a natural death or were cared for during their life.

♡ 𝘴𝘢𝘵𝘢𝘯 ; 𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺

✧   His choice of museum goes without explanation. Humans are frail creatures that are essentially doomed to make the same mistakes again and again, despite a new era or millennia, but Satan still finds their history remarkable. He’s fascinated with seeing the butterfly effect ripple through time, sparking wars and conflicts. It makes him wonder about the universe’s decisions— especially the ones that brought you to him.

✧   Satan has always been more fond of reading the ancient texts on display or translating archaic inscriptions on bronze age charms, but when he’s with you, he finds himself more drawn to the elegant gowns and elaborately crafted jewellery on display. You always find his emerald eyes lingering on you, imagining what you would look like in something so grand. Your beauty stuns him in every way, especially with the way you smile at him while framed by the display’s lights.

✧   “I thought you wanted to learn,” you mumble with a quiet laugh into the kiss that Satan pulls you into. The two of you are wrapped in each other’s arms in the back of a crowded amphitheatre, making an attempt to watch a historical film.

In the darkness, Satan’s blush goes unseen, but you feel it in the heat of his face as you kiss him back eagerly. “I’ve learned enough about humans, ______. I want to focus on my favourite one now.”

You close your eyes, and so does he. History couldn’t matter less, not when it feels like the two of you are the only beings to exist, the only people that matter.

✧   Despite wanting to learn, Satan finds himself getting dragged into shenanigans with you as you voice historical figures with the goofiest accents and clown around with some of the interactive props. He laughs along and snaps a million pictures of you to keep, and he supposes that humans aren’t the only ones that make recurring mistakes. After all, he lets you loosen him up and lets you force your way into his heart time and time again, but he still can’t force himself to complain about it.

♡ 𝘢𝘴𝘮𝘰𝘥𝘦𝘶𝘴 ; 𝘧𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘰𝘯

✧   Beauty in its different forms has always mesmerised Asmodeus. Museums have never been his thing, but with a fashion museum, you might just be able to change his mind. He goes between gushing about the textures and layering of different pieces to gushing about you and how amazing you look today!

✧   Asmo is always on top of the latest trends, but there’s something that always brings him back to the ostentatious allure of baroque and rococo dresses. He loves reading about the rise of these styles, but he would rather pull you along into a waltz as the quiet ambient music plays around you, the both of you giggling and referring to each other as ‘lord’ and ‘lady’.

✧   Or ‘your majesty’ and ‘my consort’...

✧   You, as always, expect him to pull you away somewhere quiet to make out and be general public nuisances, but Asmodeus surprises you this time. He’s far too busy taking pictures of you together and of just you alone, his amber gaze so soft as he contemplates your beauty. He ends up leaning in serenely as the two of you find yourselves alone together in a gallery.

“You’re gorgeous,” Asmo mumbles with a smile, delicately tucking a lock of your hair behind your ear. “There’s just something so magnetic about you, I can’t look away…”

“I don’t have to say it back because you know you’re handsome and your ego is big enough... but there’s nothing that can compare to how lovely your soul is.” You chuckle softly, resting a hand affectionately on the side of his face. Asmo rests his forehead against yours, wrapping his arms around the back of his neck with a delighted giggle, delighted in knowing that you see him beyond his superficialities and flaws.

✧   He buys you a set of jewellery from the gift shop, and not one of the cheap ones either. He splurges on one of the most expensive professionally made vintage sets because he really wants to daydream about you dancing with him in those rococo dresses, the most gorgeous royal couple in the world…

♡ 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘻𝘦𝘣𝘶𝘣 ; 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘢𝘳𝘺 𝘢𝘳𝘵

✧   Delighted by the more colourful and almost bizarre applications of mixed-media art (think Yayoi Kusama), Beelzebub enjoys contemporary art the most. He’s easily fascinated with the elaborately abstract displays, and quietly wraps his arm around your waist as the two of you gawk at stunning larger-than-life works that probably get him a little hungry.

✧   He’s a respectful visitor and likes to stay silent so he doesn’t disturb the quiet atmosphere for everyone else appreciating the art. It ends up in him having to lean down and murmur softly in your ear when he has something to tell you, his warm arms pulling you into an embrace that you never want to leave.

✧   Workshops! Please bring Beel to the workshops because they’re his favourite part of museums. No matter how hungry he gets while putting in so much effort, he’ll sit still and work hard to make you something you can treasure.

“Do you like it?” he asks with a smile as he presents you with a little figurine version of one of the sculptures featured in the exhibition, hand painted by him. It’s easy to notice how the colours he picked out match your features. “It’s yours.”

“I love it, Beel! Oh, it’s wearing my coat and everything!” you gasp. The elated smile he gives you is absolutely priceless, and you can’t help but tiptoe to kiss him in thanks for his hard work.

Beel lets out a soft laugh and nuzzles his cheek into yours. “I really liked the art, but it felt like something was missing… Maybe the exhibition would’ve been a lot more beautiful if you were an art piece on display too.”

✧   Bringing him to a museum like that just might inspire him to create art by himself. After creating something for you, he feels hooked on it! You find him doodling a lot more on his homework and giving you the most endearing drawings of things you like, or his own hilarious renditions of what Lucifer looks like when he’s about to burst a blood vessel. Beel definitely has a hidden talent for caricatures.

♡ 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘱𝘩𝘦𝘨𝘰𝘳 ; 𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘢𝘭 𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺

✧   Humans? Belphegor has had enough of them for a lifetime and can’t be bothered with learning more about them, but natural history is something that captivates him. There’s a kind of innocent wonder in his eye as you lead him around the exhibitions, marvelling at the displayed remains of the massive creatures that came before, wondering how they evolved into the tiny little animals of today. (But it’s probably also morbid curiosity with the way he looks at preserved carcasses and skeletons.)

✧   But you’re an exception to him. He's tired of humans but never of you, even if he jokes about it at times. Even if he knows about most of the things on display, Belphie is still asking you to tell him about them because he just loves hearing your voice. Coupled with the soothing silence of the museum, it almost puts him to sleep.

✧   “Don’t fall asleep! You paid to watch this!” you whisper when Belphie rests his head on your shoulder. You want to pay attention to the dinosaurs beating the shit out of each other in the surprisingly well-rendered 3D documentary, but you can’t help but gaze at your boyfriend instead, and the way he looks in those dumb 3D glasses.

“I won’t,” he mumbles, rolling his eyes. “You’re warm.”

“You’re a little leech, you know that?” Despite your snarky tone, you lift up the partition between the theatre’s seats to let Belphie snuggle into you. Just like a leech, he’s immediately all over you with his arms wrapped tight around your waist, chuckling as he buries his face in your neck.

✧   You wouldn’t expect it, but he’s also the kind to go wild in the gift shop, albeit in more subtle ways— like staring really hard at something or carrying something only to put it down for you to get the hint. He ends up getting the both of you a big plushy to cuddle and name on the way home.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

[writefasttalkevenfaster]

Take My Hand (Part Seven)

Summary: from one proposal to another - you don’t know whose hand you want to take - until you do. 

Pairings: Sonny Carisi x Reader, Rafael Barba x Reader

Word Count: 8,649

Song: I thought of you (all the things that will be lost now) / In the cracks of light (can we just get a pause?) / I dreamed of you (to be certain we'll be tall again) (evermore by taylor swift)

Warnings: T, swearing, SO MUCH ANGST, i’m so sorry, like seriously i’m sorry “sightless in a savage land” (22x04) is used as background (but i also f*cked with the timeline to make things easier for me), also the v*rus doesn’t exist b/c i don’t want to live in reality.

A/N: ok, the penultimate part - the last part before the two endings. it’s been a long journey, but we’re here! thank you to those who have stuck with the series and have reblogged and commented!! as always, thank you to @laneygthememequeen​ and @bucky-of-the-opera​ for being the best beta readers! i don’t know when i’ll get the endings out because school starts for me this week, but they will be out soon enough! :)

The rest of the juror selection process felt like white noise after that. An arduous several hour process only made more difficult by Rafael’s nitpicking, probing, and constant objections to jurors — it felt like a punishment. 

But you could only guess for who. 

One of twelve jurors picked.

Rafael hadn’t even looked at you since you left chambers, but the glowering he gave Sonny wasn’t something that you envied. The man who had a million comebacks for everything on any given day hadn’t spared you a word the entire process, even as you two worked to examine the jurors together — with you pointing out possible problems or points of issue with each one, he managed to take your advice without speaking a word to you. 

And it was killing you.

Three of twelve jurors picked. 

But it wasn’t the fact that he was ignoring you, it was the fact you deserved it. You were unprofessional, you were secretive, and you hurt him in the process — the cherry on top. 

Why hadn’t you told him? His eyes were everywhere but you, his hands careful not to brush against yours, and his lips a thin line. He still oozes charm as he spoke to the jurors, his patented smile — the same smile that you would tease him about — his courtroom smile, no more than a painted smile on the clown made to elicit the response he wanted. And one that he could hide behind from you.

You could feel Sonny’s gaze prickling the back of your neck, and you knew that he knew — he knew you hadn’t told Rafael. It was obvious — you could see Rafael still — his head snapping to you, his slow realization, the shock, and the quiet resignation that sunk into a sinking silence between you two. 

And you still hadn’t brought yourself to look at Sonny. 

Six of twelve jurors picked. 

As the judge adjourned you for lunch, Rafael nearly fled the courtroom, and you went after him, following him out of the double doors, and you heard Sonny call after you, but you couldn’t — not now. 

You wanted to fix this — you needed to fix this. 

How ironic, you thought, following him out the courtroom and down the corridor towards the stairwell, skipping the elevator altogether, you were doing the one thing he never did — following him when he left. 

Well to his credit, he did — the stairwell door nearly shutting behind him, but you barely catch it with your hands — but it was too late. 

But you hoped it wasn’t too late now, as the stairwell door swings shut behind you with a resounding thud. 

“Rafael,” you call him, his steps echoing in the empty stairwell, along with your voice. But he doesn’t listen — he doesn’t want to listen, but you’re following him — and if he knows one thing is that you’re stubborn, and he knows that well. 

“Rafael please, let me just explain—” 

“Explain what?” he whirls on you, “what is there to explain?” 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you—” 

“Sorry?” he repeats, his voice reverberating, “you’re sorry — for not disclosing to me that you’re in a relationship with Carisi?” His name comes out dismissively — the same way when he was nothing but a green detective shadowing you two — but he was so much more — so much more. 

Your voice rises. “I didn’t mean to—” 

“Didn’t mean to make me look like a fool in front of your boyfriend in chambers,” he cuts you off, “is that why you were pushing the deal so much? Wanted Carisi to have a slam dunk?” 

And now you’re angry, “Don’t you accuse me of impropriety—”  

“You sure make a habit of it—” 

You scoff, “And you don’t?” and the anger simmers a moment — the exhaustion from the proceedings and the day hitting you at once. You speak, your words tempered, “I did what I had to — I told our client about my relationship — I disclosed to him and the judge in a timely manner—” 

“So, you told everyone but me,” he’s shaking his head, turning away, “As a professional courtesy,” his words are quiet, stony faced, fingers clenched into fists, “you could have told me that you were sleeping with our adversary in this case,” but the facade flickers, and you see the cracks in the veneer, “but more than that, after everything we’ve been through—” 

Your anger wavers, “I wanted to tell you when I dropped off the files, it just—” 

“Was the wrong time?” he chuckles bitterly, stepping away, “isn’t it always when it’s us?” 

Your chest squeezes, “Rafael, I didn’t want to hurt you, it just happened and I’m sorry—” 

“I don’t have time for this right now,” he continues to walk down the steps, and you follow, calling after him. 

“What about the case?” and he pauses. 

“Mr. Davis and Judge Harper have no issue, neither do I,” he’s rubbing at his temples, adding, “but I catch even a hint of impropriety—” 

“You won’t,” and he turns, his gaze undeniably sad, his lips in a thin line. 

“I better not,” But still, the guilt sits on your chest, and you say his name again, leaving your lips before you realize— and he shakes his head, “you left last time — and I didn’t stop you — for years,” he continues down the steps, “let me have thirty minutes at least.” 

And the stairwell doors shut. 

~~~

You hadn’t told him. 

Sonny knew that. 

It didn’t take a genius to figure it out — Rafael was a brilliant prosecutor, but his poker face often showed his hand. And here it did too — he had feelings for you. 

He knew that too.

He knew it because he had been there. He had been the guy waiting in the wings before, he had been the guy sneaking glances, the guy who wished you looked at him — and was disappointed when you didn’t. 

And that was the same look Rafael had — the same Sonny had when you had kissed him all those years ago, wishing he were Rafael. 

But you didn’t see it, did you? And he glances at your empty seat after you had left after Rafael, even after he called after you, before picking up his briefcase and leaving the courtroom for lunch — 

Or maybe you just didn't want to. 

“Sonny,” and you find him by the elevators, as you head out from the stairwell, “can we talk?” 

“What’s there to talk about?” he pushes the call button, “you didn’t tell Rafael, did you?” 

And you’re twisting your lips, “No, when I went to tell him—” the elevator doors ding, and the two of you step in, “his mother was there—” 

Sonny wrinkles his brow, “At his office?” 

“Well, his mother’s moving to Florida, and so kind of is his office at the moment,” and he can tell you’re nervous, fidgeting in place as you tell him, “he asked me to drop off files — we got interrupted right as I was about to—” 

“And you couldn’t have told him this weekend?” he licks his lips, as your gaze drops to the floor, “I’m just wondering...if there’s some other reason you don’t want to tell him.” 

You blink, “What other reason would there be?” And he sighs, as the elevator doors ding and he steps through them, you’re still following him, your hand brushing his wrist. And he stops, as your eyes soften, “I don’t love Rafael — I love you.” 

And he wants to ask — then why couldn’t you look at him in court? Why did you follow Rafael out? Why did he always feel like he was your second choice. 

But he doesn’t ask. He asks something else — 

“Then why won’t you move in with me?” and a voice is whispering that your hesitation is enough, that he shows he wasn’t enough, that you two together were never enough — but he doesn’t want to believe it. 

Because he wants to believe that his love is enough. 

“Sonny, I want to move in with you, I do—” and he knew enough to know a ‘but’ was coming, “but not yet,” and he can’t help but let his face crumble, “but soon. I promise. I just—” 

“You need time,” and he didn’t push you — he couldn’t push you — because he didn’t want to lose you, “but I can’t wait forever, doll,” and he couldn’t — not when he wanted so much more, not when he wanted you for the rest of your lives, and he didn’t know if you wanted the same. 

“I know, I would never do that to you,” but you were — even as you leaned up to kiss him, he wondered for the first time, how many more times would he get to do that? 

After juror selection, you and Rafael had left to go prep for opening arguments, while he was left to stew in his office — spotting a text from you that you would be running late, as was per usual. It had become the norm — working late hours with Rafael Barba — and would he ever stop feeling caught under Barba’s shadow? Even now, a year into this job, when he was in front of his mentor, he still felt like the same greenhorn detective he was when first came in — brash, thoughtless, headstrong — but you had seen past that, hadn’t you? 

His chest burning, he reached for the bottle of pepto-bismol tucked away in his desk. You saw his potential, and you still saw it now — but he couldn’t have you by his side now, he couldn’t ask for your support in this case — he downs far too much of the bottle — not when you were too busy standing by his. 

And there’s a knock at his door, “How’d it go at voir dire?” Amanda stood in his doorway, as he swallowed, the medicine as disgustingly sweet as Rafael had been today. 

“It was the Rafael Barba show, charming and cherry-picking jurors for straight hours,” he could remember his smarmy smile from today — he was in his element, as always. And despite having the skills and the experience, the one thing Sonny couldn’t quite master was his same kind of charm — and you were surely evidence of that, weren’t you? 

“Yeah, he was always a dog with a bone,” Amanda sighs. 

Sonny laughs, picking up the witness list he had been combing through, “Yeah. I'm looking at his witness list, and he tracked down Ajay's other foster kids, ACS employees, V.A. shrinks. How big of a staff does he have?” 

He knew he had your firm’s investigators — but even this much, this was something more than investigators could do — this was police work — the kind of work someone did when they were close to the case. 

And Amanda steps forward, sitting, pursing her lips, “I probably shouldn't tell you this…” 

“About you and Fin helping him out?” she doesn’t have words, and he knew he was right, and he thinks of Fin on the witness list — “I don't want to know—” 

“I am not helping him out,” Amanda clarifies defensively. 

“It's fine,” he didn’t need her to draw a line in the sand — it was easier to justify it, it was easier than hearing an apology, it was easier than hearing that his team had chosen Barba over him, “Barba was here before me, Fin was your first partner—” 

You knew Rafael first, you loved him before you loved him.

It was easy to explain it away. It was easier than hearing where their loyalties actually lie. 

He would always be the odd man out, wouldn’t he? Passed around from precinct to precinct, until he found himself here, but even still, always overshadowed — by Amaro, by Rollins, by Barba. He would always be the newbie, instead of the experienced pro. 

He would always be “Carisi,” not “Sonny.” 

“That doesn't mean I'm more loyal to them than I am to you,” she pauses, before adding, “You should know that it wasn't Liv's intention to undercut you.”

“Oh, no?” Sonny raises an eyebrow, “Are you gonna tell me that Fin brought Barba in?” And Amanda only shifts in her seat, hand rubbing her neck, until Sonny sighs, “what’s done is done — but I had thought the team would have my back—” 

“They do but—” 

“There shouldn’t be a ‘but,’” he sighs, “Amanda, I’m having to fight a one person war over a man who shot another in broad daylight—” 

“He was abusing her daughter—” 

“We hadn’t proved it yet!” Sonny sighs, leaning back in his chair, “there’s a reason they say innocent until proven guilty — we can’t give people a license to kill. Especially not now.” The concept of a white man shooting and killing a person of color and getting off without jail time did not sit well with him. Either way, he wouldn’t be the one to hand people licenses to kill — not without a fight. 

“I know that,” Amanda raises her hands, “I do —- but Liv and Fin just want to help Davis and they thought Barba was the best way to do that,” and she doesn’t miss how his brow furrows, “is something else going on?” 

And he wants to tell her — tell her about you and Rafael, about how Liv’s stunt may cost him his relationship and his case, how he didn’t know how you felt anymore, and he didn’t know what to do. 

But he doesn’t, he only sighs, “I just would like to feel like someone is on my side,” 

And then Amanda asks about you, “Have you talked to—” 

“We’re both working the case—” he shakes his head, “Client privilege and the code of professional responsibility makes it difficult to talk about this.” 

“You can still talk about everything else,” and he almost gives a bitter chuckle — before pulling the ring box from his pocket and placing it on the desk. 

“Not everything,” as Amanda stares at the ring box, mouth ajar, as he lifts his gaze to meet her’s, “I’ve wanted to ask — for months,” 

Amanda’s blinking, clearing her throat, “What’s stopping you?” 

And he could feel his heart crack with the truth of his answer, “I don’t know if it will be a yes.” 

And after Amanda left, and he sat in the quiet of his office, he wondered if he would ever be good enough — good enough prosecutor, good enough advocate, good enough boyfriend —-

And your text comes through: Headed back to your place, bringing dinner! And then another: don’t worry I didn’t cook :) And he glances at the picture of the two of you on his desk, before rising to leave — 

Good enough for you. 

He shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up. 

If Rafael knew one thing well, it was disappointment — and it was so simple to be disappointed in others. Was that why he had become a prosecutor? To point out the flaws in a person, to pin them in place with their worst actions at the lowest point of their life and hold them accountable? His eyes flicker to you, it was easier than seeing the humanity in others — to look past their flaws for something more that was there — and then fight for it. 

Because when you fought for it, there was always a chance you would be the one to get hurt. 

Why did he let his mother get his hopes up? 

When he first saw you at Rikers, he had resigned himself to being your friend, to being a colleague — because he didn’t think he deserved more, and he didn’t. And it was enough — until it wasn’t. 

And he could think about all the things he did wrong — over and over, wishing for another chance, but that wouldn’t change the fact you were in love with someone else. 

He snuck at a glance at you — you sat, legs crossed in your suit. Even in the late hours of the night, how had you managed to look so effortlessly good? Even after listening to him practice far too many versions of his opening argument, you sat pen pressed to your lips, lost in thought. 

Even with his silent treatment, you had insisted on working on this — until you both got it right. You had mostly taken to shouting suggestions from the gallery — body language, wording — not that he had bothered to acknowledge you. He crossed out what he just wrote, before sighing and rising to his feet, and now he decided to take a completely different tact. 

He faces the empty jury panel, beginning to speak. 

“I consider myself a nice guy,” you snort, as Rafael’s head snaps to you raises an eyebrow at you, “what?”

“Is that we’re going with?” you hide your smirk behind your notepad, “didn’t know we could lie under a court of law.” 

And he’s crossing his arms, “I do consider myself to be nice,” and you’re raising an eyebrow now, “you don’t?” 

“You’re the one who told our first victim together that she wouldn’t like you after this,” you had started the Twenty Five Acts case almost as soon as Rafael did — pulled in from a different department to help with the case, but you ended up finding your home there — your gaze raises to meet Rafael — for a time, “and now you think you’re nice?” 

And he’s huffing, “Are you sure you aren’t letting your personal experience color your opinion?” 

“Well, it sure isn’t helping,” and his eyes narrow, before snapping back to his notes, “come on, Rafael, you won’t even hold a conversation with me — the only way you’re talking to me is if I get a rise out of you.” 

“We’re lucky you’re so good at that,” and you scoff, setting your pad down in your lap, before fixing him in place with your narrowed eyes. 

“Is this what it’s going to be like?” you echo his own words to you, “are you going to act like this throughout the rest of the trial?” and he doesn’t deign to reply to you, scribbling a note in his legal pad, “should I recuse myself from the case?” 

“No,” he glances up, and you cross your arms. 

“Then what?” and his lips are a tight line, “I get it, Rafael — I hurt you by not telling you about Sonny — and I’m sorry, but,” he sees you frown out of the corner of his eye, “did you not expect me to move on?”  

“That isn’t what I’m upset about—” 

How could he? How could he when you deserved so much more than him? And maybe that was the reason he wasted his chance with you — he was too busy pushing you away to see that. 

Just like he was now. 

You push yourself from the chair, the chair scraping against the floor, “Then what is it?” 

And his gaze snaps to yours, and his anger deflates when he sees the hurt in your eyes, “I’m sorry,” he sighs, shaking his head, “I’m happy for you — I am—” 

“You have a funny way of showing it,” 

“I’m sorry, it just,” he can’t tell you how he feels — it’s not fair to you or to Carisi, “just caught me off guard. I just—” he purses his lips, “I don’t like when people hide things from me.” especially you. 

But he doesn’t add that. 

“I know, and I should have told you from the start — everything just happened so quickly,” you lean against the railing of the gallery, “It was just...really hard to tell you.” 

And he’s stepping toward you, hands in his pockets, “Why?” 

You give a terse chuckle, “Why do you think?” 

Now he’s leaning next to you, “Well like you said, why wouldn’t I expect you to have moved on?” and your eyes can’t quite meet his, “afraid to rub salt in the wound?” 

You roll your eyes, “If I can remind you, the wound was mostly your fault,” 

“‘Mostly’ is a gift,” you laugh, and he bites back a smile, “do you think...it could have worked out between us?” 

“Rafael—” 

“I know you’re with Carisi,” the words sting as he says them, before he’s standing up — stupid question —  “I just wanted to know, you don’t have to—” 

“I loved you,” you admit, and he pauses, glancing back at you. You’re biting your lip, “I would have married you — if you asked me back then.” 

He smiles sadly, “And by the time I did, it was—” 

“Too late,” you both finish, your gazes dropping to the floor. And he allowed himself to wonder a moment — what if it had worked out? Where would they be now? Would they have a home? A family? A kid? Maybe he would be in private practice, like you — spending his weekends with you instead of an empty apartment. Maybe you both would be in New York, maybe you’d be in the suburbs. But you’d be together. 

But you weren’t. 

“When did you and Carisi start—” and you tilt your head. 

“Is this appropriate—” you start, gesturing between the two of you, and he snorts. 

“Is any of this appropriate?” and he didn’t know why he was asking — it would be better not to know, it would be easier not to know, “were you with him when I left New York?” but he still wanted to know. 

“No,” your eyes are fixed to the floor, “I hadn’t even spoken to him in years,” and you add, “it was after he started at the D.A.’s office — a few months after. I had to settle a case in Manhattan and he was handling it.”

“So you’ve been together…?” 

“It’s been about two years,” and he feels the pain leak into his chest — and now it would be him you would be coming home to, you that he would be walking down the aisle, you that he would be starting a family with. 

But two years is a long time without an engagement. 

You cross your arms — he notes the absence of an engagement ring on your finger — and he wonders if you were so in love, why weren’t you engaged by now? “We should get back to work,” you say, and he clicks his tongue, glancing at his watch. 

“It’s late,” he tilts his head, “we should call it a night.” 

“Shit, it is,” you sigh, grabbing your coat and your bag, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Raf.” 

His lips upturns at the sound of his nickname on your lips, and he can’t help, but call after you — he needs to know, “You’re happy with him, right?” 

Your lips curve into a smile, “I am, I really am.” 

And he knows he really can’t tell you how he feels — so he smiles, “Good night.” 

“I’m sorry I’m late,” you close the door behind you, tossing your keys and purse on the table, and kicking off your shoes, “Practicing openings ran late—” you cut yourself off, finding Sonny asleep on the couch, case file in hand. 

His head lolled back against the couch, the file slipping down his side, and a half eaten dinner plate on his coffee table in front of him, the TV still on. You shut your mouth, smiling at the sight — before you pulled off your jacket, and hanging it up in the bedroom, before you found your way back to him. 

“Sonny,” you murmur in his ear, pressing a kiss to his temple, “wake up,” And he’s mumbling your name in his sleep, eyes fluttering, “come on, let’s get you to bed.” 

And after some coercion, he’s stumbling to his feet, warm fingers interlaced with yours as you lead him into bed, his eyes barely open, and he’s slipping into bed, under the covers, but his hand still won’t let you. 

He mumbles something under his breath, “What did you say?” 

“Don’t go,” he murmurs again, tugging you gently, until you’re sitting at his side, and he sighs, “don’t leave, sweetheart. Not yet.” 

And your gaze softens, as his eyes flutter closed, running your fingers through his hair, “I won’t, Sonny.” 

And he’s asleep, his quiet breaths filling your ears, and you get a text — phone vibrating in your pocket: Finally worked out the opening. I’ll show you tomorrow. 

And Rafael adds: Unless you have a moment right now? 

You glance at Sonny, asleep, before slipping your hand from his and switching the lamp off, closing the bedroom door behind you. 

Yeah. I have a minute. 

~~~

Sonny awakens at the sound of his alarm ringing. He groans quietly, blindly reaching for it, before shutting it off. And he turns, reaching for you, to find no one beside him. He blinks the sleep from his eyes to find only your pillow. He checks his phone — Had to head in early to speak to my client — I’ll be home for dinner at eight this time, I promise. Love you!

He frowns, rubbing his eyes, how many times did it make it that week? 

He sits up, stretching, he had barely seen you — between work at the firm and work on the Davis case, he hadn’t seen you in a solid week. 

But you have seen Barba every day of the week now. 

He didn’t think of himself as jealous — no, he knew his place and he trusted his partner. And he knew you would never cheat, at least, not physically. 

But it wasn’t you he didn’t trust. 

Barba was a friend, a mentor, but he was also your ex. The very same that had broken your heart, the very same you had fallen in love with, the very same that you probably would have married in a heartbeat. 

 So why not Sonny? 

He knew Barba had made you afraid of commitment — tentative to get your heart broken again, hesitant to take that step off a cliff where you couldn’t see the bottom — but he would catch you, he would always catch you. 

He stares at your messages, so why didn’t you? 

Might run a little late — Rafael wants to prep a witness again. 

And he locks his phone. 

Maybe he already knew the answer. 

“Yet another late night,” you groan, looking at the time, stretching out on your couch, “how does this keep happening?” 

“We’re both workaholics and enablers,” Rafael replies, putting away some of the case materials, “plus I’m more productive working here than my mother’s kitchen table.” 

More or less, his eyes found their way to you as they always did —  at least the view was much better. 

You snort, gesturing, “My office thanks you,” before you think, “you know I could get you an elevator fob, a temporary one, so you could work the case here.” 

Rafael pauses, furrowing his brow, “And that’s okay with your partners?” 

“Well they want a win, so,” you sit up, rising from the sofa, glancing over at him, “they’ll be fine,” and he’s raising an eyebrow, and you can’t help but slowly smile, as you walk across the office, “well, they told me all things go well — I may be making partner after all.” 

“You’ll be a partner?” and you nod, as he beams, “congratulations,” he moves forward, but hesitates — instead offering you his hand, and you roll your eyes, taking his hand and pulling him into a hug. And he stiffens, but tentatively melts into — “I’m really proud of you — you deserve it.” 

“Thank you,” you reply softly, your arms resting loosely around his shoulders, 

And he pulls away, lips curved upwards, “Thank me? I should be thanking you for all the work you’ve put in—” 

“No, no,” you bite your lip, “I meant for everything — you helped me become the attorney I am today — you guided me, and,” your eyes meet his gaze, “I wouldn’t be here without you.” 

“In more than one way,” he gives a bitter chuckle, pulling away, stepping back. He had driven you from work — it was your choice, but what other choice did he leave you? It was either move on or spend days working with the man who broke your heart. 

“Raf—” you start. 

 “I did apologize for what I did, but—” 

“You did and—” 

“But I don’t know how to make it up to you,” he presses his lips together, arms crossed over his chest, “in a way, I don’t think I ever can. I just—” he shakes his head,

“Raf,” you shrug, “I really wanted to hate you,” and a huff of a laugh escapes your lips, “you didn’t make it that hard,” a mournful smile on his lips, “but I couldn’t.” 

“Why?”

“Because I didn’t want to,” you tilt your head, “I loved you — I couldn’t find it in me to hate you — even when I thought I did, even when I said no to you — I didn’t hate you — I couldn’t. You made mistakes and you apologized,” and you add with a sigh, “it’s also really hard to hate you.”  

“Really?” a half smile on his lips. 

“At least for me,” stepping forward, “must be something wrong with me — physically, psychologically, something,” 

He scoffs, biting back a smile, “I hear Liv knows a good F.B.I. psychiatrist,” 

“I’ll have to ask her about it,” you snort, “where’s this coming from anyway?” 

“I treated you so terribly over Carisi,” he says softly, “when I treated you worse when we were together—” and you waver, “I just — I’m sorry — you deserve more than that,” you deserve more than me, he thinks, and you have it. 

“We both made mistakes,” you tilt your head, “don’t you think it’s more important what comes after?” 

“And what is that?” 

You roll your eyes, “Friendship? Camaraderie? Maybe even a little honesty?” 

“Well, you know lawyers love to lie,” he steps forward.

You raise an eyebrow, “Are you lying about something?” 

Only my feelings — but what else was new? “Nothing important,” he smiles, grabbing his coat, and he bites his lip, glancing at the time — 9:37 PM, “do you have time for a celebratory drink for your promotion?” and you frown, “unless you have plans?” 

And you glance at him and your phone and back, before nodding, “I got time.” 

“Have you asked—” 

“Not yet, Ma,” Sonny sighs, glancing at his casework, before leaning back in his chair, the stress crawling up his already stiff shoulders. And this phone call did little to alleviate his stress, “We’ve both been so busy with this case—”

“Too busy to talk about marriage?” it added to it, and he’s rubbing his temples, regretting ever asking for his grandmother’s ring to propose, “Dom, don’t let this one get away because you’re too afraid—”

And he’s covering his mouth, fingers squeezing his phone, “I know—” 

He knows, but do you? 

“You’re good for each other — we’ve seen it for ourselves,” he could hear his mother smile, “it’s so rare that you find someone that your sisters actually like, not to mention your father — that man—” his stomach is sinking, and cuts herself off, “what are you waiting for, Dominick?” 

He was waiting for you to love him enough. 

“Ma—” 

“You love—” He’s always loved you more than enough. 

“Of course I do, but—” 

“But nothing!” she huffs, “you should propose tonight over dinner, I got the perfect recipe for you to cook, it will—” 

“I can’t!” he finally snaps, frustration boiling over, “I can’t because I haven’t even gotten an answer about moving in—” and his anger simmers into sadness, voice breaking, “so how can I ask for marriage, when—” when he’s not even sure if you love him anymore? 

“Dominick,” his mother’s voice would break his heart, if it already wasn’t broken, “if you’re unhappy, you have to say something, you can’t let it go on,” her words are soft, but firm, “you don’t deserve to have your heart wasted — you’re too good for that, my sweet son.” 

He clears his throat, tears stinging at the corners of his eyes, “I have to go, Ma,” 

“Ok,” she says with reluctance, “call me later this week?” 

“I will,” and then he adds, “and Ma? I love you.” 

“I love you too,” and she hangs up, as he sets his phone down, seeing his lock screen — a picture of him kissing your cheek at lunch, a few days before the case. And he’s staring at your smile, your lips, the way you were looking at him instead of the camera — and he locks the screen. 

He needed to tell you. 

The door clicks shut — the fourth time in a row you had been late. Sonny sits, eyes forward on the T.V., arms crossed against his chest, not bothering to look over. 

“Hey,” you begin, “sorry I’m late, I—” 

“Don’t worry about it,” he replies tersely, and he doesn’t want to fight — he doesn’t — he’s too tired to fight, before clicking off the T.V., “I’m used to it.” 

And you blink, “Sonny—” 

“It’s what? The eighth time or ninth time?” he’s sighing, “if that’s not a pattern—” 

“And this isn’t court,” you are walking towards him, setting down your things, “I’m sorry this case has been taking so much of my time— our time—” you correct yourself, “but it’s almost over — you know that, we’re working the same case.” 

“Except I’m not the one who is constantly at the office,” he’s sipping at his drink. 

“Because my side of the case is harder — you know the facts,” you cross your arms, “we have to be creative — we don’t have the government’s disposal at our fingertips—” 

“That would be true, if Liv and Fin didn’t help Barba find and track down witnesses,” he raises his eyebrows at you, as you blink, “yeah I knew about that.”

“I didn’t know—” 

“And it’s one thing to feel like your team is not on your side,” his chest squeezes, finally meeting your gaze, “but when it’s you—” 

“Sonny, this is my case, it’s professional. It has nothing to do with us,” you find your way to his side, but he’s pulling away from you. 

“It is when you’re using this case to push me away,” he says quietly, and he tries to see past your glassy eyes, “you’re never home, you’re always at the office, we never see each other—” 

“It’s just—” 

“It’s not work,” he almost laughed out of frustration, his heart no longer cracked but flooding, sinking beneath his own pain, and he could barely see the surface, “this has been happening even before.” 

“What are—” 

“Why won’t you move in with me?” he can’t afford to avoid it any longer — the question burning on his tongue so long that it had branded the words across his flesh. The one question he knew that could pull this whole thing apart, but he needed to ask because he needed to know whether it would. 

And he’d fall with it, if he had to. 

“Sonny,” you’re staring at him, “I—” 

“We’ve been dating for two years,” each word scrapes against the lump in his throat — each syllable only pain and hurt, “I have tried to be a good boyfriend, patient and loving — I love you, I’ve loved you since I met you—” 

“I know, Sonny,” your voice breaks. 

“And I can’t wait any longer for your answer,” he’s risen to his feet now, “I need to know.” 

“I’m just not ready—” 

“Will you ever be ready?” and he knows the answer, and he’s known the answer — he just couldn’t bring himself to ask it, but your silence is the answer he needs. And he’s turning away from you, “I can’t do this anymore.” 

“Sonny—” And he’s grabbing his things — his coat and his bag, but you’re at his side, fingers brushing his arm, “please—”

And he turns, pulling your hand away from him, “Have you ever asked yourself why you can’t move in with me?” and you blink, “it’s because of him.” 

And he doesn’t need to explain who that is, “It’s not—” 

 “I’m tired,” he cuts you off, turning away from you, “I’m tired of being your second choice, okay?” The words leave his lips and he’s almost as struck by them as you, and in a second, he’s pulling you aside into an empty conference room, the door clicking behind him, “I don’t want to live in his shadow anymore—” 

“Sonny—” 

“And not just with you,” he knew Fin, Rollins, and Liv were helping him — despite their orders, despite their loyalty to the state of New York, and despite their loyalty to him. And you — every late night, every glance in court, everything that existed between you two — he trusted you, he did, but he didn’t trust your feelings, “I can’t do it.” 

You’re at his side again, fingers plying at his cheeks, trying to get him to look at you, “I want you to move in, please, I—” 

“I don’t want to just move in anymore,” he sighs, it wasn’t enough — not anymore, “we’re past that, I’m past that.” 

“I—” and he pulls the ring box from his pocket, and your head snaps to it. 

“I want to marry you, sweetheart,” his voice softens, fingernails digging into the velvet, “I want to be with you forever — I want to have a family, children, a home—I want to give you everything,” and tears are slipping down your cheeks now, “but not if you can’t give me everything too.” 

And he wanted your everything — more than anything — he wanted to share it with you, to know you like he knew himself. And maybe he never would — but he would spend a lifetime trying to — and wasn’t that what loving someone was? 

And he knew you loved him — but was it enough? 

“Sonny, I—” you can’t believe it — it’s written clear across your face, and he knows — his stomach sinking — you hadn’t thought about this, had you? Not like he did, “I—” 

“I think we need some time,” and he’s stepping away, “I need some time—” 

“Sonny, please I don’t—” and you’re taking steps in tandem, until he allows you to touch him — but it doesn’t bring him peace, only pain. 

And he kisses you because he can’t help it, not when you’re crying and he’s the cause —  you pull him in, a meteor that can’t pull out of your orbit, and his kiss is soft and hard — jaw clenched, even as he melts into your touch, until you break apart, only your brows brushing in quiet of your breaths. 

Until he’s pulling away. 

“Think about it, okay?” he tucks the ring box back into his pocket, “because I have, and I—” and he swallows, “I can’t anymore.”

“How long do you need?” you ask quietly, as he steps towards the door, his fingers brushing against the doorknob, as he looks over his shoulder at you, standing. 

And he smiles sadly, “That’s up to you,” and as the door shuts behind him, he knows that you know what he means — he needs an answer, and he hopes you give the one he wants. 

Otherwise — he rests his head on your shut door, eyes stinging with tears — he’s not coming back at all. 

You can’t sleep. An understatement. 

You hadn’t slept in two nights — you couldn’t. Each time you’d toss and turn until you gave up, turning on your side and scrolling mindlessly through whatever app you found amenable — anything to not think, anything to not see Sonny’s face staring at you looking for an answer you didn’t have, anything to not hate yourself for not having the answer. 

You hated yourself. Another understatement. 

You turned on your back, staring at the ceiling — how could you do this to Sonny? What was wrong with you? He was perfect — loving, caring, sweet — and all he wanted was a future with you. 

The very thing you were afraid of. 

But why? You squeeze your eyes shut, but the thought wriggles its way to the forefront of your mind — Why were you so afraid? 

You sigh, glancing at the empty space next to you, rolling over to Sonny’s pillow — it still smelled like him, his shampoo, the unique scent that you couldn’t quite pin down, but that was him all the same. Tears sting at your eyes, and you throw off your covers, sitting up — you couldn’t stay here. 

You pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a jacket — sparing one more glance at your bedroom — not right now. 

You don’t know where to go — you don’t feel like eating, you don’t feel like sleeping, so where else do you go? 

You go to work. 

The office building is unlocked from the outside — relatively deserted, except for the security guard that sat at the desk, who nodded at you as you entered — bleary eyed. You slip into the elevator, scanning your elevator fob and hitting the right floor, a shaky breath as the doors shut behind you — but you can’t cry, not in the elevator of your workplace, not when you’re on camera, not when you don’t deserve to. 

Not when it was you who had done the hurting this time. 

The elevator dings, letting you off on your floor — and you step off to an empty floor. The lights have long ago dimmed, as you scan your fob and open the glass doors to the offices. You spare at the glance at the partners’ offices — the lights shut. And you sigh, you hadn’t even told Sonny about the potential offer — you were going to wait until it was confirmed. 

And now, you arrived at your office opening the door, would you ever get the chance? 

You jump when you hear your name, head whipping up, heart in your throat, when you spot Rafael sitting on your couch, “Hey,” he blinks, “sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” and you furrow your brow, “I was practicing my closing.” 

“How—” and you remember the temporary key fob you had made for him— and you shake your head, “no I’m sorry too, I just needed—” you swallow the truth, “I just—” but you can’t bring yourself to lie, choking on your own words. And then he asks the one question that he shouldn’t — 

“Are you okay?” 

And you’re crying, tears slipping down your face, and you don’t know how but he’s holding you now, your tears staining his button up, buried in his shoulder, “I’m sorry— I—” 

He shushes you gently, “It’s okay, don’t apologize,” and you both stand there for a few minutes, until your sobs finally quiet, an empty feeling in stirring in your chest, and he’s running tentative fingers through your hair, “I feel like I can count the number of times you’ve cried in front of me on my fingers,” 

You give a watery chuckle, “I don’t like crying in front of other people,” 

“Who does?” he replies drily, and you laugh, shaking your head, before resting your forehead against his shoulder a moment. 

“This is such a mess,” you whisper, before you’re pulling away, “I’m sorry, I—” 

“Don’t say sorry,” he shakes his head, as you sniff, wiping your tears, before jerking his head towards the couch, the two of you sitting, and he’s handing you bottled water. You take a few mournful sips, before screwing the cap on, “what happened?” 

“I really fucked things up with Sonny — I—” your voice broke, “you should have seen him — he was—” 

“It’s okay, slow down,” he tells you softly, “What happened?” and you’re silent a moment, “unless you don’t want to—” 

“Sonny — he proposed,” the last words come out a whisper, and Rafael blinks, “sort of, it was an argument.” 

“Because you didn’t say yes?” and you’re shaking your head. 

“Because he thought I never would,” you squeeze your eyes shut, covering your face, “I don’t know what to do,” 

“I think the obvious question to ask is, do you want to marry him?” and you don’t know how to answer that. 

“I’ve never married someone before,” a tear slips down your face and he’s handing a tissue, “how do you know?” 

“It’s a feeling,” he shrugs, “it’s the same as love — you feel it,” 

You blink away tears, meeting his gaze, the question leaves your lips before you could stop it, “How did you know?” and you shake your head again, cheeks burning with shame, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t—” 

“I knew too late,” his gaze dropping to his lap, “but I knew I wanted to marry you. I knew my days were happier with you, I know that I wanted to see you every day that you were gone, I know I thought about you almost every day, I know I regret every decision that drove you away,” and his eyes meet yours again — shining with something you knew all too well, “and I still do.” 

More tears falling — but maybe for another reason now, “Raf—” 

“I would kill for a second chance,” and then he gives a bitter chuckle, “no pun intended, or malicious intent for that matter,” he adds, making you huff, “but I would. I made so many mistakes with you because I was afraid — because I thought you would fall out of love with me when you saw me,” 

“But I always saw you, Rafael,” your hand finds his, “I did.” 

“I know,” he says softly, “but what’s stopping you? Is it fear? Or is it something else? Or…” 

Or someone else. 

The words were unspoken, but the implication hung between the two of you, and he whispered your name, but you’re shaking your head, “Rafael, I can’t—” 

And you couldn’t — this wasn’t what you came for, this wasn’t supposed to happen. And you were supposed to say no, you were supposed to pull away, you were supposed to love Sonny — and you do, you do, but you can’t pull away. 

Not when you have feelings for Rafael too. 

“I know,” he whispers back, “but I can’t lie to you anymore — I can’t lie to myself,” he smiles sadly, “I love you,” the words echo in your fresh tears spill from your eyes. His fingers brushing a falling tear away, nearly just by the tips of his fingers, and your breath is shaky, as he smiles, “I don’t think I ever stopped.” 

“Ever?” you repeat, and he laughs, a warm sound that lingers. 

“Ever,” he sighs, “I didn’t want to hurt you or Carisi — I want the best for you, but I need you to know, if…” 

If he was the one stopping you from saying yes. 

“I know,” you whisper back — and you want to say more, but your words elude you. Your chest squeezes, and you wonder if he’s stolen your breath too, because he’s surely stolen your words— “but…” 

“But,” he nods sadly, but you still didn’t know. 

But the moment too eludes you when his phone rings, the two of you leaning away, blinking, as he reaches for his cellphone, as you wipe your tears away. He writes off whatever the message is, tucking his phone away, as you get to your feet, “I need time to think,” 

“Of course,” he clears his throat, a beautiful blush across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose “I didn’t mean to—” 

“No, I know,” you shake your head, glancing at your phone, seeing Sonny’s face on your lockscreen, before you pocket it,  “I just—” 

“I know,” he says, tilting his head, “are you okay?” 

And you shake your head, “No,” and you sigh, a weight sitting on your chest — the weight of a decision you didn’t know you would have to make, but you did, and you would, “but I will be.” 

And you would be — as you stepped out of your office, rubbing your eyes — maybe once you slept on it.

~~~

And sleep you do, but it is one that is dreamless, but not thoughtless. 

No, your thoughts swirl throughout your subconscious the entire night. You dream of Rafael, just as you dream of Sonny.

And as soon it seemed you fell asleep, you woke up to your cell phone going off — the verdict was in. 

Even as you walk into the courtroom, you don’t know who to choose. You hadn’t spoken since that night at the office — to either of them. You arrive earlier than the others, Rafael and Sonny absent from their respective tables, and the officers choose then to bring in your client to your side. 

“Mr. Davis—” 

“Please call me Mickey,” he offers a weak smile, “I told you that from the start.” 

“Sorry, Mickey,” you correct yourself, “I would ask how you’re feeling, but well—” 

He huffed a laugh, “Nervous, for one, but,” his eyes fall back to the empty jury box, “I have to trust in the system don’t I? Same as everyone else.” 

And you glance behind you, noticing the absence of anyone behind him, “Did you not ask anyone to come?” 

And he sighs, “My daughter, but,” he glances sadly behind him, “she hadn’t come — not yet at least,” and he shakes his head, leaning back in his chair, “wife’s gone as you know — and well,” he pulls a picture of his daughter from his pocket, “who else would you want by your side at the worst moment of your life?” 

The double doors behind you creak open, and Sonny enters, walking past you without a glance, And who would you want? 

And only a few moments later, Rafael arrives too, finding his place beside you and Mickey, and you allow them to speak, his hand clapping to Mickey’s shoulder. 

None of you really knew how the jury would rule on this one. And you wondered — who was it that you would want beside you at your worst moments? Who would you want behind you, whispering comforts in your ear, who would want to love you, even at the lowest point of your life? 

“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury,” and the jury rises, the foreman handing the verdict to the judge, before handing it back, “have you reached a decision?” 

And you glance between Rafael and Sonny —  you were on trial, whose hand would you want to hold? 

“We have, Your Honor,” and you know what your answer is now, “we find the defendant—” 

Guilty of Manslaughter Two — the same deal that you and Rafael had turned down at the start of this — ironic, you think, glancing at the two of them — back right where you started. 

You pack up your things as Rafael slips out early, as you quietly discuss sentencing with Mickey, before setting up another meeting with him about the hearing. And Sonny’s leaving too — catching a glimpse of both of them leaving — and now you knew your answer, as you begin to walk towards them— 

You knew whose hand you wanted to hold.

[nissakii]

Significance of “Madness” in anime

We’ve already established in other posts about significant emotions and concepts in anime or specific media before. The Significance of losing or the one of visuals and metaphors in Haikyuu!! are some of those I would love to mention here, but today we shall delve into a broader topic that goes more along the lines of Makii’s thrilling post about Danganronpa and the Significance of Despair.

Today, our topic of interest is madness.

To ease your mind, in this post we will be talking about the representation of insanity and madness in some anime characters and how that reflects on the story and ourselves as an audience.To make one thing clear, a lot of the times we see overexaggerated versions of unstable characteristics in anime that aren’t realistic.

This is in no way a discussion about actual mental illnesses and not a professional approach to analysing them to our real life standards, but maybe a start to an interesting discussion about how we portray and handle what one may colloquially call “craziness”.

Now that we’ve got that out of the way, let’s start!

Artists, and no matter for example if they write or draw, use their platforms to deliver messages in cryptic ways. As humans, we have the innate ability to look at something and consume the facts through entertainment which makes us crave new media to follow and analyse.

We love to question things instead of just taking them as they are, and that is why most writers out there will play around with the perception of their audience.

You may be familiar with the common question that ghosts through your head as you enjoy the latest episode of your favorite anime.

Why did he do that? Is she a traitor? What makes them think that way?

Although one might always do it consciously, we most definitely analyse whatever media we consume and decide for ourselves if it is important enough to keep in mind for future reference.

What the writer or founder of the anime ultimately wants from the reader is a reaction.

No matter what they intend to do with it, if they enjoy the viewer getting excited or traumatised is not of importance, but a reaction is evidently one of the goals. 

And as strong emotions always evoke an even stronger reaction, anime characters are often very idealized and have ideologies that make them want to do one particular thing.

Be it save the world or destroy it, we focus and look at these characters and root for them if they give us a reason to do so. 

Both sides of good and bad can have deeply rooted admiration drawn out of us, and it sometimes doesn’t even matter because the more interesting part is the lovely grey area in between. 

We need a balance of good and bad to enjoy both.

Empathy makes us viewers want to relate to the characters, and if the author gives us the possibility to learn why someone does something, it gets harder and harder to dislike them. That’s why tragic backstories and flashbacks are such an overused tool in anime, because with the extreme behaviour some characters show they also need equal amounts of redemption.

We attach ourselves emotionally to characters depending on our personal tastes as well.

If someone likes and relates to a strong and independent protagonist who would drop anything for the sake of justice, you will find a lot of resembling characters in shounen for example.

On the other hand, if a darker or more obsessive character manages to take over a special place in a viewer’s heart, putting them on a pedestal gets more and more interesting, because you’re not supposed to.

Contrary to that, characters with insane or dark personality traits are often very popular, again tracing this back to human instinct of emphasising with wronged characters and curiously inspecting the fully deranged ones.

As this isn't something that should be put into vague concepts, we’re instead going to look at examples of characters and entities that are seen as ‘mad’ and how they’re interpreted.

It’s not just about villains being unreasonably immoral in this post, as we look into what madness entails and how it's shown, we also have some examples of corruption to look at.

So of course there are the typical evil-thinking evil-doing villains out there. 

Some of them have an actual backstory to make them more realistic and believable, some others are just pure evil. While they are often called mad for their actions to achieve their goal, the reason why they are put into that light is the stark contrast between the protagonist and the villain.

If the protagonist loves to save people and always has a smile on his face, of course he will differ from his counterpart when he finds out that his methods are a bit more vicious.

The protagonist perceives the villain as insane most of the time, but what does the viewer think?

We seek to look not only at characters that are enjoyable to watch, but also try to find similarities between us and them or draw lines in their behavior to understand them better. As mentioned before, empathy plays a huge role here as well, since whatever happens in anime doesn't have actual repercussions, we can forgive characters more easily. 

For example when they are taken by Insanity as a side effect rather than being insane due to trauma, we often get an 'ally turned traitor' trope through hypnosis or brainwashing, which is just as interesting to look at. 

If a person did something horrible under the influence of something they had no control over, are they still to blame? 

Does Insanity only involve a separate entity that comes from evil, or are we also looking at the gradual descent into darkness when life just isn't the same anymore? 

Insane and with no fear: Soul Eater

A great example of how insanity plays with characters be they good or bad is Soul Eater. 

With a premise that one needs a sound mind and body to inhibit a sound soul, we obviously know that people close to becoming Kishin-eggs will have a rotten soul drenched in bad deeds, but what about the good guys? 

In this instance we have a lot of different types of madness and insanity that touches multiple characters at different times, and by far the most drastic would be the black blood. 

The black blood being a synthesized weapon form of blood that can change form and harden into shape, is a weapon made by Medusa and introduced for the first time with Crona. He was melded together with Ragnarök as a weapon and used the black blood in his proficient fighting style. 

Soul Eater as well as Maka and other characters later come into contact with the black blood, and the consequence of the immense strength that comes with it is debilitating madness. 

As explained in the anime, the madness makes one deny the soul of oneself and others and takes away your fear. Now with no fear present, the person exhibits extremely erratic behavior and is not scared to hurt others or themselves.

This is an insanity that shows how essential a person's fear is, shown by Maka in one of the latest episodes when she fights Asura. The fact that she learned how to accept her own fear and realise that humans need it to survive is why insanity in Soul Eater is merely a concept to differentiate between what is human and what is Kishin. 

A Kishin kills and murders with no fear of anything. 

A human protects and masters one's own fear. 

The power hungry insanity: Hunter x Hunter

In Hunter x Hunter we have a lot of characters that don't exactly fit the norm of human action. 

With people like Chrollo, Illumi and even Chimera Ants there is enough crazy to go around. 

Still, the character we shall delve into to look at a different kind of instability is none other than Hisoka Morow.

Yes, in comparison to black blood madness Hisoka is an actual human being with no known influence outside of his own intellect. The contrary to another weapon or entity making someone insane is being shown in this anime.

Hisoka is just insane. 

We have no means to see if there is anything that might have caused Hisoka to be the way that he is, but what we do know is that his character is almost too nonchalant for his own good. 

His goal is to accumulate power and fight others that he seems worthy, as that is what attracts him. No person is spared if he believes he found a worthy opponent he will make that clear to them and pursue them passionately. 

We could rule that the clown is just eccentric, but with the given information from the anime he definitely had some sort of mental difference next to his peers. Harming himself holds no problem to him, and his behavior is deeply rooted only to suit himself. He has no self-preservation except for when he needs to accomplish something, and he even enters the spiders just to get close to Chrollo. 

Now we see a single person carry themselves throughout a story only to achieve one thing: a good fight. 

After having looked at these two examples of insanity in anime, let's look at how that insanity can be portrayed visually. 

A famous way to show someone's psychosis is the “Kubrick stare”. A directorial technique that got named after the director Stanley Kubrick who used a forward tilt of the head with eyes locked onto the camera to show the actors of his movies at their peak of madness. It became a very popular stylistic device and is used still very often in modern movies.

The character is supposed to look menacing, evil-plotting and absolutely unhinged.

Such devices, if used often enough, automatically invoke the message to the viewer.

If you’ve seen the Kubrick stare once in a psychotic character, you will definitely associate it with the same derangement again.

In anime we have a similar thing, and you might be aware of this already.

Familiar with the ‘eye angle just before a character goes insane’ meme?

It’s a running gag that shows multiple characters such as Asura from Soul Eater, Pain from Naruto, Light from Deathnote and Jason from Tokyo Ghoul in a frame where you can only see their eyes and it somehow looks extremely grotesque as if they were looking into different directions with their eyes.

As much as it is a joke, it is a perfect example of something extremely similar to the Kubrick stare used in anime culture. It goes so far that if any anime watcher would see a new character look like in a frame, one would assume they were about to go crazy.

Even Oikawa Tooru from Haikyuu!! was shown with a Kubrick stare in the last moments of the second Seijoh vs. Karasuno game, when his desire to win overtook him with incredible force.

Without loss there naturally can’t be any wins, and without sadness there will be no joy in laughter.

We need the different depictions of what one might call madness, to fill our stories with nuance that relies on our reality.

Be it an unknown entity, hunger for power, lack of fear or the good old fashioned thrive for world domination.

Madness is just another part of what we call life, and to be honest in healthy doses and for effect why not enjoy it in anime?

Now, do you guys know any other characters or concepts in anime that would be worth mentioning? I would love to see them in the comments! 

Until then, stay sane!

-Nissa

[j-wont-stop]

Title - The Scarred (Chapter Eight)

Word Count - 2938

Fandom - Batman: The Dark Knight

Pairing - Ledger!Joker x OC

Summary - Penelope Bishop works at a florist shop in Gotham, barely getting by in the corrupted city. Her life is shrouded by therapy and judgement with little light to find her way with. However, when a certain painted face starts making himself known to her, things take a turn.

Warning(s) - Minor errors, brief smut

Inspiration - Cold (Aqualung & Lucy Schwartz)

Masterlist

A/N - Hello, lovelies! I’m sorry for the later post, I’ve been going through a lot lately and I’m trying to get myself back on track... I tried to make it a little longer to make up for it ❣️

Penelope hesitated to unlock her door, in a way expecting The Joker to be behind it once again. Once it clicked she opened it slowly, a waft of lavender washing over her as she walked into her now empty home. Her brain was foggy, eyes sore. Mind racing with thoughts of the menacing clown, but one thing stood out the most.

She wasn’t entirely scared.

She thought about what Liam had said to her. To worry about why he was curious about her rather than what he said. He held her under a knife. He had every chance to kill her, take advantage of her somehow. Use blackmail, even. But he didn’t.

She remembered how he towered over her, at least a foot in difference. She remembered the overwhelming smell of gunpowder and gasoline, yet a hint of his own smell which she couldn’t pinpoint. The way he stared into her eye with an intensity that was almost unbearable.

She shook her head to clear it once she felt her face begin to heat up.

Stupid. Penelope mentally scolded herself and began her nightly routine, starting with her bandages as per usual. She thought about talking to Liam, but her body felt too drained after her appointment.

She was tired. Tired of breaking. Tired of worrying. Tired of living in fear. Of being humiliated, stomped on and cast out. Tired of crying. Just tired. The thought of having to wake up and do it all over again alone made her feel exhausted.

Penelope slipped under her blanket and turned off the lamp, yet she couldn’t bring her eye to close. She stared at the wall in front of her as if it was her lifeline. She stared until she lost the will to stare anymore, and that had always been frightening to her.

“J -“ The woman gasped. Her mind was clouded with the movement of his hands as they caressed her. Her mouth was parted, eye fluttered shut and head tilted back against her soft pillow as he guided her into oblivion. Their mixture of sweat and pants only ignited the atmosphere and he buried his head in her neck to lick a trail up to her jawline, earning a shiver beneath him. All too suddenly, she felt a sharp pain and her eye snapped open.

The space above her was now empty, her body covered in a mush of ash and sweat as the room grew brighter with flames. Quickly they became angrier, a more fierce heat enveloping her until it was just within her reach. It inched its way closer by the second, closer -

Penelope shot up with a shriek, gasping. She balled up the fabric of her shirt and coughed, a false hope to properly retrieve air. She ran a hand over her face and spun to sit on the edge of her bed, the only provided light was the moon that shone bright through her blinds from above its wooden frame. The lines drew themselves across her hunched figure, shoulders beginning to slow with the rise and fall of her every breath. She looked over at the alarm clock sitting on her nightstand.

3:00am.

Chewing on her cheek she reached for her phone and stared at it in thought. Her nimble fingers flipped it open and began searching through her contacts for her Irish friend. Penelope felt terrible. She felt like a nuisance, doing this from time to time. It wasn’t common, but it wasn’t uncommon, either. Her thoughts raced a few moments longer before she pressed the call button.

One ring. She bit down particularly hard, drawing blood. Maybe I shouldn’t do this.

Two rings. What if he gets irritated with me?

Three rings. Her heart picked up its pace, skipping a beat. I don’t want to upset him…

Four rings. I shouldn’t do this -

“Penny?” Her heart dropped at the sound of his groggy voice.

“Hey…” She whispered into the phone. “I’m so - I’m sorry, I don’t mean to bother you…”

“‘Ey, ye know it don’t bother me none.” He noticed Penelope's hesitation. “How ye, luveen?”

“Can I come over? I - I can’t sleep.” She heard him sigh from over the phone and squeezed her eyes shut. She knew she shouldn’t have called. She knew he would be irritated. She knew -

“I thought we were past ye havin’ to ask.” She could hear him rustling in his bed in the background. “Come on, then.”

The earthy smell of the apartment was what began to calm her down first. It was subtle, relaxing. Fitting for her friend, though he himself wasn’t quite subtle. Penelope laid the uncovered side of her face on one of the pillows of the queen bed, curled into herself protectively. She felt the bed dip behind her, followed by a stronger waft of that same smell.

Her heart began to slow just knowing that she wasn’t alone, knowing that she was with someone she trusted. It was something that Liam could provide more easily than Emma. He was just a couple of doors down while she lived twenty minutes out, so it had only been on more serious occasions that Penelope spent the night at her place. She decided to give Emma a break, just to push it on to Liam instead. And there was not one time that she didn’t feel guilty about it.

He stayed sitting up against the bed frame rather than lying down beside her. She could feel his stare as his hand gently tucked her short hair behind her ear, and it wasn’t until then that she closed her eye. What Penelope wasn’t aware of, however, was the turmoil that occurred in his own head.

He told himself that he was just doing his job, acting the part. That he didn’t truly care. That he wasn’t attached in any way, shape or form. And in the back of his mind, he felt guilt. Every hug he gave, every smile, every moment they shared. It just added on to one, big, chaotic lie. It was nothing new to him. He was a professional, after all. Yet this was different. This felt more personal. It stood out from all of the other jobs he accomplished in the past. That’s what concerned him the most.

-

“Don’t make another appointment. “

“I told her I would when -“

“Don’t make another appointment.” The brunette shot her a warning look. The acting mother could see the amount of conflict in her eye as it danced around the countertop. “You already know she doesn’t care, Penelope, why do you insist on wasting your money on a therapist who can’t even do their job!”

“I’ve told you why -“

“And I’m telling you it’s irrational!” The shop went silent. The tension was thick. It drowned out the ambience, the cars, the clock. Penelope’s vision blurred and she sniffed, running a hand through her hair to find something, anything, to do besides acknowledge the topic of discussion.

It was rare when Emma raised her voice, for them to bicker. But the woman had enough of seeing her friend suffering unnecessarily. She could tell that Penelope’s ‘therapist’ was doing more harm than good, and she was determined to put an end to it.

“Penny…” The softness of Emma’s voice did nothing to calm her down, but was needed when the tears spilled over. “I’m just -“ She sighed to recompose herself. “I’m just trying to help you, sweetheart.” Penelope sucked on her bottom lip and just nodded, trying to hold everything in. Emma took hold of her shoulders and gently pulled her in, her own eyes glazing over at the sound of her sobs finally breaking.

Once things started dying down the bell at the door went off and Emma snapped her head in its direction, only for her shoulders to drop when it was just Liam. His eyebrows scrunched together at the sight of them and he pointed to Penelope in a silent question. When Emma slowly shook her head he gave a knowing look and walked around the counter to join them, resting a hand on their mutual friend’s back.

“Liam?” Penelope sniffed.

“Aye.” His thumb began to rub against the thick material of her jacket and she sighed.

“What time is it?” Liam glanced at the watch on his wrist.

“Almost quarter ‘til five.” Emma looked between the two of them and offered Liam a small grin.

“I’ll let you go, Penny.” She whispered, causing the woman to look up with a large eye.

“But the -?” The brunette shook her head, still holding the same smile.

“It’s just twenty minutes, hun.” She giggled as Penelope pulled away.

“Okay…” She glanced over at Liam, then back at Emma. “Thank you…” Liam used the hand on her back to guide her out of the shop, keeping it there as he opened the passenger door of his car parked along the side of the road. “Where are we going, Liam?” She asked when they drove past their apartment building. He took a deep breath, gaze focused on the road.

“You’ll see.” He threw her a smirk before turning on the radio. She decided to leave it be and looked out of her window, chin resting in the palm of her hand as the city blurred by. She noticed how the further they drove, the darker the buildings became, how they looked more and more run down and abandoned.

“Liam?” The man hummed.

“Why are we in The Narrows?”

“Short cut?” He shrugged and a familiar body of water gradually came into view. Penelope grew more confused.

“I thought it was a weekend thing?”

“It is.” He parked the car and stepped out to open her door, helping her stand before shutting it. “I juss found somethin’ I thought ye’d like.” His long strides moved in the direction of a smaller building in the distance, no greater than the size of a small cabin. She had to trot a bit to catch up to him and he chuckled at the action. He jiggled his keys once he pulled them out and smiled when he inserted one in the lock of the door, twisting until they heard a ‘click’ to open it. The door squeaked as it pushed open and Penelope’s jaw dropped at the sight before her.

There was a strong smell of fresh wood and new furniture, and that was exactly what they had walked into. The exterior of the building was deceiving to those who walked by. It blended in perfectly. Rusty metal walls, finicky doors and broken windows. But it was all an illusion. Inside, the house was pristine. It was no larger than her current living space, if anything it was smaller with its studio layout, but it certainly was an upgrade. It held a darker tone with subtle yellow accents that were strategically placed. Nothing felt too extravagant nor too cheap. It was simply moderate.

“Didn’t take as long as I thought it would, to be completely honest.” The door shutting behind them helped Penelope come to. He watched her expressions, but he couldn’t decipher them.

“What is this?” The woman whispered in awe as she stepped further into the room.

“Erm -“ Liam made a face. “Consider it yer home away from home?” Penelope immediately whipped around to face him.

“Mine?!” Her friend reached for her good hand and slapped a set of keys into her palm, then forced it shut and patted it.

“That is what I said.” His mouth opened when he noticed a panic start to set in her eye.

“Liam, I can’t - what - how am I gonna pay for it?! This is too much!”

“Who said anythin’ ‘bout ye payin’ fer it?”

“Who is, then?” She noticed the look he gave her and she vigorously shook her head in disapproval. “No. No - you’re not paying for two places, Liam. That’s not -“ She let out an exasperated sigh and looked up at him with a pleading eye. “Liam…”

“Technically, my boss is payin’ fer it. I’m juss handlin’ the process.” Her eye squinted at him.

“Yeah, that’s - Liam, that’s how paychecks work.” Liam rolled his eyes and let out a short chuckle before spinning her around by her shoulders.

“Look around before it gets dusty.” Her fingers anxiously fiddled with the new keys as she curiously wandered around the place.

Everything seemed to be perfectly put together, exactly how she would’ve wanted it if she were to have decorated it herself. The cushions of the plush couch placed along a wall were soft, not too hard or too fluffy. Similar to her own apartment, a coffee table sat in front of it with a rug laid beneath both.

The small kitchen was the cleanest one she had ever seen with its stainless steel refrigerator and marble countertops. A petite walk-in closet was built in at the end of the counter containing jars of spices and various bottles of oils and sauces. Penelope already had an array of dinners and desserts planned out in her head with everything already stocked.

She continued to the back of the room and plopped onto the queen bed that was tucked away, a somewhat bland dark oak bed frame complimenting it along with two nightstands with matching lamps. Her head turned to the side towards the bathroom, protected by a privacy window that slid open as opposed to a wall. With a glazed eye her head moved back up towards the ceiling with a lopsided grin.

“Ye like it?” She heard Liam’s footsteps grow louder until they stopped at the end of the bed.

“I could get used to this…” She mumbled more to herself before she spoke somewhat louder to Liam. “I don’t know if I want to go back.”

“Ye don’t have to.” She shuffled over to allow him room to lie down next to her, now both of them staring up at the ceiling. “It’s a closer walk to the shop.” He attempted to convince her.

“But more dangerous.”

“Not if ye have a car.”

“You know I don’t have a car.” He shrugged.

“Juss a thought.” They then sat in the quietness of it all, thinking to themselves. Now this was a common occurrence. The two of them basking in the other’s presence to ease the day’s tensions. The moments of silence they had when they first started talking were awkward, at least for Penelope. But Liam, as extroverted as he was, had a way of easily sparking up a conversation should things start to go awry. He was her opposite. Her compliment. Where she failed, he succeeded and vice versa. It was the reason their relationship had grown so quickly, Penelope came to realize.

They always learned from each other and grew to understand the other person’s side of things. For one, Penelope taught him how peaceful silence really could be if chosen at the right time. Liam, on the other hand, taught her the difference between being rude and standing up for herself. She was slower at learning than he was, but he never blamed her or grew frustrated with her for it.

Liam looked over at Penelope, examining her before he spoke. “I need ye to promise me somethin’, Penny.”

“Yeah?” She then turned her own head towards him.

“Ye can’t tell no one else ‘bout this place.” Penelope sat up on her right elbow in curiosity, Liam following suit.

“Why’s that?”

“I mean fer it to be a safe haven fer ye.” He watched her expression grow soft, glossy with parted lips as she gradually realized what he meant. “If anythin’ should happen, Penny. Anythin’. Ye call me and we’ll come straight here. Or just run, if need be. I’ll know soon enough and come lookin’ fer ye.”

“What about Emma?” He began shaking his head before she could even finish. It confused her, sure, but she knew that there was more to why he did this. There was a reason no one else could know, and even if she didn’t know why, she knew it was important. So she decided to comply and keep her mouth shut.

She turned onto her knees and hooked her arm around his neck, hugging him as best she could. She could feel him tense at first before he grew acquainted with the feeling and returned it. He heard a heavy sniff from where her head rested against his shoulder and he pulled back slightly to look at her. He quickly realized that she wasn’t crying because she was troubled, she was crying because she was grateful. She couldn’t remember the last time someone went to this great of a length for her happiness, her protection, since the accident. It filled her with a melancholic feeling that she just couldn’t ignore.

“I promise.” Penelope finally answered with a gentle smile as Liam brought a thumb up to brush away her tears.

“Ye hungry?”

[tinyarmedtrex]

Reddie, fluff, 16?

“Would you like to stay?” 

It had been three weeks since Derry 2.0: The re-Derrying. Three weeks since the trauma and terror that happened in the sewers. Three weeks since they’d fought the clown and had nearly died. Three weeks since dragging Eddie out- thank god Stan had showed up when he did- and three weeks since Eddie entered a coma.

It was two weeks since Eddie had woken up, surprising Richie and the others by demanding water and the time. Two weeks since Myra had shown up and whisked Eddie away, saying that her husband deserved only the best medical care. She’d left without even introducing herself- not that any of them needed an introduction. It was obvious who she was- Sonia reincarnated. After Eddie was gone no one had a reason to stay in Derry. Slowly, everyone had gone back home, promising to stay in contact.

And, so far, they had. The group exchanged constant calls and text messages. They had been doing group zoom calls every Wednesday and they were the highlight of Richie’s week, seeing everyone alive and laughing.

In all forms of communication Eddie was the quietest, usually just replying with an emoji or one word answers. At least he was there, responding. Richie tried to make that be enough, to know that Eddie was breathing.

The longest text Richie gotten from him had been after he came out to the group. Everyone was amazing and supportive and Eddie had sent him a long, private text, telling Richie how proud he was and how he hoped that it would improve Richie’s shitty comedy routine. He had resisted the urge to frame his screenshot of the text. 

At first Richie had tried to call Eddie but every time Myra answered and told him that Eddie was in no state to talk. Richie tried not to let it sting, she was Eddie’s spouse after all, she had more rights than him. But still, it sucked. Richie wanted to hear Eddie’s voice, to listen to him complain or to make him laugh. He couldn’t help it. Ever since his memory had come back Eddie had been on his mind 24/7. It was an endless loop of memories and maybes, things that had happened and things that could have happened if only Richie had the balls to tell Eddie how he felt. 

It probably wouldn’t have mattered. Eddie was married and, presumably, straight. But maybe if Richie had been rejected he could start to move on, give up the ghost of his first love. 

Hating himself, Richie picked up his phone. He’d missed a slew of texts from the others but skipped them for now, instead pressing Eddie’s number. It rang for a few seconds before going to voicemail. He listened to Eddie’s clipped and professional voice asking him to leave a detailed message before hanging up and falling back on his couch. He knew that he should order something for dinner, or at least reheat leftovers. 

He had just pulled himself off the couch when his doorbell rang. Richie frowned, trying to remember if he was expecting someone. He walked to the door and flung it open, gaping at the person behind it. 

“Eds?”

“Richie I- shit- I know this is out of nowhere- and I haven’t talk to you in weeks but I- I left Myra. I left her. I can’t do it anymore. I don’t even like women! Yea, I’m gay too- that took me all of a day to figure out. Made a lot of my life make a lot more sense honestly-

“I know this is sudden but fuck, I didn’t know where else to go. I’ve missed you so much. The others too but you the most. I needed to see you. I can stay in a hotel though, I know how much unexpected guests suck. Myra’s sister would always drop by and stay for a week. I hated it.  She smelled like cat litter. Can you imagine? It was awful.” 

Eddie’s nose wrinkled as he finally took a breath, staring up at Richie. “You can tell me to leave. I’ll go. I shouldn’t have come. What the fuck was I thinking? You probably have a date or like- a celebrity here. You don’t want your weirdo friend from middle school staying here. I’ll go.”

Eddie turned, still muttering to himself. Richie’s hand shot out and grabbed Eddie’s arm. Slowly, Eddie turned to look at him. “Please don’t make fun of me now Richie. I just got off a dirty plane. I can’t handle it. I need a shower so badly. The person next to me had fish. Fish!”

Richie shook his head. He’d tease Eddie later but for now there was only one thing he wanted to say. 

“Would you like to stay?”

[hypnosisbuttd]

Hypnosis is Bullshit

(A gay Hypnosis Story)

“Alright Campers!” Chris shouts to the contestants in the cafeteria “It’s time for your next challenge!”

“What now?” Duncan asks annoyed.

“Aw what? Do you not enjoy my challenge?” Chris says sadly

“No” All of the contestants say simultaneously

“Rude...” Chris says, faking being offended. “Well it doesn’t matter cause you’re doing it anyways! Meet me out by the cabins! No not your housing arrangements, the OTHER cabins.”

Chris then proceeds to disappear.

The Campers leave their cafeteria, but then Duncan and Trent get into a little scuffle outside the doors.

“Don’t fucking push me dude” Trent snapped

“Well if your slow ass wasn’t taking up the entire doorway I wouldn’t have needed to” Duncan responds

“Bastard, you wanna fight me?” Trent threatens

“Try me bitch” Duncan challenges“

Oh my god, break it up you two.” Heather sighs

“You stay out of this you black haired dog eater” Duncan sneers

“AIGHT BITCH YOU WANNA GO?!” Heather says threatening Duncan as Lindsay holds her back.

“Ha, you’re so easy to get a reaction out of” He laughs

“Ugh! I really wish someone would knock you down a peg you brat!” Heather shouts

“Duncan I really think you should back off” Gwen suggests

“Aw come on you know you love it baby”“Ew...” Gwen says backing off.

“Y’all gonna head over to the Cabins, or Am I gonna have to drag your clown asses over there?” Leshawna asks

“Tch, fine” Duncan reluctantly lets up

(Nobody messes with Leshawna)

The campers settles their conflict and head out to the old cabins in the wood. 6 of them have spirals painted on them.

“This challenge is a 1 on 1 hypnosis challenge, each of one of the former screaming gophers will compete with one of the former Killer Bass to hypnotize each other in one hour. Whoever succeeds will be allowed to do whatever they want with the other, whoever does the most embarrassing thing to the other when the timer is up wins, the judge will as always be me.” Chris explains

“As stupid as this challenge is, there is a slight problem Chris” Duncan calls out

“And that is?” Chris asks

“Hypnosis ain’t real you fucking moron.” He shouts

“Yes it is!” Izzy shouts “Ive seen plenty of government facilities use Hypnosis on Politicians to get them favorably on one side of the Spectrum or on enemy soldier to reveal critical information! But I’m completely resistant to it cause I was born colorblind!” Izzy rants

“And we’re supposed to believe the crazy lady why?” Duncan asks

Izzy growls

“Anyways here are your teams”

“Leshawna and Eva, you’ll go to the first cabin”

“Ha good luck, I have an Iron Will” Eva notes

“Team 2 will be Heather and Bridgette”

“Yeah no, I’m not letting this bitch control me. You’re going down Heather” Bridgette threatens

“Team 3 is Lindsay and Izzy”

“This will go down well...” Duncan mutters sarcastically

“Team 4 is Geoff and Gwen”

“Aight little lady! We got this!” Geoff cheers

“I don’t think you understand this challenge” Gwen says

“Team 5 is Owen and DJ”

“Oh fuck no” Trent and Duncan say simultaneously

“And Team 6 will be Duncan and Trent! Ha ha ha” Chris laughs

“Fuck you and your idiot ass McLain” Duncan says flipping the bird at McLain before waking inside the cabin.

“I could have had it worse...” Trent suggests trying to keep it positive.

The two of them wander inside the cabin and did the room lined with various Hypnosis tools.

Duncan just sighs“God this shit it stupid... I mean look at this” He picks up a ray gun “Hypno Gun? My gif what do they think we are? 5? I’m so done with this. Let’s just wait the hour out I don’t even care if we lose”

“Whatever...” Trent sighs.

Duncan sits down on one of the coaches while Trent wanders around the room.

After a bit of searching however, Trent notices a small tape sitting in the corner of the room, he picks it up and the Tape Reads ‘Easy White Noise Hypnosis’. Trent, wanting a bit of laugh but also not caring, removes the label and replaces it with a label he had on one of his other tapes titled ‘Heavy Punk Rock Favorites’.

He then proceeds to sit next to Duncan

“Da fuck do you want?” Duncan snaps

“Well I decided since we’re going to be here a while, I thought you would like to listen to some music. I know you’re a punk rock fan, so I got some of my favorites.” He hands the tape to Duncan

“I mean you’re choice in Music probably sucks but whatever...” Duncan plugs in a pair of headphones into the tape and begins listening.

“Dude this is just white noise, what the fuck is this?” Duncan asks clearly confused

“It’s a start up noise, it’ll probably take a couple minutes to start up” Trent lied

Duncan relents and continues to sit there. After a few minutes, his expression begins to go slack and he sits there looking confused.

“Dude... This shit is making my head feel... funny...” Duncan slurs. He goes to take off the headphones.

“Up bup bup bup” Trent places his hands on his and keeps the headphones “Just keep going”

“But... I...”

“Ssshhh” Trent shush him. Duncan giggles a little before continuing on.

After a couple more minutes, Duncan is gone full slack. His eyes are crossed and drool is slowly dripping down the side of his mouth. Trent waves his hand in front of Duncan, he doesn’t even react. He just sits there.

Holy shit did it actually work? Trent thinks. He decides to test his theory.

“Duncan can you hear me?” Trent asks

“Yeah...” Duncan mumbles

“Are you willing to obey my commands?” He asks

“Sure” Duncan slurs

“Stand in front of me...” He orders

Duncan stands up and walks in front of Trent.

No way... Trent thinks This can’t be real. I guess the only way to know is if I make him do something so embarrassing that if he’s pranking me he’ll have to let up...

“Alright Duncan listen to me. When I snap my fingers, you will become a Sexy Gay stripper who’s here to strip for me. You love showing your bare ass for people and you’re super horny. Ok?”

Duncan just drools

Theres no way... Trent thinks

Trent snaps his fingers and Duncan wakes up and stares directly at Trent. He then placed Hands on either side of Trent

Yup he’s definitely going to kill me

“Why Hello there Sexy” Duncan purrs

OH MY GOD Trents Mind Screams

Duncan stands up and admired Trent “Damn when they sent me for this job, I didn’t expect my client to be so sexy.” He says seductively

“Thank you...” Trent says trying to hold in his laughter

“Anyways let’s get on with the show shall we?” Duncan says pulling off his shirt slowly.

Trent just stares in awe as Duncan slowly pulls off his clothes. First he tosses off his shirt and lets Trent feel his pecs. Then he pulls off his pants and gives Trent a lap dance. Finally when Trent thought it was going to end, Duncan leaned in by his ear“

Since you’re such a special client case, I’ll give you a bonus show.” He whispers seductively.

Duncan stands up and pulls off his underwear, bearing his ass for Trent to see. He throws the underwear off to the side and exposes himself directly in front of Trent.

“Like what you see?” Duncan says winking

Trent could feel himself getting hard.

Wait what?

Trent looked down to see himself indeed having a hard on at the site of Duncan

What the? I’m straight! What the heck is going on?

Duncan leans in quietly and sets himself on Trents lap“What do you say me and you find the bedroom, and take care of that little problem of yours” Duncan says pulling at the edge of Trents pants

“Alright that’s enough! Sleep!” Trent calls out

Duncan immediately falls limp, his body crashing into Trents chest. Trent realized how Tiny Duncan was especially without the clothes and laughed to himself a little.

Hmm what should I do with you now? Trent thinks.

He looks down at Duncan’s muscular form. And immediately comes up with a devilish plan.

“Alright Duncan… You can still hear me correct?” He asks

“Ye…” Duncan slurs.

“Alright, when I wake you up, you will think you are a professional wrestler. And I am your opponent. You will try and punch and dent but will not have enough strength to do so. Meanwhile when I even slightly tap you, you will feel excruciating pain. And the only way You can make it stop is by me surrendering. Understood?” Trent explains.

Duncan moans.

“Ok… Then go…” Trent snaps his fingers.

Duncan sits up instantly and stares directly at Trent. He smiles and growls.

“Look at you. Little Princess. You think you can beat me?” Duncan sneers.

Trent stands up. “Psh, you’re all talk…” He laughs.

“Oh yeah. Then let’s see how you like this?” Duncan aims a punch directly for Trents face, but when he touches his face, it’s no more than a slight touch. Duncan backs up.

“You’re sturdy…” He mutters.

“Wanna try that again?” He asks

“Grr TAKE THIS!!!” Duncan runs up to him and grabs him around the arms. He attempts to lift Trent up, but fails miserably.

Trent just laughs and flicks Duncan’s nose. Duncan backs up and covers his nose in pain.

“Dude what the fuck?! How did you do that?” He says rubbing his nose.

“Just luck I guess.” Trent slaps Duncan’s back and he collapses to the ground writing in pain.

“OK DUDE I SURRENDER!! PLEASE JUST STOP!!!” Duncan screams.

Trent pulls Duncan’s legs over his shoulders and Duncan writhes in pain.

“Say it!” Trent snaps

“Say what?” Duncan whimpers.

“Say you’re a princess…” He tugs on his leg.

Duncan winces hard. “GAAAH! Fine! I’m a Princess! I’m a pretty little bitch princess.”

“Why couldn’t Mario find you?”

“I was in another castle! Obviously!”

“And what we’re you doing there?”

“Probably getting fucked by You.” He laughs.

Trent stands there silent for a moment as he drops Duncan lies on the ground writhing.

“I surrender.” He mumbles.

Duncan’s pain vanishes and he quietly gets up and turns to Trent.

“You ok dude?” He asks

“Why did you say I was getting fucked by you? Why the fuck would you say that?” He growls.

“Dude, I just think your hot. I’m not tryna make you mad. If anything, I think you’d make a great top!” Duncan laughs.

Trent just sighs. “Sleep…”

Duncan falls forward and collapses into Trents arms. Trent quietly sits him on the floor and sits next to him thinking.

Did he really mean that? Trent thinks

He looks over at Duncan, who’s drooling on the floor and looking spaces out. Trent quietly contemplates for a moment before realizing his final trick. The thing he would do for Chris’s competition.

“Alright Duncan, can you hear me?” Trent asks.

“Mm…” Duncan quietly mumbles.

“Great then here’s what we’re gonna do.”

(Time skip to the end of the competition ton)

“Aaaaaand Times Up!” Chris blows his air horn. “Let’s see what we got now!”

“Duncan was right! You’re bullshitting McLain!” Gwen snaps.

“None of that stuff worked! All of the tools were fake!” Leshawna explains.

“Yeah! And I should know! I know what Hypnosis stuff looks like!” Izzy shouts.

“Really? It was supposedly real when I bought it online.” Chris says nervously.

“Yeah well I can guarantee that not a single one of us completed the challenge.” Bridgette snaps

“Actually I did!” Trent raised his hand.

Everyone turns to look at him in surprise.

“You can’t be serious…” Heather says tiredly.

“I am! And I have proof!” Trent quietly walks down the steps, a small figure crouches down behind him.

“Is that…” Gwen attempts to peak around.

Trent calls the small figure. “Come on, don’t be shy…”

The figure crawls quietly to Trents feet and reveals itself to be Duncan, but he’s different. His usual green Mohawk, now he had his air in a sort of wild style, kind of slicked back, but with a bit of a tip. But that was the least of the Changes. He was completely naked except for a pair of black ears and a large black tail stuck into his ass. And he had a collar with a bone collared name tag on it saying “Damian” attached to a leash that Trent was holding.

“No way…” Izzy says shocked.

“His name is Damian now. He’s a cutie aint he?” He says scratching Damian behind the ears. Damian pants in happiness.

“This isn’t real…” Heather says laughing.

“It is. I Hypnoed him to be a good boy. I taught him a couple tricks while I had the time.” Trent explains.

He points to in front of him and Damian walks up and “stands” on all fours in front of Trent.

“Sit…”

Damian sits like a dog looking at Trent expectantly.

“Roll over.”

Damian lies down then rolls onto his back, then rolls back onto his stomach and sits up.

“Speak!”

Damian barks.

“Wag your tail!”

Damian sticks his butt up in the air, and begins wagging his fake tail. Damian looks at Trent happily.

“Good boy!”

Trent pulls a cookie out of his pocket and dangles it in front of Damian. Damian grabs it and begins munching on the cookie. Once he’s finished, Trent pulls out a large beef bone and hands it to Damian. Damian takes it in his mouth and quietly circles around Trent before lying at his feet and viciously chewing on the bone.

“This is insane!” Owen looks in shock.

“HES SO CUTE!!!” Lindsay squeals.

“Oh how the tables have turned…” Heather smirks.

Chris looks at Trent in shock. He regains his composure and smiles at Trent. “Well then! Congratulations, Trent! You have won immunity!” Chris announces.

“And Damian, he’s my dog, after all.” Trent reaches down and scratches Damian behind the ears again. Damian whines in happiness.

“Ugh… Fine! Damian gets Immunity too… You have to change him back by the end of the week though!” Chris adds.

“Yeah yeah…” Trent waves it off.

(One week later, after Eva is eliminated)

Trent walks up to Damian, who had been quietly sleeping under Trents bunk. He ques for Damian to come out and Damian shuffles out and quietly waits for Trents command.

“Alright welp its time for you to go back to normal…”

Damian frowns and cries at Trent.

“I know I know… But Chris said it’s the requirement…” Trent says petting Damian.

Reluctantly, Damian sits back in normal position.

“Goodbye for now Damian…”

Damian barks one more time and nuzzles into Trents hand.

“And sleep…”

Duncan’s eyes roll over and he returns to sleep mode.

“Alright Duncan, I want you to take all the memories of you as Damian and tuck them safely away. It’ll be there, but you can’t open it unless I ask you to. Ok?” Trent explains.

Duncan mumbles what sounded like a yes.

“And other than that, when I snap my fingers, you will wake up as your Normal self, with all the memories of what you did. Ok?” Trent asks

Duncan nods.

“Ok, and go.” Trent snaps his fingers.

Duncan’s eyes snap back to reality and he looks at Trent in disgust.

“The fuck is up with-“ He stops as his memories come in “OH FUCK YOU!!!” Duncan gets up and lightly shoved Trent. Trent laughs.

“Yup! I got you!” Trent says.

“Oh god! How the fuck did That work?” Duncan asks

“Honestly? I just kinda got lucky! But I wasn’t wasting a golden opportune moment like this!” Trent laughs.

“Tch, whatever.” Duncan crosses his arms. But shockingly his expression softens.

“Hey… about that Damian thing…” He mumbles.

“What about it?” I ask strangely.

“Do you think you could do it again sometime…” He asks quietly.

Trent looks at him surprised “You’re not serious?!” Trent says shocked.

“Yes I am. I kinda like being Damian. I know I act like a bad boy all the time but, to be Damian would be like having just… a lay off of that I guess…” Duncan mumbles.

Trent seems to think for a moment, before nodding and reaching his hand out towards Duncan. “Deal!”

Duncan grasps his hand and shakes it. “Thanks.”

Duncan begins quietly walking out when Trent stops him.

“Aren’t you gonna put on clothes?” Trent laughs.

Duncan looks back at him and smirks.

“Dogs don’t wear clothes”

(END)

[slipping-through-my-fingertips]

mirrorball

Summary: in every life, that they’ve ever lived, they’ve chosen to come back, and find each other, and fall in love with each other over and over again 

Notes: As promised, another part of my folklore series.  Enjoy!!

AO3

As much as Kurt loved going to the theater or eating dinner in dimly-lit restaurants around the city, his favorite dates were the ones spent at home. 

When he and Blaine danced around each other in the kitchen trying out a new recipe for dinner. When there’s cheesecake cooling in the fridge. With music flooding their ears. 

As they set the table, Kurt brings his arms around Blaine and pulls their bodies together. Their fronts pressed together and noses touching. 

“I’m so in love with you,” he tells him. 

The oven beeps so Kurt quickly moves away to get their dinner before it burns. 

I want you to know

I'm a mirrorball

I'll show you every version of yourself tonight

I'll get you out on the floor

Shimmering beautiful

And when I break it's in a million pieces

Later, when the dishes are on the drying rack and the pots and pans are soaking in the sink, Kurt and Blaine are curled up together on the couch. The playlist from earlier is starting over, the sun has set and the apartment grows darker. 

Blaine sits up to lit a candle but snuggles right back under the blanket with his boyfriend. 

“I love you too, you know?” 

Kurt kisses the top of his head. 

“What if we hadn’t met?” 

“If you didn’t come to Dalton?” Blaine asks. 

Kurt nods. 

“I’d find you,” Blaine says, “I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from being pulled towards you.” 

“You really believe that?” 

Blaine just kisses him. 

 Hush

When no one is around, my dear

You'll find me on my tallest tiptoes

Spinning in my highest heels, love

Shining just for you

 For the next week, Kurt comes up with plenty of scenarios for a different life for them. Each time, Blaine has their perfect meeting to go along with it. 

They’re getting ready together that morning. Standing in their small bathroom. Blaine applying gel and Kurt brushing his teeth. 

“If I were a Prince...” he mumbles around the toothbrush. 

“And I, a commoner living in a stone house outside the castle,” Blaine continued, “you’d come into town and bump into me while buying fabric. Our eyes met and boom: love at first sight.” 

Kurt rolled his eyes and rinsed his mouth. “Or maybe you sneak into a ball where I am supposed to find my future husband. We dance together and I just know it’s you. It’s always you.” 

Blaine had cupped his face and kissed him. 

“Minty,” he said with a laugh. 

 Hush

I know they said the end is near

But I'm still on my tallest tiptoes

Spinning in my highest heels, love

Shining just for you

I want you to know

I'm a mirrorball

This back and forth became a game of “What if…” with Kurt normally asking the questions and Blaine being quick to answer. 

“Okay, but what if…we didn’t live in Ohio. If I grew up here and you came from LA.”

“I’m not a Hollywood guy, Kurt, my acting would still take me to Broadway.”

“Maybe your career would take you to the West End in London.”

Blaine side-eyed Kurt for a moment. “Out of the two of us, I think you’re way more likely to go to the West End than me.” 

Kurt chuckled. “You’re right.” 

“And how come in all these situations, I have to come to you. How about you come to me?”

“Okay, you start then.” 

Blaine takes in a breath and decides on his scenario. 

 I can change everything about me to fit in

You are not like the regulars

The masquerade revelers

Drunk as they watch my shattered edges glisten

 At eighteen, Blaine Anderson was expected to be married. Soon, his older brother Prince Cooper would take the throne, and until he and his wife produced an heir Blaine would be second-in-line for the crown. 

The only problem with getting married was the lack of unmarried gay princes. As far as Blaine knew, he was the only one. Prince Sebastian had tried to court Blaine years ago but ultimately married Prince Hunter of the Southern Kingdom. Princes Nick and Jeff had been betrothed since birth in order to unite their respective kingdoms. 

Due to this issue, his father was hosting a ball. All major and minor kingdoms were invited, especially those farthest away. Even ones that they normally did not interact with because Blaine was in desperate need of a husband.  

Blaine’s only request for this ball was that it be a masquerade. His father, of course, thought this to be a bad idea but Blaine insisted. There was much less pressure on his shoulders if those he danced with and spoke to weren’t sure if he was the prince or not. 

 Hush

When no one is around, my dear

You'll find me on my tallest tiptoes

Spinning in my highest heels, love

Shining just for you

 Kurt’s voice broke the fantasy. “So, in this situation, am I also a prince? Just from a far away kingdom?” 

“If you’d let me finish,” Blaine said, “you’d know that information.” 

His boyfriend lightly slaps his shoulder. “Don’t be mean.”

“Be patient,” Blaine countered. 

“How about this instead?” Kurt inched closer to him on the couch. “We dance together at the ball and I pull you out of the ballroom, charm you, and we kiss just outside the party pressed together in the dark hallway.”

“Then what?” Blaine asked, their lips brushing together. 

“We live happily ever after, of course,” Kurt told him before pressing their mouths together. 

 Hush

I know they said the end is near

But I'm still on my tallest tiptoes

Spinning in my highest heels, love

Shining just for you

 When they wake up from their unprompted nap, the sun is just starting to set. Golden hour tanning Kurt’s pale skin and highlighting his messy hair. 

Blaine only gets a few moments to stare at his boyfriend. Watching his breathing, the small twitches his body makes, and his unconsciousness making him move closer to Blaine. Then, he stirred and lazily opened his eyes. 

“Hey you,” Blaine said. 

Kurt hummed but even in his sleepy state, he gave Blaine a toothy smile. 

“We should make dinner.” 

In reply, Kurt snuggled closer to Blaine. 

“Or we could order take-out.” 

Blaine felt Kurt nod. 

“Okay. Thai?”

Kurt shook his head. 

“No Thai. Italian? I could go for some fettuccine alfredo.” 

Another no. 

“Alright, what do you want?” 

“Greasy fries and a burger.” 

Blaine abruptly moved away to stare down at Kurt, who groaned clearly unhappy that his space heater was gone. Kurt made grabby hands for Blaine to come back. Unable to resist him or cuddling, Blaine readjusted himself next to Kurt. 

“Seriously, you want a burger?” Blaine asked. 

“Yes please.” 

With a short laugh, Blaine grabbed his phone from the nightstand and put in an order for delivery for burgers and fries. 

“Milkshakes?” he questioned. 

“Strawberry.”

And two strawberry shakes. 

 And they called off the circus

Burned the disco down

When they sent home the horses

And the rodeo clowns

 As they unwrapped their burgers, Blaine started another scenario. 

“Alright, this time I’m a famous sports player.”

Immediately, Kurt cut him off. “What sport?” 

“Doesn’t matter,” Blaine told him. “And you’re dragged to a game with your dad or Finn or someone.” 

“It matters to me.” Kurt sipped his shake. “If I’m to form a successful happy ending, I need all the information, Blaine. You know I’m a detail guy.” 

Blaine bites his tongue. As usual, Kurt’s stubbornness was shining through. Except this time, he was clearly joking if his smirk had anything to say about it. 

“Football.”

“You better get taller and put on some muscle mass first. You’ll get pummeled.” 

"Says the formed McKinley High kicker."

"And I would've been pummeled otherwise," Kurt tells him.

“Fine, not football. Um, how about hockey?” 

“You are an excellent skater.” 

“Thank you.” Blaine beamed. “Anyway, I’m a jock and you’re a non-fan.” 

“Professional jock,” Kurt corrected. 

“Eat your burger and listen.” 

 I'm still on that tightrope

I'm still trying everything to get you laughing at me

I'm still a believer but I don't know why

I've never been a natural

All I do is try, try, try

I'm still on that trapeze

I'm still trying everything

To keep you looking at me

 Kurt couldn’t believe he was letting his dad and Finn drag him to a hockey game. It’s freezing even if they’re not right up against the glass. Despite hot chocolate in his hands, Kurt’s shivering. 

“Tickets came with money on them. Go buy a sweatshirt,” Burt says. 

“You can take my coat,” Finn offers. “I want to show off my jersey anyway.” 

Kurt takes Finn’s coat but instantly hands it back because it’s way too long and he can’t sit comfortably with it on. 

“I’m going to the gift shop.” 

“Be back soon if you don’t wanna miss the puck drop,” Burt tells him.

It’s hard to get lost in a hockey stadium because it’s just a circle so long as Kurt has his ticket he can get back to the seats. He finds the gift shop to be mostly empty despite the insane amount of people here for the game.

He remembers the patriotic colors his dad and Finn were wearing and tried to find the least offensive sweatshirt that supports the Ohio team. 

“You don’t have to get Blue Jackets just cause you’re from Ohio,” a voice tells him. 

“I rather not get booed at,” Kurt replies, resisting the urge to say the booing would be by his own family. 

“Fair enough.” The man shrugs. “I’m partial to the black and silver of the Kings.” 

Kurt looks at the sweatshirt in question. It’s much less...loud than the Blue Jackets.

“Isn’t that the opposing team?” 

He smirks. It’s then that Kurt really gets a good look at the man. He’s not wearing either team’s colors. No nametag or uniform either. So, he probably doesn’t work for the stadium. 

“Who are you exactly?” 

“Blaine Anderson.”

Kurt shakes his hand. “Kurt Hummel.”

“Nice to meet you, Kurt.” 

“You too but that didn’t answer my question, who are you? You don’t work here and you don’t seem overly invested in the game since you couldn’t be bothered to wear either of their jerseys.” 

“Let’s just say, you’ll see me on the ice.” 

Then, Blaine handed Kurt a piece of paper with his number on it and walked off. 

 Because I'm a mirrorball

I'm a mirrorball

I'll show you every version of yourself

Tonight

By the time Blaine has finished his alternative meeting, Kurt has dragged him away from the kitchen into the living room. He moved their coffee table out of the way and pushed the sofas back. 

“So, I find out you’re a hockey player after the game,” Kurt said, “I text you on the way home asking if you were distracted because your team lost.” 

“And I say, I couldn’t keep my eyes on the puck because I was searching for you in the stands.” 

“Cheesy.” 

Blaine smiled. 

Kurt extended his right hand, “may I have this dance?” 

“There’s no music,” Blaine answered but placed his hand into Kurt’s regardless. 

Kurt pulled their bodies close so Blaine could rest his head against Kurt’s shoulder. Tucked together swaying in their living room. 

“You’re all the music I need.”

[emdeedot45]

Fluff 46 - “I don’t know if I want to yell at you or kiss you.” 😘

Prompt #1 "I don't know if I want to yell at you or kiss you"

Sylvie was mad.

Normally, it took a lot for her to get mad, but that’s what she was right now. She was mad and frustrated and pissed off and every other synonym under the sun that could be used to describe this situation.

The situation? Well, it started yesterday when she and Mackey had tended to a call at an old cemetery down town. As if the location wasn’t creepy enough, a clown had fallen into one of the open graves and needed medical assistance. Sylvie felt her entire body tense when she saw what they were facing. She hated clowns. They were so deceptive with their painted-on smiles and dirty tricks. But ever the professional, she put her fears to the side focused on the job at hand. She was PIC, she was a mentor to Mackey, she had to show she could handle this.

They couldn’t deal with it alone, however, and needed a manpower assist to get the clown out of the grave. Luckily for them, Engine 40 had been close by and swiftly got the clown out and Sylvie and Mackey quickly got him into the back of the ambo.

“God, I hate clowns…” she’d grumbled as she closed the backdoors to the ambo.

“Really? I always thought they were kind of fun in an entirely stupid way.”

She’d turned around and saw Greg Grainger standing behind her, his hands casually resting in his pockets and a charming smirk on his face that Sylvie figured got him pretty much whatever he wanted.

“No. They’re horribly deceptive.” Sylvie explained.

“Well for someone with a fear you wouldn’t have known with how you handled that.” He praised.

Sylvie scoffed in response, “Ever the professional.”

“Yeah… so, what have you been up to lately? I haven’t really seen you around.” He pried.

She’d been around. Maybe not as much as she’d normally been – nights on her couch with wine and HGTV or wine and girl time with Stella felt much more appealing that being at Molly’s, trying to focus on whoever she was talking to but her mind – and eyes – wandering to Captain Matthew Casey instead. Somehow, they always managed to find each other in a room and it was infuriating. She was trying to forget him. How was she supposed to do that when they kept burring holes into each other with their eyes?

Sylvie kept having to remind herself that it was stupid. He’d moved on with the kitten claw sign woman. She needed to find a way to move on too.

She’d shrugged at Grainger when he asked, “Oh you know, here and there…” she said awkwardly.

Mackey opened the ambo door and poked her head out, “You coming? I’m starting to understand why you hate clowns so much, Chuckles will not stop staring at me.”

Sylvie shot her a sympathetic smile, “I’m coming.”

Mackey quickly glanced at Grainger before looking back at Sylvie and giving her knowing eyes. Sylvie then remembered what Mackey had said to her at Molly’s;

“Girl, clearly you need to get out and have some fun on your own.”

Sylvie closed the doors behind Mackey. Maybe this was her chance to have some fun. Maybe this was what she needed to forget about Matt Casey. A fun night out with a handsome firefighter.

Though, if he turned out to be a jerk, she was swearing off firefighters for good.

“Hey uh—” she began as she turned back to Grainger. “Do you fancy grabbing a drink tomorrow? I mean, it’s not a big deal, I’ll just be at Molly’s and maybe you could join. No pressure.” She rambled as he smiled at her.

“Yeah, yeah that sounds good.” He agreed with a nod. “I will see you tomorrow night PIC Brett.”

“Great. See you then.”

And that is how she got here.

At Molly’s, sitting with Grainger, mad as hell.

It had nothing to do with Grainger. He seemed like a nice, sweet guy.

But it had everything to do with Matt Casey.

From the moment they sat down at the bar, his eyes hadn’t left Grainger’s back. He was shooting daggers through the guy and Sylvie could see his jaw clench and his knuckles turn white from gripping his beer bottle too tightly – and it only got worse every time Grainger nudged her hand or her leg or any time he made her laugh.

Maybe Molly’s wasn’t the best location for this, but the whole thing was maddening. She could date whoever she wanted, wherever she wanted, and Matt couldn’t do a damn thing about it. He made his choice, and it wasn’t her, so he had to live with that. Besides, he was dating too and Sylvie said and did nothing. She just got on with things.

Though silently, her heart hurt was hurting, but she could never admit that out loud.

She put up with the jealous staring for an hour, but then she heard Matt obnoxiously scoff at Grainger telling her all about an heroic save he made the other day – and she snapped.

“Would you – would you excuse me for just a minute?” she asked, in the middle of Grainger’s story no less.

“Uh – yeah, yeah.” He said, a little taken a back by the timing of her request. She felt terrible, but she just couldn’t do this anymore. She slipped off her bar stool and stormed over to Matt’s table where he was sitting with Severide, Cruz and Gallo.

“Can I talk to you?” she asked as she crossed her arms over her chest, ignoring the wide eyes that were being sent her way by the rest of the table who were surprised by her abruptness.

“Sure.” Matt said as he downed the rest of his beer for liquid courage before following her out of Molly’s.

They walked a few metres down the path and away from the door before Sylvie spun on her heel and glared at him.

“What the hell is your problem?” she demanded to know.

“I don’t have a problem.”

Sylvie clenched her jaw. Matt’s emotions were always written on his face – why couldn’t he just put them into words? She knew he was mad and she was sick of him not being honest with her.

“Yes, you do, you’ve been staring at me and Greg all night. I’m not stupid Casey and I’m sick of us dancing around the tension between us, it’s infuriating!”

“Fine, I was jealous ok? I am jealous. It kills me seeing you out with somebody else.” he exclaimed back.

Sylvie shook her head, “You have no right to feel that way—”

“Doesn’t mean that I don’t.”

She knew it was hypocritical to say that, but what else could she say? Sylvie took another step back from him because she couldn’t possibly put any more emotional distance between them. They might as well be strangers the way they’ve been treating each other for the past few weeks.

“I don’t know what’s going on in your head Matt, I don't know where this is coming from considering how we left things, but this jealousy thing – it has to stop. You lost your chance. You have to live with that as much as I do.” She said quietly. “Besides, you’re the one who went out with Sydney first.” she pointed out. He’d moved on a lot quicker than she had, but he seemed to be forgetting that little detail.

“Yeah I did, and it made me pretty damn miserable.” He confessed as Sylvie looked a little shocked by his confession. “I always do this when I go through a breakup. I try to distract myself with someone else and normally – it does help with moving on, even in the slightest way. But this time? It didn’t help.” He said with a scoff. “It made it a heck of a lot worse. It made me realise that I – I would rather be alone than be without you. It made me realise that I am in deep. I think I always have been.”

Sylvie’s body relaxed at Matt’s words. She wished it hadn’t, but it did. He was looking at her with a deep sincerity in his eyes and she immediately felt her anger dissipate. He was the most trustworthy person she knew and she hated that she was trusting his words right now. She hated that she knew they were true.

He did exactly what she was trying to do right now. They were trying to forget about each other by losing themselves in other people – but it wasn’t working and it never would. Grainger just wasn't Matt. Sydney just wasn't Sylvie. And that was the bottom line.

“What's that look?” Matt asked desperately.

“What look?”

“That look” he said. Her face had softened completely without her even realising as she tried to bite back a semblance of a smile. “It looks like you’re trying to stop yourself from saying something nice or even smiling at me.”

Sylvie sighed and ran a hand over her forehead, “I just don’t know if I want to yell at you or kiss you right now and god, it’s so annoying, you’re so annoying!” she childishly insulted. She had to at least try and be mad at him otherwise she might in fact kiss him. He would rather be alone than be without her – how was she supposed to pretend like he didn't just say that? How was she supposed to pretend that it didn't make her heart skip a beat?

Matt couldn’t help but shoot her an amused smirk. Even when she was trying to be mean she somehow made it stupidly cute. Sylvie dropped her hand from her head and put it on her hip, her distressed expression changing to a deep glare when she realised how he was looking at her.

“Stop looking at me like that.” She demanded.

“Like what?”

“Like you want me to kiss you.”

Matt’s smirk grew, “I don’t think I’ll ever stop looking at you like that.”

“Dammit Casey…” Sylvie grumbled as she looked to her feet, not wanting to get caught up in his gaze. It was stupidly distracting, and she knew it would suck her back in – but it shouldn’t. There was still so much left to be resolved if it ever actually could be resolved.

He wanted her now because he couldn’t have her. But in the long run, he’d revert to wanting Gabby – he’d made that much clear the night of their kiss.

“I’m trying so hard not to love you but you’re making really damn difficult” She confessed quietly.

It was Matt’s turn to be taken aback by her words. She loved him. She was trying not to, but she did. Suddenly, everything he’d been feeling for the past year had started to make sense. He’d been in denial about his feelings. The whole thing just felt messy from the beginning. His feelings for her just came out of nowhere and he’d tried so hard to push them away and focus on their friendship – but it was pointless.

Now, he too trying so hard not to love her, but every smile, every encouraging word, even little glance in his direction – she made it really damn difficult

Matt let out a laugh of realisation. He loved her. He really did – and he was going to prove it to her. He took a step towards her, watching as her body started to tense again.

“I’m the guy for you Sylvie Brett” he said until there was just a breath between them. “And I know there’s so much more to talk about and you maybe don’t believe me right now – but I’m going to prove it to you. I’m the guy for you Sylvie Brett. You’ll see.” He said, his nose ghosting past hers briefly before he started backing away from her.

This was going to be get interesting.

[fleetwoodmak99]

Primed for Sin (5/10)

SUMMARY: Arthur tends to keep his promise to give Elena space but after days of pure torture from his job and Randall down his throat about the gun, he just can't stay away anymore.

WARNING: SMUT (18+), Loss of Virginity, Dirty Talk, Oral (F Receiving), Vaginal Penetration, Murder, Talks of Blood, Smoking, Swearing 

Hi. So I’m sorry it took me way too long to get this out but I hope to make it up with this part finally having smut in it and it being longer. I hope its not too long lol. I just started school back up and it definitely takes up all my time but hopefully once things settle down I’ll have more time to work on this series. I hope I don’t disappoint and thank you for those who actually follow this story. 

Part 4

It has been four day since his last conversation with Elena. Four damn days.

He did as he promised, he stayed away and gave her space. He respected that sometimes she would need a break from the world but it was a lot harder than he had originally anticipated.

Arthur hate to admit it but Elena practically dominated every single one of his thoughts. He wondered what she was doing, who she was with, when was she going to call.

The downside to this was his brain never stopped so he isn't able to stop himself from falling down the rabbit hole multiple time the past few days. His mother had gotten very ill and had been taken to the hospital. As much as he loved his mother, he was glad she was someone else problem now. 

Arthur walked into his apartment, his legs felt like they were going to fall off as he started to take off his clown gear from being at work all day. He switched on the TV and turned it to the local news station. Arthurs been trying to fill his time with watching the news to keep up with any advancements in the subway case.

To his dismay, they had.

"Police are now looking for what seems to be a killer clown responsible for the killing of Wall Street brokers Dennis Reynolds, Ronald Ponderosa, and Ben Kelly." The female anchor spoke professionally through the screen.

Arthur grabbed a cigarette, sparking it up and took a drag of it as he finally sat down and inspects the photos presented by the police. It was of a fake clown with green, blue and pink laced all over it. The women continued to speak, "only one witness has come forward, describing the scene as a massacre."

His heart dropped. Did she tell someone?

Arthur's thoughts were put to rest when an old man popped up on the screen. The man was short and had white hair already dominating most of his head.

Arthur watched as the man started to make his testimony.

"Well you see, I was going about my normal business heading to work when I saw a man wearing some sort of clown mask running up out of the subway. I thought I heard a women screaming but when I went to check what was wrong, I only found the three poor souls that sick clown left behind. People like that just can't get away with things like this. Justice has to be served."

Arthur couldn’t listen anymore, he could feel his anger boiling. His thought switching to Elena. It had been for days now but he told himself to hold on just a little bit longer. It was starting to get too much to bare when he sees people like that getting more attention on the TV than people who actually deserve it.

There was so much wrong with this city. That was one of Arthur's reasons he wanted to always be around Elena, even when she didn't know it. It was the only way to effectively protect her.

Arthur was pulled from his thoughts when he heard a loud bang at the door.

________________________________________________________________

Randall could tell that Arthur had been acting strange. He's more distant, only caring to talk when someone addresses him. Its been like this for a few days, ever since the city went into an uproar over the subway killings. 

Normally, Randall wouldn't give a shit but with him giving a gun to Arthur and all, he wanted to make sure his name was in the clear. So he made his way down to Arthurs apartment to give him a talk. That was a mistake.

Opening the door, Arthur still had his clown makeup on from work. He looked in bad shape. 

“Arthur!” Randall shouted. “How you doin pal?” He gave Arthur a pat on the shoulder before pushing his was into the mans apartment. 

Arthur’s apartment was filthy. It had clothes laying aimlessly all over the place with a mountain of dishes piled in the sink. Not that Randall’s apartment was any better. 

Randall turned to Arthur, who was closing the door. “Anything new?”

“Umm oh!” Arthur snapped his fingers at Randall as he locked the door behind him. “I stopped taking my medication, I feel a lot better now.” Arthur gave out a small forced laugh but his face was completely dead.

Randall looked at Arthur confused. “Oh okay. Good for you.” 

Arthur just nodded his head, taking a drag of his cigarette as Randall continued. “So hey, I don’t know if you heard but the cops have been coming around the shop talking to all the other guys about the subway murders.” 

Arthur started to tone the man out, not wanting to listen to him try and explain himself. He reached his hand out and started to put out his cigarette, slowing forming his hands into a fist against the wall.

“I’m not saying you did anything but I just wanna make sure if the cops talk to you, we are all on the same page about who gave you that gun.” Randall gave out a nervous laugh. 

That was enough for Arthur to slowly move his hand towards for the knife that laid on the dining room table behind him. Nodding his head in agreement as he did so, so Randall wouldn’t notice. 

“You know, cause your my boy in all.” Arthur now had his hand on the knife. Arthur felt everything he had pushed down the past four days starting the boil over as he made a fist around the knife handle.

“Right. Right.” Arthur agreed before squeezing the knife and deciding to give into his anger. 

Now.

He slashed the knife into Randall’s neck before he could say another word. Arthur was surprised with how much blood came out but he held the knife in place as Randall struggled against him. 

Randal was able to push Arthur off but only for Arthur to grab his head and bash it into the wall. This was when Arthur blacked out. 

He wasn’t Arthur anymore. He had been changing into something else the moment he meet Elena. Arthur was becoming more powerful and he wanted to share that with her. 

Only thinking of her as he stormed out of his apartment, not caring about the mess he had just made. He found himself at her apartment door, blood soaked, face painted and rage filled. 

Arthur didn’t give it any thought and started to bang on her door. This was it. No more holding back, no more space. They were meant to be together and he was done denying himself that. 

________________________________________________________________

Elena sat on the couch smoking while the Murray Show played on the tv. She could feel the smoke leaving her lungs as she exhaled. Michael had gone down later than usual so she wasn’t able to have her normal alone time. 

She jumped when she heard a bang at the front door. Elena looked at the door confused, she wasn’t expecting anyone. She quickly hid her bong under a blanket and rushed to the door. 

Opening it, she was startled to see Arthur standing there. She didn’t even have time to examine him as he immediately pushed himself against her and smashed his lips into hers. 

Elena couldn’t help but close her eyes in shock. She didn't fight against him, instead it was almost of an embrace. She couldn’t believe how her body just couldn’t help but give into him. 

Pushing the both of them inside the apartment, he placed both of his hands on either side of her face so she wouldn't be able to break the kiss even if she wanted to. Eventually she felt the cool wall being pushed against her back, being pinned there.

When she felt Arthur release her lips, she finally let out a breath. He kept her body close, their faces only inches apart. She could feel his hot breath on her face but didn’t dare open her eyes. He placed his forehead on hers. “I thought you were gonna call.” 

She let out a small breath, almost laughing. “I-I’m sorry.” She innocently whispered. 

That sweet voice tore into Arthur like knives. His dick already hard for her. He couldn’t wait any more, he needed to be inside her.

“Don’t worry sweet girl. I’m gonna take care of you tonight. Where is Michael?” She then opened her eyes to see Arthur dark ones staring into hers. She could now see the painted faced man covered in small specks of red looking at her hungrily. 

“Ummm,” She cleared her throat. Elena had to admit, he looked so sexy like that. She tried pulling herself together to answer his question. “He’s asleep in his room.”

Arthur smiled wickedly at her, pleased with answer. “Good. Good.”

He gave her a few more deep kisses on the lip, soaking in the taste before lifting her up and wrapping her legs around him. 

Breaking away for a moment, he asked. “Bedroom?”

She was hesitant. Was this really gonna happen? Right now? Was she ready for all that? She wanted him. Elena couldn’t deny that. After everything, she was still willing to have a relationship with him. 

He waited for her response patiently. Not rushing her. Eventually she gave into her desire and pointed Arthur in the right direction. A wicked smile appearing across his face as he leaned in again. She too leaned into the kiss this time, not fighting it either. They made their way towards the bedroom.

Taking his time, he slowly placed her on the bed. Not breaking the kiss but somehow deepening it by entering his tongue in her mouth. He pinned her there for a moment. He seemed to like to play with her. Their tongue swirling around each others mouth, trying to explore every part of each other. 

She could feel his hands moving all over her body. It felt amazing to have such big hands on her body. They clawed at her breast, her ass, eventually making its way towards her pussy. Elena grabbed his hand out of instinct. 

Arthur immediately stopped his movements, worried that he had crossed the line. She tried desperately to control her breathing and tried to speak. “I-I’m sorry Arthur. I-I-I’ve never done this before.” 

Elena could actually die from the embarrassment she felt telling him how inexperienced she was. It was put to shame when he gave her a sweet smile. She could just melt looking at the face painted man. 

He leaned his forehead on hers. “Don’t worry. I’m gonna take care of you tonight. Just listen to me. Okay?”

She nodded, giving in almost immediately. 

With that, he leaned into her again, completely taking control as he reconnected their lips and started gently taking off her clothes, one by one.

Elena now laid there, completely naked and exposed for him. She felt a sense of vulnerability, she wasn't able to hide anything from Arthur now. He didn't want her too. He wanted to hear and see everything.

She felt cool air hit her body as she anxiously waited for Arthurs next move. He gazed at her, taking a full look at what he picture in his mind a million time before. She exceeded his every expectation. 

“You are so beautiful, Elena.” He spoke to her like she was the only people left in the whole world. 

Elena gave out a small whimper, reaching her hand out for him. He obeyed as he slapped messy kisses all over her neck. She turned her head so he could have more access. She wanted him to feel every part of her. 

Arthur started to kiss his way down her neck, towards her breasts. She ached her back at the sensation of Arthur taking one of her sensitive nipples into his mouth. Her eyes were forced shut when he started to softly started to suck. 

Elena moved against him, jerking and twitching to the new experience of having someone’s mouth on her. She clawed at his back, digging in her nail as she felt a warm feeling starting to pool around pussy. It was something she never felt before but it over powered every nerve in her body. 

She felt as Arthur started to kiss down her stomach. Elena knew where he was heading.

Her eyes shot open as excitement and nerves when she felt his hot breath at her entrance. She came to see Arthur at the end of the bed. His hands now on the inside of her thigh, spreading her apart so her pussy was now on full display for him.

Putting his face just inches away, he spoke to her. "We gotta get this pussy nice and wet for me to fuck."

Her eyes widened from the vulgarity Arthur was showing. She didn't know if she should be scared or if she should be excited.

She soon found out when Arthurs tongue started to explore her, placing small kitten licks all around. It was so weird. At first Elena didn't even find the point until he latched himself onto her clit.

Immediately feeling a burst of pleasure go through her body, her head feel back as she let Arthur go to work. Feeling as he flicked and sucked at her. She bucked her hip towards him, she could feel the burning sensation of her clit being abused and loved every second of it.

Without even meaning to, Elena start to moan Arthurs names. Begging him to keep going as she brushed a hand through his hair, grabbing it kindly and pushing his head towards her core in order to chase that incredible release.

But of course it never came. Arthur was able to break from her grip and stepped away from her now deprived pussy.

Elena pouted in response, now having no way to release herself.

"I know. I know." Arthur caressed her cheek tenderly. "All in good time darling. We gotta take things slow for your first time."

Arthur gave her a quick peek on the lips before stepping back and discarding his own clothes. Elena just notice she was the only one naked until now. A flow of shame washed over her.

Arthur must have noticed the humiliation she had felt because as his clothes hit the floor he started to ramble, placing small kisses all over her face.

"You are so beautiful. I-I thought of you everyday like this and still you outdo my imagination every time. I-I can't believe your mine."

Her heart leaped hearing this. No man has ever said such things to her and now the perfect man was completely bare before her.

Looking down at his package, she couldn't help but gasp. She'd never seen one before and she certainly didn't think it would be that. Also how did he expect that thing to get inside her? It was huge compared to what she was used to.

Arthur breaking his line of kisses to rest his lips back on her for a moment, "its going to hurt honey but don't you worry ok? You are going to feel real good soon. I promise."

It was going to hurt?

Elena never thought it would hurt but she knew she wanted Arthur inside her so she leaned into him. Sticking her tongue in his mouth to show him she was ready.

Arthur chucked at her, his hand slowly making it way in between her legs in an attempt to see just how ready she was. Feeling a puddle of wetness forming for him, he broke the kiss again.

"Nice and wet. Just for me." He then pumped himself a few times before lining himself up at her entrance. “Are you ready, sweetheart.?” 

This was it. She thought. This is actually happening.

Giving a hesitant nod, she sucked in her breath as she felt the tip of his dick dip inside her. Feeling a piercing pain burst through her, she jolted away from him but didn’t get anywhere when she felt Arthurs hands gently holding her there. 

“Shh shh shh I know. We just gotta get through this part.” 

Arthur didn’t even give her time to respond before thrusting his hips into her at a painfully slow pace. Elena practically screamed at the feeling. It was so much to take. 

The feeling of being stretched out by him was so intoxicating she couldn’t even help but close her eyes and focus on the sensation. It definitely hurt but she couldn’t help but love the feeling of him filling her up. It made her feel whole.

Elena couldn’t believe the man was able to fit himself in as deep as he was. She could feel him in her stomach as she tried to force herself to relax. She felt herself clenching against him, trying to adjust when he spoke again. This time, right into her ear

“You are so damn tight. Tighter than I could have ever imagined. I’m going to move sweetheart.” 

Elena tried opening her eyes but some unknown force kept them shut. Instead she let out a small whimper. The pain had yet to subside as she twitched against him but unable to say no, she nodded her head.

This was all Arthur needed to push himself out before slamming back into her. It was slow but strong. Elena's whole body bucked to the sensation. 

Again. Slowly taking himself out of her before smashing his hard cock back into her now drench pussy. 

He repeated this.

As much as the pain wanted to make her cry it was soon replaced with pleasure. The same feeling she had felt before when Arthur was in between her legs, completely devouring her. Elena involuntarily started to buck her hip towards Arthur.

 Now creating friction in between them as he started to move faster, pounding into her. The room filling with both their moans. 

“Oh Arthur! Please don’t stop.”

Elena hoped Arthur locked the door. Knowing her luck, Michael would coming walking right in with all the noise they were making but she could help herself.

Arthur was ruthless with his thrusting. His hands were holding her against him as he did so. Elena started to chase for her release once again. Grinding against him as he continued to pound her.

"Say it." He whispered in her ear, not letting up.

"What?" Elena whispered back. Knowing fully well what he was talking about just not ready to take that step.

"Say it and ill let you cum." Arthur was stir and dominate. It only added to Elena arousal.

"I-I-I," Elena was so over powered by pleasure that it trumped her fear of opening that box, she couldn't help but fall into his trap just to get her sweet release. "I love you Arthur."

Arthur growled in her ear, biting down on it lightly. He then pumped deep insider, hitting that special spot that sent her soaring.  "Good girl. I love you so much."

That was her cue to let go completely. As the warm feeling in her stomach erupted and burst through her entire body. Making the poor girl shake against Arthur, losing control of her body.

Elena clenched hard against Arthur, making the man groan as he too came inside her.

Shit. He didn't wear a condom. Of course he didn't. Elena was his now.

Elena slowly came down from her high as Arthur pulled out of her. Making his rightly place on the left side of her bed, pulling her limp body close to him.

She felt a big pair of muscular arm wrap themselves around her, feeling a sense of protection fall upon her. 

"Get some rest now, sweetheart. Your most likely going to be sore tomorrow and am going it need your rest." Elena felt at peace as she nuzzled her head into his neck. Letting herself close her eyes as she slipped into a deep sleep, dreaming of the man she just gave her innocence to.

[breitzbachbea]

🌻.

👀

I feel Directly Looked At

Sent me a 🌻 and I'll tell you whatever the fuck I want

I originally planned to talk about something else I found very fascinating, but hadn't gotten the chance to talk about a lot anywhere yet. I've even begun to research and think about what I'd have to tackle before I could comfortably talk about the topic. However, I ultimately realized that the topic would also have to involve some immensely gruesome and traumatizing parts of history and it wouldn't be fair to dump that onto someone without warning.

So let's talk about speech patterns instead. I'm a writer, you're a writer, that sounds like fun, eh?

Whenever I make new characters or try my hands on someone else's character (whether it'd be Himaruya's or the one of a friend), the way they talk is the most important thing. A nebulous personality is what emerges first with a new character; they'll get a name when I fully commit and a design much later. (I'm bad at designing characters and my first instincts are usually very boring, so I don't run with them anymore. Instead I ask a friend for help and do some research to get inspiration).

I think a lot in dialogue. Conversations between characters are usually the first thing I write to friends when I am playing with a character concept. @amber-isnt-a-precious-stone and then @fireandiceland got what officially constitutes the first "outing" of two Egyptians a little while ago - a dialogue between them, aph Egypt and also aph Greece and Turkey. Now, of course, something that is essentially nothing more than a shitpost scenario, isn't very fleshed out. Neither of the two have a very "distinctive" voice yet but you can definitely get a first glimpse at what kind of people they are.

Let's use a more familiar example to dissect some speech patterns - let's take a look at Arthur Kirkland and François Bonnefoy.

Arthur tends to talk very formally, even when he's upset. The sarcasm, slang and curse words increase then, but that's about it. Even when things have a very blunt feel to them because they were stated outright, he still uses a lot of words to make his point. This is actually something I want to change when I write him in the future - I love stuffy Arthur, that's great for business, that's a gentleman. I even think it makes sense he tries so hard to always come off as put together and unmoved in my AU - Arthur had to take over his father's business at 17 years old. But it makes him seem more villanous and plot device-y than is fair. My biggest Englishmen-related concern for my rewrite of Irish Problems is anyways to make them feel more like a group of friends, found family even. Like their antagonists, the Irish and Sicilians. (Drop the professionalism and get into the clown car, you three, you are not above deeply caring for one another because it's mostly the only family you got left & y'all have an inherently caring side). I want more of the bratty, punky Arthur to come out when he talks with Robert, one of his right hands, about football or anything else. Robert's much more flippant tone isn't a sign of disrespect, it's just who he is. I'd like to think that Robert caring so little would also make Arthur feel comfortable when his own feelings aren't 'presentable'. Sometimes you just gotta be really pissed at a pair of annoying Dubliners together. Bonding <3. Tahir tends to talk more like Arthur, carefully choosing each word because the man does have a law degree after all. The way familiarity shows between them is that Tahir is choosing his words either overly careful to keep up the illusion of professionalism; and Arthur responds in kind, but often overexaggerates the politeness that it's on the brink of sarcasm. He's amused and essentially wants to signal It's very nice of you to care about me, but don't worry, I'm not a kid. I'll be fine. I think around Tahir, he also rather displays deadpan snark if he's pissed off, since that is Tahir's usually show of annoyance or true displeasure as well. Sometimes I think he's too pissed off even around him and it's pure, straight up raging that he's more prone around Robert. It's still another admittance of closeness - because god forbid these Brits show any emotions usually.

François parallels Arthur in a way. His words are, too, often carefully chosen, but he's rather guided by sounding pleasant than polite. François strings long sentences together to pack an emotion in a beautiful metaphor. He's good at treading on eggshells if needed and prefers to not state hurtful things very bluntly - sometimes because he doesn't want to hurt the other person and sometimes because sugarcoating it with sarcasm or a cold smile hurts even more. François IS much more outwardly emotional, he prides himself on it, but ironically, like Arthur, he hates truly seeming out of control. He wants to give his emotions room, the fun that comes with it and he wants to invite others to do the same - he however doesn't want to have his heart broken. He doesn't want to truly show weakness that could bite him in the ass. So even when he gets upset, he chooses flowery language; long sentences that, even if they're full of curse words, tend to sound like they're some monologue from a play. Blunt and artless, ugly, is not how he wants to be seen at all costs. That's not true with the people closest to him, though. Désirée often talks in ramblings and much more bluntly than he does and while François never really comes close to her speech pattern, he also adopts a more casual tone when he talks with her for a longer amount of time. That's where crude cursing is the most likely to occur. It was probably a really blunt rant after Désirée just went too far with a joke that made her realize she really fucked up and has to consider consequences more with people she really does like. He and Arielle mirror each other in their speech patterns - they grew up with each other after all. Very artful, Arielle even more so at times since she also likes to write poetry and artsy prose in her free time. Arielle is much more likely to get more vicious in her annoyance and displeasure than him however. Which is why he also tends to keep his usual speech pattern of carefully chosen, intentions at least thinly hidden enough for it to sound better than what it is, if he tries to placate her. Only in true moments of vulnerability for both of them, he drops it for the most part to make sure Arielle knows that he means it.

The way Arthur and François talk with each other ... they love their back and forth. They like each other's wit, sarcasm, they love the mastery the other has over language. Sometimes, of course, they still get hurt; sometimes Arthur's cold sarcasm still stings and François' deadpan, cynical observations twist something in Arthur's stomach. But they know each other better than anything. François' tends to call people petnames all the time, Arthur uses the mostly sarcastic "dear" or "love" much more sparsely. But they have petnames they only call one another, there's a bluntness that is only reserved for each other. Because there's no pretenses to be upheld here, for better or for worse. Their sentences shrink, because they don't need a lot of words with each other at the end of the day.

Anyways, lemme know if this was in any way interesting, if you agree or disagree etc. Also, as a bonus, have Team England & Team France from my AU!

I'm still a bit sad I didn't give any more concrete instructions so that Arthur ended up in his uniform instead of a suit but oh well This was done by the lovely Haku, here's their Ko-Fi page! From left to right we have Tahir Rashid, our local rat bastard Arthur Kirkland and Robert Bailey.

This is from a sketchdump by my friend C0FFINATED over on twitter. It's probably my favourite thing in existence, NOTHING will ever top François' disappointed but not surprised "why are you like this" stare for Désirée. From left to right, François Bonnefoy, Arielle Halévy and Désirée Dupont.