#i burned la down just wrecks me every single time

[hippolotamus]

Shuffle your on repeat playlist and post the first ten tracks, then tag some people!

Tagged by @littlebitofdiaz Thank you 🥰

I burned LA Down by Noah Cyrus

Dinner & Diatribes by Hozier

Movies by Conan Gray

Salvation by Gabrielle Aplin

Fix you by Kurt Hugo Schneider

I wish I was the moon by Neko Case

Never Ending Song by Conan Gray

Out of Control by Oshins feat Rosi Golan

I never knew by Dar Williams

Yellow by Xana

No pressure tagging the friends responsible for most of this list 😜 (Not that I'm complaining because I'm obsessed with all of these) @this-is-bwr @stereopticons @shortsighted-owl @alyxmastershipper @elvensorceress and anyone else who wants to play along!

[phantom-curve]

For @panickosdisordr2, set in a high school AU where everyone is alive, I give you absolutely flustered Luke and poor, sweet, long-suffering Julie.

#38: stroking their leg & #41: sitting close and knees touching

Luke was still getting used to the fact that being Julie’s boyfriend meant he didn’t have to be so nervous about touching her anymore. For so long he had been forced to overthink every single interaction with her, needing to constantly toe the line of friendship even when he wanted so much more. Every touch, every lingering glance, had to be just this side of friendly. And no, he wasn’t always successful. Quite often his glances lingered a beat too long and his touches came close to being more proprietary than he had any right acting as a friend. Luke had made a list of rules to keep himself in check and he repeated them over and over before, during, and after he spent time with Julie.

Rule #1: No looking at Julie for longer than 30 60 seconds.

(30 seconds had been the goal, but who was he kidding? Julie was a freaking wrecking ball of musical talent and wickedly beautiful. 45 seconds was the absolute minimum he could handle, and even that was kind of pushing it.)

Rule #2: No writing blatantly obvious songs about Julie.

(Because really, every song was about Julie. But Julie didn’t need to know every song was about her. And Alex and Reggie really, really didn’t need to know, and no, just because they guessed didn’t mean they knew.)

Rule #3: No looking at Julie’s lips unless there was a microphone between them.

(He barely managed this one, which was why he kept sharing the mic with her more and more the longer they practiced and the more comfortable they became preforming together. It was the best kind of torture, and it wasn’t creepy, Alex, pay attention to drumming and not front people stuff!)

Rule #4: No touching Julie except for her shoulders and her arms and her waist (but only if they were hugging!)

(So what if Luke made sure to hug Julie a lot. He was a touchy-feely kind of guy, everyone knew that, and he only hugged someone after making sure they were okay with it. Julie never pushed him away, in fact she seemed to like the fact that he was so open with affection and comfort. It was fine.)

But dating Julie meant that all of those rules went right out the window. And Luke was still figuring out how to navigate that.

Julie didn’t seem to have any problems on her end. She slipped seamlessly from best friend to girlfriend without missing a beat. She would lean into him when they sat next to each other during lunch and move his hair out of his face without hesitation as she gazed into his eyes with a million stars dancing in her own. Her touch was casual but affectionate, her fingertips almost always finding some patch of skin to skim across whenever he was within arm’s reach. She kissed her way along his skin with an enviable ease, never holding back because she wasn’t sure he would like it, but instead blazing a path along his cheek or his collarbone or molding her lips against his as if she had always known that was what he so desperately desired most in the world.

Luke would never tell her, but part of his hesitation was because he felt wholly undeserving of her unwavering devotion. What had he ever done to earn someone as bright and beautiful as Julie Molina? He knew if he told her, she would have a million and one reasons why he was wrong, so he mostly kept it to himself and reveled in her easy affection every chance that he got. He should have known that eventually she would call him out on it.

“Luke...do you...not want me to touch you?”

He just hadn’t expected her to ask like that.

They were working on a new song out in the studio, a place Julie had chosen that he had assumed was because she didn’t want Carlos bothering them and because they had easier access to their instruments out there. They were sharing the couch, sitting across from each other with a shared notebook open between them, offering different lyric ideas back and forth as they tried to nail down the right lines. Luke hadn’t even realized that Julie had slowly been moving closer. He had only registered the feeling of their knees brushing occasionally, skin touching skin because his jeans were ripped, and she was wearing a pair of shorts to combat the stifling LA heat. Every time she had leaned in, he had leaned back, his years long set of rules so engrained he had forgotten that he didn’t have to follow them anymore. It was only when Julie quietly posed her question, teeth peeking out to bite down on her lower lip, cute little top gap flashing at him and reminding him that she was his girlfriend now, that he realized what he had been doing.

“Julie, no, of course I want you to touch me!”

Luke felt himself flush from head to toe as he realized how his words had sounded. He scrambled forwards, knocking their knees together painfully, although Julie, to her credit, didn’t even flinch. He took a deep, stuttering breath and tried again.

“I didn’t...I wasn’t trying to move away from you. I just...sometimes I forget I get to do that now.”

Julie quirked a brow and tilted her head slightly. Luke wanted to scratch his eyeballs out so he never had to see her looking so hurt and confused again. He groaned, reaching behind his head to give his hair a soft tug, recentering himself in the moment. He forced himself to meet Julie’s gaze and explain in a way that would actually make sense. He also made sure to scoot forward a bit so that their kneecaps were firmly pressed together, skin to skin.

“I just...for so long I wanted to be able to touch you in any way and have it be totally normal and okay.”

The words weren’t flowing perfectly, and Luke cursed the fact that Julie was able to scramble his brains and mess with the one thing he had always felt confident in. He pushed on though, because this was Julie, and if anyone was going to understand him, it was her.

“But I didn’t...I couldn’t...we weren’t like that, you know? We were friends and yeah, I love my friends, and I hug my friends, and I’m affectionate with them or whatever, but with you it was...different. I didn’t want to just be friends. But I also didn’t know what you wanted, and more than not wanting to just be friends, I didn’t want to not be a friend, so I made these rules. Rules about how I couldn’t say too much or do too much or touch you too much because it would mean more to me than it would to you and that wasn’t fair. And then everything changed, and you liked me too, and now we’re like a freaking dream, like I don’t always believe it kinda dream, and so I fall back on the rules. Because what if I say too much or do too much or touch you too much and I ruin everything?”

That...was a lot more than he had meant to say. But Julie wasn’t looking at him with judgement in her gaze. Her eyes were gentle and warm, her lips parting almost as if she was in awe, her features softening completely. She reached forward, slowly and deliberately, to place her hands along his thighs, just above where their knees were still touching. She leaned in, the pressure of her hands strong and steady, her scent invading his senses until everything in his world shrunk down to nothing more than JulieJulieJulie.

“You could never say or do too much. And you 100% could never touch me too much. Do you know how long I waited for you? Do you know how many rules I tried to come up with, how many nights I told myself over and over again that I needed to just get over you because it was never gonna happen? How many times I was so sure I was going to ruin the band and our friendship because I was so stupidly in love with you and nothing I did could stop it?”

Luke was having a hard time remembering how to breathe. He hadn’t ever thought about any of that. Because Julie had always seemed so confident and self-assured. She had been the one to make the first move that turned them from friends to more. She had been the one to confess how she felt first. She had always been his safety net, taking the plunge before he could, reassuring him so that when he stepped off the ledge, he knew she would be there to catch him.

“God, I love you so much,” his words were fierce and intense as he touched his forehead to hers and whispered them into the small space between their lips. “What the hell would I do without you?”

“Well, you’d probably still be trying to figure out the bridge and ending to Edge of Great without me.”

Luke growled and lunged forward, tackling Julie to the couch, and smothering her shriek beneath his lips. He felt her mouth curve into a smile, the kiss turning sloppy as she giggled uncontrollably. Her hands wound around his shoulders, twisting into the hair along the nape of his neck and threatening to turn him boneless against her. He broke away, propping himself up on his forearms so that his body remained stretched out along hers as he stared down at her.

“I can’t believe I get to be with you. You promise it’s not a dream?”

“If you’re dreaming, I’m dreaming. And I don’t think we can actually share dreams no matter how much we love each other. So, you’d better believe it, babe. I’m yours, forever.”

That did turn Luke boneless, every inch of his being melting down on top of hers, so they were connected from head to toe. Julie didn’t protest. She just pulled him closer, whispered you’ll always be mine against the skin of his neck, her breath hot and spellbinding against his skin. Luke didn’t argue. Who could argue with a goddess like Julie and expect to win? The best prize of all was knowing she loved him just as deeply as he loved her; he wasn’t about to try and convince her otherwise.

If Luke was able to love Julie for the rest of her life, it wouldn’t be nearly long enough for him to show her how much he cared. But that’s what ever afters were made for, right? A lifetime and then some. Luke knew with every fiber of his being that he would love Julie far past the time their respective stars burned out. That’s what destinies were all about. Loving forever and ever and ever. Even after you thought you were gone, the legacy lived on, timeless and unbreakable. That was them. Forever and a day, no end in sight for the rest of eternity.

[imnotwolverine]

Epilogue

Henry Cavill x OC Lisa - multi-chapter fic

Author’s note: OH! I absolutely adored writing about these two, but alas, it is time for us to part. And as I bid these two lovebirds (and their 100k long “short” story..) adieu, I will definitely continue to write. Please feel free to send me prompts or ideas and enjoy your day. 

Word count: 1.592

Disclaimer: fluff

--

This is the final part of the Tea for Two series. *sadness* I hope you enjoyed it <3

Read my other stories here.

--

Is the air thick, or is it just me?

Tapping my foot on the grey slate tiles of the bathroom, I glanced at the obnoxious piece of plastic that was currently taking its sweet time to give me clarity. Here I was, sitting on the toilet, a fumbled up box in my left hand and this pregnancy test in my right. A soft singing drifted in from downstairs, as Henry was cooking us dinner. Probably singing along to this jazzy cooking playlist I made, I thought.  

I smiled and sighed. I really don’t need to read the wrapper AGAIN, right?

I stretched out to place the stick on the edge of the sink, before tossing the wrapper and box in one graceful bow straight in the bin.

GOAL.

I smirked and half-eyed the stick again. No result yet.

Arghh..How long could a few minutes be?!

I knew the drill by now. Especially after that little heart attack moment a few months ago.

What probably had just been some mild stomach flue, had awoken a whole new phase in our relationship. Suddenly there was this baby-situation we needed to discuss. And I, for one, was not quite ready for that.

It became a mind boggling 12-hour rollercoaster that came to an immediate halt as it happened to be a false alarm. Just some painful boobs and a bit of throwing up.

Now, however, it seemed more game on. For a few days now I had been having morning sickness, unbeknownst to Henry - I didn’t want to flip his guts again for no reason. And ..well…there HAD been this Japan trip where I had accidentally forgotten my pill strip. And we did have sex. Hot HOT sex.

Oops.

What a few months can do, right? My life changed so fast, I barely even realised it. Two years ago I was living a very single life in LA, my mind more occupied with work than love. Fast forward a few months and I was suddenly cooping up with this hella cute guy in a trailer on the Witcher set in Poland. The next thing we’re meeting the parents, we’re moving in..he’s proposing. Holy hell.

And did I want to have babies with him?

I guess I..

I glanced at the stick again, noticing a line was starting to appear. My eyes grew wider.

HOLY HOLY HOLY..

OH MY…

‘Honey, dinner’s almost ready.’ I barely registered Henry’s voice as he called for me, my fingers now grasping around the test to get a better look.

‘Oh my..’ I whispered, quickly getting up from the toilet seat and folding my fingers around the plastic object, looking at it one more time before pushing it in my sweater pocket, my legs blindly carrying me down the stairs.

A waft of roast veggies and meats hit my nostrils, the sound of some jazz music joined by Henry’s soft humming. Ah the Sunday roast. I practically floated into the kitchen, my stomach rumbling at the notion there was some delicious food at the ready. And a delicious fiancé too.

I squeezed Henry’s ass and popped my head over his shoulder, looking at him work as he cut up the roast meat.

’Smells goooood.’ I all but drooled. Henry snickered in response.

‘That’s gooood to hear.’ He sang-sung in his low baritone, half-wittedly tuning in with the beat of the music. I chuckled, moving to fill a pitcher with water, before following Henry to the dining table.

Tony Bennett’s Tea for Two was playing softly in the background.

“Picture you upon my knee

Just tea for two

And two for tea..”

We sat down and as Henry started to open a bottle of red wine my mind all but reeled.

OH darn. I have to tell him..right now.

Or later? After dinner?

Maybe just..

Fuck..I can’t drink alcohol.

I looked at his hand as it deftly turned the bottle opener into the cork, the cork scrunching under the force.

‘I ..eh…’ Henry looked up, his hand now starting to tug on the opener, the cork slowly rising from the narrow neck of the bottle.

My cheeks turned bright red and my mind couldn’t form a single word.

‘You okay dear?’ He asked, not sure what was the matter as his eyebrow raised. ‘Please don’t tell me you just now became a vegetarian..’ He nervously chuckled, eyeing the roast meat as it lay enticingly steaming on the wooden board.

‘I’m pregnant.’ I finally gasped.

Suddenly there was wine everywhere. Henry’s hand slipped and the bottle all but tumbled from his grip as his mouth fell wide agape, the red liquid staining his shirt and arms as he stared at me wide eyed.

‘Really?’ He whispered, completely ignoring the wine spill as he turned on his chair.

I smiled nervously, my cheeks burning even more red as I fumbled, reaching for the test that was snugly hidden away in my sweater pocket. Just like a baby. My fingers grasped around the plastic and I tugged it out, my eyes also instantly dragging back to the little + icon that had appeared only minutes earlier. It was still there.

‘I’m pregnant.’ I smiled, a giddy laughter starting to bubble up in my chest as Henry’s arms were suddenly around me, his lips pressing precious little kisses on my face.

—---

*on Instagram* 

To my wife.

On a very sweaty early morning in LA I was preparing for my walk with Kal. Like I do everyday before work. Little did I know that Kal had different plans that day. He escaped. Something I can easily ascribe to be one of the most terrifying moments of my life, were it not that within minutes my phone rang. I heard your voice.

‘Are you perhaps missing a dog?’

I went out to find you and Kal. Which happened to be at the highest hill top. You smiled at me casually while handing me his leash, a sunset setting the world around us aglow. We chatted a bit while walking back down - you worked on the Witcher set as well and had this sweet quirkiness going on. “Lisa from marketing” is all I knew about you when you waved us goodbye.

Well. I asked around. And apparently there worked over 20 Lisa’s at the Witcher set.

I had almost given up on finding you again, when I finally saw you. Sipping on a cup of tea at the breakfast bar. And once more we had such fun, that I felt that this cup of tea was empty way too soon and you had hopped off your chair and disappeared before I could ask you out. It left me a bit confused. Should I just call you? It felt like we clicked. I had your number. No.. that’d be weird. Oh, how silly I felt when I would then continue coming to that breakfast bar again..and again..and again. Until I found you there once more. And we chatted again so very animatedly. You invited me for a hike after work. Which turned into dinner at your place. And the rest…well..it’s kind of history.

Just one week ago you have made me the happiest man alive. Because I may now call you not just my best friend, my arch nemesis on Mario Kart, my conscience when I so need it, but also ..my wife. I love you, my sweet Lisa.  

PS. Thanks Kal for that hook up. I owe you one, BIG time.  

“Just tea for two

And two for tea

Just me for you

And you for me alone”

—

‘PUSH! Come on! PUSH!’

‘I can’t do it.’ I cried, my fingers tangling desperately around the sweaty sheets as another contraction rippled through my wrecked body.

‘Come on baby. A little more. You’re nearly there.’ Henry dabbed the sweat off my forehead, the cool cloth somewhat alleviating my toasty hot skin as I squeezed every muscle I could squeeze.

Why did this baby have to decide to come out on the hottest frigging day of the year?!

‘AAAAAAHHHHHH BY THE GODS WHY..FUCK..AHHHHHHH.’ I scolded, fury raging through my boiling blood.

The whole world kind of swam around me in colours and sounds. There were indistinct voices cheering me on as I could feel the dull pressure at my lower abdomen, the almost natural need to push rushing through my very being. And then there was Henry. His head floating above me as he coached me through it all, his voice focused and steady as a rock in a wild, restless surf.

‘I am so proud of you. You are doing it. YES baby! YES!’ His voice became more excited.  

Flop.

Silence.

For just a moment, as all faces suddenly turned downward, I felt my heart sink. Was it…?

And then he cried, our baby boy.

Still a bit at loss at what just happened and even more confused at what to do, I looked over at Henry. His hair a tumbling mess of dark curls and his blue eyes glazed over with tears, he smiled, unbelieving of what just happened. I felt my heart sing through the realms of my painful body. All was well.

And then suddenly there was this tiny little person placed on my breast. All soft skin, caked with blood, a roaring wail coming from his tiny mouth. Our baby bear.

My heart swelled as Henry’s eyes met mine. 

Green meets blue. 

Mommy.. meets daddy.

---

“We will raise.. a family

A boy for you

And a girl for me”

--

The end. 

[delightfulstarlightparadise]

Imagine Reader/Katsuki Bakugo

It has been a long time since I last watched or read BNHA but I have found myself really wanting to write some of these because of tiktok. So, please, forgive me if I take some stuff out of the anime context. Also, there has been a long time since I last wrote something in English. Forgive me if I make some mistakes.

Context: You are a new student in class, your quirk is regenerating (just like Deadpool) underneath the school chlothes you always wear a special long sleaved shirt with turtleneck that fully covers your body, because it is full of scars from the regeneration.

Your personality is a defiant one.

From enemies to lovers kind of fic

Everyone is wondering where did you come from in the middle of a semester, but you can't reveal this secret. You have been keeping it to yourself and everytime people try to approach you, you make up an excuse to quickly leave.

Until this day, in which your P.E. class demands you to go through a very dangerous obstacle course. Everyone has done it and you are the last one. Nobody has ever seen your quirk in action so everybody is anxious to see how you go. Bakugo pretends not to be interested, but he watches you out of the corner of his eyes.

Aizawa approaches you and tells you not to disappoint him. You nod and go ahead. Nobody can barely see your movements, you are too fast for any of the obstacles to hit you, even the big logs that hit most of the students. "So fast!" you can hear Denki saying while you hop from obstacle to obstacle. That is how you learned to be, because using your quirk is just a last resource to you, once it always leaves you scars.

In the las obstacle you notice that you miscalculated and a log is going to hit you right in the chest. You hear everybody screaming as you hug the log and let it take you with its balance. You can feel your insides crush and spit some blood on top of it.

Iida and Midorya try to hush to help you but Aisawa stops them from doing it. It seems like he knows your quirk (of course, he is the teacher... or is there something else to it?)

Even Bakugo is now watching deeply impressed as you hop on top of the log and backflips from it to the finish line. Your uniform is kind of wrecked but your blouse is intact, so is your chest. "Wooooooow!!!!" You hear them screaming as you wipe the blood from your mouth. Momo, Mina, Sero and Denki run towards you, excited to hear how the hell did you do that, Midoriya comes through the middle of them telling you that you NEED to tell him about your quirk, he has a notebook in hands. The others are clapping. Except for Bakugo, he has crossed his arms over his chest and has a repressed angry look.

"What's up with that? That was not impressive at all."

"Ahn... you tied in time, bro" Kirishima answers.

You hear a big explosion, and somebody screaming "WHAT THE FUCK?!", everyone around you is pushed down to the sides and now the only view you have are those raging red eyes amongst the smoke coming towards you.

"I WANT A REMATCH, NOW!" He screams with a finger pointed right to your face.

You feel kind of impelled to accept, he is looking at you, chin up, as if he is better then you. Who the hell is this boy?

Actually the way he always acts like he is better then everyone else has already caught your attention in these recent days. You see how awfully he treats his friends, he is always so loud and curses all the time. Yeah, you definately don't like this guy.

You are about to say yes, but you feel Aizawa's cold look at you. Damn it!

"I am not interested." You answer, hitting his finger with a smack.

Bad choice. You can feel the heat coming from him increase as he seems ready to jump on top of you and blow you out of existence.

"BROOOO, calm down" Kirishima comes between you. "Aizawa is not diggin' it, bro."

Bakugo stares at you as if he is going to sunddely jump over Kirishima's head and kill you with his bare hands(he probably could, you can feel it), but you stare back at him and even show your teeth a little. He gets kind of impressed with it, but gets back to his angry expression. He turns to the side and goes away stomping his feet and almost literally exploding with rage.

"Hey, ahn... y/n... that was really amazing! Don't mind him, this is his way to show he was impressed" says Kirishima with the most friendly smile, before going after him.

"Kaachan is really that way you will get used to him." Midoriya says. You can feel he is ashamed.

"Who does that motherfucker thinks he is?" You say as the others around gasp.

"You don't let him hear you say that." Denki says in the thinniest voice.

You leave, also stomping your feet, that boy made you angry. Everybody stares, as they did not expect you to react like that.

...

A few days go by. Every time yours and Katsuki Bakugo's sight cross people can hear both of you growl.

You have been competing in every single activity you face: from who gets better grades to who arrives first for lunch.

There are romours going on about your quirk around the school. Some say you might have invincibility, others, that you have some sort of superspeed. No one is right. You are as misterious as when you arrived, but now people know that you really hate Bakugo. And he hates you back.

"I didn't think he could hate someone as much as he hates you." Kirishima says to Midoriya as they watch you and Bakugo have a desagreement on who arrived first at the vending machine.

"What? Kaachan doesn't hate me... was that how it looked like when he was picking on me?"

"That what it WOULD look like if you fought back." Tsuyu answers.

"Listen here, you brat, I was already choosing my drink, you can't just come and put your money ahead of me!" You say as you punch the vending machine.

"What did you just call me?! Anyways, you were TOO SLOW, I wouldn't wait." He smirks at you, pressing the number of the last Coke in the machine.

"This Coke is mine!" You answer, infuriated.

"There is some Pepsi, still."

"Son of a..."

You lean towards him to take the Coke from his hands. All of a sundden the can bursts and the drink spills all over your face as Bakugo laughs.

"Ok, it is all yours." He says, cleaning his hand in your already sticky uniform.

"Ok, that is it!" You say, and jump onto him, punching his face as you both fall on the floor.

"OH SHIT!" You hear someone scream as you punch Bakugo as hard as you can, alternating hands.

You hear people coming towards you, but you don't see them arrive, as Bakugo explodes you from off of him. You fly to the other side of the common room, falling on a table that breaks with the impact.

"I'M GONNA KILL YOU, ASSHOLE" you hear him screaming from the other side of the room.

You smell burnt meat. It is you, he hit you right on the chest, your shirt is ruined (if you are a female or wear a binder, it is not burned, don't worry, no tiddies out). There is a huge burn that goes from your chest to your chin. You stand up cracking your wrist and putting yourself in a fight pose.

"That is it, you fucker." you hear everyone gasp when they see the burnt slowly desappearing under a brand new skin layer. "You're dead."

You pick up a foot from the broken table and run towards Bakugou, he makes two explosions agressively on you, but you don't care. Half of your face and your hips get burned in a deep flesh wound and are quickly healed by your quirk. You hit him hard in the face with the wood. He bumps into the wall and falls sitten.

"What the fuck?!" He exclaims, watching you finish your healing process.

You are about to hit him once again, and he is about to explode you one more time, but nothing comes out of his hand and you feel the piece of wood being taken away from your hands.

"Ooooh, shit..." you hear the others saying and see them stepping away.

Aizawa is standing behind you, his eyes are furiously shaking and he is holding your piece of wood. You probably woke him up, as he is in full pijamas.

"Oh shit." You say slowly stepping away.

...

Being responsible for washing everyone's P.E. uniforms and cleaning the room for a whole month didn't sound like too much of a punishment for breaking the common room and almost killing a colleague. But... you had to do it with HIM.

"Are you gonna sweep or what?" You complain when you see he is barely doing something to clean the classroom.

"You are the one used to using a piece of wood" he says leaning against a desk you had just put in position.

"You will see where I am gonna put this piece of wood if you don't help" you answer putting the broom over your head in a threatening way.

"Let's see how many times I need to blow you up before you die!" He answers opening his hands wide besides his hips.

You are ready to start a fight when you remember Aizawa talking to you: "you should not be so fast in disappointing the last family you have." You put the broom down and sigh.

"Quitter." Bakugou says, leaning against the desk once more and putting his hands in his pockets.

"Aizawa is my uncle, you know." You say, getting back to swapping. "This is why I got to come to the academy in the half semester."

You notice he is shaken by the news, but he plays it cool.

"Why are you telling me that?" he says.

"Cause this is the only reason I don't beat your motherfucking ass." you answer.

"Ha, as if." he says smiling in a maniac way. "It took me 200 explosions to beat the shit out of Kirishima. Your quirk is similar to his in a certain way, there must be a limit. Of explosions you can take."

"I can do a whole lot of damage before my quirk starts to wear off." You answer, putting the broom aside. "But I tend to doge attacks, because..."

You open the shirt of your uniform, making Bakugo step back surprized, even more so when you open the zipper of your special suit. Bakugo's face turns from a bright red to a pale white as he lays eyes on your body full of scars. You have all kinds of them, big, small, one specially big that goes from your hip to the beginning of your neck.

"What the f..." he seems to swallow his mean words. "So... things leave scars on you."

"The more I use my quirk, the bigger is the possibility of leaving scars."

"I bet you get into lots of fights." he says, opening smile with the side of his lips.

"Those are mostly from the accident when my parents died." you say, head down with a frown.

Bakugo stares at you kind of embarassed, not knowing what to say. He takes a step fowark, slightly reaching to you.

Then, you start to laugh.

"I'm kidding, dumbass!!!" You say, bending foward, cleaning tears from your eyes. "Yeah, I get into a lot of fights."

"You... you..." Bakugou is startled, but also angry. He doesn't know how to react.

"You should see your face! You were totally soft over me."

"I WAS NOT SOFT!"

"You were totally soft!"

Bakugou threatens you with his hands wide open, but you keep laughing at him.

That is when the door opens.

You and Bakugo turn to see professor Mic, absolutely atonished. At first you both think he has gotten you about to start a fight, but then you realize, what it actually looks like. Your shirt is open, Bakugou's hands are aiming at your chest.

You both scream. Professor Mic also screams.

Part two here:

[anteroom-of-death]

Life, For Dummies p5

a/n: deconstructed angst with a slice of life. idk, i cried too many times lately n now we here. enjoy my pretties.

You fell into a comfortable routine of sorts. No set pattern or time sheets to fill out, no schedule. Just adventure after scheme, mind-numbing body flaring fuck after pleasurable expeirence, after explosions and wine and dine. 

He’d even begun to train you to pilot the TARDIS. He made it fun, and used sex and punishment like a drivers education teacher uses gold stars and red pen. Land it perfectly or even in the right vicinity, he’d toss you up over the console and toss your legs behind his shoulder and eat you out like you were the last snack on the planet. Leaving you with beard burns and gushing…

Manage to wreck the TARDIS into something or massively screw up? He’d pull you by your ear until you were lower to the ground and take the notebook you’d eagerly scribbled notes into, tear your panties down and use it as a flogger, “Now maybe it’ll get through your skull now?” 

You didn’t know which rednesses were which anymore. 

Once you even set up in a kingdom after killing the King and Queen and using telepathic manipulation. It was an annual tithings feast akin to the Purge. The survivors of it would give the king and queen the losers goods. You did admit it was good having everyone fawn over you and treat you like royalty. The Master laughed and nearly died laughing the first time you truly didn’t fuss over the genuflecting, sputtering masses. After that was done, he took only the prettiest and most useful object and drug out the corpses of the former rulers and mockingly made them on their thrones.

He did take the most grand tiara and place it on your head one night and said, “Queen of the Whores...look at how well you know how to kneel!” Before cumming on it, your face, and the wall behind you.

You insisted on lots of rest days in the TARDIS and even out. He enjoyed having a solarium open to the most grand suns for naps during this time, all curled up, you on his chest and you knew this might be the legitimate only time the alien ever had some semblance of a sleeping schedule. 

He’d taken to playing slightly with your hair and humming a bit to you. It was simple and always drained out to a slight snore. He was opening up and relaxing more around you. Even informing you of his life. All the good with all the bad. It was slow to start, but you knew it was a lot.

He was right, all those months ago, this was the Real Way to See the Universe. Having it brought to you and not at random. Each day an a la carte and having loads of time to unwind. The days of randomness and ill-adept piloting, half lies mixed with earnest truths and long-winded explanations were a fever dream of lives past. You understood him better. At his level.

Things became clear and stuck.

You wondered off hand constantly if this was what regeneration felt like one day. 

“I can assure you. It’s much more painful.” He said, responding to your wonderment, tracing a small circle around the base of your neck one day at a beach on Momia 18. “You at least get to keep this smashing body, I have the lottery. Will I end up a dashing man with hands that can do this- “ He went lower and massaged the outside of your bikini bottoms, “And these lips you can never tear your filthy little mind away from…” He stopped and pulled you back, “Or something boring and less exciting.” 

“Damn, you have a point there.” 

If not for the people who he demanded you get called by your preferred name and or, regal terms, you half-thought sometimes you’d forget your name. What was it again? Y/N? 

You were always “Pet” or “my pet”. Unless he was being cool with you, then it was a terse “love”, which always made your heart plummet into your stomach. 

You’d only fought once so far, and it was over something so stupid, you happened to land on Earth and it was a festival and he wanted to scheme and lure in her, but you wanted a nice day perusing the booths and eating, maybe getting a haybale ride in. You ended up cutting your nose off to spite your face and slamming the door to your room and barricading it with a chair, screaming that he had best not come in there. You froze him out for three days and you two took two fucking weeks to make it up. 

It was, at the end, you paid in pain and delayed pleasure. He had you you choked out and chained on the floor of the TARDIS, slowly torturing you with fucking your brain up with images of him pleasuring you. All while using an electric zinger. The Master had you begging and pleading while informing you that Pets don’t get the chance to freeze out their Masters. That they were to be warm and receptive. Always obedient. Once you got the point, he brought you to the most extreme orgasm you ever had, then spent the next day caring for you and yet making sure you wore your new marks with pride.

You could have, in retrospect gone without him, but hindsight is perfect vision. 

You knew you were changing, you were constantly reminded, not just by your creeping suspicions, but by the few, brief times you checked in with your old reality on Earth. You said your excuses, blamed mental illness and lied through your teeth to poor Graham who wanted to send you a box of scones he made. 

He’d been a surrogate father to you in a few many ways.

Yet you never felt so far and so disentangled. 

Not that all change was bad. You were becoming more confident and stood straight up. You were always learning, whether at the hands of your Master, or by the innumerable amount of books he had falling over the place, even by your own tinkering. Your reveries became smaller and fewer in between. And you didn’t let fear get in the way of you doing anything, even falling great heights. 

You were a ghost within a ghost wrapped in a human shell.

Chaos over Chaos. 

The final piece of this fell in when you finally encountered her, the Doctor and all your old friends. Yaz, Ryan and Graham. 

It was an accident.

You’d been laying the foundations for rebellion to happen, the Master was quite put out with the establishment and told you, “Let them eat cake!” as you pointed out, that it’d be longer to wait, but more fun to sew the seeds of discourse and let them march the leaders' heads out on spikes, then swoop in later as glorious alternatives. 

He kissed you so hard you nearly stumbled over and quickly blurted out, “I love you for this! What a clever idea.” 

Of course, the Fam was here and trying to create peace and make sure “order” happened and not your beautiful chaos. 

It was a stand down and you’d literally just walked into those two circling around each other like snarling dogs for a meaty bone. 

“I knew you’d probably be behind something as sinister as this!” She barked. 

Yaz and Ryan were calming a crying leader’s wife and Graham was recharging his Laser shoes. You wondered offhandedly how a supposed pacifist would let him have a weapon purely for killing.

You allowed yourself one, “Fuck.” a little too loud to escape quietly and go deal with this and smooth over the best saving grace for your long plan you both poured all three of the available hearts into. 

“Y/N?” The Doctor pivoted and spun around to the shadow you’d been off stage in. 

The Fam all dropped whatever they were doing immediately and began to gawk at you.

“We thought you died? I went to your home to pick you up and it was deserted-dusty!” 

“We tried calling!”

“I mailed you a postcard!”

“We checked every local hospital and scanned the records for your death!”

So many voices and shouts shook you into the first of a massive reverie in a while. A dull ringing set in and snapped. People started bickering between. For a second you couldn’t hear a single peep from anyone and lost your mental footing.

“How could you betray me? After all we’ve been through?” The Doctor demanded, rolling into your face and nose curling in utter grievances. Fire and sadness filling her eyes. You felt guilt, but saw the pure disgust radiating out of her.

“Enough.” You pushed back and screwed yourself up again. 

“You left me, and them.” You pointed your commanding hand at the Fam. “All alone and on our own to get home! What was I supposed to do? Stand by and wait like I’m being stood up? We waited days. We always wait for you. Always.” Hurt and violence pouring out of every syllable. “What are we, hmm? Us companions? Toys for you to play with for character development then toss away when you learn your lesson?”

“He’s got your hypnotised! He’s evil! You know he’s a baddie!”

You let out a manic laugh, “So?”

“Look what he’s turned you into!” She pointed, “You didn’t look like this before.”

You clapped your hands and chortled, “I’m happy!”

You saw out of the corner of your eye everyone, even the Master, stepped back and observed the two of you’s scene. Yaz? Horrified and like she’d seen a murder. Ryan, confused and hurt. Graham, hurt, but just looking glad he wasn’t in the middle of it.

But your Master, you thought you heard him coo under his breath and felt a warm tingling in your brain.

Yaz, ever the Officer and The Gentlewoman approached you and asked honestly if you were okay. 

At the moment you didn’t know, you crossed a hand over your gut and inhaled sharply, slouching and swallowing a lump in your throat. Graham was beginning to look beyond concerned and in a fatherly sort of way. “You seemed shaken up the last time we talked, Y/N. Did he hurt you?” He approached you and put out to comfort you…

The Doctor was turning from shock to anger and betrayal overruled. “What’s that? It’s like he’s taken over you!” The Doctor made a broad sweeping gesture.  

The Master went to speak and you waved him off, your mind crashing around you. You could feel him getting worried and angry. He looked like he was to kill the Doctor. But not in the little smirking way you’d grown to adore. His teeth were out, but not in a wide, dopey grin. Purely feral and ready to open something like a can opener…

He stopped, looking confused but a little proud. He had a front row seat to your mind and the cacophony of thoughts inside it, yet was shocked. 

“Oh- it’s not like you don’t take us and mould us to your liking? Worlds speak in hushed reverent tones of you sacrificing your Children of Time. Then you go move on to another set. No big deal! You can always pick a bunch of suckers. Your TARDIS might as well be a white panelled van.” You tried matching her equally for the amounts of emotions or a monologue she would do. “You’re just as bad if not worse! You play the hero and the martyr! You lie to us!”

To rub salt in the wound you quietly added, “He’s many things, but I know he’ll never lie to me.” 

You didn’t know how much of a hard-ass you could successfully pull off. You considered her a friend and up until this moment still had a lot of loyalty and love for her. You still loved despite always being a misshapen puzzle piece the human part of the Fam.The ringing settled in your jaw and you felt her pain. 

Your facade began shaking.

You started to tear up. “What was I supposed to do, huh? Stay home? The world was in lockdown, and my anxieties were numerous. I was worried sick about you, and forget me? Graham’s elderly and has health problems!” Your lower jaw began to shake. You were scared for the first time in ages. 

“Sue me, so I left with the Master.” 

Your words rang out but not as intense as they should have.

“Did I really fit in with you at all?” You posed an easy question. Expecting an easy answer.

The tears began to fall freely.

“He’s evil...” She reminded you.

“Does not matter.” You rebutted. 

“He’ll kill you.”

“Whatever.” At this point you began wishing someone would murder you. 

She pivoted and lunged straight at him, “This a big part of your plans? Take my companion and pervert her? Then have her trot out…” she straddled him and grabbed him by the lapels. “Dressed like you dressed her? Huh? What method of mind control-” You went to go save him from the honey badger in blue. 

He began to laugh, not exactly manically, but not exactly mirthfully as well. “Oh, I’ve been more or less avoiding you. Out of respect for my pet.” The tone was taunting and bitter. “You think I wanted to hurt Y/N? Like this? Oof- how little your respect for me, Doctor!” He spit her name out like a fatwa. 

You closed your eyes and began to break. Mentally, you were draining down and physically it felt like you’d received a punch to your guts. You felt spiritually bereft. The Doctor and the Master fighting made you feel like some doll for these virtual children to deal with.

You wished you could pop a valium.

Giving the rest of the Fam an imploring look, you swallowed and gathered yourself up. You hoped your eyes could give them all the apologies and information you needed them to know. That you cared for him and weren’t in trouble. All the facets of you crashing and burning. You were being torn apart, playing a game with your held heart. 

But in the end it was fruitless. So you pulled the two Time Lords off each other, glowering at the two of them.

“I’m going back to the TARDIS.” You gave it your best shot to look commanding and in charge.

You turned around and tried to stalk out with all the bravery you could muster. You couldn’t relate to a happy state, feeling your blood run cold in your ears.

So you ran.

[burned-to-the-void]

I’m bad behavior but I do it in the best way

.

Jäger is on damage control duty. Bandit, of course, makes it more complicated than it has to be.

Bandit/Jäger, 3.1K words, E rated (nsfw), porn with feelings, mention of (implied) drug use, breathplay, and masochism.

.

For a man of science, Jäger is surprisingly superstitious.

It’s not like he believes that black cats will bring bad luck, or stepping on a crack will break someone’s backbone, nothing specific as such. But he believes in vague, ominous signs lying in plain sight. They might not stand out as significant on their own, but once you connect the dots, you’ll see the bigger picture.

Bandit has been unusually quiet this whole week, not a single prank or an inappropriate joke thrown at people’s frowning faces—a bad sign, the first hint that something is wrong. Blitz and IQ, who are far better than him at handling Bandit at his worst, are both half the world away on a mission—another bad sign. And just now, Doc has confirmed that Bandit requested to skip afternoon trainings, claiming he wasn’t feeling well although showing no visible symptoms, and slipped away from the base before he could even mention the word examination—the final sign, and the worst one, clear as the writing on the wall, sealing his fate.

All things considered, the will of universe seems absolutely determined to fuck him.

He’s never been in this exact situation before. It has been always Blitz’s job to go and fetch Bandit (they usually don’t come back until dawn, Blitz with heavy set in his shoulders, dragging his teammate by the wrist, Bandit oddly tame in his grip) when he goes into these… periods, but Jäger has the general idea of what to expect. Blitz gave him a thorough instruction on this, in case he couldn’t be around, and finally his effort is paying off. Jäger hoped it never would, but here he is, driving through the dead of the night with his phone on the passenger seat, blaring the endless string of the dial tone—it makes the weirdest traveling company ever.

“Pick up, please, just pick up,” he repeats under his breath like a mantra, as the call goes into voicemail once again; he doesn’t know if there is any kind of emergency, but he sure does feel like he’s heading into one. The adrenaline in his blood is making his mind run a million miles an hour, summoning dark images of blood and violence. Of course, Bandit is more than capable of protecting his own ass, but he’s probably not really himself right now, and also the chance that he might be the one causing the blood to spill isn’t exactly slim.

Bandit picks up about ten minutes later, which feel like at least an hour of mental torture to Jäger. His answer, on the speaker, sounds almost bored.

“Yes?”

Jäger recalls Blitz’s voice, walking him through each step. He’s on his way to the first one—pin him down on the map.

“Your location. Text. Now.”

Bandit scoffs at his attempt to sound stern. “What are you doing, impersonating Elias? You actually sound worse than him.”

“Shut up. Just, where the heck are you?”

“Las Vegas.”

“I’m serious, Dominic.” Jäger tries to give off the impression that he knows what he’s doing, which is a blatant lie, and Bandit is the last person who’d be fooled by him. Bandit sighs to the phone.

“Look, everything is fine here. Just go back to your bed and sleep, for fuck’s sake. Do you have any idea what time it is?”

He is changing his tactic, going from being unhelpful to reassuring Jäger that there isn’t any problem. Blitz has specifically warned about this.

“I’m already on my way. And you don’t sound like you’ve been sleeping, either.”

“Why does it matter if I’m sleeping or not?” Now he’s just changing subjects and stalling. Being evasive is like a second nature to Bandit; he probably can’t help himself, at this point. Still Jäger doesn’t feel any kinder toward him, when he’s developing a headache from being nervous for too long.

“Your fucking location, I said. Now.”

“Are you that eager to see me?” Jäger can tell that he’s not happy, despite the smirk in his voice, but he finally gives in. The message contains the address and his room number of a cheap-ass motel, thankfully only a few blocks away. Blitz told him to look for him in the shittiest part of the town, and apparently he just knows what Bandit will do even when he’s several continents away.

.

The door of his room isn’t locked, and when he enters, Bandit is standing by the window, lazily smoking a cigarette and stark naked except for the ink on his skin. Jäger isn’t surprised, but he needs a moment to get a grip on his composure. The very air smells like sex, and it’s nothing like seeing him without his clothes in the communal shower.

At least he remembered protection, he thinks, gingerly avoiding empty packets and used condoms strewn across the floor on his way to the man. Bandit’s reflection on the dirty window pane is expressionless. Apart from the street lamps, the only light source in the room is the tip of his cigarette, glowing cherry-red, so it takes a while for him to notice the bruise around his neck. It’s shockingly vivid purple, fading into dark red around the edge.

“Fuck. What happened? Who did it?”

“I asked him to,” says Bandit, merely shrugging. “It’s fine, it won’t show over the hood. I’m not stupid.”

His voice is nonchalant as if they’re talking about a plain hickey, instead of two distinct hand marks on his fucking windpipe. Jäger feels dizzy, like he’s the one being choked until his vision blurs.

“You asked a total stranger to strangle you?”

“Well, he was high enough to agree,” says Bandit, little irritated now, signaling Jäger should drop the topic, but he can’t. He can’t help but imagine how it must have been like, hands bigger than his own curling on Bandit’s neck, looking for the pulse point only to crush it down. Bandit might be a good fighter, his willingness to fight dirty making up for the weight difference, but in a vulnerable position like that—it would be so easy to complete the act. Hold him down until his thrashing stops for good. Jäger suppresses down a shiver.

Bandit takes a last long drag before he stubbs the cigarette out on the windowsill. Then he turns around to look at Jäger properly, for the first time since he stepped into the room.

“Do you wanna touch it?”

With his voice low like this, it’s like they’re sharing a secret, and Jäger can’t think, he doesn’t understand what brought the sudden shift in his attitude.

“Why would I—,” he starts, but it’s too late. Bandit already has both his hands in his own, and he drags them up until his fingertips are pressed lightly on the colored skin, and oh, they’re warm to the touch, maybe more so than the rest of his body. Bandit huffs softly at the residual pain, and it’s better than any filthy moans he’s ever heard—Jäger is fascinated.

And Bandit must know that expression, how can he not. He leans forward to kiss him. He tastes like cigarette and cheap beer, his lips are chapped and dry, and Jäger can’t get enough of it.

He pushes him away harder than he intends to, flinching at the feeling of bare chest under his hand. Bandit doesn’t stumble, as if he knew it was coming.

“Tell me you don’t want this, and I’ll back off.”

“Dom, I don’t think this is—”

“Then tell me,” he repeats, “you don’t want this.” 

But he does, that’s the problem, and how can he be this calm when Jäger is burning up with the simple idea of I want, want, want. He takes a step closer against his will. Bandit’s answering smile is taunting.

The kiss remains chaste, and it almost feels sweet, but Jäger isn’t fooled; Bandit is just too drained out of energy to initiate a proper makeout session. Jäger licks at the chapped ridge of his bottom lip, and Bandit hums.

“Do you want to fuck me?” he asks as they part, his breath hot and ticklish against his jaw, and Jäger has to grit his teeth to refrain from saying yes.

“Not like this,” he whispers, and he means it. Not like this, when he’s already sore and bruised, not when he’s only chasing after every possible sensory input to make his withdrawal more bearable. Bandit doesn’t look like he’s disappointed.

“Suit yourself,” he shrugs again, and sways closer for some reason.

“What,” asks Jäger, warily.

“At least jerk me off, then. I need something. You don’t know how bad it gets.”

He doesn’t know, and he isn’t keen on finding out. Watching Bandit struggling to fill the hollowness in his chest with anything he can get his hands on—pain, pleasure, violence and self-destruction—and making a mess of himself in the process, is way more than enough.

“Okay,” he says softly, and kisses Bandit on the side of his throat, just above the handprint on his skin. “Okay.”

Bandit, suddenly impatient, steers him to the direction of the bed until he’s sitting on it, and climbs onto his lap without hesitation. Jäger is still fully clothed and the fabric of his jeans must feel rough against the soft flesh of his inner thighs, but it doesn’t deter him from rocking his hips closer. He’s already half-hard, but he hisses when Jäger brushes his fingers over his shaft tentatively, probably overstimulated from whatever he did before Jäger came to pick his pieces up. He falters, stills his hand in mid-action.

“Go on,” Bandit pants, rubbing himself on Jäger’s open palm.

“Are you sure?” he has to ask before tightening his grip, because he doesn’t trust Bandit not to hurt himself, quite the opposite, he might actively try to in a state like this.

“I’m sure that I’ll break your fucking fingers if you stop,” he growls, and he sounds so wrecked already, even goes as far as whining when it becomes clear that Jäger still won’t go on with the program and will leave him hanging. Jäger has to, his brain is muddled with all the noises Bandit is producing without shame, but he remembers what he was planning to do and licks his palm wet in lieu of proper lube, already tasting Bandit’s precome there. His teammate is watching him closely, pupils blown and irises at least two shades darker.

Jäger loses that particular view when the man scrunches his eyes shut and let his mouth fall open in a silent moan as he finally closes his fist around his dick. But the new one is even better.

He’d like to keep it slow and gentle, careful not to push him over his limits but Bandit won’t let him, so instead he focuses on licking over the bite marks on his shoulders and mouthing the bruises, sliding his palm soothingly over ones he can’t reach, ones on his thighs and hips. While none of them are made by him, it’s him making Bandit flinch and squirm now, his feverish skin so, so sensitive. And the thing about Jäger is that he’s always curious; he wants to know what makes Bandit’s breath hitch (his thumb pressing over the slit teasingly), what prompts him to arch his back and make low, drawn-out sounds coming from deep inside his chest (slow, steady downstrokes with a firm grip, simultaneously too much and not nearly enough).

He doesn’t last long. Jäger lets him fuck his fist with the pace he wants—harsh and single-focused—until his whole body goes rigid, and suddenly there is come dribbling sluggishly down his fingers. Bandit shudders and pants against his neck, like a man just got rescued from drowning, and curls in tighter.

Choosing to ignore his own hard-on that’s been present since no-one-knows-when, possibly even before they started kissing, Jäger lets his clean hand linger on the man’s backside for a moment until he calms down, and then pushes him away gently to enter the bathroom. He cleans Bandit’s body thoroughly with a wet towel, not just of fresh come on his stomach but of every trace of sex. He is lying limp on the bed, eyes weary but still tracking his every movement. Even in a state like this he’ll probably agree to a quick blowjob, but no matter how willing he is, it still feels like taking advantage. He doesn’t know if Bandit would have wanted any of this, if he wasn’t desperate for a distraction, for a way out.

He brings Bandit a glass of tap water, which he drinks away without protesting. The tendons of his neck shift under the bruise as he tilts his head back. It’s a mesmerizing view, and Jäger hates himself a little for thinking so. He wishes he can make it disappear with sheer force of his will.

.

Bandit is quiet on their ride back to the base, but it’s a different kind of silence from before, when he was full of restless energy, overcharged with tension. Now it’s all fucked out of his system, and he must be crashing down, hard.

He is looking out the window, occasionally shivering with either the real cold or the one inside him, and when Jäger briefly takes hold of his hand and locks their fingers together, meaning to be reassuring, Bandit clenches his hand hard enough to leave crescent marks on the back of his hand before he lets go. Jäger doesn’t mind it. They’ll fade away, in a matter of minutes, and so will Bandit’s bruises, given enough time. The one he’s not so sure about lies deeper, around the gaping hole in his heart. He knows drug isn’t the main source of his problem, but a coping method, albeit an extremely unhealthy one. Just like sex is to him. Jäger should probably forget what happened tonight; it doesn’t have to mean anything.

“Please tell me you don’t do this with Blitz every time he picks you up,” groans Jäger, at the sudden thought that popped up in his mind, unbidden. Bandit snorts in the passenger seat.

“I’ll leave it to your imagination.”

He groans again, overdramatic, and the atmosphere between them is decidedly lighter, until he blurts out what’s been on his mind for quite a while as he stops his car in the parking lot.

“You shouldn’t just let a random guy choke you during sex, it’s dangerous,” he says, trying to make it sound like a passing comment, like it’s no big deal, aiming for the tone he’d use for saying something like you shouldn’t eat that much sugar. He’s not succeeding at all, it seems, considering the way Bandit’s expression hardens immediately. Jäger blames his big fat mouth for this, he knew that Bandit wouldn’t take it well.

“Oh, and you’ll do it for me if I ask?” Bandit sneers, and just like that, Jäger is left speechless. He imagined Bandit bristling at his words, that it’s none of his business, calling him a condescending shit, but certainly not this. What is this, a dare? A request? Or is he just mocking him? Jäger can’t read people well unless there’s some kind of a guideline to follow, and this is an unprecedented territory. Not to mention that this is Bandit, of all people. Bandit twists the corner of his mouth, its edge sharp enough to cut.

“I thought so.”

With that, he gets out of the car, letting the cold night air slip in. Jäger can’t move to follow, not when his mind is buzzing with questions. Does Dominic really want it from him? If he does, can he? He stares down at his own hands on his lap, balls them into fists, and tries to recall how the bruise looked like beneath his fingertips.

He assumed Bandit would have gone inside already, so he startles when he opens the door on the driver’s side.

“Stop thinking so much. I can smell your brain burning,” Bandit mutters, and looks at him expectantly, so he steps out of the car almost automatically. Bandit studies his face, and something he finds there makes his features soften.

“Hey, I wasn’t trying to force you into anything you’re not comfortable with, okay? Just forget about it.”

“But you want it?” he asks, because he has to be sure.

“I said, forget about it. I don’t want Elias or Monika chewing my ass for breaking your pretty head.”

“Elias will chew your ass anyway when he finds out you actually pulled this shit off when he’s not around,” he points out, with a faint smile. Watching Bandit trying to dodge around Blitz’s righteous fury never fails to entertain him, because at some point Bandit eventually surrenders and takes whatever is being thrown at him with a defeated posture, in his own way of saying he’s sorry.

Bandit looks relieved, which he quickly covers with a grimace in response to his words. He sticks his hands into the pockets of his jeans and leads the way to the base. Jäger walks after him silently, too caught up in his head to start a conversation. He glances up at his teammate’s neck with no little amount of guilt, and yes, he was right, the bruise isn’t peeking out.

“Dom, can you do me a favor?”

The suddenness of the question surprises even himself, but Bandit simply looks at him over his shoulder, not bothering to stop.

“I’ll consider it, but only because you’ve done one for me tonight. What do you want?”

“Can I kiss you?”

Jäger isn’t sure if it’s okay to ask this now, when they’re not in the heat of something and Bandit is more or less sober, or if it’s kind of anticlimactic after the things they’ve done already. He isn’t sure why he is asking, in the first place.

“Sure, if you want to,” Bandit replies easily, and stops in his track to peer at Jäger’s face, curious. His eyes are sharp and searching.

“I—,” he wants to, he does, it is the only thing he can be sure of. “Yes.”

Bandit, for once, keeps his mouth shut, at least for the purpose of talking, and pulls him in by the waist. He still tastes like stale cigarette, and his beard is scratchy, and Jäger wants to do this until it becomes impossible to forget what it feels like. He holds onto Bandit’s arms for balance as he leans in closer, and his fingers finally stop itching with the phantom sensation of curling around something warm and alive.

.

.

[xenosgirlvents]

There is an ancient Terran saying barely remembered even by humans in their forty-odd millennia since it was first said. “The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry.” La’al had never heard this saying, but if she had it would be echoing relentlessly in her head.  Said best laid plans had been to take back a young T’au world from a small force of Orks who had stolen it after the gue’la’s military had had their way with it. Her own squad, composed of a smattering of various auxiliaries and a handful of veteran Fire warriors, had been sent around to the east of the main Cadres in an attempt to corral the bhe’ghaal. But, rather clearly, those best laid plans had been shattered irreparably.

The young Shas’La’s tympanum were reverberating under the force of the never-ending fusillade of fire soaring over her head and pounding against the flickering Tidewalls and burning vehicular wrecks she was jogging past, willing herself not to outrun her la’rua. Moving as quickly as her squadmates could manage, they were slowed further under the weight of the injured they carried with them. La’al herself held Olatharal and Balantara – the two surviving Exodites who had joined the military alongside her – slung over her shoulders, cutting her ability to retaliate dramatically. She would have almost envied the two of them then, both unconscious and unable to hear the paradoxically raucous and operatic singing roaring out over the sound of gunfire as the army of Orks rolled inexorably closer, if not for the glinting of the small red gemstone Balantara clutched tightly in her fist.

The Exodite had risked death charging into the green tide to wrest it from her brother’s corpse, and La’al would sooner die herself than let that risk have been in vain. So, for now, she had to focus on surviving as blood – red, blue, green, and practically every color in between – splashed under the running hooves, boots, and talons of the retreating squad. Returning her focus to the task at hand, the young Shas crushed the still-living and profanity spewing severed head of one of the bhe’ghaal under-hoof.

There was only one warrior with them without a body in their grasp, and he wasn’t even a member of their squad. The breacher Shas’Ui ran alongside them, his heavier armor doing little to slow him down and his pulse blaster invaluable as the la’rua bolted between cover. Many of the Orks’ “squigs,” as La’al had heard her comrades yell, barreled toward and around them, squealing and snorting hungrily only to be all but disintegrated by the breacher’s plasma fire or else to be caught in vicious combat with the numerous Kroot hounds that had been loosed to cover the Cadres’ retreat

The distinctive whip-crack of rail-fire announced that they were nearing the end of their escape. The evacuation point was coming into view; surrounded by a veritable wall of Hammerheads and Broadsides – further bristling with Kroot rifles poking between the gaps and buzzing with the insectoid forms of Vespids – unloading their weaponry into the advancing horde, Mantas and Orcas were picking up as many survivors as they could, knowing that no stragglers were likely to survive once they were forced to fully extract. And standing atop her hover-drone just behind the wall of vehicles was Vre Da’ty, whirling her Honor Blade about and swatting away the projectiles flying at her as if they were barely more than flies.

The Ethereal was perfectly calm. The simple creatures advancing across the battlefield were far outside of their accurate range, and even if they weren’t, she knew that they would never see her as a priority target. Vre’Da’ty knew well that bhe’ghaal “philosophy” revolved around the concept of bigger being better, and she was far from the largest target they could train their primitive firearms upon. As such, she had elected to take the last craft to leave, knowing that the concept of leaving an Ethereal in such a hellish warzone for too long would motivate the Cadres’ survivors to move much faster. Coolly, she surveyed the surrounding area, pointing out approaching parties of survivors for the wall of guns to split for, when a red glinting caught her eye. Turning her head, she spotted Shas’La La’al and her surviving squadmates approaching as quickly as they could, defended by a breacher’s pulse blasts. A small smile creeping over her face at the young warrior’s apparent capacity to survive, she gestured to the small party and lowered her drone at the utterly incessant insistence of her honor guards.

The la’rua let out a collective sigh of relief as they saw a break form in the wall of metal to accommodate them, only a handful of craft left willing to make the risky lift. The party wasn’t a second too soon either, a number of the tanks and battlesuits already beginning to peel away and board the Mantas set aside for their evac. La’al almost cheered, herself, but it was cut off by a harsh scream from behind her. Turning sharply while maintaining her pace with her squad, she was shocked to see the Shas’Ui who had kept them covered being pulled back by a mass of pink flesh. The veteran warrior let out a barrage of curses and swears, firing his gun wildly as he tried to level it at the squig’s head to utterly no avail.

La’al knew he had no chance. The tanks were falling back, and those that were still holding were much too focused on the tide of green marching closer, the singing growing loud enough to all but silence the gunfire. Acting on instinct, she passed the unconscious Aeldari to the least burdened of her squad members and charged back, drawing her carbine as she went.

To the Shas’Ui, the young Fire warrior was a blur. A streak of his Sept’s color barged into the squig and rolled with it several meters in a tangle of vicious and bone shattering kicks, punches, and gun-bashes. Seizing the new chance at life with both fists, he began to drag himself back toward his dropped gun, grabbing the blaster and rolling over to aim it at the clash just in time to watch the Shas’La unload almost an entire magazine directly into the orkish animal’s eye. She roared her fury over the sounds of the battle as she shredded the creature that had dared harm the warrior who had guarded her squad’s escape.

Covered in the sizzling remains of the squig, La’al whipped back around to help the Shas’Ui up just as the rain of ballistic fire petered out. Dragging the veteran along on his crippled legs, La’al peered across the battlefield to see the Orks had stopped moving and almost none of them were firing a shot. But the ground still rumbled as if the entire horde was charging. Then, as the smoke from their vehicles’ engines cleared away, she saw why. The entire Ork horde joined in a single gruffly operatic chorus as an utter behemoth of metal rolled through the smoke, its treads alone towering over practically everything else on the battlefield.

“Bloodwind…” the two Shas uttered in unison as the Mega-Gargant opened its jaws to reveal what looked, to La’al’s cybernetic eyes, to be a stage on which stood a giant Ork in black armor with a white mask covering the right half of his face, and a gretchin in a frilly dress and long brown squig-wig perched atop his arm. The titanic machine’s guns began to spin up, sonic waves tearing across the battlefield as the Warboss began to sing in earnest from his stage, vast speakers on the Gargant’s chest blasting out the ballad almost loud enough to knock La’al from her feet.

The T’au forces still on the ground began raining fire at the colossal mobile fortress as they began pulling back with as much speed as they possibly could, Mantas and Orcas initiating their liftoff sequences even as tanks and suits mounted them. La’al herself bodily picked up the Shas’Ui and tore across the distance between them and the Manta that had taken aboard her la’rua. Even with all her speed though, by the time La’al arrived, the bay door was already almost closed, and no other ships were even near the ground.

“Oh no yOU FUCKING DON’T!” She screamed as, in a last act of desperation, the young Fire warrior gathered her strength, leapt dozens of feet into the air, and threw the older Shas through the door just before it could close.

The transports pulled away just before the Gargant’s guns could begin unleashing their stream of death. But as the Exodites aboard it roused themselves back into consciousness, their first sight was an injured breacher pounding his fists against the door, cursing as if his life depended on it. From the other end of the craft, Vre’Da’ty saw the same, and the three of them quickly came to the same realization.

Shas’La H’kek’an La’al had been left behind. The Little Hero was alone.

(Honestly, I barely even know what kind of commentary to leave here this time. So I’ll just go with the standard “Hope you enjoy it, and please share any questions and critiques you have”)

Okay! So wow, this was actually really good, honestly! I enjoyed in general the way you wrote about the inclusion of certain T’au specifics to the battle: not standing and engaging in a battle of attrition when they still have room to redeploy in, the use of the Tidewalls to provide cover for their withdrawing infantry, the use of the Breacher Shas’ui (Breachers are a favourite unit of mine conceptually, I wish we had a Fire Warrior 2 Game only so that Kais could cart around a Pulse Blaster-like shotgun to kill Marines with) and I enjoyed the Ethereal too, with the good addition that they actually undermine the normal Ork threat assessment pattern, that’s actually a really good point I haven’t thought about before but it’s true!

As always I also enjoyed heavily your use of T’au terminology throughout the piece. This is something I sometimes struggle with, as it can slow me down, but you make consistent use of T’au words throughout which helps it feel engaging and engrossing by making it clear who we’re reading this from.

I am very curious as to how this will go, but I already foresee La’al perhaps ending up surviving on her own for an extended period of time, ghosting Orks, before being rediscovered by other T’au? Whatever it is you have in mind I look forwards to it, this has really been the highlight for me of anything 40k related for a while now :)

[ikenbar]

Mr. Love: Ike’s Choice Pt 4

Warnings: Kiro fluff and neighbor angst (ok maybe not super angst but there is some tension lol) also sick burns. Also Cliffhangers :D

(Chapter One parts one, two, three, four, five, six, and seven here :))

((Please read the author’s note on part one if you’re new here :D)

Chapter one:

Part Four:

Finally reaching the door to my apartment, I slumped over in exhaustion. That day had been one of the worst of my life. It was one thing after another. And in the end, it might not even be worth the fight. At least my headache was gone.

“You look like a wreck.”

And it’s back.

I slowly turned my head to look at the person behind the voice. It was my neighbor. A tall, well-built man who was dressed in a white shirt, black jeans, and a light denim jacket. His chestnut bangs were swept wildly across his face, slightly obscuring his amber eyes. His hands were full of shopping bags. Four or five bags in each hand at least. He didn’t seem to mind the weight. Which meant one of two things; heavy things are a breeze to hold for him or, more believably, all he has in those bags are instant noodles because there was another sale. That was Gavin for you. Of course it was just my luck that the one day he had off from work was the worst day of my life.

“What happened? Did you miss your mouth?” Gavin asked in a tone that dripped mockery as he gestured to my shirt.

“I can’t miss what I wasn’t aiming for.” I replied through gritted teeth.

“... what?”

“At least I was productive today.” I blew off his questions to ask my own, “What about you, Mister. Two-Trips-Are-For-The-Weak? Did you only leave your cave because you were out of Cup ‘O Sodium?”

“Don’t get angry at me because you’re a workaholic.”

“Right, because making a living for myself is a problem.”

“The only problem here is your ability to relax. Oh, and your obvious drinking problem.” He stated, gesturing to the coffee stain yet again. Though, he obviously was not just referring to my shirt. I glared at him.

“You’re just angry because I can hold a beer better than you can.” I said, flipping through my keys, trying quickly to find the one that belonged to my apartment.

“Oh?” Gavin adjusted his stance slightly, “What makes you say that?”

“Well, suggesting my ongoing record of never being impaired in any capacity by alcohol, I’d say I am wAY more adapted to it then you are.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“It’s true!” I said simply, finally finding my apartment key, “You could say it’s my superpower!” I put the key in the lock, “You’re not the only one with super abilities, ya know.”

“Excuse me?”

“Yeah. We all know you have a special power, Gavin. You’re awful at hiding it.”

“...And just what kind of power do you think I have?”

“The power to be a major douche.” I pushed open my door, flipped him the bird, and walked into my apartment. I shut the door with a resounding Bang! but stayed and listened intently to the hallway. There was a moment of silence but then I heard the rustling of shopping bags as Gavin approached the door next to mine. After a few more moments I heard the door open with a creak and shut as he walked into his apartment. “Rotten cop.” I muttered under my breath as I switched on the lights to my room.

My apartment was no beauty to behold. It was a studio apartment with two floors and one bathroom. Nonetheless, I did what I could to make it homey. My living space contained a couch, two armchairs and an entertainment center that held more books than it did movies. A television sat in the middle of the entertainment center but it was only ever used to annoy Gavin with it’s loud stereo.

 To the left of the living room was my kitchen. The kitchen was my favorite part of the apartment. I loved to cook. It relaxed me after a long day of being the tough manager. With cooking, I could be gentle and graceful in a way that still seemed strict. There was a precision and delicacy in cooking that was hard to find anywhere else. It was wonderful. My kitchen was small but the perfect fit for me. I had a four-burner stove and a beautifully marbled bar across from it, which had two stools neatly tucked under it.  I had a beautiful fridge at the edge of the kitchen that was almost always empty. I liked buying things for dinner when I got back from the gym in the morning so that the ingredients were the freshest. 

At the back of the kitchen was a large sink and cabinets that hung to the wall. The cabinets held most of my tools and utensils that I used in the kitchen except for one. That one held my bottles of scotch and whiskey. Though I hated to admit it, Gavin was right. Though he should mind his own business about it. Alcohol helped soothe my headache after a long day at work. It helped me forget about my problems. Both current and past. It helped me relax. He couldn’t understand that. He never would. I looked longingly at the cabinet. I could’ve really gone for a drink but I hated going to my foster parents house smelling like alcohol. It would just worry everyone there. So I had to refuse.

To the back of the room, there was a step that divided my bedroom from the rest of the apartment. A single bed sat towards the side wall closest to the kitchen and, across from that bed, was a bookshelf and a door leading to the bathroom. In front of the bed sat my gym bag that was used every day. Like cooking, exercising also gave me a sense of bliss. I wake up at an unnatural hour of the day to completely clear my mind and better myself. (Not to mention jam out to Kiro’s new music without anyone noticing.) Working out got me through my time in high school. After moving into my last foster parents house, they wanted to give me something that would be my own and a healthy way, besides therapy, to release my emotions. So, they signed me up for a gym membership. That’s where I found my love for Kiro. Where I found love for my family. Where I found my voice after three years of being selectively mute. It built my confidence in a way I could have never imagined. It made me stronger in ways most people wouldn’t understand. It made getting up at five in the morning worth every last minute of my life.

But the creme de la creme of the apartment was the windows on the very back wall but, more specifically, the fire escape. The opening to the fire escape left a small nook in the corner of the room. Which I loved to sit in and spend time to myself, watching the bustling of the city in front of me. Just to stop thinking about my own problems and start wondering what kind of problems those hurried people were having below me. Questioning whether they knew that someone was above them, watching over them, curious about how they lived. It was peaceful to me. Half of me wanted to cancel dinner at my Foster family’s house and people watch instead….. but I promised I would go. There is no turning back now.

Every inch of my apartment was a way for me to relax. Believe it or not, running a company where people hate you every day for being strict and wanting things to be done right was taxing. I needed to have a place where I could let my hair down and not have people yell at me for how long it was. I wanted my own space and I rarely had people over to my apartment because of that. Sure, I had the occasional family member visit, but I needed somewhere that I was certain that I could be myself. Where I wouldn’t be judged for who I was. Where I wasn’t given special treatment for my past. Where I wasn’t being bugged about what I could be doing better. Where I could just be me. And I thought I found it in that apartment… where I was alone.

I dropped my briefcase by the door and hung my keys up on the wall. I swiftly pulled off my shoes and replaced them with slippers before moving into my home. I pulled off my leather jacket and blazer in one continuous motion and threw them both on my couch. “I guess a shower is in order.” I muttered unbuttoning my shirt and heading to the bathroom. What I didn’t notice was something had flown out of the blazer and fluttered carefully to the ground.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I walked back into my bedroom quickly drying my hair with a towel. I rubbed my arm carefully. Thankfully, I had some aloe to ease the burns but I had better be careful of who I hugged that night. I looked down at my new outfit questionably. A white long-sleeved shirt and ripped blue jeans normally wouldn’t make me second guess anything but after today’s incident…. I grabbed a flannel from the dresser drawers under my windows and threw it on. That would have to do for now. I pulled my phone from my pocket and checked it for the umpteenth time since I had gotten home. No messages. Victor still hadn’t texted me. Sure, it was only five in the evening. He could still be working diligently but I could and should be a part of that work. I huffed and put my phone in my pocket. That man better not be doing this on purpose.

It was then when I caught a glimpse of something shining on the rug of my living space. I walked over to it and picked it up. It was Kiro’s business card. A soft warmth entered my cheeks. I can’t believe I had met him today. Of all days. When I was at my worst, he was there. Of course he was. That was just my luck…. Still. I turned the card over to reread his hurried handwriting.

 Here’s my cell phone number! Just in case you want to avoid my agent :P

 I had Kiro’s cell phone number. I can’t believe I had Kiro’s cell phone number. How lucky I must have been to have Kiro’s-... I had promised Victor the Kiro would be on my show. What if he gives me the funding? Would Krio have the time for me? What if he knew about me or my company and hates it? What if I offer him the job and he says no? What if he found out who I was and would never want to talk to me again? I mean, the only time my name was used outside of the office is when it’s a coworker complaining about how hard I am on them. What if he caught wind of that? What if he hates me…? There was only one way to answer these questions.

I took a deep breath and shakily pulled out my phone from my pocket again. After checking again for a message from Victor, still nothing, I opened the number pad and started dialing the number Kiro had written down. I brought the phone to my ear and regretted it immediately. What was I going to say?! Hey, this is the chick who saved you from that jerk earlier. I want you to do me a favor! And if you don’t, I could lose thousands of dollars and potentially my job. But hey! No pressure! I racked my brain for things to say when the call was picked up.

“Hello?”

The sound of his voice made every worry I had disappear. It didn’t matter what I said. He wouldn’t make me feel bad. He couldn’t make me feel bad. He’s Kiro!

“Hello, is this Kiro?”

“Yes, it is! Who is this?

“... Super Stranger.” I said this in a deeper voice as if I was masking my identity through the phone. Kiro gasped.

“Hey!! I was just thinking about you! Did you get to that call in time?” Kiro seemed genuinely excited to talk to me. The stress I held in my stomach returned. Now I was worried his excitement would be for not.

“Of course. I am a super hero after all.” I teased, trying to calm the storm in my stomach.

“Haha you got me there. So! Why are you calling? Is there a cat that needs saving from a tree??”

“Actually, a business. " I hesitated, "I… have a friend who is a producer at a well-known TV production company. The company can get massive funding on a new show but for that to happen, they need help with casting for it. Would you be interested?”

“Maybe…” Kiro sounded unsure, “What’s the company?”

“Ike ‘n Bar Productions.”

“What?! No way. You mean the same people who produced, Show me the Honey!? I love them! I’ve always wanted to be in one of their shows. Especially, The Pearl in her Eyes. They do such a great job with drama and tension. How do you know the producers?”

“... is that your way of getting me to reveal my secret identity?” I asked biting my tongue, “I’m just here to ask if you’re interested. And cashing in that favor you had given me.”

“Of course I’m interested! Any friend of Super Stranger is a friend to me! I’ll talk to my agent about my schedule and I’ll get back to you.”

“Why don’t I give you the producer’s extension instead? Your agent and… them can discuss details together.”

“Perfect! I’m ready when you are!”

I pulled out my wallet and pulled my business card from it. I read Kiro my work phone number and extension as he wrote it down from the other end.

“Great!” He excitedly giggled, “Then it’s a deal! So, tell me, am I going to be working alongside the great Super Stranger themselves?”

“You're really pushing to find my secret identity, huh?”

"I just want to know who I'm working with!"

I thought for a moment. "... if your manager says yes… then yes. You will see me on set. But that's a big 'if,' Kiro."

“Oh, don’t worry! He'll say yes! Remember, I owe you my life! Starring in a show doesn’t even begin to make up for it. Consider this part one of many transactions to pay off my debt to you.”

“Doing this will be enough. No need for anything else.”

“No way! You can't talk me out of this, Super Stranger! I am going to knock you off your feet the same way you did to me! I'll be the best sidekick you have ever seen. Just watch!"

"Sidekick?" My heart fluttered.

"Of course!" Kiro's excited tone faltered slightly, "... unless you wouldn't like-"

"No!" My words jumped from my stomach, "I… I would be honored to have a sidekick like you." My last sentence was said in the most courageous way I could muster.

"Then it's settled!" Kiro's tone became overly cheery again, "I am now the noble sidekick of Super Stranger! What would be my hero name?? Super Singer? Active actor? Oo! Or-"

“How about I come up with it.” I interrupted him.

“Really?” Kiro sounded unsure again.

“Of course! You came up with my name, right? So I’ll come up with yours.”

“Alright, SS!” Kiro’s excited tone returned, “I’m all ears!” I fell silent as I deeply considered choices. Should it have to do with his singing? His acting? His charismatic aura? People have said that just looking at him they fell in love with him. Maybe I could use that? I looked around the room for inspiration. My eyes fell on the clock on my stove. 5:20. I cursed.

“Well, I don't think that would be a name that parents would want their children to repeat.” Kiro teased.

"I need to get going." I reluctantly muttered, "I've got… hero business that I need to attend to."

"Anything I can help with?" Kiro asked hopefully.

"Not unless you can find a way for dinner to be illegal." I decided to be honest.

"Ah, I'm afraid there are things even I can't do.” Kiro sighed, “So, I’ll be working with you soon?”

 “You can count on it.”

“Alright! And you’d better be thinking of a good hero name while you’re at your dinner! I’m counting on you, SS!”

“I’ll find one. Don’t worry.”

“Until next time, Super Stranger!”

“Good night… Sidekick.” I hung up the phone and then brought it to my lips as if to kiss it. I’ve got a superstar on my side for this show. Now I just need captain capitalist to give me his money…Captain Capitalist... An image of Victor dressed as a Villain made the corners of my mouth rise slightly. I'd have to tell Kiro. I opened my phone again right as a message popped onto my screen. It was from Bart.

We are having spaghetti tonight! Can't wait to hear your news!!

My stomach turned and my smile fell. Thinking of useless and trivial things was fun, but I had dinner with destiny… I hope destiny isn’t disappointed with me.

End of Part Four

(Next)

[tcnosfm-blog]

.･:*:･ﾟ ’ valentino  espsito , a  twenty  three  year   old , cismale ,  works  as  a  musician  who  came  from  manhattan  roots  .  while  they  were  attending  st  jude’s  they  were  known  as  the  broken  bird  because  they  could  be  very  reticent  .  those  closest  to  them  say  they’re  quite  stoic  though  .  to  get  a  better  understanding  of  who  they  are  ,  some  things  you  may  notice  about  them  are  ferocious  memories  dancing  across  his  flesh  before  sinking  their  teeth  into  him  ,  the  feeling  of  pain  reminding  him  of  his  own  presence  in  the  world  ,  night  sweats  that  form  a pool  of  anger  and  an  ocean  of  sadness .  you  may  have  mistaken  them  for  justin  bieber .

hi   hello  peaches  !!    this  ?  is  a  fucking  train  wreck  i  call  valentino  but  god  do  i  fucking  love  him  ?  he’s  the  combination  of  two  muses  of  mine  and  well  i’m  really  excited  to  explore  him  !  all  while  going  back  to  my  jb  roots  (  can  you  believe  there  was  a  time  where  the  only  male  fc  i  could  use  was  the  love  of  my  life  justin  bieber  ?   is  it  crack  ?  is  that  what  i  was  smoking  ?  ) if  you  would  like  to  learn  more  about  valentino  ,  please  just  keep  reading  !!  oh  please  bare  with  me  ,  me   and  introductions  are  not  friends .  

❝   ┄  𝓹𝓻𝓸𝓼𝓸𝓹𝓸𝓰𝓻𝓪𝓹𝓱𝔂  !

chapters  of  a  childhood  that  reflected  two  halves  of  then  and  now  .  like  a  book  that  cannot  be  ripped  from  your  hands  ,  the  esposito’s   story  captured  hues  of  millions  .  expect  ,  instead   of  unfolding  on  pages  of  a  book  ,  their  lives  were  recorded  by  the  hands  of  the  media  /  smiling  (  or  hands  up  covering  irritated  expressions  )  on  the  front  pages  of  magazine  ,  elaborating  on  success  and  fortune  with  oprah winfrey  ,  beautiful   photoshoots  that  are  plastered  with  such  brands  as  vogue  and  elle  magazine  .  adored  .  you  could  consider  them  that  .   they  were  affluence  dipped  in  sovereignty .

alessandro  esposito  ,  fifteen  years  old  when  he  came  to  america  from  naples italy  .  for  two  weeks  ,  him  and  his  family  of  seven  slept  on  the  cold  streets  of  new  york  .  his  father  ,  a  business  man  that  went  bankrupt  decided  to  allow  his  legs  to  run  and  run  until  they  landed  him  to  america  in  search  of  a  second  chance  .  that  year  ,  had  been  a  year  of  struggle .  but  it  taught  alessandro  all  he  needed  to  know  ,  showed  him  everything  he  refused  to  be  .  

alessandro  ,  he  put  himself  through  college  .  got  a  job  the  minute  his  feet  touched  new  york  at  an  italian  owned  pizza  place  , and  ran  himself  through  the  ringer  with  school  .  he  wanted  to  study  business  .  be  the  man  his  father  never  was  .  he  was  determined  .

it  was  his  junior  year  where  he  meet  sienna   remis  ,   the  twenty  something  year  old  break  out  model  ..  who  in  reality  should  of  never  given  alessandro  the  time  or  day  ..  but  she  gave  him  more  then  that  ,  four  years  later  ,  she  gave  him  her  word  that  she  was  in  it  with  him  forever  .  

she  did  not  want  children  .  she  was  a  model  .  used  her  body  for  her  work  ,  worked  for  her  body  .  struggled  with  herself  to  remain  the  model  of  every  company’s  dream  .  and  then  , she  accidentally  got  pregnant  .  and  despite  having  no  intentions  of  keeping  it  ,  one  look  at   her  husbands  face  and  she  made  a  decision  that  would  cost  her  .  she  had  it  .  

and  then  ,  she  had   another  one  .  and  then  another  one  ..  and  then  ,  another  one  .

the  esposito’s  were  a  traditional  italian  family  ,  spent  almost  every  moment  with  one  another  .  celebrated  holidays  at  nonna  &  nonno’s  .  did  family  vacations  with  their  four  aunts  /  uncles  and  their  seventeen  cousins  .  the  esposito’s  as  a  whole  ,   were  successful  .  alessandro’s  oldest  brother  being  a  plastic  surgeon  for  celebrities  such  as  kim  kardashian  and  kylie  jenner . his  sister  ,  she  dabbled  in  the  world  of  acting  before  settling  into  fashion  design  .  his  youngest  brother  worked  along  his  side  ,  building  an  empire  of  hotels  and  restaurants   .  and  ,  his  youngest  sister  whom  had  the  ability  to  capture  a  thousand  words  in  single  painting  moved  back  to  italy  to  live  a  normal  life  .  

zynaty ,  the  empire  that  holds  hundreds  of  hotels  and  restaurants  across  the  globe  .  the  business  that  took  alessandro  and  his  brother  everything  they  had  to  create .

valentino  navarone  clemente  esposito  was  the  second  child  to  alessandro   and  sienna  .   from  the  moment   he  open  warm  colored  hues  ,  took  his  first  breaths  ,  privilege  was  granted  to  him  .   a  child  in  the  spotlight  ,  it  was  what  he  became  .  one  of  the    esposito’s  destined  to  do  great  things  .  to  be  somebody  .  the  media  ate  him  up .  everything  he  did  ,  everything  his  siblings  did  ,  they  wanted  to  be  apart  of  it  ,  to  exploit  ,  to  adore  ,  to  wait  and  watch  how  they  would  unfold  .

the  first  eleven  years  of  valentino’s  childhood  consisted  of  tender  forehead  kisses  and  the  feeling  of  warm  comfort  wrapping  around  him  like  a  blanket  .  his  days  consisting  of  laughter  that  fell  from  his  siblings  lips  ,  sports  that  shook  all  of  his  energy  right  out  of  him  .  homemade  dinners  ,  forced  movie  nights  (  though  deep  down  he  always  enjoyed  snuggling  up  to  his  mother  ) ,  tutors  ,  piano  lessons  ,  and  guitar  lessons  .  by  the  time  he  was  eight  ,  he  was  fluent  in  italian  .  played  on  three  different  hockey  teams  .  bickered  with  his  oldest  brother  like  it  was  his  job  (  but  more  so  because  he  wanted  to  do  everything  he  did  and  did  not  like  being  told  no  .  )  spent  hours  in  his  fathers  office  gazing  out  the  windows  ,  eating  greasy  burgers  with  his  father  in  exchange  that  neither  of  them  would  snitch  to  the  others  .  summers  with  his   grandparents  in  italy  .  at  the  age  of  ten  he  was  staring  in  commercials  such  as  toy’s  r  us  and  even  chef  boyardee .  

the  esposito’s  were  being  offered  reality  tv  show’s  ,  the  spot  of  ambassador’s  for  ridiculously   prosperous  brands  .  everything  they  did  ,  it  was  an  article  .   sienna  takes  her  children  out  to  the  park  ,  alessandro  walks  the  family  dog  ,  valentino  scored  final  goal  .  and  then  ,  it  happened  .  headlines  of  ,  valentino  esposito  admitted  to  hospital  due  to  injuries  from  his  mother  .

sienna  ,  she  was  tender  .  angelic.  had  a   smile  that  melted  hearts  .  her  laughter  felt  like  music  to  your  ears  ..  everyone  described  her  as  gentle  ,  a  beautiful  soul .  but  after  her  last  child  ,  she fell  into  such  dark  places  .  so  dark  that  drinking  her  way  out  of  them  seemed  to  be  the  only  way  to  survive  .  to  get  through  it  … but  the  drinking  always  made  her  violent  .  usually  ,  it  was  never  anything  more  then  her  screaming  horrid  words  to  her  children .  usually  she  saved  physical  contact  for  alessandro  .  the  next  morning  ,  she’d  beg  for  forgiveness  .  buy  the   gifts  and  allow  them  to  stay  home  from  school  .  she’d  swear  she’d  never  do  it  again  ,  and  for  weeks  she  wouldnt  .  and  then  ,  like  a  switch   she  would  .

nine  pm  ,  alessandro  headed  to  las  vegas  for  a  business  trip  (  one  that  included  his  mistress  ) ,  his  mom  she  found  the  liquor  cabinet  .   one  drink  turned  to three and  three  turned  to  the  whole  bottle  vanishing  . valentino  remembers  , her  screams  and  his  little  brother  crying  .  he  was  always  protective  ,  and  when  his  oldest  brother  was  not  around  he  always  felt  like  it  was  even  more  of  his  duty  to  watch  out  for  his .  so  that’s  what  he  did  .  his  feet  leading him  down  to  the  kitchen  ..  and  when  his  hues  reached  hers  ,  the  once  angelic  mother  he  knew  ,  he  loved  disappeared  .  she  was  a  monster  in  human  form   .   and  her  hands  had  reached  for  his  brother  and  non  stop  shook  him  as  she  repeated  ,  screamed  how  much  she  never  wanted  them  .  that  she  never  wanted  them  .

valentino  remembers  this  much  ,  fear .  confusion .  the  need  to  free  his  little  brother  .  and  then  he  remembers  covering  his  face  ,  pleading  for  her  to  stop  ,  and  pain .

it  was  his  brother  who  called  the  cops  ,  and  when  he  got  to  the  hospital  he  had  broken  ribs  ,  bruises  that  covered  his  faces  like  it  skin  tone  was  purple  ,  and   a  concussion .

the  months  after  that  ,  consisted  of  legal  actions  .  divorces  .  therapy  .  and  attempting  to  heal  .  something  that  was  deemed  impossible  with  the  media  constantly  throwing  it  back  into  their  faces . pleading  for  their  statements  ,  wanting  to  dig  deeper  .  paparazzi  harassing  not  only  his  family  ,  but  friends  of  his  family  ,  co  workers  ,  teachers  ,  nannies  .  it  got  so  bad  ,  alessandro  took  him  and  his  children  back  to  italy  for  an  entire  year  .  wanting  to  give  them  enough  time  to  adjust  ,  to  heal  ,  all  while  trying  to  heal  on  his  own  .  

❝   ┄  𝓹𝓮𝓻𝓼𝓸𝓷𝓪𝓵𝓲𝓽𝔂 𝓯𝓽. 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓬𝓪𝓷𝓸𝓷𝓼  !

hard  headed  and  words  like  knives  ,  a  burning  fire  lives  within  the  boy  .  one  that  holds  onto  pain  and  anger  ,  their  claws  slashing  violently  into  his  heart  .  after  the  accident  ,  he  was  told  he  had  sad  eyes  .  and  for  a  while  ,  it  was  because  it  was  true  .  sadness  had  intertwined  themselves  within  him  ,  and  when  he  finally  got  tired  of  the  hole  in  his  heart  that  dropped  to  their  needs  pleading  with  anyone  to  help  it  ,  he  pushed  the  sadness   out  and  let  anger  stand  in  it’s  place  .

there’s  sanity  in  the  constancy  his  fist  always  presented  him  ,  in  italy  he  found  himself  in  fights  after  fights  .  twelves  year  old  ,  fighting  his  demons  and  fighting  anyone  who  wronged  him  even  in  the  smallest  of  senses  .  

he’s  like  picking  up  dice  and  praying  you  land  on  a  good  number  ,  you  never  know  what  you’ll  get  ..  will  you  see  the  specks  of  playfulness  and  charm  ?  his  anger  that burns  brighter  then  any  fire ?  the  silent  sadness ?

his  ambition  is  gold  .  he  wants  to  be  something  in  this  world  .  and  his  passion  and  intelligent  helps  keep  him  on  this  path .

being  an  athlete  has  always  come  natural  to  him  ,  he  was  that  kid  who  was  good  at  literally  everything  he  did  ..  and  while  he  doesnt  play  hockey  anymore  ,  or  as  much  as  he  use  to  ,  he  still  gets  himself  up  at  five  am  to  run  .

his  family  is  a  priority  .  the  only  people  who  get  all  of  him  ,  his  sadness  ,  his  softness  ,  his  broken  pieces  ,  his  protectiveness  ,  his  loyalty  ,  his  undying  love .

despite  what  you  may  think  ,  he  has  a  big  heart  .  it  sneaks  to  the  surface  with  small  acts  of  kindness  ..  the  way  his  hand  will  reach  out  to  you  with  intentions  of  affection  before  retreating  .  it’s  in  his  words  of  , ‘ did  you  eat  ? ‘  and  ,  ‘ let  me  walk  ya  home ‘

he  is  a  lover  ,  no  matter  how  hard  he  tries  to  convince  you  his  heart  is  cold  that  will  never  be  the  case  .  ever  .

he’s  a  curious  person ,  and  usually  ends  up  getting  suck  into  people  and  things  despite  his  promises  that  he  wont  .

he  hates  commitment  and  attachment  .. but  can  you  blame  him.

has  this  fear  that  everyone  he  loves  will  somehow  someway  hurt  him .

has  a  bad  habit  of  hurting  those  who  hurt  him .

he’s  unpredictable  ,  stubborn   ,   a  little  sarcastic .

he  can  be  cruel  ,  unemotionally  unavailable  .  it’s  always  easier  to  feel  nothing  then  feel .  (  has  a  constant  fight  with  himself  on  whether  he  should  let  you  in  ,  but  he  will  if  you  are  determined  enough  ..  as  much  as  he  can  )

he’s  super  intelligent  ,  quick  with  numbers  .  his  dad  use  to  tell  him  he   was  going  to  be  a  king ,  at  least  in  the  business  industry  ..  

loves  children  ..  definitely  cannot  wait  to  have  children  of  his  own  some day .

he  still  spends  a  lot  of  his  time  in  italy  ,  usually  with  his  grandparents  or  his  aunt .  he  likes  it  there  ,  likes  being  able  to  breathe  ,  to  walk  down  the  street  without  harassment  .

he  wanted  to  go  into  his  dad’s  business  ,  his  dad  wanted  him  to  come  into  the  business .  but  ,  he  instead  found  his  passion  in  music ?  it  was  not  surprising ,  the  baby  has  always  been talented  ..  it  just  took  him  a  little  longer  to  realize  that  it  was  what  he  wanted  to  do .

has  a  journal  he  carries  with  him  almost  every  where  ,  he  remembers  in  the  seventh  grade  someone  teased  him  about  it  being  a  diary  .  he  also   got  suspended  that  day  . it’s  his  song  book  ,  the  only  way  to  really  know  him .

he  learned  fast  that   ,  he  never  wanted  to  inflict  harm  onto  anyone  else  like  his  mom  did  ..  and  at  twenty  four  is  not  a  violent  guy  .  he  acts  out  of  self  defense  but  will  never  put  his  hands  on  you  first  .

on  that  note  ,  do  not  put  your  hands  on  him  .  he  does  not  like  to  be  handled  ,  slapped  , shoved  .  he  does  not  like  being  grabbed  ,  dont  even  poke  him  aggressively  .  

he  flinches  ,  if  you  move  too  fast  near  him  . if  you  move  your  hands  when  yelling  at  him .

he  had  night  terrors  for  years  .  therapy  helped  him  with  it  ..  but  sometimes  they  make  a  recurrence  .  more  so  if  he’s  really  stressed  or  anxious .

is  such  a  boy  when it  comes  to  cars  .  love  speeding  ,  showing  off  ,  making  you  hold  on  for  your  dear  life .

he  does  not  like  drunk  people  ,  is  not  the  guy  that  will  normally  take  care  of  you  unless  you’re  his  siblings  ,  or  a  very  close  friends  .  does  not  really  drink  himself  .  has   a  drink  here  and  there  ,  but  has  never  gotten  drunk  … he  could  truly  go  the  rest  of   his  life  without  ever  drinking  again .

he  is  a  smoker  ,  smokes  a  blunt  every  night  before  bed  .

he   is  signed  with  a  record  label  ,  and  has  released  two  albums  !  also  he  went  on  two  tours !  music  is  something  he  truly  enjoys  .  it  makes  him  feel  all  light  and  happy ?  like  he’s  his  old  self  again .  voice  wise  ,  think  justin  bieber   but  singing  post  malone  songs  ..

he’s  doing  a  little  soul  searching  ,  soaking  up  life  ..   as  much  as  he  can  .  trying  to  remind  himself  of  all  the  reasons  it  feels  soo  good  to  be  here  ,  right  now  ,  living  and  breathing.

❝   ┄  𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓷𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷𝓼  !

asdfg okay  ,  i  wanted  to  write  out  super  long  and  detailed  connections  but  im  already  annoyed  with  myself  and  cannot  even  imagine  how  yous  will  feel  having  to  read  this  mess !  so  i  want  a  bromance  ,  something  cute  and  simple  .  they’re  there  for  him  non  stop  ,  he  considers  them  family  ,  would  do  anything  for  them  ,  they  bring  out  old  valentino  who  just  wants  to  have  fun  and  act  like  a  fool !  a  childhood  friend  ,  someone  who  knows  everything  about  the  accident  he  doesn’t  speak  to  anymore  to  avoid  the  memories .  some  party  friends  and  bad  influences  .  hookups  !!!  a  sibling  like  friendship  ,  someone  who  reminds  him  of  his  younger  brother  or  sister  .  an  messy  ex  of  some  sort  .  one  sided  relationships !!  one  sided  friendships  !!  that  one  person  who’s  soooo  determined  to  break  down  his  walls .

[carmenlire]

Roses on the Floor

Happy Valentine’s Day! Warning for MCD

read on ao3

The sun streams through his sheer curtains, reflects off gold sheets that smell like sandalwood, even after all this time.

Magnus stretches a little in bed, waking up more than a little bit groggy. He’d had a warlock seminar of sorts in Athens yesterday and had stumbled into the loft just shy of midnight after dawdling in a little tavernas far longer than he should have. New York in the middle of February was bitterly cold, though, and Magnus can’t blame himself too much for wanting to soak up the Mediterranean warmth as long as he could.

Still, he has plans today and he’s hasn’t missed celebrating this particular holiday in almost a century.

Climbing out of bed, Magnus reaches for the red silk robe that had been a particularly successful gift to Alec within the first few years of the relationship. While Magnus owned dozen robes in jewelled tones, the bold red of this particular garment with the black lace trim had been an immediate and fervent hit with his boyfriend.

Tightening the belt around his waist, Magnus cracks his neck, sighing at the pop of pressure as he makes his way to the kitchen.

Brewing a cup of coffee strong enough to kill a man, Magnus thinks through his plans for the day. He needs to pick up some flowers from the corner florist and Raphael had insisted that the wards at the Dumort needed revamped-- refusing to take into consideration Magnus’s set-in-stone plans.

Thankfully, they didn’t really start until tonight. This evening, he’d make dinner-- one of Alec’s favorites-- and as always, end the day with a bottle of his favorite rosé.

He lingers over his coffee, inhaling deeply. Magnus can never quite drink coffee without thinking of his husband. Lattes, double shots, frappuccinos-- Alec would drink anything as long as it had enough caffeine to fell an elephant.

Watching the sun rise in the beautiful blue sky-- the perfect veneer to hide the single digit wind chill-- Magnus sighs a little as he finishes his mug.

The next hour is spent getting ready for the day, the most auspicious of occasions. Valentine’s Day was sacred to him and Alec, much to Magnus’s eternal bemusement.

Their very first Valentine’s Day, Magnus had portaled home from a particularly chatty client only to find his loft in shambles. Something was burning in the kitchen, the vase of two dozen roses was spilled across his coffee table-- water soaking through the rug underneath-- and Alec was a harried wreck of a man scowling down at a wad of wrapping paper that ostensibly held a gift.

Magnus had been prepared to pretend that the day was nothing out of the ordinary. He was old enough for the date not to be particularly important to him, especially since Alec regularly surprised him with romantic gestures befitting the holiday.

Alec had looked up as he’d stepped through the portal, those brown eyes widening before closing in defeat.

I tried, he said miserably and glared halfheartedly at his attempts to woo Magnus.

Charmed beyond belief, Magnus had stepped closer, smoothing away the wrinkle that rested between Alec’s brows. It was the work of a moment to clear the kitchen and set the flowers to rights. Framing Alec’s face, Magnus had swept his thumb’s across his boyfriend’s cheeks and murmured something about going out for dinner.

With a narrow-eyed glance like he was trying to peer into Magnus’s soul, Alec had acquiesced. Magnus had portaled them to the long anticipated Marrakech where they’d enjoyed a warm summer night and eaten the best lamb kabobs the world over. They hadn’t arrived back in New York until almost dawn, wherein Alec had hesitantly handed Magnus the ball of mangled wrapping paper in dazzling shades of pink and red.

Magnus had accepted the gift and vowed to knock Alec’s socks off next year, even if he had to spend the next twelve months planning something grand enough to give the shadowhunter in front of him even an inkling of just how much he meant to Magnus.

The gift had been something small-- as all of Alec’s gifts tended to be-- but packed enough of a punch that Magnus felt his chest shudder under the onslaught.

It was a small painting, no bigger than a standard piece of paper. It bloomed across the canvas in a riot of color and Magnus knew what it was the moment he’d uncovered the gift wrap.

Alec had been staring at him with an eagle gaze, furiously taking in his shifting expressions. He’d wetted his lips and cleared his throat before offering in a tentative voice, You told me that you always wished to return to Jakarta but you could never quite bring yourself to do it. I know it’s not much, but Catarina accompanied me to the city and there was a street vendor there selling paintings he did himself. This is a picture of--

Looking up, Magnus had cut Alec off. My darling, he’d whispered. This is the beach within walking distance of the house I was born in. How did you know?

Alec had clearly been startled before he’d shrugged helplessly. I just liked the way it looked. I guess I was drawn to it.

That painting still hung in Magnus’s private study. No one had ever been allowed in that room except for Ragnor once upon a time and Catarina and Raphael and, of course, Alec.

Thinking about that first Valentine’s Day still fills Magnus was so much love he thinks he’ll drown for it. It had been the start of a long tradition-- at this point, one of the longest Magnus has ever practiced.

He doesn’t have date plans until tonight, but Magnus dresses to impress on his errands. He takes special care with his makeup and chooses an outfit that Alec had literally drooled over, no matter how much he protested that fact.

The corner florist has been in business for over 150 years and thanks in large part to his loyal patronage, no one had ever questioned him too closely about his eternal youth.

He talks to the great grandson of the original owner for a few minutes and chooses two arrangements-- the standard two dozen red roses that have graced his living room every February for eighty years, and another arrangement of sunflowers, their faces open and cheerful.

Alec always picked sunflowers for himself.

By the time he’s checked out at La Belle Fleur, it’s early afternoon and Magnus heads toward the Dumort. He’s barely made it through the back door when Raphael steps through the open doorway. Magnus stares at him bemused.

“Trying to scare me? You should know by now that I’m immune to your vampiric silence.”

Raphael just looks at him for a long moment before turning on his heel and leading the way to his office. There’s no one else around-- most of the vampires either sleeping or staying somewhere else for a few days-- and Magnus has barely settled into the deep leather chair before the fire when he’s handed a glass of whiskey.

Accepting the proffered drink, he takes a sip while considering Raphael over the top of the glass. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Scowling, Raphael takes his own glass to the other chair and stares into the burnished flames of the fire. His smile is barely there but Magnus can see the faint way his mouth turns up in sentiment that one of his oldest friends would deny with all the breath he doesn’t have.

“Someone told me once that it was rude to ask someone to do a job without offering refreshments and pleasantries when they arrived.”

“Now, I wonder who could have drummed some manners into your infuriatingly thick skull?”

It’s quiet for awhile after that, both men content to enjoy each other’s company in silence. New York has burrowed its way into his heart just as sure as his husband had all those years ago and there’s just something about enjoying a glass of whiskey before a fire as the city drones on outside that makes his heart clench. He may travel more than ever now but this is what his home’s become, this is his safe haven in his tumultuous, never-ending life-- New York City with those he loves and those he knows best.

He’s just set to drain the last of his liquor and stand when Raphael’s voice breaks the spell that seems to have settled over them.

“How are you doing, Magnus?”

Throwing him a wry glance, Magnus replies, “I’m doing fine, Raphael. More than fine, really. I’ve got dinner plans-- as you know-- and a bottle of rosé calling my name. All around, it’s shaping up to be a Valentine’s Day like any other.”

Carefully, Raphael turns the glass in his hand and Magnus watches as light reflects through the cut crystal, turning the amber liquid molten.

“Why don’t you have dinner with me tonight? I’ll even let you pick.”

Sighing, Magnus sends Raphael a chastising look. “You know my plans are set in stone, mi pequeño vampiro. Nothing stands in the way of my Valentine’s Day plans.”

Magnus decidedly does not see that way Raphael grits his teeth gently. “How much longer are you going to do this, Magnus?”

“I don’t know what you mean, Raphael.”

“Your holiday plans. You romantic dinner. The whole downworld knows that you’re incommunicado today, that you have been since 2016 no matter that--”

“Don’t.”

Magnus’s voice cuts coldly through the room and not even Raphael is bold enough to contradict the order.

It’s tense for a minute before Magnus releases the tension in his shoulders in a slow wave. “I love my husband, Raph, and this has always been a day to celebrate that. That will never change.”

“I just worry about you,” Raphael admits lowly. He drains the rest of his glass in an efficient swallow that Magnus taught him ages and ages ago.

Magnus smiles but it’s a maelstrom display. He watches the fire with unseeing eyes. “I told Alec once, very early in our acquaintance, that he’d unlocked something in me. I thought for decades that Camille had ruined me, that she’d ground my heart to dust under the heel of her Louboutins. I was surprised to realize that she hadn’t, that I was still capable of love, after all.”

Looking up, Magnus meets Raphael’s pensive gaze. “I love Alec just as much now as I did then. More, I’d say. As long as that’s true, you have nothing to worry about, my dear.”

Standing, Magnus sets his glass down on the table with a dull thud. “Now,” he says briskly. “I believe I have wards to update?”

Magnus walks into his loft and releases a deep sigh. He’d only been at the Dumort for a couple of hours but he was anxious to return back to his apartment. It’s late afternoon, the sun just starting to set and Magnus decides to put off preparations for dinner for just a little while.

Heading over to his drink cart, Magnus opens the bottle of Rosé and lets it breathe for a few minutes as makes a detour, going to his study to grab a book from one of his shelves.

Returning to the living room, Magnus pours a glass of wine and settles into the corner of the couch. Crossing his legs, he sets the photo album on the seat next to him and flips through the pages slowly. He only gives himself the opportunity to be unforgivably nostalgic on a handful of days and Valentine’s Day is most certainly one of them. Alec had walked in on him more than once when he was enjoying a glass of whatever suited his mood while he took a trip down memory lane.

He trails a finger along his own laughing face when he gets to a picture a kind passerby had taken of him with Alec in Paris, laughs himself when he sees another photo where Alec had kissed him on the cheek, surprising him.

The wedding page-- just a page of duplicates while he has an album dedicated entirely to the grandest event in his very long life shelved in the study-- still makes his heart hurt in the best damned way when he turns to it, still makes the breath wrench in his chest.

With a sigh, he spends an hour on the photo album. Twilight gloom hangs heavy in the room when he flips the back cover over and takes a long, shuddering breath. His glass is long since empty and he smooths a hand over the photo album, a long leisurely sweep as he stands.

A few moments later, he’s flipping the kitchen lights on and as he takes a bracing sip of his second glass of wine, Magnus starts dinner.

Valentine’s Day planning alternated and while there had been plenty of dates in foreign locales, or even just out in the city, Magnus’s favorite dates were always those when it was just the two of them enjoying each other’s company in the warmth of the loft. All of the best things had happened here, after all, and Alec was never more romantic than when he didn’t have to worry about anyone but his husband witnessing his attempts.

He’d decided last week to make Alec’s favorite meal and as he takes the ground beef out, Magnus huffs out a laugh. His husband could certainly appreciate a culinary marvel of a meal but he always preferred his blasted bacon cheeseburgers with extra crispy fries.

Magnus makes two and plates them up. He spends the few minutes waiting for the food to cool by setting the table-- a deep red tablecloth and tall candles that don’t illuminate much but light on the gleam of his glass.

It gives everything a rosy glow that makes Magnus overwhelmingly fond.

He sets the arrangement of roses in the middle of the table, fussing for a quick second over the blooms.

Finally, it’s time to eat and Magnus grabs the plates and sets them down in their places. He stands over the table for a long moment and time seems to still. He half expects Alec to come crashing through the door, apologies spilling from his mouth as he rambles on about a demon infestation or how much of an idiotic inconvenience his parabatai is or whatever it was that had kept him from arriving to date night on time.

Magnus imagines walking over to Alec and grabbing his arms, pulling his husband down for a sound kiss. He’d forgive with a wave of his hand a smile that warmed his eyes. Alec would be especially effusive in his praise of dinner and Magnus’s outfit and Magnus would drolly wonder if he’d receive such compliments if he’d chosen a pack of milk duds and a burlap sack.

His throat closes and the breath stops in his chest and Magnus closes his eyes against the wave of grief that all but swallows him. He works on his breathing for longer than he’d ever admit and when he opens his eyes again, he smiles.

It’s bright and real and wondering.

Settling down in a chair, Magnus enjoys his dinner. He only permits himself to talk to Alec aloud a few times a year-- Valentine’s Day, their anniversary, Alec’s birthday.

So, he talks.

He tells Alec about his day and how the seminar was last night and what his travel plans are for the summer. He talks about the movie he just saw and how Madzie is coming into her own in the warlock community and about Raphael’s gentle but sincere concern.

He finishes his burger and pours a third and fourth and fifth glass of wine. He takes an interlude and stands from the table, plating the leftovers in Tupperware that had been a housewarming gift from Simon when Magnus had first invited Alec to move in.

Cleaning the kitchen with a wave of his hand, Magnus grabs his glass of wine from the table and the bottle as well and goes out to the balcony.

He magically regulates the temperature out here but it’s still a little chilly and the cold seeps into his bones.

He walks over to the edge of the balcony and stares out over New York. The city is as busy as ever and he takes a deep drink of wine before his gaze falls down to the hand that lays over the brick wall.

Twisting the wedding ring that’s adorned his finger for almost a century, Magnus thinks about the long road that’s led to this moment.

He’d still do it all again. He would still make that horrendous pun and he would still crash a wedding in a move that would have gotten him executed a century earlier and he still would have given his heart to his stupid, stubborn, amazing, perfect shadowhunter.

Really, he thinks he’d never had a choice and he wouldn’t want one, not when it got him a lifetime of love that still has the power to warm him on the coldest nights.

“I love you, my darling.”

Magnus voice is quiet, somber. He smiles and it’s sad but it also takes a weight off his shoulders that he carries every day.

It’s quiet on the patio. The sound of cars is distant, the noise of the city a lifetime away. Magnus thinks about the past ten years and how difficult that first year was, after Alec’s death. He thinks about the second and third and fourth year and how he'd woken up feeling like his chest was collapsing.

He thinks about this tenth year and bites his lip viciously to keep the tears at bay.

Alec would hate to know that he could make Magnus cry even after he’s been gone so long.

It feels like the blink of an eye to Magnus, though. It feels like just yesterday he was wrapping Alec in quilts and reading the menu to him.

It’s been a decade. Magnus knows that he will love Alec until the end of his life, whenever that day is destined to come. Alec unlocked something in him and Magnus never fears about turning cold, not when he has a million and one memories of Alexander to keep him from freezing.

Magnus stays out on the balcony until nearly midnight. He finishes the first bottle and then a second. He remembers Alec and the dozens of holidays they planned, each one special and everything that Magnus could have asked for because they spent the day together, celebrating their love.

The clock is just about to strike midnight when Magnus closes his eyes. His voice is soft, barely above a whisper, as he says, “Happy Valentine’s Day, Alexander.”

It’s impossible and Magnus will never tell anyone but he knows that he feels a whisper of wind over his cheek at the words.

The patio is temperature controlled, after all, and the warm breeze can only have one source.

That’s what Magnus tells himself, anyway, and it makes the back of his throat ache even as it eases something in him.

Alec is always with him and Magnus wouldn’t have it any other way.

[artificialqueens]

Playing with Fire Chapter 4 {biadore} - imafuckinglibra

Hi, hello, how are you? So I’ve been mia af lately (puberty, work, drag & engagement sorry) but I have been sitting on this boy for a while and he ready to be birthed to the world yay (gross I’ll see myself out). No smut this time sorry k bye

“Danny, no!”

Roy’s words rang in his ears a nanosecond too late just as Jason’s fist collided with Danny’s cheek and he hit the pavement with a loud thud.

What felt like the exact instant after Danny’s boney fist hit his jaw Jason had swung back at him. Probably a natural reaction but definitely not what he had expected.

When he hit the ground he looked up in disbelief at Jason, he’d heard of a jaw of steel but this was insane. It was like his flesh was literally steel. Cold and hard.

Hard enough to break his knuckle that the bone stuck out through the reddened damaged skin.

“He can change the structure of his skin you idiot!” Roy yelled at him before turning his attention back to Jason who already had his hands up, claiming it was self defense. “But he still has a squishy inside. Like the cockroach he is.”

Roy held his hand up and Danny could tell Jason was growing even more petrified than he had been a minute ago.

He looked unsure between Roy and Jason unsure of what Roy could possibly do that would scare him so much.

Until he began closing his fist.

The tighter Roy’s fist closed the redder Jason’s face grew, pure panic and fear spread across his face as the veins in his neck bulged out from his shirt’s collar.

“Get away from him you freak!” The man that was with Jason finally acknowledged what was happening as he began running towards Roy.

“Bug.” Roy snarled disgusted up at him and pushed away with a mere flick of his fingers like he was an ant on his plate.

“Stop. Please.” Jason begged out of breath with bloodshot eyes.

‘But he did almost kill Jason. Basically boiled his pretty little blonde brain to shit.’ Aaron’s warning from weeks before rang in the back of Danny’s mind as he watched with wide eyes at what was happening to Jason.

Of course. Roy controlled elements. Wind and earth…fire and water.

He was literally boiling all the liquid in Jason’s body, boiling him alive from the inside out. And Danny could feel it.

He could feel Jason’s terror and anguish as if it was affecting him too but even more he could feel Roy’s potential and energy burning so excruciatingly warm it was even hurting him.

It was hurting Roy to keep doing this, just because he punched Danny. This was his fault. Roy was in pain because of him and his stupidity.

“Roy. It’s okay, stop.” Danny pleaded walking up behind him to hug him. Trying to take some of that heat he was exuding off his shoulders and absorb it into him.

Just like Roy had taught him how to control fire, he couldn’t make any yet but he could pull it off his lighter or cigarette like Roy had done the first night they met.

Maybe, just maybe he could do the same with Roy. Remove some of his pain and fire off him.

“I’m sorry, you shouldn’t have seen that.” Roy relaxed his fist and turned around to hold onto Danny. “You okay?”

“My hand hurts a little, and my cheek.” Danny winced when Roy took his hand in his.

He examined the damaged skin for a minute while Jason and his bug made an escape, smart choice Danny thought.

“Here.” Roy began focusing intently as he placed his other hand’s palm over the broken knuckle.

“It’s cold?” Danny asked in disbelief.

He was so use to Roy always being warm and toasty he never expected to feel his skin this cold, it felt like ice. Like he had completely frozen his hand.

“What?” Roy smiled. “You think I can make things hot but not cold? C’mon queen have a little faith.”

“Are you okay?” Danny didn’t take his bait at trying to lighten the mood. He was too concerned with what he had just watched Roy do, too concerned with the fear he had in his eyes.

“Yeah, just needed to blow off some steam I guess. Who better than your ex right?” Roy kept Danny’s hand in his palm as he threw the other around his shoulders, pulling him in for a much needed embrace.

“Was that the same guy he…”

“No.” Roy sighed. “New one.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah you better be.” Roy scolded. “You fucking idiot you don’t just go punching anyone you feel like just because you can.”

“I know.” Danny admitted softly dropping his head. Before he could ask or say any more Roy’s arms around him grew weak, limp. “Roy?”

“I’m good.” He protested trying to shake off any discomfort he was feeling. “I’m good I promise.”

“You look like all hell?” He asked growing more concerned when he saw Roy turn unnaturally pale.

“Hm-mh, fine. You’re good right?” Roy asked brushing his shakey fingers over Danny’s cheek.

His skin was warm, abnormally warm, burning almost. Danny even swore he could see the sweat on his furrowed brow evaporate as new drops poured out and disappeared.

“Stop looking so worried.” Roy shook his head before the rest of his body grew limp as well and he collapsed to the ground, his hands breaking his fall just in time as his body convulsed.

Every single thing he ate, drank and even some blood hitting the pavement in a horrific black splatter before he lost any stability he had left and he caved over.

“Roy!” Danny screamed falling to his knees besides him.

Unsure of what to do with his mind a complete bundled blank mess Danny reacted on pure instinct and called the one person he thought would know what to do best.

-

“I’m sorry I didn’t…” Danny’s snapped when the door to Roy’s apartment flung open but Shane threw his arms around him, gently shushing him before his rant could even begin.

“It’s okay, you did the right thing. A hospital would’ve turned you away, you did good, baby.” Shane continued reassuring him he made the right choice while he ran his hand along Danny’s spine to calm him down.

“He’ll kill you if he sees you smoking in here.” Willam who had followed Shane into the apartment along with Justin commented from behind them.

“No he, he let’s me smoke anywhere in the house except the work room.” Danny explained as he shakily brought the 3rd consecutive cigarette of the last 15 minutes up to his lips for another drag.

“I called Jerick, they’ll be here soon so don’t worry we’ll get this sorted.” Shane cupped his small face to examine the damage to his cheekbone. “Are you okay though? You hurt?”

“Why do you always call them? I can do it too you know!” Justin angrily grumbled before Danny could answer, taking a cigarette out his pocket and walking past all of them towards the balcony.

“Because you’d probably turn him into a frog or some creepy voodoo thing.” Willam defended Shane’s decision in his usual joking way as he followed Justin out.

“He does the same dark magic as Aaron but does dabble in light magic as well. Always tries to one up Jerick so, yeah.” Shane explained when he saw Danny’s confusion. “He’s just being a moody baby.”

“Didn’t know you guys were so close.” Danny commented before he realized this would probably be one of those times when Roy would tell him he’s overstepping.

“It’s complicated.” Shane admitted tilting his head to get a better view of the other two men embracing one another.

“Oh…” the lightbulb in Danny’s head went off. “When you said you’re seeing 2 different guys I thought you meant like…not this.”

“It’s an open relationship type thing, we realized we’re a great team together and decided to give this a try. See what happens, no strings attached.”

“Someone end up connecting those strings?” Danny asked seeing the twinkle in Shane’s eye when he looked at his loves.

He knew Justin more as Alaska, his drag persona, but that was just because they had done one or two shows together and Shane had talked about him here and there but he’d never have imagined they were together.

Especially not in this way.

“Everyone connected those strings.” Shane laughed, he didn’t say it in a way that made Danny get the impression he was unhappy with the situation. Quite the opposite actually.

“Jerick’s here.”

“What? How’d you know?” Shane turned his attention back to Danny just as the doorbell rang.

“I can feel it.” He shrugged.

“Impressive, Noriega, impressive.” Shane nodded before he showed the ginger in.

As if the everything wasn’t already tense enough the minute the Seattle native walked into the small LA home the atmosphere grew thick with distain. Clearly there was some bad blood between Justin and them but Danny couldn’t figure out what.

He had never heard Jerick speak a bad word about anyone and they obviously didn’t feel any particular way about him seeing as they asked Justin to come help.

However instead of helping like the dark haired beanpole made it evident he had intended to he just rolled his eyes at him and turned his back towards them.

“Babe.” Shane pleaded looking towards Willam to give him a ‘help me out’ look. “It’s for Roy, not for Jinkx.”

“Fine.” Justin caved, cleared unhappy about his decision but when he walked back in past them Shane pulled him in close for a thank you kiss.

Their lips lingering longer than Danny had expected making him feel uncomfortably out of place, enough so that he had to awkwardly turn away.

Jerick did however pop out from behind the bedroom door for a second just to ask Danny if he wanted to help or wait outside.

Fueling is downwards nervous wreck spiraling again so clearly he chose the latter. Making a quick beeline for the outdoor sitting area where he could light another cigarette.

He knew there was nothing he could do to help besides be there for Roy but he didn’t know how. The ride over was already nerve wracking enough.

He had slumped Roy into the back seat after he couldn’t get him to wake up for more than a few seconds at a time and every time he did Roy’s skin would flare up and he’d scream in unbearable pain and pass out again.

A blood curdling scream that rang too loudly once more in his ears right after the door closed behind Justin and Jerick. This time not just for a second but for what felt like an eternity.

His agony radiating through Danny’s body so violently he had to throw his palms over his ears to drown him out and without knowing it scream along.

“I know I give him a hard time but he knows his shits so hey, it’ll be okay” Willam came up from behind him holding his palms over Danny’s for a minute or two longer so he wouldn’t have to hear what was happening. “It’s over, you can stop screaming like a bottom bitch now.”

“I didn’t re…I didn’t know I was…um. Does that make you jealous?” Danny asked taking another cigarette out from the carton next to him when he realized he’d dropped his probably at the same time as his screaming.

He knew the question was intrusive but he had to distract himself and try not to not think of what was happening in the room next to them, a room he was merely separated by a sheet of glass from him.

The same window he sat by and looked out of the first night he spent at Roy’s. The same window that let the bright yellow rays of sun through the curtains every morning wake up their huddled together bodies.

“Nope.” Willam pouted his lips to one side holding his hand out behind him for Shane walking up to them so he could wrap his arm around his shoulders and pull him in for a kiss with the other. “Because I can do this.”

“You taste like his cigarettes.” Shane moaned smiling into his lips.

“You too.” Willam pulled away from their kissing to plop himself down on the neatly decorated outdoor loveseat.

“Sorry.” Shane apologized when he noticed Danny awkwardly turn away from them again. It being the 2nd time in the last 5 minutes telling him loud and clear that he didn’t approve. “We should probably explain.”

“It’s not that.” Danny corrected him. “I just, I…yeah.”

“You want to be kissing grandpa instead of watching us.” Willam jumped in. “I’d be the same.”

“How do you not get jealous? Like someone just looks at Roy and I want to fucking stab them.” He spoke as brutally honest as he wanted fueled by exhaustion and residual anger from seeing Jason.

“Sometimes we do.” Shane admitted taking Willam’s hand. “But it’s not like any of us were together first so nobody feels like this person owns that person or that person owns this person.”

“I’m sorry.” Danny dropped his head feeling embarrassed for snapping at his friends when they seemed so genuinely happy even if it wasn’t exactly conventional.

“I know you meant it out of curiosity not maliciousness.” Shane reached a hand out to pull on his fingers and show him it was okay to ask. “Will, Justin and I just work really well together. Professionally and romantically.”

“Speaking of, why does Justin hate Jerick?” Danny asked, again avoiding a topic he knew would only bring him down.

“Jerick asked if they can join our game. The drag one.” Shane began. “Justin and Detox thought it would be funny to embarrass them if they got a low tally at the end of the year so they said yes.”

“Turns out Jinkxy, who they thought was just some weirdo from Seattle, had a shit ton more in her than they expected and she won that year.” Willam continued as Danny felt himself beginning to unusually quickly calm down from his frenzy.

In all honesty he also began feeling stupid for not picking up on their connection earlier, for not clicking just how easily they seemed to flow and work even when they had a missing third.

“Yeah. And Justin had already been part of our little game for all 5 years it had been going on, Detox for 3, so when someone won who joined 4 months late to the game Justin threw a massive tantrum.” Shane added the last bit almost hesitantly as if he felt like he was betraying his love. “He’s a lot more sensitive than he leads on and sometimes it gets the better of him but he’s a good kid, just doesn’t know how to let go of a grudge.”

“Kid?” Willam snorted.

“You know what I mean.”

“How many years has Roy entered?” Danny broke up their playful bickering.

“The year he won was his first.” Shane did some math in his head before turning to Willam to double check. “We had all been friends with him already but he thought it was stupid till Sharon coaxed him to join.”

“Won and then called it quits. Said he didn’t want to bother to keep track.” As Willam was talking his fingers were dancing in spirals all around Shane’s naked thigh draped over his lap. The shorts he was wearing rising up high enough that Danny could see some fresh bruising on his ass making him blush.

“Honestly think he just stopped caring, he stopped caring about a lot of things around that time.”

“Not caring is the worst there is.” Willam melancholically added ceasing his fingers’ twirling to hold Shane’s hand, clearly a topic that hit too close to home.

“Claimed life’s too full of bullshit already.”

“That’s why he’s that bitter.” Willam said in a tone almost as if he was scolding Shane for letting him get that way.

“He’s always been that way.” Shane defended himself while Danny remained silent, unsure of when to jump in. “Even in high school he said people were too busy with being fake and saying ‘oh I love you, I love you’ that he’d rather say ‘I love you, but you look fucking retarted.’” Shane began laughing.

“You changed him though I think.” Justin added catching him off guard when they didn’t realize he’d been standing in the doorway with Jerick. Both looking absolutely spent.

“I did?” Danny asked surprised.

“You’re the only person who embraces his doucheness.” Shane laughed while Justin came to stand beside where they were sitting, his hand on Shane’s shoulder completing the line up. “And the only one who claps back.”

“Think he likes that, having someone to spar with, someone to take care off.” Jerick smiled making Danny feel more at ease too.

Something about their energy just seemed to bring peace to him, at first he thought it was just because they were always understanding and nice to him but when he recognized a gnawing at the base of his skull he realized it was his powers.

Would make sense, if dark magic could make you feel fear why wouldn’t light magic make you feel at ease with the same simple mind trick?

He never realized just how little he knew about magic till he met Roy’s friends, they somehow managed to always keep him on his toes and teach him something new even when they hadn’t intended to.

“Plus apparently you give great head, girl.” Justin couldn’t resist throwing into the conversation earning him a playful ‘no’ slap from Shane. “And all that ass.”

“He has always liked that big bootied young type.” Willam laughed with Justin in his pig grunting fashion.

“Who doesn’t.” Jerick cheered along.

In all honesty Danny had been so caught up on watching the dynamic between the strange threeway he’d forgotten Jerick was there too.

“Before you ask he’s okay.” The ginger read his mind. “He was just overworked basically, put too much into everything all at once and it was just a lot for his body. He dropped and raised his body temperature too much in succession that he nearly fried his brains too.”

“He’s okay.” Danny wiped his eyes sighing a deep sigh of relief for the first time all night before Jerick walked over to him to give him a well deserved hug.

“Please take care of yourself, never do that.” They held onto the back of Danny’s head showing just how truly scared they’d been behind the confident facade.

“I won’t.” Danny pulled his arms in tighter to hold onto Jerick for far too much needed comfort. “Thank you.”

“Justin helped a lot too so thank him as well.” Jerick smiled swaying Danny side to side before they pulled back to look into his eyes, making a silent pack with him.

“Thanks Lasky.” Danny released him so he can pull Justin up to hug him tightly as well, clocking the proud smiles from his partners next to them.

“I should get going I have a…thing.” Jerick tried explaining as delicately yet awkwardly as possible.

The knowing grin Willam gave them giving away that everyone knew exactly what they were talking about so the ginger made a quick escape before the teasing could begin.

The 3 other men also tried to see themselves out for the night but Danny managed to convince them to stay just in case he needed them later if something happened.

In reality he didn’t want to be alone, and even though Roy was with him in the apartment without getting to hear his voice he felt lonely. Empty almost. Like something in his life was just missing.

He helped Willam get their bed for the night ready in the living room by dragging 3 of the ottomans together next to the corner couch to form one big couch while Justin and Shane were still outside.

Danny’s heart growing full at the sight of Shane so happily cuddled up to Justin while he smoked and especially when the bright smile spread across his sleepy face when Willam joined them.

Pulling their chins up with his fingertips to give each a kiss, a cue for Danny that it was time to leave them and return to his own love.

He closed the door behind him as quietly as possible to avoid disturbing the peacefully sleeping Roy, his fingertips holding onto the door a bit longer as he listened to the loving goodnights echoing from the living room.

A small act of affection he missed now that Roy was already alseep.

According to Jerick his temperature was back to normal again but as he stopped to run his finger softly over his forehead he felt how eerily cold his skin had gotten.

Danny took the minute or two longer than usual while he was getting undressed to watch Roy’s slow breathing.

He always looked so calm, so at peace when he was sleeping that Danny loved to watching him drift off, he could sit and simply watch Roy sleep for hours. Especially right before his eyes shut, right when those tightly furrowed brows would uncurl from the day’s stresses leaving him.

Climbing in under the covers next to him he focused his energy on warming his body temperature just a degree or two like Roy always would for him.

Taking the bundled up man into his arms so he’d instinctively curl into his embrace as he had done many a night before.

“Thanks for being my asshole.” Danny kissed his forehead, nuzzling his head into the unconscious man’s shoulder blade so they’d be as connected as possible, allowing his body to heat up before he drifted off as well. “I love you.”

“Love you too…”

-

The next morning the permanently set alarm at 5am went off signaling the start of Roy’s day. Despite his struggles from the previous night the stubborn set in his ways queen decided to shrug it off and go about his day as usual.

Danny however he left in bed seeing as even deep in slumber he looked like shit, his eyes red and puffed up like he’d been crying for far too long.

‘Probably over me.’ Roy deducted wiping a strand of hair from his forehead so he could admire his soft features in the dawn light.

“Explains the shitty hangover.” Roy grumbled leaning against the wall when he spotted Willam and Justin spooning on the make shift bed while Shane made coffee.

“Don’t be a bitch he did a good job.” Willam defended his love pulling Justin in closer.

“He sure as hell didn’t do it alone. Who do I need to, thanks, send a gift basket to?” Roy took the cup of coffee Shane handed him examining the freshly scarred bits of flesh on his palms.

“Jerick.” Willam yawned while Shane tried kicking him more awake so him and Justin would take their cups too. “Take some of the yellow pills in my baggy for Danny. It’s by the counter.”

“Y’all do the old switcharoo?” Roy nodded at Justin taking a deep sip of his coffee to prepare himself for waking Danny up.

“We tried but he kept rejecting us.”

“I don’t even think he knew he was rejecting you, he’s got some weird shit going on.” Willam shuddered.

“What do you mean?” Roy stood a little more perked frowning deeply.

To reject someone willingly was easy, if you knew who it was crawling around, knew they’re pattern and of course if you were powerful enough you could simply flick them away.

Rejecting someone unknowingly though. You’d have to go in blind, like you were lost in a pitch black mine field with lead shoes. One wrong flick and you’d end up blowing yourself up too.

“I don’t think he.” Shane stopped to take another sip from his tea and think his words through. “He seems to be able to see and feel things we can’t. Yesterday he knew Jerrick was outside before you could even hear their footsteps.”

“He does that.” Roy nodded thinking on how it related back to what he told him about feeling energy.

“And he was screaming last night. But it wasn’t like he was the one screaming.” Willam seemed more confused than any of them even though he seemingly knew the most. “I think he was unknowingly rejecting you guys because he had taken over your energy. Think you were the one screaming through him while he rejected Jerrick and Justin so they’re energy would be focused on you.”

“He moved energy.” Justin’s lightbulb went off and instantly like startled meerkats they all looked at each other.

“That could be dangerous.”

“And painful.”

“I’ll be gentle.” Roy held his hands up as a silent of way telling Willam to shut the fuck up. “But listen, I appreciate it fag, really. You did a good job I barely feel anything.”

A lie but he was willing to make an exception to his general rules.

He continued proudly praising Justin’s handiwork as he ran his hands through his hair to think things through. He knew Jerick was always careful, using his abilities just enough that he could repair what was needed without leaving a trace of interference.

Justin however was still getting the hang of using light magic rather than dark and often left behind some residual damage, hence the hungover aching in his skull and bones.

“Our little one’s growing stronger isn’t he?” Shane proudly nodded in the direction of the closed bedroom door now that the initial shock had sunk it. “It takes a lot of determination to take on your feelings and push back two other’s abilities.”

“It does, I’m worried that if I wake him he’ll be feeling a fuck ton of leftovers.”

“I’ll try and dampen what I can.” Justin offered up, probably feeling guilty.

Apart from restoring Roy’s abilities back to normal where his body could process and regulate them as needed they also had to go back in and fix up his body.

All while the back of Jerick’s mind worked on keeping Danny’s emotions under wraps and Justin then controlling how much of that he’d feel so he wouldn’t catch on to what they were doing.

A neat trick that could often be used when 2 or more light or dark magicians got together and worked well in unison. Picking up when and where to work so the individual would remain oblivious.

“Roy…” Danny interrupted them emerging seemingly from nowhere behind Roy to walk into his arms seeking some comfort. “My head.”

His voice cracked revealing the pain they were all worried about and instantly Justin sat up straighter to get to work trying to ease him out of it while Roy wrapped his arms around him tightly.

Cradling him like a baby with his free hand keeping his head as still as possible against his neck.

“Shh, just breath baby.” Ry coached him as best he could while the hands against his chest clung onto his shirt. “You want to go back to bed?”

Instead of an answer Danny just nodded slowly, Shane taking the initiative to take his cup from him freeing up his hands so he could pick Danny up and throw his legs around his waist.

Carrying him back to the bed while Shane followed with their coffees.

“We’ll make breakfast don’t stress.” Shane winked at Roy while he caressed Danny’s head. “It’ll be over soon.”

“It hurts.” Danny whined nuzzling his head into Roy’s neck further when he set them down against the headboard.

Danny’s arms wrapping around Roy’s chest, his hands sliding over every new scarred bump on his skin from where he’d burned himself.

“Justin’s gonna try and put you to sleep a little okay, just enough to take the pain away but let him in. Don’t think.” He held his lips tightly pressed against his forehead as if he was protecting him from any further harm when he felt a tear sink into his shirt when fingers found their way over one of the deeper scars. “Sorry you had to see that.”

“I thought you were gonna die.” Danny admitted sniffling softly making Roy pull him in even closer, comforting himself more than he was his love.

“I want you to move in.”

“Why?” Danny asked grabbing a chunk of fabric tighter in his fist to check it was real, feeling Roy’s heartbeat increase.

“So I can look after you.” His voice was solemn, thick with concern. “And so you can look after me.”

“Okay.” He whispered looking up for the first time to see just how weathered and tired Roy’s face was looking, sending another pang of concern through his chest and string of tears down his cheeks. “You said you love me.”

“You said it first I had to.” He faked his usual bullshit disinterested knowing all too well Danny could see right through him.

“You love me.” He retorted sitting up now that his head was starting to feel like his own again.

“I do.” Roy admitted pulling his jaw carefully in for kiss. “I love you.”

“I don’t.” Danny smiled cheekily clearly in a much better mood.

“Don’t make me cook you too whore.” Roy threatened before Danny lunged back at his chest to hug him.

They stayed in the same position for another good 30 minutes while Danny focused on listening to Roy’s breathing to avoid thinking of how badly his head was hurting.

Eventually through the rhythmic drops of his chest and Justin’s aid he grew so peaceful he nearly fell asleep, Roy letting himself enjoy it too before he had to return to the harsh reality of a full day’s work ahead of him.

The only thing knocking him back down from his personal heaven being his 2nd alarm going off to remind himself he had to get going.

“You good?” Roy asked tapping Danny’s forehead.

“Mh-hm.” He nodded scared if he moved too much his head would shake loose again.

“You wanna go grab breakfast?”

“Mh-hm.”

“Want me to carry you?”

“Mh-hm.”

“Not gonna happen you lazy fuck.” Roy slapped his shoulder and slid out from under him leaving Danny behind on the bed pouting.

“You’re a dick.”

“I have to go shower and get ready, go have breakfast with the nutjobs and I’ll join you in a minute.” He turned his back to Danny as he began picking out his outfit for the day.

A simple black long sleeve shirt, light brown chino pants that he knew Danny loved because it showed off his ass and some classic Roy style black sneakers.

“It’s alive!” Shane shouted throwing his hands up in the air when Danny came strutting out the bedroom scratching his butt.

“And it’s so classy.” Roy scolded slapping his hands out of his black boxers that he stole from Roy weeks ago. “Get your hand out of your ass you slut.”

“Why? Your head need the space?” Danny snapped back licking the side of his mouth making Roy shake his head at his cheek.

“Meowr.”

-

“We need a change.” Danny suggested as he popped a cherry tomato into his mouth.

Like he had done every day at noon like clockwork Danny had showed up at the costume studio where Roy was hard at work to bring him lunch.

“Like what?” Roy slapped his boyfriend’s hand away from his salad.

“I don’t know.” He pulled his shoulders up lazily running his finger over details on Roy’s watch. “By the way, how you feeling?”

“Cold. Still.” He shuddered pulling down his rolled up sleeves. “Think Jerick broke me.”

“They fixed you, that’s what a normal person feels like.” Danny rolled his eyes taking Roy’s hand.

“Yeah whatever.” He smirked turning his hand to hold Danny’s better. Checking the damage that remained from his display of rage that the others couldn’t fully fix. “You overworked yourself, you’re overworking yourself now you need a break.” Danny tried pleading as his hand ran up from Roy’s towards his cheek.

“I can’t.” Roy sighed leaning into his palm. “I have shit to do, you know that.”

“Fine. You have a week to do it then we’re going on a vacation together.” Danny stated very matter of factly, his grin unbearably big.

“The show isn’t for 2 weeks.”

“You have two weeks then.”

“Smartass.” Roy laughed kissing the back of his hand so he can resume eating. “But sure, I’ll bite, where would we go?”

“I don’t know. Anywhere, everywhere.” Danny scrunched his nose up to think of a destination. “New york?”

“Too many queens.”

“Hm…Seattle?”

“Too cold and wet.”

“Vegas?”

“Too loud.”

“New Orleans?”

“Too home.”

“Uh…Florida?”

“I’m not old enough yet.” Roy cynically laughed before Danny tried thinking of more places.

“Pennsylvania?”

“Too sharon.”

“So fucking picky.” Danny laughed as Roy smugly smirked taking another bite if his food. “Texas?”

“Too…actually.” Roy nodded pulling out his phone. “Not a bad idea.”

“Really?” Danny perked up.

He’d been to Texas a few times to visit a friend of his and knew the state better than most of the others he mentioned even if they weren’t as glamorous.

“A friend’s there.” Roy smiled digging through his phone to find the page of the friend in question before he sat back rubbing his chin. “God wonder how he is haven’t spoken to Kam in forever.”

“Kam?” Danny’s jealously began bubbling.

“Dane, Kameron’s his drag name. We lived together for a bit when I did a gig there.”

“You?” Danny snorted, his jealousy being temporarily thrown out as he imagined Roy riding a cow in full cowboy gear. “In texas?”

“Shut up.” He threw a piece of bread his way. “I taught classes there on wigs and Dean’s a hairdresser so we just hit it off.”

“We go.” Danny slammed his open palm on the table causing their meal on the already dodgy table to shake around.

“Just eat your food.” Roy scolded tilting his head to observe the goofy full cheeked smile Danny had plastered across his face enjoying his victory. “What?”

“Nothing.” Danny chimed sticking his tongue out. “You love me.”

[m1sjj3iq-blog]

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[mostlysignssomeportents]

#1yrago Touring, complete: what gear survived four months of hard-wearing book-tour?

I had the last official stop of my book tour for my novel Walkaway on Saturday, when I gave a talk and signing at Defcon in Las Vegas. It was the conclusion of four months of near-continuous touring, starting with three weeks of pre-release events; then six weeks of one-city-per-day travel through the US, Canada and the UK, then two months of weekly or twice-weekly events at book fairs, festivals and conferences around the USA.

Now I'm touring complete. There's one more event on Aug 10 -- a kind of victory lap presentation at my local library here in Burbank -- and then a trickle of events over the next six months, but that's more like my normal baseline of public appearances, a very different experience to the kind of thing I did from April until last weekend.

It's been nine years since my first book tour -- the Little Brother tour -- and as always, there were new facts on the ground to adapt to, as well as hard-won wisdom that saw me through.

Here's some new stuff: indie bookstores are doing better than they have in years, and they're expanding into lots of live events, which are better-planned and better organized than ever. In many cities, there is one thriving indie and three or four suburban Barnes & Nobles, and these have changed, too: seeing as they are the only game in town, these B&Ns attract some stellar booksellers who intimately understand marketing and also really, really care about books. Also: all the indie bookstores have devoted substantial floorspace to embroidered socks. I'm calling it: we are at peak funny-sock.

Here's some stuff that's still the same: "Never pass up a chance to take water or make water." That is hard-won, important touring advice, passed from serious traveler to serious traveler as gospel. Airports are worse than they've ever been...and it's easier to buy your way out of the hardship, between TSA Precheck and Clear, which require that you give up a ton of personal information (which I'd already given up when I applied for my Green Card, so I went ahead, and it was so, so worth it -- so much so that I presume that anyone who has the wherewithal will buy their way into these programs and cease to do anything to mitigate the traveling woes of the general public -- watch for travel to get waaaay worse for normals who only fly a couple times per year).

I've been changing out my travel gear for years, trying to find the optimal combination of flexibility and comfort. I check a bag, and my suitcase was not lost once on this tour (it's happened before, though, and had to catch up with me a city or two down the road). The suitcase was severely damaged, and more than once (more on that below).

Here's the gear that survived this trip, stuff that will stay with me on upcoming trips.

Coffee

This goes first. Life it too short for shitty coffee.

I use an Aeropress (but you knew that). I've stopped carrying around a hand-grinder. I have only so many duty-cycles left in my wrist tendons and then I will cease to be a writer. I'm not wasting them on a hand-grinder. Now I grind my coffee before I leave and put the coffee in a Ziploc Easy Open Tab quart-sized freezer bag (I keep a stash of these in my suitcase and resupply at coffee shops when I run out, having them grind for me; this means I can't buy Blue Bottle coffee since they, alone among coffee shops, will not grind their retail beans, boo) (I also bring along a handful of gallon-sized bags for various purposes). I've tried a lot of sealing bags, and Ziploc's easy opens are the only ones I can reliably seal well.

I heat water in the remarkably great Useful UH-TP147 Electric Collapsible Travel Kettle, a silicone collapsing kettle that has a thermostat that keeps water at near-boil so long as it's plugged in and on. It's multi-voltage and worked great in the UK, and it collapses down really small. The only downside: it looks weird enough on an X-ray that it is a very reliable predictor of having your bags searched by the TSA after you check them.

I am utterly dependent on the Orikaso folding cup to use with my Aeropress on the road. The majority of hotels supply paper cups, or glasses that are too narrow for the Aeropress. Carrying a rigid cup that decomposes into a thin sheet of plastic the size of a sheet of printer-paper spares me the awkwardness of holding the body of the Aeropress with one hand while pushing down on the plunger with the other to keep from squashing the paper cup.

For emergencies, I carried a stash of GO CUBES Energy Chews, a "neutraceutical" whose manufacturer makes a lot of extravagant claims for them. I think those claims are silly, but these are basically gummy-chews made from cold brew coffee (and stuff) and they work very fast and well, but did give me jitters (which were preferable to caffeine withdrawal).

Toiletries

I carried my favorite shampoo, conditioner, soap and a supply of generic woolite in a set of four Innerneed silicone tubes (which I kept in a ziploc). I've used a  lot of different silicone tubes and these are my current favorites -- they have a locking mechanism that keeps the hard plastic lid more firmly in place on the silicone body of the tube, even when it's lubricated with slippery soaps, preventing the kinds of catastrophic breaches you get when the whole lid assembly just pops off the tube and everything comes pouring out.

I swapped out my old generic pharmacy rotary electric toothbrush for the Violife Slim Sonic Toothbrush, which is a AAA-battery-powered equivalent to one of those unwieldy, induction-charged Braun ultrasonic toothbrushes that my dentist wants me to use. It performs just as well as the Braun on my sink at home.

I suffer from really terrible, untreatable chronic pain and can't sleep or sit for any length of time without serious pain. I am absolutely reliant on my hot water bottle, with a knit sleeve. For my money, these are the best comfort items you can travel with -- I get them filled with boiling water by the flight attendants before take off and refill them hourly. At bedtime, I fill them from my collapsible kettle. The only downside: it's really easy to leave these behind in the bedclothes when you depart at 4AM.

I carried all my toiletries in Eagle Creek's Pack-It Wallaby Toiletry Organizer. It came highly recommended and after hard use, I see why: it has the best zippers I've ever had on a toilet bag, stores an incredible amount of stuff and still rolls up tight, and did a great job of containing one tube-of-goo breach that could have wrecked everything else.

Clothes

Before the tour, I did a bunch of reading on the best travel underwear and decided to try Uniqlo's Airism Low Rise Boxer Briefs -- they were so comfortable and so easy to wash out in the sink (and so quick drying!) that I threw away all my other underwear when I got home and ordered a half-dozen more pairs. I traveled with three pairs of these, which crumpled small enough that I could fit them all in a pants pocket (should I have a need to do so?) and I rinsed the day's underwear in the sink every night and hung them to dry, chucking them in the bag in the morning, dry and clean.

You might already know that I love the look of Volante's jackets and coats, so it won't surprise you to learn that I lived in an Augment hoodie for the first half of the tour (when the weather was cool), switching to a lighter-weight Peregrine for the second half, when things warmed up.

I started the tour with three different pairs of pants in my suitcase, but left two behind on a resupply stop at home, because I was only ever wearing my Betabrand Off-the-Grid pants, which have enough stretchiness in them to do some basic yoga in, have huge pockets that somehow don't bulge much even when overfilled, and a neat little discreet mid-thigh side pocket good for keeping boarding passes in. My complaint: these were not colorfast at all: they were basically gray by the time I got home, even though I only ever hand-washed them in hotel sinks with generic woolite.

I always travel with pajamas: when you're on long flights, you can change into them for comfort; they give you a way to interact with hotel staff from your room early in the morning or late at night without having to get dressed or put a towel around your waist. I've been buying deadstock vintage men's pajamas from Etsy all year, because they look awesome and are more comfortable than anything you'll get in stores today.

I've been using REI's Sea to Summit compression sacks as laundry bags for ages: there's no problem with wrinkling your dirty laundry, right? Compression sacks are sorcerous reminders of just how much space there is between molecules.

I lived in Native Jeffersons: basically a kid's croc shoe, but molded to look like a low-rise Converse All-Star. Super comfortable, and I could rinse them in the hotel sink every night and leave them upside-down against the wall and slip into them in the morning.

Comfort items

I traveled with a Stanley Adventure Flask that I filled with Jefferson's Reserve Pritchard Hill Cabernet Cask Finished, 15-year-old bourbon that's finished with a couple years of rest in old cabernet casks. Yum.

I always keep a couple dozen catering-sized sachets of Tabasco in my suitcase and handful in my carry-on. They don't seem to show up as liquids on TSA X-rays so you can keep them in your bag, and I've never had one burst in a bag. They make everything super-delicious (or at least bearable) and they are way more space-efficient than those cute, tiny, single-use Tabasco bottles.

Swimming

Swimming is the only way I can stay sane on tour. It keeps my chronic pain under control and burns some of the empty airplane-peanut and minibar calories.

I swim with an underwater MP3 player. After trying a lot of models, I settled on the Exeze players, which are only available for sale in the UK. However, I've since discovered that virtually the same players are sold under other brand names in the USA: one model I've tried and liked is the Aerb.

The reason I swim with an MP3 player is so that I can listen to audiobooks. I get through a couple novels per month this way. Audible's proprietary DRM format isn't compatible with MP3 players, so forget about getting your swimming audiobooks that way. Instead, try Downpour and Libro.fm, both of whom sell thousands of DRM-free audiobooks. Audiobooks and swimming are a magic combination. I couldn't make it through the tour without them.

Gadgets

I got my Calyx hotspot just over a year ago. It offers anonymous, unfiltered, unshaped, unlimited 4G/LTE wifi through Sprint's network, and supports the nonprofit good works of Calyx, who provide anonymity and privacy services to whistleblowers, journalists and many others. They are the good guys and this is a great product at a stellar price: $100 for the hotspot and $400/year for unlimited mobile broadband.

I continue to use X-series Thinkpads. I'm currently on the X270 and it runs Ubuntu very well. I didn't need any service on this tour, but I have on other tours, and I'm serene in the knowledge that the extended on-site next-day hardware replacement warranty (about $75/year!) guarantees that no matter what, I won't be without my computer for more than a day. My X270 took a lot of hard knocks on this tour and survived unscathed. My sole complaint: they screwed up the keyboards with the X230 (or so) and still haven't made a new chiclet keyboard that's half as good as the original Thinkpad keyboard. Please, Lenovo, bring my beloved keyboard back!

I use a Google Pixel phone and it's...not terrible. Everything about it works fine, but it has unbelievably shitty battery life. That is a killer on tour. The Alclap case solved that problem...for two weeks, and then it stopped working. I ordered two more, both of which were duds out of the box. The Scosche Magic Mount was more awkward to use, but also longer-lasting (it died last weekend, thanks to fraying in the wire that connected it to the phone).

Luggage

You know all those suitcases that come with ten-year warranties? They're all designed to have a ten-year duty-cycle...assuming that you travel once or twice a year. In decades of hard travel, I've yet to buy a suitcase that can live up to the punishment of daily flying.

So now I buy suitcases based on how easy they are to get warranty service on. I had heard great things about Rimowa, and I loved the look of their cases, so I bit the bullet and sprang for one (they're extremely pricey). I quickly discovered that their much-vaunted service was terrible -- in London, anyway. My options were mailing the case to Germany, or taking it to a service center on Euston Road where they were rude, deceptive, and all-around awful. I was ready to swap the case for another manufacturer when I moved from London to LA two years ago.

But in LA, the whole story is different. Rimowa's service here is handled by a place out in Beverley Hills called Coco's Leather and they're pretty good at fixing stuff (there's sometimes a week turnaround, but I've found that if I call them after messengering the busted case out to them, they can often turn it around in a day).

I needed it. My Rimowa case was seriously damaged three times on tour: twice it had wheels ripped off (the whole wheel assembly, including the riveted-on bracket, torn right out of the aluminum!) by Southwest's baggage handlers in San Diego. Another time, AA baggage handlers destroyed the latches.

I'm sticking with Riwoma for now. Every luggage expert I've spoken to says that there's just not anything that will survive the kind of punishment I put my bags through, so I'm buying based on warranties, and between Coco's Leather and Rimowa's long-lasting warranties, I can live with this situation.

I've gone through a lot of luggage tags over the years and have yet to have one last more than a few flights before it's torn off in the hold, caught in some grinding system. Now I use the TUFFTAAG Travel ID Bag Tag, made of hard-wearing aluminum with braided steel cables. Dozens of flights later, the tags are bent and battered, but still intact and still attached to my case -- that's a first.

https://boingboing.net/2017/08/02/hard-won-wisdom.html

[averyonelovesjack]

baby sister ~ zach herron

requested: yes

Do a Zach imagine!

summary: on a trip to visit her older brother jack, y/n and her boyfriend struggle with a decision on how to tell him. 

warning(s): cursing, angry jack, mention of sex (briefly), hella long

word count: 2715

A smile peered on my face as my feet lifted off the ground, launching my body forward onto the curly haired boy I’d missed more than anyone could imagine. My ears filled with the soft laughter of my brother who held me tightly, spinning around in a circle.

More pressure was applied to my tiny feet as Jack set me down and grabbed my bag from next to me. Most people would argue that they could carry their own bag, but honestly i just took a four hour flight out here to see him before the holidays, this bitch can grab my luggage. Jack’s car was going to be a good bit away, i know that, but there were conversations to be had in that time. We’d been away from each other since before summer, during his graduation. Despite anytime that Jack would come home, I’d be out of town or busy.

Jack smiled over at me, “i still can’t believe mom let you take a flight by yourself”

i playfully rolled my eyes, “you do understand that i’m sixteen right? i know you’re not good with birthdays, but come on”

he nudged me, “that’s pretty young! and i sometimes know your birthday”

a scoff escaped my mouth, “i get that i’m your least favorite sister, but damn. that hurt”

“there’s a lot to choose from,”Jack joked, shrugging, “not all four of you can be my favorite”

i used my two hands, turning and pushing him so that he was further away from me, “you’re supposed to disagree!”

he laughed, “i’m kidding”

i rolled my eyes, “no you’re not”

“yeah, you’re right. i’m not”

The door to the house opened and the smell of burning food filled my nose, realizing that it would probably be like this for a while. I looked over to see Daniel taking a very steamy cup of ramen out of the microwave. knowing these idiots, someone must have forgotten to take it out or put it for much longer than the timer says and then it was destroyed.

Jack set his keys on the table, yelling through the house, “WE’RE BACK”

I heard a few footsteps and then I was immediately tackled by a blond boy. Giggles left my mouth as Corbyn nearly knocked my over, hugging me tightly. A few more boys appeared from around the corner, each taking their turn to hug me, Zach’s being the shortest. Despite a normal length hug not being suspicious, we didn’t like to take chances. Our eyes glanced towards each other, but then away.

Jack had my bags in his arms, walking away from the large group of guys, “i’m gonna put your bags in my room”

i nodded my head at him, continuing to socialize with the four boys i hadn’t seen in so long. It was nice, chatting with all of them about what we’ve each been up to. Primarily what i’ve done recently, since their recent events can easily be found on the internet.

Jack playfully rolled his eyes as I stepped away from the living room that the two of us sat in to go answer my phone out by the pool. It wasn’t necessarily important, but it was a friend and it was an excuse to talk to Zach. I quickly answered Lila’s call and as soon as i hung up, i felt two arms grip my waist.

I was surprised, but I knew he was coming. My body jumped, but an adorable laugh left Zach’s lips, giving me comfort as I turn around. One of his arms stayed on my waist as the other lifted up, pushing my hair out of my face and landing on my cheek as his lips touched my own softly. A blush appeared on my cheeks as I kissed him back, taking in the taste of the flesh i’d missed for all too long.

When we separated, i looked up at him with a smile, “i’ve missed you”

“i’ve missed you too” He brought my body close to his, wrapping me in his warmth for longer than before as if to make up for what happened when i first arrived, “i hate having you so far away”

i nodded my head, “it truly sucks”

“and i hate having to share you,” Zach admits, “i just want everyone to understand that i miss you the most”

i laughed a little bit, “i wish we could tell them, zach. you know i do”

“i know,” he let out a breath, “it just sucks keeping the most important thing in my life from everyone”

i nodded, “it’s too risky. i want to tell everyone too, trust me”

“no one can do anything about us wanting to be together, y/n” Zach tried to convince me but fear of what could come rushed my mind.

“it’s jack we’re talking about,” i remind, “as much as i want to trust that he wants the best for me, i don’t want to ruin or wreck any relationship you have with him”

“i’m dating his little sister,” Zach told me as if i didn’t already know, “how would that ruin our relationship?” 

i sighed, looking away, “i don’t know. if we– like maybe one day if we were to break up and-” 

“why would we break up?” Zach was defensive now, hurt by what i’d suggested.

“i don’t know,” i sighed, “i don’t want to, ever, but you never know” 

“baby, we’re not breaking up, right?” 

“no, of course not! and i don’t want to” i tell him, “i just don’t know what to do about this whole jack situation” 

“my relationship with him is separate from my relationship with you,” Zach informs me.

“i know,” i sigh, “just give me some time to think this over” 

Zach nodded his head, slipping his fingers onto my cheek and feeding me a small and beautiful smile, “i love you” 

“i love you too” i wrapped my arms around his body, taking in the scent that i could never get enough of.

I sat on the counter top of the bathroom, Zach standing in front of me as the door was lightly closed. Despite the pretty wide chance of someone walking in, it seemed less suspicious than the two of us being locked in one of the bathrooms together.

My eyes dazed into his as we talked about anything and everything. His smile lit up my world, making everything about the day seem amazing, even the boring times. The way his laugh filled my ears made me want to crumble beneath him.

His lips came closer to mine, nearly touching my own before the door opened and he quickly pulled away.

Jack looked highly confused, but within the .5 seconds of silence, his confusion turned to anger and rage, “what the fuck is going on?”

i was quick to spit out a few senseless words, “zach was just- my contact,” i realized this didn’t make sense and jack gave me a look and some time to continue on and make some sense of the words i’d blurted out, “he was just checking to make sure my contact was still in my eye”

“why wouldn’t you know if your contact was in your eye?” Jack glared, crossing his arms over his chest, “and why can’t you just check your case to see if it’s in there?”

“she might have dropped it,” Zach went along with what i was saying.

“might’ve dropped it?” Jack didn’t believe a single thing we were saying.

“yes,” i blurt more words, “i couldn’t tell if it was still on my finger and then i had a hand cramp”

jack took in every bullshit lie i said, thinking about it for a second. for a split second i thought he was gonna believe me until fury filled his eyes, “you don’t even wear contacts! you hate touching your eyes!”

this was true. he’d caught the fact that i was completely lying about wearing contacts and he knew me too well. i quickly came up with the reason he wouldn’t know about my completely fake affiliation with contacts, “we’ve been apart for a long time. i got over my fear”

He rolled his eyes, “you’ve literally been wearing your glasses all day! you can’t even deny that”

my jaw dropped at the fact that our lie had come to an end and i didn’t have any ideas on how to save it, “well i–,” i started, “we–”

Jack realized that there was no way for me to explain the close proximity of Zach to my face and quickly turned to shove Zach, his fingers digging into my boyfriend’s shoulders and forcing the younger boy against the wall. a squeal escaped my pleading lips as jack spit words at Zach, “what the fuck were doing with your face so close to my baby sister’s?”

zach hadn’t any idea of what to say, “jack! stop!” i squealed at my older brother, but it was ignored.

“fucking answer me!” Jack’s fingers pushed Zach back against the wall as zach tried to move off of it. another squeal left my mouth as i tried to yell at my protective older brother who didn’t seem to understand what was happening.

“hey, calm down,” Zach tried but my brother only grew closer to him. Although i couldn’t see his face, i knew jack was getting angrier by the second.

“what the fuck were you doing with my baby sister?” Jack questioned him and I heard footsteps running closer to us as my squeals and stops grew louder, “you have a fucking voice, answer me!”

The three other boys living in this house came in, Jonah immediately stepping between jack and zach, pulling jack back and away from him as zach quickly walked away from my raging older brother and back towards me.

i got down from the counter, stepping in front of my boyfriend and staring at jack, “i’m not your fucking baby sister”

Jack’s eyes turned from rage to sadness in the matter of two seconds after processing what i’d told him.

“it’s not your job to protect me,” I continued, feeling the need to go on with my argument against my brother, “i’m my own goddamn person and i’ll do what i fucking please. you can’t keep me in this little box like i’m four years old jack. newsflash, i turned sixteen months ago. i know you weren’t there, but trust me, it happened”

It was silent as i scoffed and walked out of the bathroom, trying to find some place safe for me to be alone, but it seemed like being in someone else’s house gave me no option. everyone had a room and i couldn’t find a spot to just sit.

instead of staying in this poisoned house, i went out the back door. LA was cold at night, but my anger kept me warm as i walked as far away from the house as possible, sitting down on the ledge that overlooked the city. it was quiet, other than the sounds of cars driving down the street and fireflies looking for mates. 

a cool draft tickled my shoulders, making me shiver as i felt the presence of someone next to me. despite my usual fear of someone murdering me, i felt safe in the fact that it was one of the two people i’d have liked it to be. 

a short breath left his mouth as i continued to stare out at the pretty city lights at night, not daring make eye contact, “can you at least look at me?” 

jack’s voice cracked and i felt my heart shatter. i didn’t know what to say, but i figured it’d be easier than looking at him, “what for?” it was a cold reply, but nonetheless he deserved it, “you gonna push me too?” 

a soft and sad scoff left my brother’s lips, “i don’t care what you tell me or how old you are, you will always be my baby sister” 

“you’re two years older than me, jack,” i say, “you don’t even remember me as a baby” 

“that’s not the point,” he paused, “the point is that i don’t care that you’ve turned sixteen because you will always be my baby sister. you have to live with the fact that i won’t like it when you get boyfriends, it doesn’t matter how old you are” 

“and you have to live with the fact that you don’t get to protect me from everything in the world,” i finally looked up at him, “maybe i’ll always be your baby sister, but i am sixteen, despite you choosing not to abide by it. i’m going to act my age. i’ll get boyfriends and i’ll have sex and i’ll make mistakes because that’s how a person is created. if you want me to be the best person i can be, and to live up to my potential, then you need to stop protecting me from the world. i am very much aware of the damages that could do to me, but if i don’t make mistakes i’ll never learn” 

“i don’t want to watch you make mistakes, y/n” Jack told me, “i want to protect you from making them. what you make a mistake that’s too big for you to handle?”

“we’re given the things we can handle,” i stare at my older brother, “the strongest soldiers get the toughest battles. i will find a way to handle what i need to” 

jack looked back at me, “so are you and zach a thing?” 

i sighed, letting out a deep breath, “yeah, zach is my boyfriend” 

“how long did you keep it from me?” he questions and i suck in a deep breath.

“maybe six months?” i estimate and his eyes sadden.

“you really didn’t trust me to keep it?” i didn’t answer, “did anyone else know?” 

“mom, sydnie, and ava,” i tell him, “i wanted to tell Isla, but you and her have this bond and i had a feeling she’d tell you” 

he laughed a little bit at what i’d said about isla, “at least i’m not the last one to find out” 

“i guess that’s true” i say, “i didn’t tell dad either. i figured that i should probably tell you first to prepare myself for what he’d have to say” 

“oh shit, i’m not even the worst of your problems” 

“i don’t see what the big deal is,” I admit to him, dangling my legs, “sydnie’s had boyfriends, she has one right now. and you two have still got ava and isla to protect from boys” 

he sighs, “how long do you think we’ve got with single ava?” 

i giggled, “not long. she’s thirteen and already prettier than me. i give it six months, a year tops” 

“shut up!” jack nudged me, “you know that’s not true” 

“yeah yeah,” i rock and then look at him with a small smile, “now i love this sib moment, but can i go see my boyfriend and make sure you haven’t scared the shit out of him enough to break up with me?” 

“go getchya man” Jack smiled widely at me and stood up, helping me up as i ran towards the house, opening the door and leaving it for jack as i searched around for zach. 

I found him sitting on his bed in his room, his head in his hands. the boys were all sitting in the room too, but watching tv and trying not to bother him. i looked into the room and then moved in front of him quickly, sitting down next to him.

he looked up as the bed sank and the smile on my face gave him a bit of hope as he wrapped his arms around me. i heard a few awes as i hugged him back, falling over onto the bed. 

“ok ok, i don’t care that you’re dating but please, no pda around me” Jack walked into the room, cringing.

i stared at jack and then turned around, planting a kiss on zach’s lips, making his cheeks turn red.

“i swear to god she just likes to bother me” Jack gave up, sitting down on Jonah’s bed as the boys laughed. 

[bitegore]

I was tagged by the absolutely awesome @gold-from-straw and I’m gonna tag a few people so uhhh... @mllemusketeer , @poplitealqueen , @travellinglemonworkshop , @chaotictrickster , @ternaryflower53

post: 

A snippet of your work in progress

The theme song for your WIP

The theme song for your protagonist

The theme song for your antagonist

The theme song for your protagonist’s love interest (if they have one)

The theme song for the main pairing of your WIP

The theme song for the opening chapter (if it’s a long fic)

Song for the current chapter/page (if it’s a long fic)

Any other songs you’d like to mention and why

and then tag some friends and have fun!

A snippet of your work in progress

They dragged him before the council again. They shoved a single cube of energon into Megatron’s hands and forced him, again, to his knees. He made to lift his head and the enforcer on his right snatched the cube from his starvation-weakened servos. “Bow, filth, and you get your precious energon back,” the enforcer snapped. Megatron weighed his options—his dignity, or his life?—and then slowly inclined his head, training his optics on the floor.

“Good mech,” the enforcer purred, and held the cube out again.

Megatron snatched it and, this time, drained it in one quick gulp. He heard the enforcer to his left chuckle.

How he wished to tear off their faceplates and bash their faces to shattered wrecks beneath his fists. But he knew it was hopeless, and so he knelt on the floor of the Senate, and he waited.

“Megatron of Tarn,” one of the councilors said, voice laden with condescension. Megatron had never bothered to learn who was who, and so all he knew was that this was one of many mechs with too much power and too much arrogance than could possibly be good for anyone other than themselves. ”You have disobeyed the will of Primus and defied your path in life . You have attempted to tempt others to follow in your sinful footsteps. You have attempted to seduce others to follow your evil rhetoric. Is this not true?”

Megatron raised his optic ridges, though he kept his gaze fixed on the floor. He didn’t want to tempt the enforcers to do something to him that he couldn’t fight off. “Is this meant to be some mockery of a trial?”

One of the enforcers hit him over the back of the helm with something, and Megatron winced as his optics shorted out for a moment.

“Megatron of Tarn, you stand accused of these heinous crimes,” the unnamed senator snapped. “Are the charges true?”

Megatron attempted to lift his head and received another brutal blow to the back of the helm instead. “Frag you!”

An angry rumble went around the room.

“Admit your guilt,” the senator snarled at Megatron.

Megatron gritted his dentae, bracing for the blow he knew would come. He glared at the senate floor. “The things I’m accused of—you are the guilty ones!”

The theme song for your WIP

A Song for the Nameless by Sworn In(video) (lyrics)

At its core, Project Forged Chains is about revolution, but also at its core, Project Forged Chains is about brainwashing and brainwashing aftermath. A Song For The Nameless is kinda about both. At once. Both about dismantling the prejudices that one holds and , also, about breaking one’s programming in the more literal sense.

The Great Die Off by Rise Against (video) (lyrics)

This one is just pure revolution. Revolution a la we’re going to end you and supplant you and build a better world in your wake and you are not allowed to bring your ideals to our new order.

The theme song for your protagonist

Zero Visibility by Rise Against (video) (lyrics)

Megatron wants to make things better. The problem is, he’s never gotten to see a better world. He’s going to keep trying and keep trying, but his guidance is just a guess in the dark. At least the Decepticons will be with him for the ride, but there’s no guarantee his world will be a better one so much as it will just be one that strives to be better. They walk through the dark, and Megatron, blind, tries to guide them down a path he cannot see.

Forty Six and Two by Tool (video) (lyrics)

Megatron gets shadowplayed and brainwashed. Forty Six and Two is about digging out the secrets and pitfalls in your subconscious mind. Unfortunately for Megatron, that’s…a bit more literal than the song originally was.

The theme song for your antagonist

Red Right Hand by Karliene Reynolds (video) (lyrics)

It’s so quintessentially Proteus. Proteus controls the Senate, controls the people, does all these things for power and blackmail and pulling all the strings in his own metaphorical red right hand. He wields his money and privilege like an executioner’s axe. He’s also generally a douche who doesn’t conceive of the people he considers ‘lesser’ as real beings, but that’s kind of besides the point, because every nobleman Cybertronian did that. That’s why Megatron’s gonna kill em all lmfao

The theme song for your protagonist’s love interest (if they have one)

Never go Back by Evanescence (video) (lyrics)

This one is really good for when Orion starts to lose his strong sense of morality after seeing everything that the Decepticons face from the Decepticon perspective and not as an outsider and then an Autobot. He starts to feel like he’s coming undone, and the only thing that really keeps him grounded is Megatron—but of course, Megatron himself is looking to dismantle the rest of the world and bring Cybertronian society crashing down about everyone’s ears. Don’t get me wrong—Megatron has a hell of a moral compass himself, albeit a somewhat rewritten one, but he and his views are not very good for Orion as he’s going through the downward spiral of yet another Patented Optimus Prime Crisis of Conscience(tm).

Ticks and Leeches by Tool (video) (lyrics

Basically, Orion @ the upper class’s mistreatment of his newfound close friends in the Decepticon movement and…well…everywhere, ever, really, Functionism fucking sucks.

The theme song for the main pairing of your WIP

Become the Beast by Karliene Reynolds (video) (lyrics)

Orion isn’t getting the option of staying his original, somewhat more idealistic self here; he’s being dragged headfirst into the dangerous life of being a rebel, and, eventually, an insurgent rebel, by the Decepticons and especially by a newly-minted, forged-in-fire-and-furious-about-it Megatron. He may have found new friends, and love, and all this nice happy belongingness among the Decepticons, but ultimately it is a dark path he winds up walking here.

Better Things by Memphis May Fire (video) (lyrics)

It’s very much Megatron about Optimus @ Proteus after the Chainlink arc (which is currently plotted for chapters 14-17!). Orion helps Megatron get himself together after everything, but Optimus is the one burning in fire and fury beside him. And together, they will remake the society that broke them.

The theme song for the opening chapter (if it’s a long fic)

White Washed by August Burns Red (video) (lyrics)

Megatron here is arrested and forcibly stopped from doing what he does, but he still has that anger and rebelliousness in him.

Song for the current chapter/page (if it’s a long fic)

Sink With You by Underoath (video) )(lyrics)

It just hits really hard for everyone in this chapter. Sink With You is fundamentally about losing hope and still being defiant and angry about it. Orion and Megatron are both at this point by this chapter, already.

Any other songs you’d like to mention and why

The Product of Hate by Ice Nine Kills (video) (lyrics)

It’s just so good for, well. The entire story, really. Anything dealing with the revolution against Functionist Cybertron and functionism as a whole has to deal with the violence inherent in the system, the mistreatment of the lower classes…and the inability of the middle and upper classes to recognize it until it’s thrown in their faces and plastered on the walls and even then the better-off mechs all tended to join the Autobots. The Product of Hate is about real-world racism.

The Power in Belief by Ice Nine Kills (video) (lyrics)

It feels like the whole Decepticon movement is kind of encapsulated in the concept of “we can do this if we fight hard and we believe in the cause.” And, of course, Decepticonism is like three quarters of the story, so if there wasn’t something to say about Decepticonism there would be something wrong, lmao.

Destruction of Myself by From Ashes to New (video) (lyrics)

Megatron internalizes a whole bunch of really bad shit between chapters five and seven. Blame Proteus.

[thorne93]

Old Flame, New Problems

Prompt: You’re in a serious relationship with Sebastian Stan, when news from your first love, Hayden Christensen, informs you that he’s now single and in need of a friend. Will your old flame burn out or will the flames get fanned and consume you?

Word Count: 2263

Warning: language, angst, fighting (verbal), drama

Notes: This idea came to me when news hit about Hayden and Rachel splitting. Of course I’m sad that a long time relationship such as theirs is ending, but it also means he’s single sooo…I’ve been wanting to write a “true” Hayden fic for a while.

Also, no hate towards Rachel. I don’t know her, don’t know what really happened between them, etc. It’s a fic and in no way reflects what I think of either of them or their precious daughter ^.^

I’m so sorry I haven’t gotten anything out to y’all. I’ve been busy every weekend with parties, birthdays, and other stuff. This was written but I kept editing it. But it’s a pretty long fic sooo…here we go! Thanks a million to my patient and lovely beta @like-a-bag-of-potatoes

Forever Tags: @amarvelouswritings @cocosierra94 @essie1876 @magpiegirl80 @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @iamwarrenspeace @marvel-imagines-yes-please @superwholocked527 @myparadise1982sand @missinstantgratification @thejulesworld @rda1989 @marvelloushamilton @munlis @thefridgeismybestie @bubblyanarocks3 @random-fluffy-pink-unicorn @hardcollectionworldtrash @igiveupicantthinkofausername @kaliforniacoastalteens @feelmyroarrrr @kaeling

Sebastian Stan Tag: @nedthegay @lostinspace33 @alwayshave-faith @elleatrixlestrange @buenostardissherlock @lenawiinchester @the-red-world-of-jess-chibi @memory-of-a-goldfish @mellsstark

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I hate you,” you whispered angrily.

In front of you was a mocking blinking cursor on a blank Word document. The deadline for five short stories were coming up for you to be added to a book of short love stories and so far, for three weeks, no inspiration had struck. Nothing. Zero. Zilch.

Writer’s block was one thing, but you’d fallen into this black hole that was devoid of creativity. You had tried the parks, watching movies, reading other people’s work…But nothing…

With a goan and a sigh, you shut your lid to your laptop and got up. The apartment was a bit of a wreck since you had been so busy trying to pull some sort of inspiration from somewhere. In an attempt to just completely forget about writing at all, you decided to work around the apartment.

First was the master bathroom - you deep cleaned it. Scrubbing the sink, shower, and toilet. Hand scrubbed the floors. Organizing the cabinets. Then you moved onto the master bedroom. In there, you changed the bedding, organized and cleaned the night stands, dusted everything, and swept. You continued your festival of deep cleaning throughout the apartment until everything was spotless. This took all morning and a little into the afternoon.

Grabbing your keys and purse to head out to pick up some groceries, your phone rang.

“Hey, babe!” you greeted happily while you leaned on the island in the kitchen.

“Hey! We took lunch, so thought I’d give you a call,” Sebastian stated on the other side of the phone. “How’s the writing coming?”

“It’s not,” you informed in an annoyed grumble.

“Nothing yet?” he asked, mild shock in his voice.

“No,” you sighed.

“Well keep at it,” he tried.

“Actually, I’ve been cleaning, trying to not think of it. You know, the old thing where if you don't’ think about it, it’ll come to you. I’m about to go out and get something for dinner what would you like?”

You heard Sebastian laugh away from the phone, and say something indecipherable before putting the phone back near his face.

“Seb?” you tried again.

He was still chuckling a little bit when he answered, “I’m sorry, what?” Immediately after he asked though, another loud ripple of laughter left him.

You sighed and slightly rolled your eyes. You didn’t mind Sebastian having fun, but you hadn’t seen him for about six months due to filming all over and premieres and interviews for I, Tonya. He had just gotten back two weeks ago, and was already at another small table read for another movie today. The two of you didn’t have a lot of time together this whole year, and now you have five minutes on the phone and he couldn’t even give you his full attention.

“I’ll just let you go,” you solemnly said, admitting defeat.

After a second, he finally returned. “Hmm? Oh. Alright. Have fun! I hope the writing gets better. Love you, bye!”

“Love you too. Bye.”

You hung up, dropped your phone in your purse, and shook your head.

Two years together. You lived together, and yet, you hardly ever saw each other.

In the two weeks he’d come back, he’d been entirely aloof, nearly ignoring you. Dinners together he was entirely entranced in his phone, texting, reading, calling. If he wasn’t ignoring you for his phone, he was otherwise disregarding you for something else. Friends, sleep, anything. You were barely there to him and it was really starting to hurt and wear on you.

Snuffing out the thoughts, you decided not to dwell on it. He was happy, having fun, and that’s all that mattered. You left the apartment and went shopping.

—————–

Once you returned with two armfuls of groceries, you sat to work on a nice meal for Sebastian. You knew how he hated eating out all the time so you thought this would be a good change of pace. Not to mention it might demand some new attention.

After all the goods were stowed away in their rightful place, you set to work on the meal. You decided to do dessert first, to let it set and chill. Raspberry tiramisu coming up!

Next was the lasagna. Your mom’s award winning recipe. You had never had a lasagna as good as hers…ever. There was so much cheese and flavor, with a little bit of a kick to it. Your mouth was watering just thinking of it. After the messy ordeal of making it, you cleaned up your countertops, popped the divine dish in the oven, and began making the garlic cheese bread. Finally, the salad. The veggies were rinsed, chopped, and tossed, it was just awaiting the dressing.

Everything was coming together. You sat the dining room table with a white linen cloth, the one you only pulled out for incredibly special occasions, and set the table. A plate on each end, a napkin with silverware on the side, two glasses on each end - one for wine and one for water. You fluffed the bouquet you’d picked up on the way back from the store and lit two candles in crystal candelabras. It was a romantic dinner fit for royalty.

As you were putting the finishing touches on everything, your phone rang. You picked up your phone and saw the caller ID and frowned.

“Hello?” you answered with a high inflection, confused as to why this person was calling.

“Hey, Y/N, long time no talk,” Hayden greeted on the other end. Immediately you knew something was wrong. His voice was doing that thing were it sounded like he was trying not to laugh and cry, which usually meant he was faking a happy tone over sadness.

“Hey, Hayden,” you responded lightly. “Yeah, haven’t talked to you since your birthday, which still weirds me out that you share a birthday with my brother,” you noted with a laugh. When you didn’t hear much of a reply on the end, you asked, “Everything okay?”

After a moment of quiet, which made you worry, he answered, “Uh…No…No it’s not…Could you come see me?”

The wind was sucked out of your lungs.

You hadn’t seen Hayden in years. Probably about six years since you’d physically seen each other. Other than that, it was Christmas cards every year, a text on Thanksgiving, and a phone call for each other’s birthday.

Hayden was your first love, and why wouldn’t he be? You dated for five years from the time you were twenty. He was a budding young star in New York for interviews and press, and you were and up and coming writer at NYU. At that time, you were working on screenplays and you had caught the attention of some producers on Broadway, the only person in your entire class to get work that prestigious while still attending. Your paths crossed through mutual friends and your worlds eclipsing, you had met each other and fallen in love.

“Uh…Where are you?” you questioned, tracing lines in the marble countertop mindlessly.

“Toronto. Please? I need a friend.”

“What’s going on, Hay?” you asked in a serious tone, your worry settling even further.

“Rachel and I…uh…we split up and I really don’t want to be alone. She’s out in LA with Briar Rose and…” He stopped, probably to keep himself from crying.

This news hit you like a ton of bricks. They would be the last couple in the world you would’ve thought would get separated.

You bit your lip in thought. “Hayden, I don’t know if it’s such a good idea…”

“Please?” he begged again, so much emotion in his voice it broke your heart.

A moment or two passed while you thought. “I’ll see what I can do,” you acquiesced. This was dangerous…

“Thank you,” he breathed with relief lacing into his voice.

“Any time. Talk to you soon.”

“Thanks. Bye.”

You hung up, took a deep breath, ran your fingers through your hair, and set off toward your laptop.

——————

Throwing shirts and jeans into your suitcase on the bed, Sebastian walked in the door.

“Babe? You here? I’m home!” he called out.

“I’m back here!” you responded, your heart hammering. You knew you’d have to explain your sudden departure, and when he would hear of the reason why, he wasn’t going to be happy.

Sebastian came to the bedroom and saw what you were doing.

“Um…Whatcha doin’?” he asked, concern on his face and in his voice.

You looked up as you continued your path of moving from suitcase to closet, closet to suitcase.

“Packing,” you said simply. “Dinner is in the oven.”

Sebastian stood with a mask of utter confusion and shock on his face. “Where are you going?”

At his question, you stilled, you still had a sweater in your hand as you started to bend down to put it in your suitcase. You sighed and took a deep breath. He needed to know.

“I’m going to see Hayden,” you informed and his eyebrow perked up. “In Canada. He and Rachel are splitting up and he called and asked if I could come up and keep him company.”

“Hayden…as in your ex Hayden?” Sebastian stated. “And you didn’t think to talk to me about it?”

“What’s there to talk about?” you asked as you went back to packing. You went to the bathroom to grab the toiletries and convert them to airplane friendly containers.

Sebastian followed your frenzied body all over the master suite.

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe you should ask me before you just head off to your ex’s,” he suggested with sarcasm.

“So I have to ask your permission?” you questioned, a hint of irritation on your voice.

He sighed and threaded his fingers into his hair. “No, that’s not what I’m saying.”

“Then what are you saying?” you questioned with exhaustion.

“Y/N, stop, look at me,” he ordered gently. “Y/N,” he said again. “Y/N,” he repeated with a raised voice as he grabbed you around the upper arms to keep you still. “Stop,” he softly commanded. “Can’t we just talk about this?”

You shrugged and he took it as a yes. He let you go.

“Okay, so he wants you to come up there, why?” he asked firmly.

“He said he needed a friend,” you offered simply with another shrug, shampoo bottle in your hand.

“Doesn’t he have other friends?” he questioned.

You shrugged. “I don’t know, Sebastian. I didn’t ask. He sounded really broken up so I told him I’d try to make it up there.”

“Okay…” he started, dragging the word out. “So you’re just going to go up to your ex’s house…alone…who’s recently split up…This doesn’t sound bad to you?” he asked, his brows knitting together.

You sighed. “I know it does. I know you two don’t like each other. But…he needs a friend. Don’t you trust me?”

Sebastian took a moment to answer. “Yes…of course…But I just got back and now you’re leaving. How long are you even going to be up there?”

Again, you shrugged. When it came to Hayden, you didn’t really think. You just jumped in, you dove in head first. He had that sort of power over you where it was hard to deny him anything.

“I’m not sure. Two days, three, maybe a week, I don’t know.”

“Oh well that makes me feel better,” he sarcastically responded. “I don’t like this.”

“I know this isn’t what you want to hear. I know how this sounds….But he said he needed me, he needed a friend and I would think you’d be supportive of that,” you tried desperately. Your eyes searched his, but they seemed to be clouded with a million worried thoughts. “Are you honestly worried I would be unfaithful to you?” you questioned. “I would hope after several months away from each other, and the million opportunities I had to cheat on you, I wouldn’t wait for Hayden to call and tell me he’s splitting up to commit infidelity.”

Seb nodded at this. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“Thank you. Now I need to finish packing, my plane leaves in an hour and a half.”

“Tonight?!”

“Yes. Tonight.”

“Why do you have to leave now?” he demanded.

“I don’t know. I don’t see a reason to wait. Between my writing and you being gone all the time, it’s probably best if I just leave tonight,” you stated, trying to rationalize it.

Sebastian stood stunned as he stared at you.

“Dinner is in the oven, salad is on the table, the dessert is in the fridge,” you informed as you finished packing and zipped up your bag.

“So that’s it? You’re just going to leave?” he asked as you started to get your things gathered and got near the doorway.

“What do you want me to do, Sebastian? Leave tomorrow? What’s the difference? You’ll be at work.”

“Can you at least stay and eat? It seems like you went to a lot of trouble,” he desperately requested, his eyes had a strained look to them.

You shook your head. “No. I really need to go. I’m sorry.” You petted Spinee’s head, the dog Sebastian had adopted a few months before you met, and told him goodbye before kissing his nose. “I love you,” you quietly said as you walked over and hugged him. You kissed him but it felt cold on his side.

A sad smile touched your lips as you left the apartment and headed for the airport.