#it still doesn’t feel totally real but once i’m in the pit i’m sure i’ll be a blubbery mess

[harrylights]

i am READY 💚💙

[thefanbasewhore]

In Big Trouble.

Summary: Bucky never texts back until he has a reason to 👀

Warning/content: (18+) no real smut but it's little steamy

Paring: Bucky Barnes x female reader

Master list || Bucky Barnes tag list. 

Is everything okay?

Anxious eyes read over the words over and over again, hoping this will be the time Bucky Barnes will finally learn how to use a damn phone. He's been gone for over a week, you try not to call or worry too much but it's not like he makes it easy.

It's been five days since you last heard from him, called from Sam's phone claiming he'll never be able to use his own. Of course, he grew up in a era where cell phones weren't a think but you mostly think it's because he's stubborn, refusing to use any kind of technology because he's an old man at heart.

Feet nervously shuffling on the floor under your desk, chewing on the fat of your lip nervously. It's hard to sit back and act like it's okay not to hear from him, like he's not the only thing running through your mind 24/7 because he is. It's a learning curve really, not a single person in the world has ever prepared you for having a super solider boyfriend and the endless worrying that comes along with it.

Sighing loudly you throw the phone back into the drawer of the desk before getting back to work. He'll be fine. He always is.

***

It's hours later and once again you're staring at the stupid screen but now in the confines of your own home, on your own time but it doesn't shake the worry, it's worse.

Buck are you there? Answer me back old man.

Five days is a long time.. what if he's hurt or something went wrong and he's trapped knees deep in snow in Antarctica or some kind of freak accident happened that Bucky and Sam are trapped on a deserted island?

But then again, how would he be able to text you? No, No, everything is fine, Bucky is fine just technologically challenged. Waiting a few more minutes before throwing the phone onto the the coffee table with a loud grunt.

***

Now it's been eight whole days, still not a single word from Bucky or Sam. Not even a little thumbs up emoji and quite honestly it's worrying.

Bucky on the other hand is well aware of all the messages, reads every single one but scowls trying to press the small letters to form something even close to English but ends up getting aggravated and gives up.

Everything is fine, except for every waking minute he's either on a stake out which means he can't even take ten minutes to call you or out of reach from any kind of service. It's his last day here, the mission is finally over but the debriefings will hold him for just a few more hours.

He looks around the room of people, all politely listening to Sam as he clears up the mission, any loose ends sealed tight but Bucky can't care enough to pay attention. Except this time the phone chimes in the side pocket of his tac pants and it's not like he's doing anything anyways, why not peak?

He looks up, just to make sure no one is looking before angling it towards his face, but just enough it's hidden under the table and presses the notification, it's surrounded by hearts and 'my doll' is in big letters.

He starts to get annoyed, nimble fingers hovering over the screen as it freezes momentarily but the words aren't hard to miss on the screen.

'Miss you, big guy 💘'

It's sweet, the small pink heart after it fills a warmth over his cheeks, flushes his nose just enough that if any one cared to look over they would totally catch the Winter Soldier pinched pink. It makes him smile, a feeling all so new to the solider, never in his life having someone waiting for him, worrying and missing him.

But what happens next causes him to audibly choke, spit caught in the back of his throat as a deep, red flush claims his face which only makes it worse as he looks up to notice everyone is staring at him.

There you are, in front of the floor mirror. It's a simple pose, sitting on your legs, arm over your head while your hand ruffles your hair, back arched so high he can almost feel the similarly of it on his hands, fingers twitching to feel it again.

He notes the way your bottom lip is pulled between teeth, red and puffy, begging for his own. Eyes roam over the long muscles of your neck, small brusies from his departure still stain the skin purple, they trail down your collar bones and stop right between the valley of your breast.

His mouth waters to taste the salty tang of your skin again, bare breast high in the air, pedals pink and puffy, knowing for a fact they have been played with moments before. He can't look away, just follows the path set out from your torso to the skin of your thighs that are strategically placed to hide where you want him most.

He's so, so hot, the temperature of the room at least increased by 20 degrees in the last minute as he awkwardly coughs. "Sorry, Just need so water."

He takes a fake sip, making sure all eyes are somewhere else before looking back down pulling his collar away from his neck. Desire fills his chest and pumps throughout his whole body with a dull ache in his lower abdomen.

Fingers press more harshly then they should, he's so close, has the whole sentence typed out. 'Someone's being a bad girl' before he hovers over the send button but it's too late, there's already another picture.

This time you're laying down, phone raised in the air, thighs spread revealing everything to him. A hand rest dangerously low below your stomach and he stands so quickly the stupid chair spins behind him, he's already almost out the door before a word could be said.

It's not even ten seconds later when the contact picture pops up, letting it ring a few times and answering it with a knowing smirk. "Hi baby."

"Don't hi baby me, what was that?"

Bitting your lip with a smirk and looking around the room innocently despite a soul not being around. "What was what?"

"The pictures, you know exactly what I'm talking about doll." He sounds angry but you know him far too well to know exactly what he's feeling. Voice grovels just enough to being back the memory of the soft words that would be mumbled into your skin as he takes you and it's heaven to your ears.

"Oh those? Just missed you big guy."

It's funny how two basic words have him weak in the knees, desire burning in the pit of his stomach as you continue. "Just trying to get your attention."

"Is that what this is sweetheart? Are you feeling a lonely?" It's pure sugary, velvety smooth how he patronizes you but you want more. The desire to have him buried between your legs is too strong to fight even if you tried.

"Yes, feeling a little neglected here, Buck.." Sultry smooth, each word makes him want to palm his aching hard on as he struts down the stairs, midful of every turn and staircase he takes to avoid any awkward altercations.

"I'm sorry baby, I'll be home three hours tops. Give you all you need. Be a good girl and wait for me." It's easier said then done, a small groan is music to his ears.

"I mean it, wait for me. Don't be a brat." Taking his warning rather low as he hears shuffling on the other side of the line.

"Want another picture, to hold you over?"

His mouth snaps open, but he can't seem to get the words out. It's hard rejecting such an offer, jaw clenching in annoyance, not directed towards you but the aching, heavy feeling between his thighs. "No."

"Are you sure?"

"Don't you dar-." Before the words could even leave his mouth the phone chimed against his ear, brows narrowing in frustration. "You're in so much trouble."

[seita]

the contract girlfriend | semi eita (m.)

˒ pairing: semi eita/reader ˒ genre: angst, fluff, smut ˒ wordcount: 𝟺𝟹𝟹𝟷 ˒ tags: friends2lovers, fake dating, musician!eita ˒ cw: dirty talk, loss of virginity, virgin kink if u squint: sweet talking, pet names, mean girl ex, mutual pining, unrequited love(?), angst with a happy ending, UNEDITED

+ note: this is a collab along with the other writers for the kkc! i would also like to thank @bokutobabie​ 𝖿for her help with this plot bc it was kickin’ my ass.

˖˖ summary: when he was an unknown musician, his girlfriend left him. now that he’s made it, he wants to make her jealous at a fancy party so he can get her back.unfortunately, he asks you to be his fake date. the downside? you have a very real crush on him.

⇦ back to navigation.

collab masterlist!

© all content belongs to seita 2020. do not modify or repost.

“I have a proposition,” is never a sentence you want to hear when you sit down to lunch with your best friend. Especially when that friend is Semi Eita. 

“What..?” you ask apprehensively, taking the cup of coffee he’d obviously gotten to bribe you. You took it regardless, not willing to pass up the offer of free coffee.

“Nana is gonna be at the party this weekend,” he muttered, swirling his fingertips around the rim of his cup. You felt your heart drop into the pit of your stomach at his words, “I want you to come and pretend to be my date.”

Just as you’d expected. Not something you wanted to hear.

Nana was Eita’s first love, his first serious relationship, really. They got together when he was fresh out of highschool, the two of them spending almost all of their time together. 

It was when his career as a musician was just beginning, he was playing small gigs and there was nothing really successful. But he was happy. And he thought she was too.

Until she dumped him in favor of a much more famous man. He was a big movie producer and offered her a leading role in an upcoming film. Of course, she took the offer. 

She would much rather be mingling with the rich and famous than be hanging out with “a nobody like him”, as she put it. You remembered the hurt Eita felt, the tears and heartbreak it took almost 3 years for him to get over. 

“Why?” you finally asked with a sigh, “What will that accomplish?”

“Well if she gets jealous, she might want to get back with me,” he grinned impishly, shrugging his shoulders like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

You recognized the look in his eyes, one of determination. So you sighed, nodding your head, “Alright, I’ll be your date.”

He beamed, uttering out endless thanks to you as you went on with your lunch until he decided to go back to the studio. He slipped his hat on low, making sure his mask was in place before hugging your goodbye and leaving you sitting alone at the table. 

You sighed, downing the last of your coffee. Your spirits were low; you had no idea what to expect from this party. 

Would she fall for it and run back into his arms now that he had had his big breakthrough and became mainstream? She surely must have known by now; his band was already breaking records, wracking up fans by the thousands, his songs were being played on the radio. 

Maybe now that he was famous enough, she’d actually want to be with him. Not that she deserved him. And he didn’t deserve someone like that, either. He was too good for her, too good to be treated like that. 

You let out another sigh and stood up, grabbing your purse from the back of the chair.

This was going to be painful. You weren’t sure how you would cope with pretending to be his girlfriend all for the sake of him getting back with her. 

Surely your heart wouldn’t be able to take it.

Because as much as you tried to hide it, you were irrevocably in love with your best friend.

The entire getup was supplied to you by Eita; from the jewelry to the dress itself. You felt like a different person. Despite the fact he was your best friend, you hadn’t attended one of the big parties since his band’s breakout single. 

This particular party wasn’t in celebration of his band, but he was invited regardless so naturally he went. He was still enjoying the high life and was getting used to tasting fame. You were glad it hadn’t actually affected his personality. 

“You look nice today,” Tendou complimented with a breezy smile. He was nursing a glass of champagne, which was uncharacteristic to say the least. He had always been more of a whiskey kind of guy.

“Thanks,” you shrugged, “I’m not really a fan of this kind of thing.”

“I know,” he grinned, “You look terribly uncomfortable, that’s why I came over to be such a good pal and keep you company while your darling boyfriend is off galavanting with the people!”

You rolled your eyes, “He’s not my boyfriend, Satori.”

He giggled, taking glee in your embarrassment, “But you wish he was.”

“Are you already drunk?” you raise a brow, making him snicker.

Someone called his name from the crowd and he flashed you a knowing grin, “Eita may be too dim to see it, but the rest of us aren’t!”

You pout and find yourself alone once again. Looking around, you search for your ‘boyfriend’. Suddenly, a heavy arm falls across your shoulders and the familiar scent of his cologne reaches your nose. 

“Hey, babygirl,” he coos, making your heart skip a beat at the pet name. He sounds so fond and you feel yourself smiling before he busts out laughing, shaking his head before letting his arm fall from your shoulders, “That’s just so weird. I dunno if I’ll be able to get through this tonight,” Ouch. “Anyway, Nana just arrived so…” he takes your hand but you can’t bring yourself to smile as you feel the ache in your heart at his words.

If he takes note of your deflated behavior, he doesn’t say anything, merely leading you over to the balcony. You breathe in the fresh air and feel the ache in your chest dull.

“Eita? Is that you?” a perky voice makes you cringe. 

“Nana,” Eita breathes, tugging you against his side as she breaks through the crowd to stand in front of the two of you.

Her smile promptly disappears at the sight of you crowded in Eita’s arms.

“Eita...who’s this?” she asks, a smile returning but you can tell it’s plastic. 

You remembered everything you had gone over with him before the party; the two of you had sat down for a few hours to sort out your story and rules. It had felt like you were making a binding contract with him when you told him no kissing on the lips. It was your only stipulation and you swore you saw a brief downward tug of his lips when you told him before he beamed and readily agreed. 

Maybe you were imagining that disappointment in his eyes too. 

“This is my girlfriend, _____,” Eita introduced, giving your arm an affectionate squeeze.

“Oh,” she gave you a strained smile and held out her hand for you to shake. When you slipped your hand into hers, she gave it a tense squeeze that made you flinch, “I’m Nana, Eita’s ex.”

“I’ve uh…” you cleared your throat and pulled your hand away, “I’ve heard stories about you.”

“All good I’m sure,” she replied flippantly before setting her sights on him once more, “We should totally catch up, you know? Reminisce about the good old times~”

The sultry, flirtatious undertone made your skin crawl. Even if you weren’t really dating, she thought you were and for her to not respect that made you angry. But still, Eita pulled away and placed a kiss against your temple that set your heart ablaze.

“Sure, why not?” he grinned and gave your hand a squeeze, “You go have some fun, sweetheart. I’ll catch up with you later.”

You gave him a hollow wave as he quickly vanished into the crowd without a second glance your way. You knew this was the end goal but still, to see him walking away hurt. A sense of rejection was seeded within you and you felt your spirits slowly being crushed. 

It took all your power to continue on with the party until it felt acceptable to leave. Throughout the party, you kept getting glances of the two of them. 

Eita wore a serene smile, his eyes sparkling as he looked at her. Whenever she looked at him with a flirtatious smile and a subtle caress, you felt jealousy pool in the core of your stomach. You wanted to march over there and scream “he’s mine!”. But you couldn’t, because he wasn’t really yours. 

He was only pretending to be yours so he could have her. 

Your phone vibrated as you downed your final glass of wine, making you look at the screen with a frown.

“I’m heading to Nana’s apartment for the night! See if Satori can give you a ride home, thanks for the help!!”

Your jaw ached from how hard you were forcing yourself to keep from crying. When you tried to find the elusive redhead, you found he was drunk and dancing with two girls so you decided to leave him be and simply call an Uber. 

For just a short time, you had simply been a contract girlfriend for him to use. Though you knew it was fake, it still felt so nice to be called his. 

So you went home, removing your expensive clothing like Cinderella after the ball and decided to relax on the couch. It was only a little past midnight when you got out of the shower, turning on the TV to watch whatever late night nonsense was playing. 

Eita thought that being with Nana again would be everything he wanted. But as he laid beside her, her head resting on his naked chest, strangely all he could think of was you. 

When he asked you to pretend to be his date, he hadn’t thought of the possibility of how it would really feel. Sure, he had touched you before, naturally. Sometimes he hugged you and held your hand. But that night, when he placed the kiss against your head, the way your eyes lit up in response had his heart stuttering when he thought back to it. 

Truth be told, when you told him he couldn’t kiss you he felt so...disappointed. He had thought of assigning the same rule but decided against it at the last moment, secretly thinking about how nice it may feel to kiss you. 

He had quickly dashed that though because of how wrong it was to think of you like that. 

Yet there he was, thinking of you with his ex girlfriend back in his arms again.

“Eita?” Nana asked, lifting her head to look drowsily at him, “Are you okay?”

“Um...yeah,” he clears his throat, “I should probably get going.”

“Why?” she whines, “Don’t worry about her.”

“Huh? Who?” he asks, confused.

She giggles and clings to his arm, “Your girlfriend! She doesn’t have to know!”

His heart ached at those words -- true, you weren’t really dating but he felt like he had done something wrong. And for some reason Nana’s blatant disregard that he had cheated with her made him nauseous.

“I...I just want to see if she made it home safely,” he gave her a tight lipped smile and picked up his phone. 

She rested against the pillow, head propped up on her hand as she watched him dial you. When you didn’t answer, he gave a frustrated sigh and dialed Satori instead. 

It rang a few times before the slurred voice of his best friend answered, “H-Hey man, what’s up?”

“Satori, did you drop _____ off okay?” Eita asked.

The redhead made a confused sound over the line, “What’re you talkin’ about? She never asked me to take her anywhere.”

“What?” Eita frowned, “Did you see her leave the party?”

“Gotta tell ya, man, I wasn’t watchin’ her,” Tendou replied, a feminine giggle in the background making Eita frown, “Wasn’t that supposed to be your job?”

Eita sighed, shaking his head, “Alright, dude, just...let me know if you hear from her.”

“Hah? Why would she call me?” Satori chuckled, “Why don’t you just check on her? Better safe than sorry...I mean, she’s a cute girl, you never know what kinda scoundrels were eyeing her in that pretty little dress tonight. If i was a less honorable friend, she would be the one in my bed right now!”

Eita scoffed and hung up as his friend started cackling gleefully over the line. Eita stood up, shaking off Nana’s grabby hands as he slipped his jeans back on.

“You’re not going back to her, are you?” she pouted.

Eita sighed, “I gotta check on her. No one knows where she went off to.”

“She’s a big girl, c’mon Eita~” she purred, letting the sheet fall from her bare body as she crawled towards him.

He shook his head and threw his shirt on, grabbing his keys off of her dresser before moving to the door, “I gotta see her.”

He ignored her obnoxious whining as he bolted out the door. Any sleepiness that was in his system had evaporated at the worry he felt over you. 

The drive to your apartment was quick enough, it went by in a blur. He took two steps at a time up to your place on the 3r floor, not patient enough to wait for the elevator. 

The knock on your door made you jump. Throwing the pillow you held in your lap aside, you checked through the peephole to see a familiar head of sandy blonde hair. 

Pulling the door opened, you looked at him with wide eyes, “Eita? Aren’t you supposed to be with--”

“I couldn’t get a hold of you,” he breathed, stepping past you to enter your living room.

“And?” you laughed, shrugging your shoulders.

“I got worried! Why didn’t you go home with Satori?” he sighed, sitting on your couch with a huff.

You chuckled again, though it was humorless, “He looked like he was having fun, I didn’t want to impose.”

He sighs and relaxes against the couch. As you sit next to him, for a second things feel normal. 

You almost feel okay, as if you could forget about everything happening. It’s so easy to forget your crush on your best friend and the fact he wanted to be with another woman. 

It was easy to forget it all until it came rushing back into your face in the form of Nana. 

You and Eita were having a lunch date, as was normal for the two of you. Unfortunately, amid his retelling of a story you had heard a million times over, she showed up with an obnoxious screech of his name.

“Eita!” she squealed and rushed over to him, throwing her arms around his shoulders. 

You let out a soft sigh, your eyes falling to your half-finished plate.

“Nana…” he greeted, eyes wide in shock, “H-How did you find me? What’re you doing here?”

“I wanted to see you, silly!” she chirped, taking a seat in his lap in a way that was far too comfortable. Suddenly, her gaze shifted to you and the smile vanished off of her face, “Oh, you’re here.”

“Nana…” Eita sighed but didn’t make any move to get off of him.

“What? I thought you were going to break up with her?” she whined loudly, making your cheeks burn as people looked over at the two of you, “You said you were going to dump her!”

“I--” Eita started.

“You should go,” Nana grinned at you, shrugging her shoulders as she hugged Eita closer to her, “Seriously, he’s mine now. He was fucking me at that party instead of you.”

Although nothing about your relationship that night was real, the humiliation you felt at that very moment was. She was smug that she had gotten your boyfriend to cheat on you and was making a spectacle of her victory. 

Biting your lip, you reached behind you to grab your purse, “I-I’ll see you later, Eita.”

“______ wait!” he called but you were already rushing towards the entrance. 

You had no idea that he was hot on your heels until you reached your apartment. You went to close it only for the foot to intercept it. Looking over your shoulder, you found Eita panting before he was pushing the door open completely.

“_____ I--” he paused, “Why are you crying?”

“I am?” you wiped under your eyes and frowned when you felt the moisture there, promptly wiping it away, “Sh-She completely made a fool of me, Eita. I don’t know what you ever saw in her and I don’t know why I helped you get back with her.”

“I know, look…” he ran a hand through his already messed up hair, “I feel the same, alright? I’m sorry I pulled you into all this, _____, I really am. Alright, I told her to get lost.”

You sighed and took a seat on your couch, “She only wanted you back because you’re famous now. You know that right?”

He chuckled and sat down, nodding his head, “I guess I was just...hoping for something I guess.”

“What?” you asked.

He shrugged, “I don’t really remember anymore,” he confessed. 

“Well,” you didn’t quite know what to say, simply leaning back on the couch to appear relaxed, “I always wondered why you didn’t date after her anyway.”

He shrugged once more. How was he meant to say that he didn’t want anyone impeding on his time with you? 

“I guess...no one really came along, you know?”

You nodded, “I guess it’s the same for me.”

He snorted, “You’ve never even dated anyone before.”

“You don’t have to bring that up!” you whined, playfully shoving his shoulder.

He laughed, melodic and pretty, “I think it’s cute. What’s your story then?”

“Eita, we’ve been friends since high school, you know everything about me,” you smiled, feeling your cheeks warm at the soft look he was giving you.

“Yeah but…” he bit his lip, fingers inching closer towards you, “You’re...pretty and sweet. There’s plenty of good looking guys around me that have tried flirting with you before. Hell, Satori even said he was into you.”

You smiled and shook your head, “No, none of them are right…”

“Who is right then?” he asked, unable to hide the hopefulness in his voice.

“Eita…” the smile falls from your lips, your heart hammering in your chest as he moved closer towards you, “I…”

“Hm?” he hummed, his nose brushing against yours, breath fanning over your lips.

“I...I won’t regret this, will I?” you asked. 

His breathing stuttered against your skin and he shook his head, bringing his hand up to cup your cheek, “You won’t.”

After those words left his mouth, he brought your lips to his in a sweet kiss that was perfect for a first. You could tell he was experienced, knowing exactly how to move. 

There was something sweet lingering on his tongue that you found utterly addictive. 

You wish you could find it strange or even scary to wind up in bed with your best friend. The fact your entire relationship was going to be changing should have concerned you but all you felt was anticipation. 

He hovered over your body, the two of you stripping your clothes with unhurried ease. His body was firm from working out, a habit he never let go of from his time as a volleyball player. 

His hands were calloused and warm as they touched your body, caressing your breasts in a way no one ever had. The feeling of him thumbing over your nipples had your back arching in arousal, your panties becoming soaked embarrassingly fast. 

He was hard and throbbing in his jeans, the constricting material almost painful but all he really cared about in that moment was seeing all of you. 

Hooking his thumbs into the band of your panties, he pulled the material down. He cursed under his breath at the strings of slick that attached to the fabric. 

“You’re so wet,” he breathed, licking his lips as he tossed your panties over his shoulder to be lost somewhere in your room. 

“Sh-Shut up, don’t tease me…” you mumble, feeling embarrassed by your body’s own reaction to him.

He smiles, pressing a soft kiss against your knee, “I’m not, baby. It’s sweet...I love knowing you react so honestly to me.”

“Eita…” you whined, reaching up to cover your face as he spread your legs.

“Hmm?” he bites his lip, sliding two fingers between your folds to spread them apart. 

Your hole clenched around nothing, drooling more slick for him to gather on his fingertips. He used it to rub smooth circles around your clit, the sweet moan that fell from your lips at the pleasure he so easily gave you. 

“I’ll get you nice and prepped, baby,” he cooed, the nickname making your heart soar. 

You were so wet, making it easy for him to slide two thick fingers into your pretty cunt. You clamped down tight around the digits, making his cock throb at the mere thought of what that would feel like around his hard cock. 

Twisting his wrist, he crooked his fingers up to hit your sweet spot, his thumb coming up to circle around your clit. The inexperience of your body made it so easy for him to bring you to the edge. 

You had never felt this, no one had ever touched you so intimately so your body was more reactive than ever. 

Reaching down, you wrapped your hand around his wrist, meeting his gaze with wide eyes. He smiled, capturing his bottom lip between his teeth.

“You cumming?” he asked, though he could very easily feel your walls spasming around him. 

Still, you nodded, mouth falling open but no sound escaping, “E-Eita…”

“C’mon, baby,” he groaned, fasting his pace to fuck your dripping cunt. The sounds were wet, lewd and if you were with anyone else you would have been completely ashamed. But it was Eita, the person you trusted the most in the world. He groaned as your body began to quake, “Let it go, pretty girl. Cum for me, that’s it.”

At his encouragement, you released with a shrill whine of his name. He eagerly fucked your gushing cunt through the high, only slowing when your back met the bed again. 

Pulling his fingers from your hole, he was mindful of your sensitivity. He still couldn’t resist placing a fleeting kiss against your throbbing clit before sitting up to meet you for another heated kiss. 

Your body was still trembling as you wrapped your arms around his neck, your thighs spread open around his waist. His clothed cock hovered above your sensitive core and he made sure the rough material of his jeans didn’t make contact.

“Please, Eita, c-can we…?” you asked, biting your lip, too embarrassed to utter the words.

He smiled and nodded, brushing some hair behind your ear before sitting up to discard the remaining clothing on his person. His skin was pretty, tanned and built. His cock reached his navel, dripping precum down the length which he used to easily slick his cock up with his fist. 

The sight of your best friend jerking himself off over your naked, trembling body felt beyond taboo. But it only made you more eager to have him. 

“Please, Eita...I want you,” you breathed. 

He flashed you a smile and sat up on his knees, sliding the dripping tip between your folds. Brushing past your clit, you whined at the sensitivity. 

“It might hurt a bit, pretty baby,” he whispered, positioning himself at your entrance. 

You had already guessed it. He was big just by looking at him. But nothing compared to when he began to sink into you -- that’s when his size really became apparent. 

“Ah, Eita!” you whined, digging your nails into his shoulders.

He hissed but didn’t stop you, eyes falling to where his cock was steadily stretching you open. When he got halfway in, he pulled back until the head remained within your clasping walls. With an experienced roll of his hips, he pushed his cock back in, this time easily bottoming out. 

“Fuck!” you squealed, back arching. 

He could feel you gushing, dripping down his balls. There wasn’t a single sign of pain in your features so he quickly began to move, the both of you riled up and eager to have each other completely. 

Everything felt so right, so sweet. Having him in your arms made you feel so happy. 

“You’re mine now, baby,” he groaned, burying his face in your neck, “All mine. N-No more, fuck, of this friend shit...I love you.”

“Eita,” you whined, tears pricking your eyes as you hugged him tightly against you, “I love you too. P-Please make me cum.”

“Fuck, I’ll get you there, baby,” he promised, reaching between your bodies to find your clit. Your walls immediately clamped tight around him as he played with your little bud, “C’mon. Cum for me. I wanna feel you cream, pretty baby. Can you do that for me? Show me how good this cock makes you cum.”

His filthy words, whispered in his sweet, deep voice were enough to throw you over the edge. As you squeezed around him, trembling and gushing through the amazing orgasm, he spilled within you. A soft whimper of your name fell from his lips as his balls throbbed, cock spitting out load after load until you were so filled, it dripped from your cunt. 

Finally, the both of you stilled. He leaned back to look in your eyes, tucking some damp hair behind your ear before pecking your lips. 

“I meant it, you really are mine now,” he said.

You nodded, “You’re all mine too.”

“Well,” he gave you a teasing grin, “You have to share me with my millions of adoring fans.”

“Don’t be so full of yourself,” you giggled, biting your lip as he pulled out, “You have thousands at most.”

“Oh, way to bruise a guy’s ego,” he laughed.

You were grateful to have him, everything with him was so easy. Everything between you was fine, perfect even. And you didn’t have to worry about ever losing him to another girl again.

[onceupon]

London Boy - Part 4: Just friends

summary: You wake up to find Rafe Cameron in your bed. Even though nothing happened, you’re still left trying to make sense of it all.

pairing: Rafe x reader (slowburn)

warnings: swearing, drinking

word count: 5k

a/n: thank you so much to all of you who have been reading along <333 sorry in advance if you want this to progress faster haha, it simply must be this slow, sorry I don't make the rules (even tho I do lol). Not canon Rafe!! 

masterlist

Your eyes slowly flutter open as the early morning rays wake you up. You didn’t even remember falling asleep. As you slowly gain consciousness you’re startled by the weight of Rafe’s arm draped across your body. What the hell? When did that happen? He spent the night in your bed?

Your mind races at a million miles an hour as you slowly slip out from under his hold. You were careful not to wake him up, not wanting to face any awkwardness. You throw on fresh clothes and grab your backpack, desperate to make your escape. You had wanted to get to school early today to work on some homework anyways, never before so eager to trade in the comfort of your bed for the library. 

After a quick pit stop to pick up a coffee and a croissant, you swing the heavy wooden doors open. You liked campus at this hour, the morning light still soft, the air crisp, and the atmosphere silent. As you scan your eyes for a spot to sit, you notice the unmistakable sight of fluffy brown hair hunched over a table. 

“Liam?” your whisper. “What the hell are doing here?”

That classic cheeky grin spreads across his face as he looks up to find you standing in front of him. “I go here, Y/n. Forget already?”

You roll your eyes, “I just didn’t know you were the studious type.”

“Not gonna lie to you babe, I’m not. But Rogers is already all the way up my ass over this class, and I’m not letting that prick hold me back a year.” 

You pull out the chair across from him and go to sit down, spreading your books out on the table. 

“Who said you could sit with?” he asks, and you shoot him a look. You’re not in the mood. “Geez alright, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed… you good Y/n?” he slows, taking in your disheveled appearance. You hadn’t so much as brushed your hair. 

“Can you promise not to tell anyone,” you stare dead into his eyes. 

“On my life,” he extends his pinky, and you accept. 

“Rafe… slept over last night…”

“Oh shit!” he exclaims, and your eyes widen at his echoing voice. 

“Not like that,” you hiss, not wanting to draw anymore attention to the two of you. “Nothing happened… like he just came over to watch a show and then we talked for a while and just accidentally… fell asleep. I panicked when I woke up and realized he was still in my bed so I ran out of there as fast as I could and now…. well now I’m here.” You nervously chug your coffee, heart racing. 

“So he hung out with you all night and didn’t make a move?”

You nod, nervously awaiting his analysis as you take a bite of your croissant. 

“Damn, boy must really like you,” he muses. 

“What? Definitely not,” you scoff. 

“Y/n, let me tell you a little something about guys. If we really like you, we’re gonna make the time to hang out with you, no matter what. The fact that he’s coming over your room to watch a show and hanging out with you until he physically can’t stay awake - I mean I can’t make it any more obvious to you.”

“I don’t know I just don’t think so… You don’t know Rafe like that, he’s a total player back home. He can pull any girl he wants, so if he liked me like that he would’ve done something by now. This is probably how he is with all his friends and I’m just reading too much into it. I’m sure Lily Colts will be in his bed soon enough,” you mumble. That last part stings in particular, you had already thought it, but saying it out loud made you feel… icky. 

“I may not know Rafe like that, but I know guys like him. I am guys like him. He likes you Y/n. So what if he pulls a lot of chicks, he doesn’t actually care about them. But he cares about you, probably can’t even understand why, and now it’s like bam Uno reverse. He can’t pull the cards he normally does, and now you’ve got him confused and he doesn’t know what to do. Man’s down bad. Give him time though, he’ll come around,” he explains to you calmly, stealing your coffee cup from you and taking a sip. 

“Honestly can I just start paying you to figure my life out for me. You make everything seem so simple.”

“Because it is simple. You insist on complicating it. But I know how you could pay me,” he adds with a wink and you shoot him a glare. You know he’s just joking (partially), he loves pushing your buttons. 

“Well whatever. I’ll believe it when I see it,” you resign on the Rafe matter. You wanted to believe what Liam was saying but it didn’t quite make sense to you. You were only going to drive yourself crazy trying to read between lines that you weren’t sure existed. Rafe was just used to situations like this with girls. To him last night was probably no big deal. It was to you though. You would never let ‘just a friend’ stay over like that, with his arm around you no less. But Rafe didn’t need to know that, you decide. 

—-

You manage to avoid Rafe all day, not having any classes with him on Friday’s. As soon as your last class is over, you sprint home, relieved when you’re the first back at the flat and can quickly slip into your room undetected. You set down your bag and sit on the edge of your bed. Your hand slowly runs over your comforter, still ruffled from where Rafe had been laying the night before. The indent of his head is still on your pillow; you can almost smell the scent of him lingering in your room and hear the sound of his soft whispers. You wonder what his first thoughts were when he woke up in your bed alone - was he confused? Embarrassed? He probably thought nothing of it at all. You can just picture him casually getting up with a stretch, like it’s the start of any typical day.

You slip into the shower and let the water wash over your body. It’s warm and soothing, and it’s reminding you of Rafe laying next to you, of his arm wrapped around you. God if there was only a way to shut your brain off once in a while. As much as you tried to suppress it, there had been a tiny part of you that was happy to have woken up in his embrace, giddy like a school girl with a crush. You’d always wondered how a moment like that would feel, or how a moment like that with him would feel. You had conveniently failed to mention the “arm” detail to Liam, maybe because in the back of your mind you knew it would only help prove his theory right.  

When you make your way back to your room, your phone buzzes and the Royal Fam 🇬🇧🇺🇸 group chat appears. 

Olivia: who wants to go out tonight 😈

Topper: me and Rafe have to be up early tmrw for soccer - rain check on this one ladies 

Olivia: :( 

Olivia: girls night out??

Millie: you know I’m there!

You’re a little bummed that Rafe won’t be there tonight. But a girls night sounds like just what you need to get him off your mind. 

Y/n: I’m in :)

Not even a few minutes later Olivia and Millie are barging into your room, causing you to let out a startled yelp. 

“My god, heard of knocking,” you exhale with your hand coming to your chest. Your statement falls on death ears. 

“Which jeans with this top,” Olivia asks, holding the clothing items against her body. 

“Should I curl or straighten my hair with this,” Millie follows, holding her outfit up. 

“Uhh,” your mind scrambles, “those jeans Liv. And straight, Mills,” you reply, shocked by your own decidedness. “But now you guys have to help me, I have no clue what to wear.”

“Say less,” Olivia flashes a smile. 

Within minutes they tear through your closet, picking out your outfit. Things were always much more clear with a fresh set of eyes. The three of you discuss the night’s logistics before making your way to the kitchen - couldn’t go drinking on an empty stomach. Rafe and Topper are already there, and you try your best to act natural even though your stomach ties itself in a knot the moment you catch a glimpse of his face. You haven’t seen him since you ran out this morning. 

“Uh hey I’m gonna run to Sainsbury’s real quick, I wanna get a chaser, anyone need anything,” you ask, avoiding eye contact with Rafe. Your nerves get the best of you and in terms of fight or flight, you were ready to flee. 

“Hey wait I’ll come with you. Gotta pick something up for dinner,” Rafe stands grabbing his jacket, and before you can interject, he’s leading the way down the hall and out your shared flat. 

“So what are you chasing tonight?” 

“What?” you ask startled, his question pulling you back to reality. Your mind had been running in a loop, trying to read him and the thoughts in his head. You wished now more than ever that you knew what Rafe was like behind closed doors back home, so you could somehow make sense of it all.

He chuckles at you, lost in your own world. “You said you needed a chaser?” Those intimidating blue eyes have found their way to yours again and you hastily look away, focusing in front of you instead. 

“Oh yeah- uh just for the vodka,” you laugh nervously. 

“Basic,” he mocks. You scoff in surprise and lightly hit him on the chest as the laughter leaves your lips. He’s sporting a shit-eating grin, having successfully egged you on. 

“You’re funny if you think I’m gonna do shots of whiskey before going to a club.”

“Well you do owe me one…” he says.

“Oh so he remembers?” you reply, amused.

“Of course,” he states so calm and so sure. Your head swirls at that, his cool confidence making you melt. The automatic doors slide open in front of you, fluorescent lights stealing your attention from the boy you were finding dangerously more attractive by the second.

“I thought we’re supposed to take it together? But someone’s being lame and not coming out tonight,” you say sarcastically, playing it as cool as you can manage. Rafe’s confidence seemed to come naturally, but you were more of a fake-it-till-you-make-it kind of gal.

“Hey you know I have soccer,” he defends. The Kook Prince was not one to turn down a party without cause.

“Excuses excuses,” you shake your head.

“Actually, speaking of soccer, you uh- you and the girls should come tomorrow. If you’re not doing anything. Or not too hungover I should say. Game’s at 12.”

“Can’t make any promises Cameron, but we’ll see,” you smile, earning a satisfied smile from him in return. 

You make your way to the frozen food aisle, Rafe explaining to you how they call a soccer field a football pitch here, as you laugh at him grabbing 5 frozen pizzas (dinner solved for the next week, of course). You ask him which chaser you should pick. He points out a cola, so naturally you decide to get blackberry seltzer water, Rafe twisting his face in disgust (who would voluntarily drink that tv static). You always felt so nervous at first, to be in Rafe’s presence, but all it ever took was a few minutes for you to completely relax around him. He was intimidating, yet inviting. Mysterious, yet open. He was somehow the cause of your anxious nerves and yet the source of your comfort. The fear of facing Rafe after running out this morning had paralyzed your thoughts all day, and now you could hardly remember why. He hadn’t mentioned it at all, as if nothing happened. His normalcy confirmed for you that him sleeping over was in fact no big deal, and you almost want to laugh at yourself for how much you had worked it up in your head. You two were just friends, and perhaps Rafe was used to being… a friendlier friend than what you were used to. But that was okay, you could learn to be friendlier too.

—-

Rafe and Topper had decided to accompany you guys in the kitchen as you pregamed. They slowly sipped beers as you, Millie, and Olivia pounded back shots, laughing at the way you guys got progressively drunker and progressively louder before finally heading out. And much to your surprise, the boys were still seated in the same spot hours later, when the three of you stumble back into the flat, McDonalds in hand.

“Oh look who’s still up,” Olivia slurs, taking a bite of her cheeseburger. 

“We can’t go out, we have soccer,” Millie mocks, almost falling to the floor as she trips over her heel, Topper and Rafe not making any effort to hide their clear amusement. 

“Fun night huh?” Topper quirks his brow. 

“The funnest,” Millie holds her head high, sinking down against the wall until she’s sat on the floor. You had made a beeline for the dining room table, silently admiring your chicken nuggets. In that moment, they were the best thing you had ever tasted. 

“I want Jake,” Olivia pouts, and before anyone can say a word she’s turned on her heel, burger in hand, off to crawl into her boyfriend’s bed. 

“Alright you drunk, let’s get you to bed,” Topper laughs, scooping an incoherent Millie up to her feet by her elbows. 

“M’not drunk,” Millie protests, even though she’s leaning her full body weight against Topper who sarcastically nods at her, escorting her down the hallway. Rafe sits on the couch, silently playing with the cards in his hand again, not the least bit uncomfortable with sharing your company in silence. 

“I’m mad at you,” you say matter of factly, taking a bite of a french fry. At this point, the alcohol is doing the talking. 

“Mad at me?” Rafe stops shuffling the cards and raises his head to look at you, intrigued. 

“Yeah because you didn’t come to the club,” you furrow your brows, chucking a fry at him. He catches it instantly, laughing to himself with a shake of his head. 

“Don’t worry I saw all your guys’ snaps, I feel like I was practically there.”

“That’s not the same,” you frown, throwing another fry which he catches yet again.

“I’ll try to be there next time,” he laughs.

“That’s better I guess,” you grumble, eating another chicken nugget. The room grows quiet, Rafe training his attention back to the cards.

“When are we watching the next episode Cameron,” you break the silence, chucking another fry. He barely has to look up to catch your latest throw, shaking his head with a chuckle. He puts the cards down and makes his way over to the dining table, standing right above you now. 

“Come on, time for you to go to bed,” he beckons you toward him with his arm, to which you only furrow your brows in indignation.

“I’m not done with my food,” you protest.

“Now you are,” he says, grabbing your last fry and finishing it with one bite. “Now c’mon.” You reluctantly grab onto his extended arm to help you get up. You walk down the hall together and he opens your door for you, letting you in as he leans against the frame. You immediately fall back and collapse on to your bed with a gasp, you didn’t remember it feeling so soft when you were sober. 

“Goodnight L/n,” Rafe laughs, staring down at you. 

“Goodnight Rafe,” you mumble, seconds away from passing out. He smiles to himself at the sight of you still in the outfit and shoes you had been out in, bent in surely the most uncomfortable position possible, legs half way off the bed, yet somehow already asleep. He’s about to head back to his room, but he hesitates, turning back to you with a sigh. As slowly and quietly as he can, he pulls your shoes off for you, lifts your legs onto the bed, and covers you in your blanket. And just as quick, he slips out of your room and back into his.

—-

You wake up the next morning, letting out a groan when you realize you’re still in the outfit you had worn clubbing. Your head dully aches and your throat is desert dry so you force yourself up and to the kitchen. When you see the aftermath of McDonald’s containers on the table, vague memories start flooding your brain in horror. You couldn’t have… could you? Did you actually throw french fries at him? You close your eyes and slowly run your hand over your face in realization. Great, you think to yourself, Rafe probably thinks you’re an annoying idiot. Good grief.

You hear the door of the flat opening and Olivia appears in the kitchen, holding a plate of breakfast sandwiches, your mouth watering at the sight.

“Thank the lovely lads in apartment 4E,” she laughs, placing them on the table. “Oh god, we went hard last night didn’t we,” she says, taking in the sight of the flat.

“A little too hard…” you remark.

“No such thing, darling! Now eat up and get dressed, we’ve got a match to catch,” she declares before disappearing down the hall where you can hear muffled groans of Millie being reluctantly dragged out of her bed. You sigh and sink down into a chair, grabbing a sandwich and taking a bite. Heaven. You make a mental note to thank Jake for his chef skills. You had completely forgotten that you and the girls were supposed to go watch Rafe and Topper’s match today. Your worries about having to face Rafe yesterday had been quick to melt away, but today they were back with a new vengeance.

—-

“Okay no one wander off when we get there. Y/n, fair warning, these games get… rowdy,” Millie says, as the three of you walk toward the field, arms linked.

“Things get pretty crazy at Kildare too,” you laugh, “so yeah, don’t fucking let me out of your sight.”

The three of you shake off your fits of laughter as you stumble toward the stands, finding a spot amongst the already packed crowd. You’re finally able to take in your surroundings, glancing at the field ahead. The opposing team is warming up on the pitch, clad in red. Westheath’s team is off to the side, the boys stretching and getting ready in their white uniforms. The dirty blonde immediately catches your eye. He’s jumping and jogging in place, headphones in as though he’s tuning out the physical noise around him, and probably the mental noise too. You wonder if he’s listening to one of the songs he showed you the other night. 

He pauses his jogging to stretch out his arms, his eyes glazing over the stands, when suddenly they lock with yours. Your cheeks flush pink, embarrassed at having been caught staring, but his face just pulls into a wide grin and he gives you a wave. You wave back, and he does a quick hand motion that everyone does at Kildare games back home. You laugh and do the responding gesture, as he smiles cheekily at you before a teammate comes up to him, pulling his focus away. The exchange was brief, but oddly intimate. There was a whole field and a couple dozen people between you, and yet you two were the only witnesses to the interaction. You smile to yourself, relief in the fact that maybe getting a french fry chucked at him wasn’t enough to make him hate you after all. You wonder briefly if Rafe spends half as much time overanalyzing things the way you do. Liam was right, you do insist on overcomplicating things. 

“Hey, earth to Y/n!” Olivia laughs, waving her hand in front of your face. “The game is starting!”

—

The final score flashes on the screen: 4-2, a win for Westheath. The students are going nuts, rushing the field. Olivia and Millie lead the way, pushing through the crowd until you guys reach Rafe and Topper.

“Let’s go boys!!” Olivia yells, jumping up and down with the sea of bodies and beer around you. Rafe and Topper react with equal enthusiasm, pulling each of you in for a hug. You and Rafe are the last to hug, him pulling you in brief but close against his large sweaty body, arms wrapped around you. You don’t even mind the stickiness of the hug, feeling deja vu at the warm feeling of being in his embrace again; a feeling that is foreign yet familiar, one you hadn’t felt before. 

“Did you guys see Rafe’s goal in the second half!?” Topper asks, clapping his friend on the back.

“Of course we did, super star!” Millie cheers, giving Rafe a high five as he humbly shakes his head and laughs at his friends. The mental image of his goal was burned in your head, one that your mind would certainly play for you involuntarily over the next coming days. 

“Alright we gotta go do some stuff with the team, but everyone’s going to Central Bar later. See you guys there?” Rafe asks.

“You got it,” Olivia replies, and they jog off with quick waves, you meeting those blue eyes in silent acknowledgement once again. It was that gaze that always made the rest of the world seem to disappear while his eyes met yours, making your heart skip a beat. He’s just a friend, you remind yourself. Just a tall, attractive, soccer-playing friend…

—

“Y/n! Liv! We’re doing a round!” Jake calls you and Olivia over to where him and Liam are already at the bar, four shot glasses ordered and lined up.

“On three! One, two-“ Liam chants, as the four of you down the alcohol. Central Bar had been buzzing with what felt like half of Westheath’s student body all day. After the game, you and the girls had gone back to your flat to nap and eat, before meeting up with Jake, Liam, and the rest of their boys to head to the bar. Rafe and Topper were already pretty buzzed when you guys got there, playing a round of table tennis with you before the rest of the soccer team and their other friends pulled their attention away. You couldn’t help the way your whole body tensed when Rafe greeted Lily with a tight hug, humbling you with the confirmation that Rafe’s actions toward you weren’t anything special. You resolved yourself to a night of drinking and dancing your worries away with Liv and Liam instead.

“Alright, round of table tennis? You two against me and Y/n?” Liam challenges.

“Please, I saw Y/n playing before, you guys have nothing on us,” Olivia flashes an evil smile, her competitive side coming out.

“Oh it’s on Liv,” you laugh, as your foursome stakes your claim at the pong table. While Olivia and Jake gather the balls and paddles, you notice Liam grimacing off into the distance. You follow his line of sight, landing on Topper and Millie drunkenly dancing together across the bar, a bit too close for comfort.

“What is she doing with that geezer,” he mumbles.

“Liam! Jealousy is unbecoming of you,” you gasp in mock disbelief.

“I’m not jealous,” he scoffs, and you quickly realize that he actually is, even though you had just been joking. Your jaw falls slack as you put two and two together. Liam and Millie were always by each other’s side, at school, at the pub, when you were all watching a movie at his apartment a few nights ago. He would tease her relentlessly and his own words rang in your ears If we really like you, we’re gonna make the time to hang out with you, no matter what. 

“Shut up! Shut up!,” you whisper yell, hand coming to your mouth. “I should have realized this whole time… of course you like Millie! Everything you’ve been telling me you think exists between me and Rafe has actually been about her! She’s your Uno reverse card!” You’re shocking even yourself at these revelations.

“No no no, you can’t use my own words of wisdom against me, that’s not how this works Y/n. So what, maybe I slightly give a shit about Millie? Who cares. Her and I both know that’s never gonna happen. I still stand by everything I said about you and Rafe so don’t think your getting off so easy on that.”

“Then tell me why you’re staring at Millie while Rafe hasn’t so much as glanced my way since the minute Lily Colts got here, hmm?”

“Oh Y/n, Y/n Y/n Y/n,” Liam tuts, shaking his head laughing as he turns to the game your group of four is about to begin. You don’t have the energy to argue with Liam over the matter right now, oblivious to the fact that Rafe had indeed been glancing your way, several times. In fact, he was glancing at you right now, as Liam reached his arm over yours to help you actually hold the paddle the right way. You just hadn’t been glancing back to notice, scared of what you may or may not see between him and Lily if you did. 

—

The night dies down and it’s time for the pilgrimage back to your building. You’re walking with Millie when Liam quickly falls in step with you two. You give him a knowing smirk, to which he responds with a glare behind Millie’s back, but you let the two banter as you fall behind, now walking alone. You stare ahead, eyes mindlessly settling on Lily walking in between Callum and Henry at the front of the pack. You don’t notice the pair of legs that begin moving in pace next to your own. 

“Tonight, by the way,” Rafe’s voice startles you as you jump next to him. He chuckles at the confusion written all over your face. “You asked last night when we’re watching the next episode. And my answer is tonight, L/n,” he states.

“Haven’t you been up since like the crack of dawn? Aren’t you tired?” you ask incredulously.

“Too tired for Game of Thrones? Never,” he scoffs, Liam’s words ringing in your ear. If we really like you, we’re gonna make the time to hang out with you, no matter what.

“Well then tonight it is,” you smile. “Sorry about the french fries last night by the way,” you say meekly, looking down at the sidewalk in front of you, cheeks burning.

“Seriously L/n, talk about a horrible throw. Room for improvement,” he jokes with a comforting smile, saving you from yourself.

“Good game by the way,” you add, grateful for the way he was letting you off. 

“Thanks,” he looks at you, shoving his hands in his pocket. You turn to look at him too, and after a few moments laughter is taking you both apart. Nothing funny was said. Neither of you knew why you were laughing. And yet it felt natural, not an ounce of awkwardness in the air.

As your whole group walks into the building, people begin to peel off, splitting towards staircases and off elevator stops. 

“I’m fucking beat,” yawns Topper, as you and all your flatmates file into your hall. 

“I’m gonna sleep like a baby tonight,” Millie yawns in agreement. One by one everyone files off into their rooms. You open your door, backing into yours, Rafe across the hall from you backing into his. Laughter tugs at both your faces once again, as you let your doors close. You manage to change into your sweats and brush your teeth before you hear the light rap on your door. Rafe enters, in a t-shirt and gray sweatpants, your weakness. But you feel comfortable being alone with him now. The Rafe jitters had finally began to subside. 

“Alright L/n, episode 4, you ready for this?” he asks, plopping down in his spot next to you. 

“Oh I’m very ready,” you reply, sitting up to reach for your laptop which was resting by your feet. As you lean back, you find yourself in Rafe’s arm. He had extended it out before you sat back, effortlessly catching you against him. His hand rests casually on your arm, and you gulp, pressing play. You pray he can’t feel the way your heartbeat quickens and your body flushes. So much for those jitters being gone. 

The episode plays, you and Rafe making comments here and there before your chatter eventually dies down, leaving just the sound of the show to fill the room. You can feel Rafe’s body lean further and further down, becoming heavier and breathing slower. You very slowly turn to check, and sure enough he’s fast asleep. You sigh, and shut your laptop, careful not to stir him. You could easily shake him awake, tell him to go to his bed, but for some reason you don’t. You don’t mind him here. In fact, you almost prefer it, his body heat keeping you warm. He had already slept over once before and it clearly hadn’t been a big deal, so what was the harm in letting it happen again? You’re just friends after all, you remind yourself, not sure who you’re trying to convince. And so, the two friends fall asleep in the same bed again. 

---

🏷: @hopebaker​ @pogueslandia​ @mardema​

[skiller0dani]

Sinful | Spencer Reid

M A S T E R L I S T Criminal Minds Masterlist

smut | sub!spencer x bau!reader requests info summary | when spencer decides to let the witness flirt with him, you decide to have some fun of your own with derek. it becomes obvious that it's a mistake.

this was sitting in my drafts unedited!! I'm still trying to finish up Amortentia part 2 & the Ethan AU. They'll be up I promise, until then.. enjoy Sub!Spencer! This is my first real stab at a dom reader so I hope I did okay. I've read fics about face slapping as a kink and I just wanna let you guys know that I am not comfortable writing that so I probably never will include that.

Also I hate saliva so I probably wont write about spitting either. Sorry lololol

thanks @imagining-in-the-margins for the inspiration! (was totally inspired by "messy lessons" if you guys haven't read it...you should!)

At first you doubted he knew what he was even doing.

At first.

Maybe he wasn't trying to get in her pants, and maybe he wasn't trying to lead her on. But he was still letting her shamelessly flirt with him. You'd been with the FBI for years and made the silly mistake of assuming that working in the same department as your boyfriend would make things easier on you. Being able to see him everyday is a definite plus, seeing him in danger every time you're in the field is definitely not a plus. Watching a busty blonde witness flirt with him is certainly not a plus, especially when he lets her throw herself into his chest. Supposedly "distraught" but you see the cheeky smile peeking at the corner of her lips.

You see the thing about Spencer that nobody except for you knows, is that deep down he's a very naughty boy. The little mischievous glint in his eyes when his eyes meet yours from across the interrogation room proved that. You were professional however, so you were forced to stand by and watch him comfort her. Bitch.

"C-Could you get me some water?" Her voice was shaky, you still didn't buy it.

"Sure, Doctor-"

"Agent Y/L/N if you wouldn't mind?" Spencer's much more dominating voice cut through yours. Your eyebrows flew up as you shared a millisecond stare down with him. You could see the playful look in his eyes, flashed by the brattiest smile you'd ever seen grace his lips. Your lips stretched in a tight smile before you nodded and turned out of the room.

When JJ joined you near the kitchenette she opened her mouth to say something, but once she'd noticed you white knuckle gripping the faucet handle she changed her mind. She continued with whatever she was doing, not looking at you. It was a tense few minutes until she turned out of the room. While everyone in the BAU knew you and Spencer were together, it was easy for them to forget seeing as you never acted as a couple at work. For obvious reasons. Only in moments of danger, like when Spencer's helicopter went down and there were panicked tears streaming down your cheeks did they remember that you were in fact, together.

Apparently your usually good boy seems to have forgotten who he belongs to as well. The sight you returned to left tendrils of anger licking at the pit of your stomach.

"Oh really, that is so cool! I'll bet you're so strong!" The witness had perked up considerably since you'd left the room. Her hand reached up to curl at his bicep, and he didn't stop her. What a brat. Spencer sat next to her rather than across from her at the table, presumably to console her. Spencer beamed at her praise, an action you did not miss.

"Yeah, actually FBI agents are required to pass a variety of physical exams to insure they're physically healthy enough to chase down an unsub if need be-"

"Here's your water." Your voice was tense and you had to resist the urge to "accidentally" spill the water on her as you set the glass down. You didn't meet Spencer's eye as he stood to follow you out of the room. You could see the naughty façade fading as soon as he'd left the room.

"Y/N?" His voice was soft and his big brown eyes wide when you turned to glance at him. Your heart melted at the sight of those sad puppy dog eyes but you're not going to give in when baby boy broke so many rules.

"Shush." Is all you say, your voice sharp. You're not going to hide the fact that you're mad at him. And you're going to stay mad at him, no matter how cute he is.

"Yes ma'am." Spencer mumbles as he follows you towards the room Hotch is waiting in with the whiteboard. You try your hardest to focus on whatever Hotch is saying but all you can think about is that stupid witness pressing her chest up against Spencer, and the fact that he was practically bathing in the attention she gave him. You hated the fact that Spencer was getting exactly what he wants, he lives for your punishments. In a way, punishing him was also rewarding him but it was rewarding for you too.

After vaguely remembering Hotch asking for Spencer, you watched him scramble forward. You don't miss the fact that he nearly stops to ask for your permission to do so, you have him trained so well. A smile quirks at the corner of your mouth and you almost feel like forgiving him until Hotch speaks again.

"Reid, I want you to take Allison Calloway home..." he lists off where the rest of you will go but at that point you're no longer listening. You hear Hotch pair your name with Derek, which sparks a wicked idea in your head. He's having Spencer take the witness home? Is the world punishing you? You see Spencer steal one nervous glance at you before rushing to get Allison. You tongue your cheek before reluctantly following Derek out of the precinct.

//

You and Derek were apparently instructed by Hotch to go investigate the second crime scene, where a young man with his hands missing was found earlier this morning. You peek at Derek out of the corner of your eye, Derek is one of your close friends and he knows more than he should about yours and Spencer's...extracurricular activities. He seems to be in a good mood today, and he's unlikely to think anything of it. He'll definitely tell Spencer about it, which is sort of what you're hoping for. While this is hardly the place for you to "come on" to Derek, you're willing to do it. Spencer needs a taste of his own medicine.

"Odd, that the unsub removes the hands but repositions the watch around the victims ankle." Derek muses, his hand coming up to scratch at the stubble on his chin. Luckily the officers sent to patrol the crime scene are nowhere nearby. You circle Derek, trying to formulate the perfect sentence in your mind. It can't be too much, but definitely enough for him to inform Spencer. Derek is used to more lewd phrases coming from yours and Penelope's mouth, so surprising him enough to tattle to your boyfriend will be a challenge.

It can't be anything that would hurt Spencer however.

Derek views Spencer as his little brother and would never hurt him, and you wouldn't want to hurt Spencer either this is all in good filthy fun. It has to be a little risky, but not so risky that Derek would prefer keeping it from Spencer to protect him. If its too much Derek will approach you directly about it which would be humiliating and would entirely miss the point. This is a very delicate operation.

"Oh Derek, have you been working out?" You decide to take the easy route, adding a dash of sultry to your tone.

"Occasionally." Derek doesn't turn his head towards you, you haven't quite captured his attention yet.

"Firm is a good look on you." You tease, you'll need to ease him into it because he's going to have the wind knocked out of him when you finally lay it on him.

"Easy girly, you're venturing into dangerous territory." You hear the lilt to his tone letting you know that he's joking. You need to push it further.

"No I'm serious," you need to tread very carefully. You don't want to ruin a friendship you still want to keep, "it's a really good look on you."

Derek turns to you then, an eyebrow raised as he watches you trail your eyes down his body. While Derek isn't a bad looking guy, he doesn't even come close to comparing to your beautiful boy. Spencer is easily the cutest and sexiest man you've ever had the privilege of standing in the same room with.

"What's with you?" He asks, keeping the smile on his face so he doesn't alert you that he's concerned. You're on the right track but if you leave it here Derek will let it go. You need to drop that mini bomb on him, just a little more. You trail a finger down his shoulder, towards his bicep.

"Nothing, just admiring the view. The big, strong, sexy, view. What I wouldn't give to have you in bed Derek Morgan." There's the bomb. Your words have an immediate effect over him. The half-lidded sultry look in your eyes is enough for him to raise his eyebrows in surprise. Usually he can tell if you're joking but now he really can't tell. He's speechless, which doesn't happen to Derek Morgan very often.

"Y/N..."

"Call me if you wanna take me up on my offer." You send a wink at him before turning to head towards the black SUV. That should be enough for him to tattle.

//

When you return to the precinct, you watch with pleased eyes as Derek immediately pulls Spencer into a side room. Derek briefly glances at you, and you send him a smile but do not receive on in return. You don't think anything of it, Derek will get over it eventually with an explanation. You watch carefully as Derek begins to speak and an unreadable expression crosses onto Spencer's face, you expect he's just absorbing what Derek is telling him. Any minute now that look will cross onto his face, those dark eyes that warn you that you've officially annoyed him.

Derek keeps speaking, you can see his lips moving. What are they talking about? It shouldn't be taking this long. You're too far away to really make out their faces, so you subtly sneak closer when Spencer's eyes flash to meet yours and you gasp. There is no anger on his face, no playful annoyance, instead you see pain. Hurt. Betrayal. Derek tries to reach out to grab Spencer but the door to that side room opens and Spencer comes rushing out of it. Not bothering a side glance at you as he makes his hasty exit.

"I was only kidding." You explain quickly as Derek emerges. He doesn't look amused.

"It was too far Y/N. He's crushed." Derek snaps, brushing past you. Immediately you turn and exit the precinct, quickly finding Spencer tucked away in a secluded corner. He's sitting against the building, his head tucked into his knees and the absolute worst part is the fact that he's softly crying. You kneel in front of him in an instant, although you're not sure what to even say.

"Oh baby boy, I was only kidding. I didn't mean it, I said it because you flirted with that blonde witness!" You explain in a hurry, trying to reach out to take him in your arms. Spencer resists, instead lifting his head to look at you. His eyes are glossy and red rimmed, "kidding?"

"Yes precious, I was kidding."

"But Derek is more...attractive then I am." Spencer whimpers softly. You reach forward to firmly grasp Spencer's chin, ensuring he looks at you.

"Spencer Walter Reid you look at me," You order, and hesitantly Spencer lifts his watery eyes to meet yours. "There is not a single person who is more attractive then you are, you are flawless."

"But deep down you want Derek-"

"I was kidding Spencer. I only want you, my good boy." You purr, and you see a shiver run down his spine. You lean forward to press your lips to his before your thumbs come up to swipe away your tears.

"I'm not a good boy, I don't deserve it." Spencer whimpers once you help him stand up. Even though you're looking up at him, it's still very clear that you're the one in charge. "I flirted with Allison."

"You're right, you haven't been very good have you? I'm sure you'll make it up to me in the hotel room." You smile pressing a kiss to his flushed cheek. He nods immediately, it warms your heart.

"I love you." Spencer whispers after he catches your hand as you're about to open the door. You press a kiss to his palm, "I love you precious."

//

You could feel the nerves rolling off of him when you opened the door to your shared hotel room. The door shut with a soft click as you kicked off your shoes. Spencer remained at the hotel room door curled in on himself and wringing his hands together. You have to hide the smile as you shed your jacket from your shoulders, beginning to reach for your jeans when you pause. You take a seat on the bed, watching Spencer eye you carefully from his spot by the door.

"Come here." There isn't a question in your tone, it's more of an order. An order Spencer hastily obeys as he scrambles to stand before you.

"Undress me." You instruct, and Spencer kneels immediately to grab at the hem of your shirt. He carefully lifts the fabric off your body and tosses it aside before reaching around your body to unclip your bra. "No touching baby boy, you were naughty remember?" You snapped, and you saw him turn his head down in shame before turning his attention towards your pants. He unbuttons your jeans and helps pull them down your legs. Spencer's breath gets caught in his throat when his eyes land on your clothed pussy.

"Like what you see precious? Maybe if you were a good boy and didn't let that woman run her hands all over you, maybe I'd let you touch." You purr watching the disdain in his eyes when he realizes what his punishment is going to be.

"Tell me the truth baby boy, did you let her touch you in the car?"

He nods, but that's not good enough for you. You reach down to roughly palm him through his slacks.

"I said did you let her touch you?" You punctuate every word with a gentle squeeze around his cock. Finally, Spencer seems to find his voice.

"Y-Yes!"

"Where? Show me where she marked what's mine." You hiss, not even attempting to disguise your frustration. Spencer lifts one hand to his chest and trails it down his stomach, dangerously close to the hem of his pants before thankfully he stops.

"You let her touch you, this close to your cock?" You snap, tearing your hand away from him.

"I-I'm sorry!" He stammers, his eyes wide and his hands resting on the tops of his thighs. Boy does he look pretty on his knees before you. Not pretty enough for mercy however. There's a pleading look in his eyes, and a desperation. A desperation to please you.

"Make it up to me." You snap and as soon as the words leave your lips, Spencer's fingers are curling around the waistband of your underwear and tearing them off your body.

"Y-Yes ma'am." You lean back on your elbows as Spencer lowers his head between your legs, his eyes flickering to yours briefly. With a nod of your head, Spencer is delving between your legs with the enthusiasm of sex deprived teenager. Your head tosses back immediately as you feel his tongue licking thick stripes over your entrance. He continues to lap at you, his tongue teasing your entrance before he returns to his heavy licking. You moan softly, your fingers digging into his curls and pulling his head closer.

"Just like that, you're being such a good boy." You praise through breathy moans, and Spencer can feel his chest swell with pride. He loves being your good boy. But he isn't your baby boy all the time, sometimes, with a bit of coaxing, he becomes daddy. Spencer reaches up to prod a finger at your entrance before he's sinking in knuckle deep, his mouth curling around your clit. Spencer pumps on finger, to stretch you a little before slowly working a second finger into your suffocatingly tight heat.

"Yes Spencer, don't stop." You beg, feeling yourself climbing closer to reaching the peak, especially when his tongue flicks expertly against your clit while his fingers pump steadily into you. "Oh God, my good boy-" You praise again, and this time Spencer moans against you. Your toes curl as the vibrations send a course of pleasure through you, you've got to make him do that again.

"Do you like being my good boy Spencer? My good, obedient boy. So eager to please me, to make me feel good. And you do, you make me feel so good because you're such a good, good, boy." Your heavy praise causes Spencer to release a low groan, and the feeling is enough to launch you over the edge. Spencer keeps pumping is fingers into you, his tongue swirling soft circles over your clit to help you through your orgasm. Once your body has stopped jerking, you finally pull him off you.

"I forgive you precious, but unfortunately I still have to punish you." You inform him as you pull him back up to his feet. You hear him whine as you push his chest to lay him back against the bed.

"Do you have to?"

"Are you talking back to me baby boy?"

"N-No!" He squeaks instantly, his cheeks painted red. You stand over him, laying beneath you and you can't fight the soft moan that escapes your lips upon seeing him. His hair is disheveled from you raking your fingers through his, his brown eyes are wide and innocent as he looks up at you, and his cheeks are dusted such a beautiful shade of pink.

"Take off your clothes precious, I want to see all of you." You instruct, and you love the shy look on his face as he reaches up to remove his shirt. You let your eyes shamelessly roam his body as he slowly exposes more skin to you. Despite having been together for a few years now, Spencer is still incredibly insecure. Deep down he's worried you'll grow tired of him. Worried that you'll seek out other men despite being with him. Spencer is worried he's not enough to keep you interested. Which is wildly untrue, it's already been over 3 years and if anything you become more interested as time goes on.

"So beautiful baby boy, your body is a work of art." You breathe under your breath. Spencer blushes even deeper then he was before as he nervously fidgets underneath. You swing your legs on either side of his waist, your palms on the bed next to his head. "Your punishment, precious boy," your hands drift to his that are resting on your hips, "is that you can't touch me." You finish, moving his hands to the bed.

Spencer's eyes widen as his head drops back. A whine escapes his lips, but like a good boy, he grasps tightly at the sheets. You reach between your bodies to grasp his cock, pressing the head against your entrance before you teasingly lower onto him. Spencer's eyes squeeze shut at the feeling of your velvety walls around him- it's almost too much for the poor boy. It doesn't help that it's been a few weeks since you two last had sex, meaning you're tighter then you normally are. In fact you're so tight that Spencer can't even breathe properly while he's stretching you open.

"Oh baby boy, you feel absolutely wonderful. Your cock stretches me open so good." You purr, your hands landing on his chest for leverage so you can bounce on him faster. Spencer whimpers softly, the feeling is overwhelming, you can tell he's struggling to contain himself. Your hair drifts down your back when you throw your head back, his cock hitting places deep inside you.

"Getting close," You moan and Spencer knows that's his cue to reach down and begin rubbing circles over your clit. As soon as his thumb makes contact you're moaning loudly, your free hand digging into his hair to hold onto tightly. "Yes Spencer, yes." The phrase becomes a chant you repeat in your head over and over again. Spencer continues to rub you, desperate to help you find your release. When you slam down on him again, his cock hits the place deep inside you that makes your toes curl. You cum instantaneously, your body nearly falling top of Spencer's from the sheer force of it. Spencer's arms come up to steady you, offering shallow thrusts into you to chase his own release.

"Y/N...c-can I?" His voice is wrought, and you smile weakly.

"Yes precious, you can cum." As soon as you give him permission, he's cumming in hot gushes into you, his face buried in your neck. You run your hand down his back as his heart rate slows back to normal, and Spencer's arms stay curled around your waist.

"Spence?"

"Hm?" You can hear the lazy drawl in his voice that lets you know he's getting very sleepy.

"Don't ever break my rules again, or your punishment will be much worse."

"Yes ma'am." You press a kiss to his lips before pulling off him, and curling yourself into his side.

[oikawaplssteponme]

7 signs that you are in love

previously: the third sign

masterlist

You look out for them especially when they need it most.

“You look like shit Y/N,” said Denki. You groaned.

“I haven't slept the past few days…”

“Why’s that?” asked Shoto. You looked over at him, shrugging.

“No reason.”

Todoroki didn’t believe you. He knew you well enough to tell when you were lying.

“Well you better wake up. We’ve got a pop quiz.” Izuku pointed to the chalkboard of the classroom. The intimidating letters writing out ‘QUIZ DAY’, made your heart drop to the floor.

“I’m screwed. I have no idea what’s going on in this class,” you worried aloud. Todoroki gently patted your shoulder.

“You’ll do great.”

You may have got a total of two questions correct on the whole quiz. You tried your best but your brain felt fried. These last couple days have not been kind to you. You felt like just giving up on becoming a Hero. The pressure was getting to you and it all seemed like too much.

As you left the classroom, your heart was in the pit of your stomach.

“Hey, Y/N? Are you alright?” asked Shoto. You were .2 seconds from bawling your eyes out. You didn’t want to cry in front of Todoroki.

“I’m fine Shoto,” you said coldly.

“If you’re feeling unwell you should go see-”

“I said I’m fine Shoto!” you yelled. You both froze. You let your frustration get the best of you.

“I-I-” You panicked and ran away back to the dorms.

Todoroki stood in the hallway, a bit puzzled. Were you mad at him? Was he the cause of your restless nights? Had he done something wrong?

He looked behind him, where Deku was standing.

“Everything alright between you and Y/N?” asked Midoryia. Shoto sighed.

“I don’t know anymore.”

You didn’t attend the rest of your classes that day, saying that you felt sick. The second you got to your room, you locked yourself inside. You crashed onto your bed, laying on your side. You looked over to your dresser, where the hat your bought with Shoto sat. You sighed. Nice going at yelling at him, you thought to yourself. You felt awful in every way. So you decided to sleep the frustration away. You caught up on your week’s worth of sleep that you had been missing.

Shoto was concerned that he had done something to upset you. He became even more upset when he noticed your absence throughout the day.

“Should I apologize?” he asked during lunch. Izuku shrugged.

“For what though?”

“I’m not sure, I’ve never done this before.”

“Maybe they aren’t even mad at you.”

“But they yelled at me? Doesn’t that mean they’re mad?”

“Well usually yes but Y/N could be stressed out by something else. I’m sure they didn’t mean it.”

“Maybe.”

As nighttime fell upon UA, you finally woke up from your nap. You sighed, checking the time and seeing that it was close to 8pm. You knew you wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep.

You rubbed your eyes and stenched out as you got up from your bed. Your stomach growled and you realized you had slept through lunch and dinner. You hoped there would be something to eat in the dorm kitchen. You reached for your doorknob.

“H-Hi.”

Standing in front of you was Shoto Todoroki, with a small box.

“I’m sorry,” he said as he handed you the box. You looked at the box, then up at him. Before you knew it, you had wrapped your arms around Shoto, hugging him tightly. Built up tears began to pour.

“No no you don’t have to say sorry. I-I shouldn’t have lashed out at you. I’m s-sorry Shoto,” you cried. Shoto’s eyes widened as you hugged him. He stood like a wooden board but soon hugged you back. He held the back of your head as rubbed your back softly.

“Is everything okay?” he asked. You shook your head.

“I d-don't even know anymore…”

Shoto’s heart broke seeing you so upset, especially since he didn’t know why. Whatever was causing you stress, caused him even more.

“How about we sit down for a bit, okay?” suggested Shoto. You nodded and broke away from the hug. Shoto gently wiped away the tears from your cheeks with the sleeve of his sweater. Your face grew instantly warm. You took his hand and led him inside of your room.

You sat down on your bed and opened up the box of food Todoroki had brought you.

“I wasn’t sure what you liked so I got you one of everything,” he explained. You smiled.

“It’s perfect. Thank you.”

Shoto sat in front of you, staring at his hands. He didn’t want to force you to talk if you didn’t want to. He was here to listen either way.

“Do you ever feel like there is so much pressure on you that you might burst?” You ask. Shoto chuckled.

“I know that feeling.”

“And you try and you try to do better but it never seems to be enough. Like no matter what, someone is still better than you.”

“Yes…”

“God sometimes I feel like I’m never gonna make it,” you admitted, “like I’ll be the forgotten Hero or I won’t even become a Hero…”

Shoto raised a brow.

“Do you still want to be a Hero?”

“Yes-no- I don’t even know. I just know that I want to make a difference. In today’s world it seems like the only way to do that is become a Hero.”

Shoto moved closer to you, placing his hand onto your knee.

“You don’t have to be a Hero to save the world Y/N.”

You locked eyes with Shoto, your heart pounding. Your eyes began to water once more.

“You’ll be amazing in whatever you decide to do. Whether it’s become a Hero, a side kick, or just someone who fights for what’s right. That’s what it means to be a real Hero, not having your name on a license.”

You wiped your eyes, stopping yourself from crying again.

“You’ll be a great Hero one day Shoto. I just know it,” you smiled.

“You’ll be great too.”

Your face grew even warmer. There was something about Shoto that made your feel at ease. No other comfort was like his.

“I don’t know what I would do without you...thank you,” you whispered. Shoto nodded.

“I’m here whenever you need me,” he smiled, “it’s getting late, I should probably be heading back to my room.”

Todoroki stood up from your bed, but didn’t take another step. You had grabbed onto his wrist.

“Wait-” you began. You looked at Shoto with pleading eyes.

“Stay with me?”

Todoroki looked down at your shaky hand. You didn’t want him to leave and he didn’t want to leave you.

Shoto nodded and quietly climbed back onto your bed. He laid down with you. Your head rested on his chest as he rubbed your back. Your hand lighting gripped onto his sweater, keeping him close. Shoto looked at you, your eyes now closed.

“I’ll always stay.”

a/n: ahh hi hi! so so sorry this took forever to get out! my life is a mess right now ahah. but here it is and i hope you all enjoyed this one :) reblogs and your feedback are always welcomed!! 🤍

[taglist OPEN: @bibly @big-phat-cat @sapphoscolonoscopy @happyheartsss @lealofsblog @iwaisa @bakugousmymassa @evivn1 @tetsoleil @bokutory @vangoghmusings @moonlightaangel @complimentaryhugsgirl @marajillana @sopesmin @alaina-rose13 @shotoful @luluwiie @tanakasprayer @heyitsmichele @seiijixcia @asdfghjkl7things @random-fandom-girl-24 @sorrythatspussynal ]

[amazingphanisnotonfire-imagines]

Riverdale//what are friends for?

Request: Riverdale imagine the reader has an older brother who is a northsider to his core and wants his sister to date his friend but she knows his true colors and it won't do well and the reader hates her older brother and the core 4 watch what happens and stuff and the reader tells them about the hardships at home and w/ her brother who she's afraid of.

hey! so trigger warning: men being verbally abusive and just plain rude. please don’t read if this will upset or trigger you. the last thing i want for you is to be sad. other than that, i really hope you like this! 

You feel like you can finally breathe again when the bell rings above your head. After an excruciating 7 minutes and 32 seconds of being stuck in a car with the older brother from hell, the two of you can finally go your separate ways and pretend the other doesn’t exist for a few hours. 

And even though you know that in three hours you’ll have to get back in the car and suffer through another 7 minutes and 32 seconds until you can go to your room under the pretences of doing homework/studying, the anxiety still picks away at you. It still remains, it’s just buried under the excitement at seeing your friends. 

It’s not like Oscar is the devil incarnate, he’s just the devil’s second in command. He some sort of Northside monster, a mascot for all things privilege and pettiness stuffed inside a rich boy suit. 

He insults and teases and makes fun of anyone he deems lesser than him, which is basically anyone...including the people he calls his friends. Really they’re just people he hangs around with to boost his ego and make him feel better about whatever is going on inside his own head. 

Oscar practically shoves past you as soon as you step foot in the diner, a bright smile already lighting up his expression when he see’s the majority of his friends sitting in the corner, and you’re left standing by the door searching for your own friends. 

To your misfortune, it seems like you’re the first one to turn up so you send a quick text to them all to let you know that you’re here before sitting down in the opposite corner. 

The world passes slowly outside, people leave and enter the restaurant and you sit and play with the napkins put down by the waitress while you wait for someone to arrive. You’re halfway through your third paper napkin airplane when somebody does sit down opposite you, only it’s not who you hoped it would be and your face falls when you make eye contact with them. 

“Peter.” You mumble and try to focus on folding the wings. 

“Y/n.” He replies, a smile evident in his tone and you can feel his eyes looking you up and down. It makes your blood run cold and you’re not even looking at him, just the thought of him looking at you like that makes your skin crawl. “You’re not sat in here all by yourself are you?” He asks, his tone sickly sweet and you pull a face before looking at him, trying your best to seem unfazed by his presence. 

In reality, Peter is the worst person in the world. He insults, he fights and he schemes. And he always takes the wrap for it, even if it was Oscar who came up with it in the first place. However, because Peter does all of this for Oscar, and because your brother likes to have friends that act more like pets, he thinks that Peter can do no wrong. 

And the past two months he’s been pestering you to accept Peter’s offer to go out with him, despite trying to tell him how much you actually hate him. He may seem innocent and sweet when others are around, but when it’s just the two of you he says stuff like this. 

“Because I can always keep you company...if you know what I mean.” He says and reaches out towards you. You watch his hand slowly come towards you and you sit up a bit straighter so he can’t reach. His confidence flickers as he look from you to his outstretched hand before he drops it on the table and his horrible smile comes back. “Oh, I get it. You’re playing hard to get. I like that in a woman. It’s no fun if they give it up easily.” He grins and you have to refrain yourself from rolling your eyes again. 

A pit opens up in your stomach and the more he smiles the more it grows. You feel more like you’re hunted than talked to and you really wish that someone would show up soon so it gives him an excuse to leave. 

Today however, fate doesn’t seem to be on your side. Because somebody does turn up, it’s just the last person you want. 

“Oscar!” Peter smiles and the two of them fist bump. Peter’s whole demeanour changes when your brother turns up and you watch the walls come up. The smirk is replaced with a smile and he moves his hands away from you. 

Oscar looks between the two of you and knowing smile appears on his face. 

“I’m not interrupting anything am I?” 

“Well actuall-” 

“No.” You interrupt. “We were just talking. But now that you’re here I’m sure you all want to hang out. So goodbye Peter.” You say through gritted teeth and force a smile. Peter pouts and Oscar shakes his head at you. 

“You know, you could do a lot worse than Peter.” He says while Peter smirks behind him. “You should give him a chance.” 

“I’d rather stick two pencils up my nose and then smash my head against this table.” You reply with a sarcastic smile and Oscar rolls his eyes. 

“You’re gonna die alone with that attitude.” He says before walking away. 

“That’s better than spending a lifetime with him.” You reply and stare straight at Peter. His face reddens and his cheeks puff out a little while he tries to figure out a response, but you’ve already unlocked your phone and started texting again. 

“You know one day you’re going to realise what you’re missing out on and then you’re gonna beg me to take you out because you’ve realised you’re nothing but a sad little woman who nobody loves.” He seethes, his face inches away from yours and his face reddens with each word. 

His breath makes you feel sick and you bite your lip to stop yourself from saying or doing anything. Just look straight forward and he’ll leave soon. His floppy blonde hair pokes at your forehead making it itch and you wonder if maybe there’s something in the industrial strength gel he uses that you’re allergic to. 

“Hey Peter.” Veronica greets cheerily and he quickly turns around, the familiar fake smile coming back. She looks at you and then him before sighing and saying “Remember, I dated you and we all know she wouldn’t be missing out on much.” 

Your jaw drops a little and you have to stifle a laugh as Veronica waves him back to his table, his feet stomping against the linoleum. 

“Is he always like that?” Archie watches him walk away before asking you, his tone filled with concern and you feel yourself shrink under the pressure. Betty and Veronica send him a look before sitting down. Betty opposite you and Veronica beside. She wraps her arms around you, pulling you into a hug and the smell of expensive perfume floods your senses. 

You know that they’re looking at each other, none of which know what to say or do. They may be able to solve crimes and take down criminals, but when it comes to real life stuff like this, they’re next to useless. 

So they do what they do best, or at least Jughead does. 

“I’ll go get us some milkshakes, Y/n do you want your favourite?” He asks and you nod quickly. You sniffle and take a deep breath, you’re not going to let Oscar or Peter or any other stupid boy make you cry.

Jughead nods and as you lift your head you watch him quickly walk away, he sends a glare in the direction of your brother and his friends and a small smile twitches at your lips. 

Jughead Jones has never once been threatening, at least not to you, but you’re glad he’s making an effort. And you’re glad he offered to get the drinks instead of staying and saying something awkward. You love Jughead, but he isn’t the best at comforting people. 

Archie pulls a chair up, already accepting the fact that it’s his turn to sit at the end of the table...again, but today he doesn’t seem to mind. He’s too focused on you and trying to make you feel better. Even if he just gets a small smile from you, that’ll be enough and then he won’t have to kick Oscar, Peter or anyone else’s ass...right now. 

Oscar laughs loudly from his table on the other side of the diner and Betty rolls her eyes before looking at you and her expression softens as she reaches over the table to hold your hand.

“Y/n?” She asks and you force yourself to look at her. The tear in the leather seats isn’t the most interesting thing to look at usually, but when you’re avoiding talking about something, it becomes the most fascinating thing in the world. “What was all that about?” She adds and her and Veronica share an unsure look.

“It was nothing.” You shrug and try to force a smile. Archie knows it’s not real, they all do and even Jughead looks sad when he sits back down, carefully placing the milkshakes down. “Oscar has just got it into his head that me and Peter would be a great couple. I dunno, I guess he thinks Peter’s like the perfect Northsider or something like that. A part of me thinks he just does it to annoy me because he only ever brings it up when Peter’s around. But Peter’s been around an awful lot lately so I’ve never heard the end of it, plus he’s a total dick. He’s rude, mean and stuck up, only whenever Oscar’s around he acts like he’s god’s gift. But I can’t say that to Oscar because if I speak ill of anyone he considers a friend, he goes crazy. He shouts and screams and calls me names and I guess I’m just scared of them. Both of them really.” You rant, letting out a deep breath at the end and the four of them stare at you wide eyed. “Sorry, I’ve been keeping that in for a while.” You add and force an awkward smile.

“Shit Y/n.” Betty sighs. “We’re sorry.” She adds and squeezes your hand. 

“Yeah.” Jughead adds. “What can we do to help?” He asks and you look at him surprised. 

“I-er. I don’t know.” 

“Well then we’ll figure it out together.” Veronica smiles and hugs you again.

“Yeah.” Archie nods and leans over the table to grab your free hand. “What are friends for?”

support my writing! if you want! 

[tbhsoft]

life bar

idol!haechan x idol!y/n

summary: after the legendary interview was released, you and haechan began dating and have been getting an overwhelming sense of support.

genre: fluff

length: 2.1k

a/n: ah! i didn’t think the first post would gain any traction but it did! thank you so much for returning for a part two :)

this is modeled after the korean variety show, life bar. it’s a great show where celebrities aren’t subject to formal interview settings. please check it out! (mark did appear on the show with xiumin and changmin)

i’m not entirely sure of the hosts’ (other than heechul & yura) popularity outside of korea so excuse me for just labelling them as hosts.

if you missed part one, click here!

originally dnghycks’ gif

[the atmosphere is lively and filled with joy] host: how long have you been dating again?

heechul: oh, haechan! you’re dating someone?

haechan: ah, hyung! let’s not act like no one knows.

[heechul, dejected, grumbles to himself]

johnny (laughing): haechan didn’t fall for your bait.

[haechan winks at heechul, making heechul go into mock rage]

host: so, it’s been about 4 years?

[haechan plays with the glass in his hands, smiling to himself]

haechan (shyly): ya, just about.

heechul: are you guys still in your honeymoon phase?

host: do you still get butterflies when you see them?

haechan (nodding): of course! it hasn’t been that long.

heechul: it’s difficult to have a successful relationship as an idol. how did you guys handle it after that interview went viral?

haechan: it was very different to what i expected, you know?

haechan: first of all, we were preparing for the award shows and i was super focused.

haechan: i think it was during our water break that notifications were blowing up all of our phones.

johnny: we were so confused and thought it was from our managers.

haechan: i didn’t react immediately but i could hear the other members reacting, saying things like “no way” or “holy crap”.

haechan: everyone turned and looked at me. i felt like an imposter.

haechan: i was like “what? do i have something on my face? did someone send a meme of me?”

haechan: that’s when mark hyung showed me the news articles.

haechan: i blanked out for the rest of the day if i’m honest, barely remember anything from that day.

haechan: the only thing i remember was the pit in my stomach growing every time i stopped practicing. so, i kept pushing myself so i didn’t have time to think.

johnny: haechan actually fainted that day. he worked himself so hard that we had to rush him to the hospital.

haechan: luckily, it was just exhaustion and i could still perform. but, when i woke up, they told me to rest as much as possible.

haechan: the managers made sure i didn’t leave the house and told me to rest up.

haechan: it forced me to process what the news articles were saying.

haechan: once i did, all i was worried about was how y/n might be handling it.

haechan: was jyp going to give them a hard time?

host: did you text them?

haechan: because we were both focused on the award shows, i thought it best to avoid contact with them until it was all over.

johnny: even when it was all over, he still couldn’t text them.

johnny: i remember haechan pacing our room, trying to decide whether or not to call them.

haechan: i wanted to offer comfort but i wasn’t sure if it would aggravate the situation.

haechan: i think it was a few days after the last award show that i had an official meeting with lee sooman and the press team.

haechan: my eyes were wide the entire meeting.

haechan: lee sooman started the meeting by saying “congratulations!” and i was confused.

haechan: he went on to explain that he liked y/n for me and would support this relationship publicly as long as it didn’t affect my work.

haechan: i couldn’t really articulate my feelings so i think i just nodded.

haechan: he continued asking me about y/n after it, asking if we had made it official yet.

haechan: when i said no, he said that he would issue a buffer statement so i had time to ask them out.

haechan: the meeting concluded and, on my way home, y/n texted me.

heechul: what did they say?

haechan: “can we talk?”

heechul (dramatically rubbing his arms): oh no! the chills!

[haechan chuckles and takes a sip of his beer]

haechan: i told them we should meet in person to talk about it as professionals and adults.

johnny: when he tells it like that, it makes him seem tough. he was tearing up while he was getting ready to go out.

[haechan throws dried squid at johnny]

johnny: yo, thank you! i was hungry!

haechan (rolling his eyes): i wasn’t tearing up—

johnny: you’re right! you were sobbing. my bad!

johnny: you were so scared that you were gonna lose y/n.

[haechan balls up his fist in playful anger]

haechan: if only…

haechan: anyways, i was scared that i was going to be entering the new year without my best friend.

haechan: i asked johnny to drive me to our meeting spot so our manager wouldn’t know.

haechan: once we got there, y/n was already waiting on the bench for me so i told johnny to just chill in the car.

johnny: this is when i snuck my phone in his parka so i could wiretap the conversation.

[haechan pinches his nose bridge]

haechan: ah, hyung! privacy! no wonder your guesses were so accurate.

haechan: anyways, we sat down and talked like we always do. then, we got together!

johnny: in the end, y/n asked him out because he kept stumbling over his words.

johnny: y/n was giggling the whole time. it was very wholesome.

[haechan facepalms while the hosts laugh]

heechul (facing the camera): y/n, please take care of haechan! i know he lacks courage sometimes but—

haechan: really, now? after 4 years?

[johnny laughs while patting haechan’s head]

host: do you hold any resentment towards your interviewers?

[haechan takes a swig of his beer]

haechan: i did at the beginning? i don’t think y/n or i were ready to confess our feelings to each other’s faces just yet.

haechan: but, it’s not entirely their fault either.

haechan: i think, because we kept it a secret for so long, we wanted to tell someone and it was the first time we were prompted to talk about it under the veil of false security.

johnny (understandingly): and it’s easier to tell strangers than your closest friends, right?

haechan: for sure. i think a small part of me did hope they would see the entire interview at some point and that’s why i was so transparent.

heechul: and, because of that, you’re in a beautiful relationship now!

haechan (grinning): thank goodness for that!

host: what did they say when you told them you were coming to our show?

[haechan throws his head back in laughter]

johnny (chuckling): they told him that his taste in alcohol sucks and that they felt sorry for the hosts.

heechul: but, all the drinks you recommended are so good!

haechan (wiping away tears): that’s because they’re their recommendations. i don’t really drink for taste, only the social aspect.

johnny: y/n doesn’t like alcohol. so, if they think something tastes good, then it tastes amazing.

heechul: let’s raise our glasses to our hero, y/n!

[everyone happily raises their glass and cheers to you]

host: did you take them on a date immediately after the statements were released?

haechan: well, i wanted to… but, busy schedules and the fact that we hung out so much beforehand made it near impossible to have a good first date.

johnny: he was looking up “good date ideas” online and kept complaining that he already did those.

haechan: it wasn’t intentional. i guess y/n and i just liked to do couple things unironically.

heechul: i can’t believe you guys never got caught.

haechan: i think it’s because we were dressed so plainly without any disguises.

haechan: only a few people ever recognized our bare faces.

haechan: so, i decided to take them to jeju to see my mom after she called me.

johnny (laughing): i remember that call! she was like “now, bring my future in-law or else i’ll beat you up!”

haechan: when we got there, my mom totally ignored me and went straight for them.

haechan: she told them “i knew donghyuck liked you! he’s such a loser for not asking you out sooner.”

[haechan massages his temple and sighs]

johnny: on the record, haechan’s mom definitely loves y/n more than him.

[haechan nods in agreement]

haechan: so, after my mom babied y/n enough, i took them where you could see the stars perfectly.

haechan: i was really nervous and i didn’t really know what to do until y/n grabbed my hand.

haechan: they looked at me and said “as long as you’re with me, every passing moment is perfect. so, stop trying so hard.”

heechul: woah, y/n is so cool.

haechan: they really are. so, we spent our first real date stargazing and just enjoyed each other’s company.

[the host introduces the next dish and haechan helps set the table] heechul: why don’t we call y/n?

haechan (hesitant): i don’t know if they’re awake. they’re always taking naps at this time.

heechul: i’ll call them.

[heechul rings you up]

you (groggily): hello?

heechul: y/n! it’s heechul with the life bar crew. if you could introduce yourself.

[shuffling is heard through the phone]

you (clearer): all in us! hello, i’m y/n from itzy!

heechul: we were just talking about your relationship and wanted to hear your perspective.

[heechul motions haechan to say something]

haechan (sweetly): hi, darling. i’m sorry we interrupted your nap.

you: no, it’s okay! my alarm was about to go off anyways.

haechan: i was telling them about what happened after the interview and our first date.

you: ah, those were interesting.

heechul: oh? interesting, how?

you (giggling): if you know haechan, you know he doesn’t really cry, much less sob. but, when he showed up to talk, his eyes were puffy from crying so much and he had tear streaks on his face.

haechan (pouting): let’s not expose too much, y/n!

you (teasingly): what are you gonna do? cry on me?

[haechan sits back in his chair, frowning]

you: anyways! i vividly remember feeling bolder after the interview, not that i wasn’t nervous about public opinion.

you: however, i was actually talking to jyp when everything blew up.

you: he reassured me that he didn’t mind and he would support any decision i made.

you: just like that, he removed a whole weight off of my shoulders.

you: so, i was able to perform with confidence and complete reassurance.

you: but, whenever i saw hyuck at the award shows, he looked like he was about to implode so i thought it was better to wait for him to text me.

you: i’m sure johnny told you how frustrated the whole group was. i was the exact same.

[haechan blushes and buries his face in his hands]

you: i just wanted to be able to call him mine but he wouldn’t text me.

[everyone laughs and quietly teases haechan]

you (laughing): honestly, i was really impatient but i didn’t want to push him. so, i waited for a whole week after the last award show.

you: but, he was avoiding me really well! i even had to text johnny to make sure he was still alive.

you: so, i decided to just reach out to him first.

you: during the meeting, i tried to act like normal and tease him about his puffy face but he was having none of it.

you: “y/n, this is serious. this is our careers we’re talking about.”

you: i was scared for a moment until he was stumbling his confession out.

you: “the interview! i meant it. everything. i do. i would really like it if— i mean if you feel the same way— of course you do! you said it in the video. you do feel the same way, right?”

haechan (whining): you’re making me sound lame!

you: no, you were cute! but, also, slightly lame.

[you cackle through the phone]

you: so, i just asked him.

heechul: how about the first date?

you: he was so worried about being romantic and having that perfect first date that he forgot that i’m just a simple person.

you: when we went to see the stars, he was so nervous and was getting frustrated with himself.

you: to me, the effort he went through in itself was romantic to me.

you: i didn’t need the most spectacular first date because him being by my side was more than perfect.

you: so, i just let him know my thoughts and, when he finally relaxed, it became the most memorable first date ever.

heechul: what happened after he relaxed?

haechan: i listed all the little things that made me fall in love with them time and time again.

[everyone awes]

you: he made me feel like the most beautiful being in the universe.

heechul: okay! before this turns to sappy, y/n! thank you so much for joining us today!

you (laughing): it was my pleasure! invite me next time so i can expose haechan!

haechan: ya!

heechul: will do, bye!

[heechul hangs up the call]

host: you can definitely feel the love between you two.

haechan (in mock anger): i’m going to jump them the next time i see them.

heechul (grinning): well, i wish you guys nothing but happiness. host (raising his glass): to haechan and y/n’s beautiful relationship! [glasses clink as a bright grin appears on haechan’s face]

a/n: if i’m completely honest, idk how relationships work so idk if the way i wrote about this situation was done in a healthy way :P

pls feel free to give me feedback because i’m always looking to improve!

thank you so much for reading once again!

also, idk really know how taglists work so... @wownajaemin​, hello!

[dajaregambler]

HeliosR -  Gast Adler Card story “A gondolier’s task”

Translation of Gast Adler’s 4* “Waterfront City Guide” card story from ‘Helios Rising Heroes’.

Gast: Siiigh~....

Gast: (The two-day sightseeing tour should be wrapped up without any problems if things keep goin’ like this. Luckily…)

Gast: (I’m still nervous ‘bout interacting with girls, and got my doubts if I could tolerate it but, with Marion and others helpin’ me out I can somehow pull it off)

Gast: (....Honestly thankful for it)

Gast: (Anyway, been paddlin’ this gondola the entire time today and yesterday too, my arms are gettin’ all wobbly…)

Gast: (Goes to show that I gotta start training a bit more seriously, eh---)

???: Ah, this is a good spot....

Gast: Hm?

Gast: Who’s there!? You can’t just climb into the gondola like that….!

Faith: ….Huh? Was thinking who that’d be but it’s you, Gast

Gast: Faith….?

Faith: I see… Ochibi-chan had said something about North holding some kind of sightseeing tour, I think?

Faith: He was way too agitated going on about Marion this, Marion that, I totally didn’t get it but, are you and Ren involved in it too?

Gast: Y-Yeah we are… Hold on, don’t crawl in the gondola. C’mon, get out

Faith: I actually have a favor to ask of you. Can you let me take shelter here for a minute?

Faith: While on my way to going to this chocolaterie nearby, a group of girls that look they weren’t from here called out to me...

Faith: And then the local… former girlfriends of mine intervened, and somehow it ended up in a bloodbath

Faith: They started going on about how to not casually call out, while they were holding themselves back or whatever, and somehow during all of that it became how all of them wanna keep me company

Faith: I didn’t get any of it, and I was totally outnumbered so I fled while I could

Gast: Woah….

Faith: It’s a group of about 10 girls so you should be able to spot them immediately. ...Are you seeing them? They’re still prowling around there, right?

Gast: ...Uum, is that them? For real looks like they’re out for murder, so it prolly is them

Faith: Please, Gast, let me hide until these girls go away

Faith: It definitely would be suicide to go out there on my own, you get me?

Gast: Hmm~...

Gast: Right. These girls that called out to you at the chocolaterie do look like they were my customers...

Gast: Guess I gotta lend out a hand, you can hide until things cool down

Faith: What a relief…. Thanks, Gast

Gast: You sound like you got it rough, eh. Being so popular to the point where people are that fascinated by you...

Faith: ….Well, yeah. I don’t think it’s that much of a bother though

Faith: It’s more as something to appreciate. Since it means that’re people look out for me and think of me too

Gast: That is a pretty nice thing, yeah

Faith: Aah, you also reminded me of something. How you’re obviously, like... popular yourself too.

Gast: Eh? Uh no, just now I’m----

Marion: Oi what are you two doing

Faith: Hm? Uwah, Marion….

Gast: Said that while thinkin’ about my bros but… no one heard that, eh

Marion: What are you doing here. Do you not have the conscious to not interrupt those of others sectors while they’re on the job.

Faith: You’re under the wrong impression… Just got involved in something bad, so I’m temporarily hiding here...

Marion: That doesn't pass as an explanation. Be more clear.

Faith: Aaah… Over there’s no good, and here’s bad too. You don’t have to be that much on guard

Faith: We’re associates that went out to eat chocolate together at En Ciel and drank tea together, aren’t we

Marion: That’s unrelated.

Faith: Wow, how relentless♪

Gast: Didn’t expect you guys to get along that well? ….Actually, is it ‘cuz of the same age?

Faith: Mhm. We ended up being friends due how we felt a connection for being the same age

Marion: We might be, but I’m still a mentor. Know your place!

Gast: H-hold your horses, Marion… He’s only here ‘cuz a buncha girls are chasin’ him down, and if anything happens to him, I’d be responsible for it

Marion: Hah? You would…?

Faith: Aha, Gast’s so nice

Marion: ……….

Marion: Well… you’ve been seriously putting a lot of effort in your duties these past two days, I suppose I could excuse this. 

Gast: Eh

Marion: Hmph… I do want you to stand on your own two feet without the need of my help by the end of this tour though.

Gast: !! Of course I’ll be doin’ my utmost best…!

Faith: Heeh, so that’s how Marion’s been training his rookies, huh. Looks like he’s a pretty good match with Gast too---

Girl’s voice: I FOUND HIM! He’s inside that gondola!

Faith: !!

Faith: Got caught, huh… Well, obviously they would when you two are pretty much standing out way too hard

Girl’s voice: Faith-kun! We’re not letting you get away this time!

Marion: W-what is this….

Faith: Hmmm…

Faith: Hey Marion, c’mere for a sec

Marion: ?

Faith: …………………………………………………………………………..

Gast: ?

Faith: And so… please, give me your support!

Marion: There’s no way I’m going to allow that! However you think about it, there’s nothing to be gained from th….

Marion: ….No, wait a second. This could work out

Faith: Really? Then, it’s an agreement?

Marion: It annoys me to do as you say, but I’ll let you have this one for now.

Marion: Oi, Gast

Gast: Yeah?

Marion: Go calm these girls down. And obviously treat them politely since you are dealing with women.

Gast: …..eeeEEEH!?

Faith: Sorry, Gast. I’m sure they’ll listen to you once they see you, though. ….Can’t say what’ll happen afterwards though

Gast: NO no no!!

Marion: Come on, go. Think of it as work… No, as practice

Gast: You gotta be kiddin’ me!?

Marion: Stop complaining and GO!

Gast: Hweh!?

-

Faith: Eh… Gast’s scared of girls?

Marion: Hmph, should be clear from just seeing that

Faith: I had no idea… Honestly, I just thought he was messing around

Faith: ….Kind of, feel like I should apologize to him later

Marion: No, this is fine. It’s a necessary trial for him.

Faith: Wow, so spartan… Is this what they mean when they say if you love your child, you send them out in the world?

Gast: Gh, I give up… I surrender, no more! Marion, Faith! Or whoever, please help me out here!

Gast: This is absolutely on hard mode, ain’t no damn way I’ll make it through thiiiiiiiis---------!

-

Notes:

Faith uses a Japanese proverb when he says ‘If you love your child, you send them out in the world’. There is somewhat of an English equivalent, aka ‘spare the rod and spoil the child’, although somewhat different in nuance. In this case I decided to translate the jpn one as is, given that jpn proverbs come up often and are discussed how they are of jpn origin because of Brad and his love for Japanese things. Also, it can be also taken in a literal sense in this case since Marion is sending out Gast to a pit full of lions (save for the lions part).

[laurensprentiss]

Jouska [Hotch x Reader]

Chapter 3:

Warnings: Mentions of stalking, creepy stuff. More *tension and pining*

Word Count: 2,447

———

“The rest is just wishes and hope, the most fragile of things.” - Sabaa Tahir

———

You strain as you bring the last of the boxes in, Hotch taking it from you as you walk in the door. It was now day 7 of what you thought would be a one, maybe two day task at most. The Virginia rain, apartment clean up and an excess of boxes had meant for a week of non-stop work and your body was begging for respite. You follow Hotch into the spare room where he sets down the box, the room almost full. He’s more laid back today, suit blazer and tie removed, strewn around haphazardly, his sleeves rolled up. You couldn’t help but take in the sight of his back as he had carried the box in, his forearms thick and flexing. You feel yourself flushing and snap out of it quickly, remembering you have work to do. 

You take a scan of the room and curse as you realise you forgot the cutlery box, turning to go back outside and retrieve it. Hotch turns around in surprise. “What is it?” He asks, a little breathless. He brings his forearm up to wipe the sweat off his brow, and you find yourself getting caught up again. 

Damn it. 

“Oh it’s nothing, I think I left a box in your car. I’ll go down and grab it real quick.” You tell him. He offers to go but you tell him you could use his help moving the boxes that are already here. The skies are grey and overcast as you step out into the foyer, and as you get closer you can hear the rain pelting the window, getting louder and heavier. You swear under your breath and run to the car, the rain hitting your skin like relentless little bullets, soaking you through. 

As you duck your head into the trunk to retrieve the last box, you feel a chilling sensation down your back, your body shooting up and looking around. You feel acutely aware of somebody’s eyes on you but the street is next to empty, almost eerily so, everybody retreating indoors to escape the miserable weather. Your hair stands on end and your skin erupts in goosebumps, only partly due to the cold weather, as you look around wide eyed, and unsettled trying to scan the street. 

“What? Are you taking a shower down there?” You hear from above you and you look up to see Hotch’s head and shoulders hanging from the window. 

“Yeah, I’ll be right up.” You say absent-mindedly, a pit in your stomach. You shake it off, thinking it’s probably just paranoia and hunger and work your way back inside. Once safely inside, you take a cursory look back one more time. 

“No, you’re just nervous, it’s fine.” You mutter under your breath to yourself.

You’re still in your head when the elevator doors open and you crash face first into a hard chest, the now soggy cardboard slightly squished against you and the person you’re pressed up against. “Easy! Easy.” The familiar voice laughs as he steadies you. He takes the box from you and starts to walk back down the hall in front of you. “You seriously didn’t see me coming?” 

You follow behind him in your wet boots, trying not to slip, letting out an unamused laugh. You still feel deeply unsettled, only letting out a sigh of relief once you’re finally home, door locked behind you. 

See here’s the thing about having a long-term stalker. You may not know who, what, why or how - but when someone’s watching. Deep down. You know. 

“Hey, you okay?” Hotch asks, his voice soft as he tracks your movements with his eyes. He watches you retrieve one of your dad’s old Yale sweatshirts and he ducks his head slightly so he can get a look at your face, taking away any chance you have of lying to him. You avoid eye contact and tell him you’re okay, as you try and slip past him out of the spare room and towards the bathroom. You slip on a piece of soggy cardboard stuck to the tile as you do and feel Hotch’s hands grab your arms to steady you, half-pinning you to the wall. 

You brace your forearms on his front, still clutching the sweatshirt. You look down at the culprit stuck to the bottom of your shoe and roll your eyes, embarrassed. You only realise how close you are when you go to move and realise Hotch has his arms braced against yours, caging you in. His brown eyes rake over your face, flitting to your lips, down to your chest and back up - and although you’re not moving, you swear you can feel him get closer. Heat radiates from his body and you feel yourself shiver, the rain cooling on your skin now, the moment affecting you. His scent invades your senses. 

His eyes are hooded when he swallows thickly, as the abrasive ringing of a telephone interrupts you. He releases you quickly as he almost snaps out of his trance and turns to retrieve his cellphone. Your heart thrums in your chest, a prickling heat creeping up your face and neck. You find yourself locked in place again, your eyes unblinking until he speaks from the other side of the room. 

What the hell was that? 

You push yourself off the wall and hurry across the living room and into the hallway, offering him a flushed smile as he speaks into the phone. 

You just want to get the hell out of there. 

“Hello?” His voice comes out gravelly and low as he moves aside for you to enter the bathroom. You faintly hear a woman’s voice on the other end and you quickly lock the door behind you. You let the water run as you strip and as much as you know you shouldn’t, you press your ear against the door. 

“I’m just making sure everything’s okay.” You think out loud. “It’s fine. This is fine.” You reason with yourself.

“Haley, I have to work late tonight.” You freeze. 

Haley? 

He continues, “I know, I’m sorry hon, but I’m on assignment right now, maybe we could go see your parents another weekend? Or maybe you could go with your sister?” 

Haley? 

Hon? 

You feel cold. Your heart sinks. Like you’re falling down a hole. You feel naive, foolish and so mortified that you even entertained the thought of - well the thought of what? Agent Hotchner? 

You shake your head to try and snap yourself out of it. You’re freezing cold now and the heat from the water is steaming up the mirror. You step into the shower, letting the hot water wash over you, the feeling of your body slowly restored, hands and feet prickling. 

You shower, no real thought or effort put into anything, but all you can think about is Hotch’s voice replaying in your head. 

Haley.

You chide yourself for even being affected, reasoning that you hardly even know the guy. He’s there because your father hired him. You’re a client. But then you think back to the day you met him, the way his eyes held your gaze and the way your hand fit in his. The way he gave you his blazer, the brush of his hands over your shoulders. The way he smelt. 

No. Doesn’t matter. You don’t know him. He’s there to do a job. 

The almost moment you had in the gazebo when you were almost at eye level, his body between your legs. His strong arms and broad chest-

No. 

The way he’d just gazed into your eyes and you could almost swear he leaned in when he looked at your lips. 

Almost. But then- 

“Haley.” You whisper. 

You change the water temperature to cold, not caring that the constant change in temperature couldn’t possibly be good for you. You needed to cool off. 

He’s someone else’s. And she’s probably great. She had to be, right? And even if she wasn’t, even if he wasn’t somebody else’s, it still wouldn’t make him yours. Your heart sinks involuntarily at that. It’s the truth, you know this. So then why does it cut at you? You let out a prolonged groan, hoping the sound of the water covers up your frustration. 

“Man, I need to get laid.” You laugh as you dry off. You pull your shorts and sweatshirt on, taking the comfort in the old, worn material, hugging it close. You wrap your hair and take a deep, steadying breath, wiping the steam off the mirror. 

You slap a smile on your face as you talk to your reflection. “You’re fine. You’re totally fine. It’s fine, I’m good. I’m fine.” You resolve. You repeat it over and over like a mantra. 

You step out into the hallway, the air refreshing. And then you see him, and your body betrays you. Your heart skips a beat and you curse yourself. 

Shit. 

You take another breath and walk down the hallway into the living room, where he sits, his face illuminated only by a lamp in the corner. He’s reading something pensively, a hand stroking his beard. The closer you walk, the more you recognise the handwriting and the stationary, the aggressive scrawl all too familiar. He hears the pitter patter of your feet against the tile but his expression doesn’t change. 

“It’s him?” You shudder. 

He doesn’t respond. Just nods. Hands you the letter and a blue latex glove wordlessly. You grip the glove and letter, not bothering to put it on your hands, your vision blurring. Your body goes cold. 

“YOU THINK I’D FORGET ABOUT YOU? YOU’RE ALL MINE AND YOUR LITTLE FBI FRIEND IS GOING TO GET WHAT’S COMING TO HIM. WELCOME BACK MY LOVE.” 

“Oh God.” You drop the letter. Hotch shoots up from his seat and walks around the sofa to steady you. “Oh God, oh God, no no no.” 

“Hey. Hey. It’s okay, I got you.” He wordlessly sits you down on the sofa and rubs your shoulders. “I sweeped the hallway when I saw the note and called McCall and Barnes. They already sweeped the outside and surrounding areas, Metro PD’s been told to keep an eye out. But he keeps his face out of the camera, so we can’t see him.” 

“No- no it’s not that. Earlier today. I-“ 

“You what?” His eyes widen. “Did something happen? When you were outside?” 

You tell him that you felt like somebody had been watching you earlier when you went to grab the boxes, but you thought it was just your imagination. 

“I’m sorry. I should’ve told you.” You whisper. “And now he’s after you, too.” You feel a twinge of guilt deep in your chest. 

His heart drops. 

“Hey, hey no c’mon. You don’t need to apologise here.” He grasps your hands in his, squeezing gently, his thumbs rubbing small circles on the back of your hands. His eyes are so earnest when he looks at you, you feel like you could cry. “We will get him. I promise you. Don’t worry about me, I can handle it.” He squeezes a little with every word to make his point. 

You squeeze his hands back, a silent confirmation of his promise to you, and your gesture floods his body with a kind of warmth of you he’s wholly unfamiliar with. All he can do is just watch your face as you go through the motions and he wishes he could find a quick fix for you. His thumbs keep rubbing small circles on the back of your hand and his phone rings again. 

He gives your hands a squeeze and excuses himself. “Yes, sir. A note. Yes, I agree, possibly delusional, he’s not going to go without a fight. Yes, Sir, I’ll be right there.”

He sits beside you and tells you he needs to go meet with Barnes at the office to debrief him on the situation and hand the note over to evidence. “I’m gonna wait until McCall gets here, and I’ll be right back to relieve him. Okay?” 

You fuss and tell him that he should go and that you can take care of yourself, it’s not like the son of a bitch will rush back in a hurry. “Besides.” You walk over to the spare room and pull out a baseball bat from the boxes, Hotch behind you. “I have just the thing to bash the bastard’s head in.”

He chuckles. “While I’m impressed by your choice of weaponry, I’d be breaking protocol if I left now. I can wait.” You thank him nonetheless. 

When McCall does arrive, he informs you he’ll stand outside so you can get some privacy if you need to rest. It’s almost midnight when Hotch returns, the moonlight illuminating the sofa on the living room. He finds you asleep in the fetal position on the couch, blanket around your waist, hugging yourself close for warmth, baseball bat by your side. He smiles at the sight, his heart warming at the almost comical juxtaposition of your peaceful face and right next to it, a baseball bat. He chuckles. 

He pulls the blanket up over your shoulders and kneels down. His pinky finger pushes a lock of hair out of your face with a feather light touch, careful not to wake you. He takes a moment, just to watch, to be in the moment for the sake of it. He wants nothing more in that moment than to hold you, to lean in, just a little… and you’d almost be touching…

His face steels. But he has a commitment to make on one hand and a job to do on another. And he’s nothing if not a man of principle and so finds it in him to drag himself away from you to slap some cold water on his face. 

Your eyes tear open as you hear him walk away. Your heart pounds as the footsteps retreat, your body buzzing. You’d heard him come in, your eyes too tired to open or to greet him. But then he came closer, and you kept them closed still. You’d smelt his cologne as he was just inches from you, his breath on your face. You’d felt the way he’d brushed the hair off your face so tenderly and the way he almost leaned in...

Did he want-

-No. He has Haley. 

But he’s here. That’s what matters. 

You banish the thought from your head and bury your face in the blanket, sleep coming a little easier now that you felt safe. Truly safe. 

——

< Prev | > Next

taglist: @oreogutz @andromedasstarship @galacticnerd-78 @izzyl13 @private-backrooms @crying-river @purpledragonturtles

[hiddennerdworld]

Homesick (pt 4) with Hanta Sero

Note: This is a long one 😅 sorry I just love him. This is probably the last one of the ‘series’. I hope to do some more fluffy stuff like it tho. Also, I absolutely adore the idea of Latin Sero but didn’t know how to write it in, so we’re just gonna pretend lmao. And sorry for the abrupt ending. Still hope you enjoy it :) (I added a little reference to one of my favorite songs too ;) )

———————————————————————

The best place to just sit in think is outside staring at the stars. That happened to be exactly where you were. On the roof of the dorms just looking at the stars while you’re laying on the ground. It was a beautiful fall night with a little breeze and the smell of autumn in the air. The sky was crystal clear and you could see tons of stars twinkling back to you. Most may find this a relaxing situation to be in, but you were definitely not relaxed. You had this little pit in your stomach ever since you moved into the dorms and couldn’t quite describe what it was. Being outside was better than just lying in bed, at least here there’s a beautiful view, but its presence was still lingering. While fighting with yourself on whether you should try to think it through or try to ignore the feeling, you heard the roof door opened. You quickly sit up and look over to see Sero.

“Oh, hey Y/N!” He said while rubbing the back of his neck not sure what to say at first. But after looking around for a bit, he collected himself and stepped forward. “Sorry I wasn’t expecting to see anyone up here. I definitely wasn’t expecting to see such a beautiful babe such as yourself.” He said jokingly and started moving his eyebrows.

You couldn’t help but blush and giggle at his goofy nature. You always did. Whenever you would be hanging out with your close friend Mina and her friends, you laughed at Sero’s jokes everytime. Even if they were bad, there’s just something about the smiley boy.

“Yea? Well, what were expecting then, pretty boy?” You also found it easy to banter with Sero. It could be awkward at times but it never mattered.

“Just an empty roof and a starry sky, but it looks like tonight I get an extra treat. Can I sit with you?” You nodded and then he took a seat next to you. “What’re you doing up? I thought everyone turned in for the night.”

“Ah, you may have thought that, but you see I’m not like everyone else. My brain doesn’t allow me to sleep. At least recently.” You said while pointing at your head.

“Can I ask why’s that?” He asked softly.

You shrug. “I honestly don’t know. I’ve just had weird vibes ever since we moved in.”

Sero lit up and said “Dude, I totally know what you mean!” He then calmed down and continued, “Sorry, I just thought I was the only one. It’s just so different ya know?” He asked lying down to look at the stars and you did the same.

“Different from living at home? Yea I know exactly what you’re talking about. I thought it would be a lot more normal.”

“I didn’t know what to think really. I was excited about getting to see my friends everyday. Believe me I still am, but a part of me is missing. I actually came up here to swing around. Maybe get rid of this empty feeling.”

You turn towards him “Really?”

He looks back at you and nods. “Yep, but this is much more relaxing don’t ya think?” He said as he looked back up at the beautiful night sky. You hummed in agreement. The both of you just sat in silence for a bit until Sero broke it with telling you about his family. He told you about how he would watch soccer and baseball with his dad and telenovelas with his mom. You told him about how you and your siblings would play Mario Kart.

You guys kept going for who knows how long. Laying on the cold, hard concrete ground, but didn’t pay any mind to it. You were both to busy laughing and being deeply ingrained in conversation. Time had been frozen and the weight had been lifted off your shoulders. Unfortunately, it didn’t stay like that for long. As the night went on, it the temperature dropped a lot. You had your arms wrapped around you, but didn’t really notice. However, Sero did notice and didn’t like the idea of you being cold. He sat up and asked “Hey, why don’t we go back to my dorm and we can get more comfortable?”

You quirked your eyebrow at him.

He just laughed and replied, “Not like that, but it’s funny to see that’s where your mind went. I just meant we can continue to chill in a place where it is not so chill so maybe you can warm up. I’ll take the hammock and you can lay down on my bed if you want.” You agreed and went to his room.

———————————————————————

It was a challenge to stay quiet on the way there. You didn’t want to wake your friends at such a late hour BUT you and Sero found everything 100 times funnier when you had to remain quiet. The walk consisted of you two giving each other looks, snickering, and then shushing each other. It just looped until you eventually got to his dorm. The fun didn’t stop there though. Once you got to his dorm, you tried multiple times to get into his hammock and fell out each time causing the two of you to cry laughing. Was it sleep deprivation or just the way you two made each other? Both, the answer is both.

Soon though you both calmed down. You got comfortable in his bed, already wearing your PJs from earlier. And Sero was swaying in the hammock while his music played quietly in the background. You guys continued to talk and talk. At times you got deep and others you would talk about complete nonsense. However, you both started to slowly drift off at around 4 in the morning, not even processing what the other was saying. So you decided to call it a night.

“I can’t even keep my eyes open anymore. I should probably go back to my dorm. Goodnight, Sero.” You said in a hushed tone while slowly getting out of bed.

“No, you don’t gotta go. Just stay in the bed. It’s late and I don’t wanna make you walk allllll the way back to your place.” He totally sounded out of it. There was a sleepiness in his voice.

“I think I can manage the walk down the hallway and then to my bed. I don’t wanna make you sleep in the hammock.” You said but you weren’t even sitting up yet. Just propping yourself up on your elbow as you continued to lay in bed.

“Pfff don’t worry about it,” Sero said using his hand to swat away your concern. “I have slept in this baby more times than I can count. I probably can’t even get out of it at this point anyway. Just stay here and we can make it a fun sleepover night.”

You went back to getting comfortable in his bed. “Well if you put it like that. For real though, if you get uncomfortable let me know. There’s plenty of room here if you’re okay sharing.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, Sweets. Sleep well, Y/N”

———————————————————————

The next morning you woke up in a strange place. It took you a few seconds to remember you had fallen asleep in Sero’s room when you inhaled the scent of the incense he had in his room. It was weird not being in your room. It was even weirder was that you felt a weight on your side. You turn to look over and see Sero holding onto you. You never thought he would actually take you up on your offer. Seeing him there made your heart warm and a pink blush rushed to your cheeks.

As you were about to go back to the position you were in Sero stirred awake and moved back a little, not knowing that he decided to get so close in his sleep. It leaves you with a little disappointment, but you’re still happy just being around him. “Good morning, hun.” He said in the middle of stretching and yawning. “How’d you sleep?”

“Pretty great thanks to you. I definitely wouldn’t have gotten much sleep if you weren’t so sweet and let me talk your ears off.”

A little smile grew on his face. “Hey, I can’t take all the credit. You did the same for me. If you weren’t here I’d just be talking to a wall and they’re no fun.”

His smirk grew head hearing you giggle at his jokes. “Yea last night was pretty fun, wasn’t it?”

“Yea, it was,” Sero said and then sighed while flipping over to look at the ceiling. He rested his head on his hand and had his other arm lying across his stomach. He seemed tense. On the outside, he looked totally relaxed still because that’s just how he is, but you can tell something is off.

“You alright?” You asked leaning closer to see his face.

He sat there for a sec thinking. “Yea, yea it’s just... last night got me thinking.” He paused again seemingly trying to find what he wanted to say. You just looked at him with kind eyes ready to hear him out. “Y/N, I really like you.” He turned to you then scoffed, “Well I mean I haven’t really been hiding it from you, but I’ve never said it straight up either. To be honest, I wasn’t sure about it. I just thought it was a little crush and I didn’t wanna scare you off because we were just becoming friends and just moved into the dorms.” He placed his hand on yours, making you blush, and then continued. “But last night was the happiest I’ve been in a long time. I’m not depressed all the time or anything, it’s just different with you. I didn’t want it to end, which is why I asked you to stay. I’m sorry if you don’t feel the same. I don’t wanna weird you out, but I think you do. Things between us are just so natural and I’ve never felt awkward with you. You must feel it too, right?” He finished his speech staring at you with pleading eyes.

“Sero, I-“

“Oh no!” He flipped over and covered his face “I knew it! I’m so s-“

You just grabbed his face and turned it towards you. “Will you let me finish, you dork? Of course, I feel it too. It’s weird but you’re the closest friend I’ve had since we got to UA, hell maybe the closest friend I’ve had in a long time, even though we haven’t been talking for long. You make me really happy, so yeah I like you too, Sero.”

“Really?!” You nodded in response and his shocked face turned into the biggest smile you’ve ever seen on him, which is saying a lot. He grabbed you and you let out a little yelp. He pulled you on top of him and gave you a big hug. “You have no idea how happy I am.” He said as he rested his head on yours.

“I think I do. I can see it all over your face.” You said as you looked up and squished his cheeks.

Sero grabbed your hands of his face and intertwined his fingers with yours. “Yea but I still don’t think you reeeeally know. Could I show you?” He asked as he slowly brought his hand to cup your cheek, running his thumb across your bottom lip.

You managed to whisper a “yes please” and were then met with his lips on yours. The kiss was gentle and sweet. It took a second but you guys both melted into the kiss, cherishing the moment together. It only lasted a few seconds but it left you with more butterflies in your stomach then you’ve ever felt before. You both pulled away and looked each other in the eyes leading you to giggle and hide your face in his chest. His arms returned to your waist and gave you a small kiss on the top of your head. “So I guess you know now.”

———————————————————————

BONUS: You were suddenly awoken by running muffled footsteps and a banging on the door. Mina swings Sero’s door open and wakes you guys up from your nap.

“Hey, Sero have you seen Y/N? It’s like noon and I can’t find-“ her eyes bounce between you and him snuggling in bed.

“Oh.” She giggles and winces. “My bad! I didn’t know there was something goin on. I’ll leave you too it.” She said as she back up slowly and then dashes down the hall “GUYS YOU’RE NOT GONNA BELIEVE THIS!!!” You hear her voice and footsteps fade as she rushes to tell everyone.

Sero scoffed and flung his tape to close the door. Then he returned to cuddling you. You guys had some sleeping to catch up on.

[kookie-doughs]

Y/N L/N AND THE HALFBLOODS

Percy Jackson X Reader -Y/N L/N met Percy Jackson and everything was now ruined.

CHAPTER 1: THE BEGGINING OF IT ALL

It was quite dark in my room. Unclear of what's happening... Of what's going on... But one thing is clear to me... Someone is calling me from somewhere. Tossing and turning doesn't help the anxiety building up at the pit of my stomach. Come to me I'm scared... Dont be scared. I would never hurt you Who are you? Fall... With me... I don't want to hear you anymore... We'll rule as one.... This is just a dream... Denying won't keep me... This is not real... We are one... I'm hearing things...

Tears pricked my eyes and I shot up trembling. As I thought all of those were just a dream. With what little time have I caught my breath. My alarm stared ringing 6 minutes after I woke up. D/N, my dog, nudged my hand and looked at me with his worried eyes. "I'm good boy... I'll be good. Today's the class trip... I have to be good." I ran down stairs to see my mom cooking breakfast. "Hey there sweetie. You excited for the trip~?" She sang. I reluctantly nodded. "Yeah..." As mom set D/N's bowl she turned to me with a worried look. "You sure? Your enthusiasm sure tells me how excited you are." "Will D/N be coming with me?" On cue my dad already in his suit came down and gave my head a kiss. "Of course sweetie. He's a support animal, they have no choice." He smiled. Taking a pancake from the plate, he didn't bother adding butter nor syrup and bit it like bread. "Anyways, I gotta go. Have fun at your trip. And I'll see you after work." He gave me and my mom a kiss then left. "Start eating. We have to make sure you don't miss your bus." ~ The bus was noisy. Everyone is screaming and laughing loudly. I sat at the very front with Mrs. Rudolph. She's my history teacher and our class adviser. She looks like a grumpy old witch lady who eats children, but her personality is far from that. Which seems to be not enough for my classmates as they're very bratty in her class. D/N was currently laid on Mrs Rudolph's lap as she gently pet him. "Are we close yet Mrs Rudolph?" I asked. She gave me a smile, "yes quite close. In fact, it reminds me to remind you kids something." Picking up D/N from her lap she gently placed him on mine and stood up. "Attention!!" She yelled immediately changing from her soft demeanor. They kids instantly settled down and kept quiet. "Good, now... Is everyone aware of where we'll be going?" "Yes Mrs Rudolph..." We all reply. "And where are we going?" No one answered. I could sense she was about to get mad so I answered on my own. "Metropolitan museum of art..." "Good job Y/N!" She smiled at me and glared at the others. "We'll, I'd like to remind you lot that we won't be touring alone. Another school will be joining us, Yancy Academy! Now I wouldn't be the one supervising the tour, it'll be Yancy Academy's Latin teacher, so we need to show them we are capable and proper. I'm putting Y/N L/N in charge of the group. Listen to what she says and do participate when asked." Whispers started coming once again. I've always been Mrs Rudolph's favorite. It's not like she has a choice, I'm the only proper one among her students after all. "Keep quiet!" In an instant the whispering died. "I will not hear anything from your mouths about Y/N being in charge! She'll have the same power as I! If you have a problem speak louder and say it to me! Understand?!" "Y-Yes Mrs Rudolph..." The bus then stopped moving. "Y/N..." Mrs Rudolph rested an arm on my shoulder. "Lead them." She smiled and went out. I cleared my throat. "E-Everybody file ou-out properly an-and orderly... P-please." Grumbles and mumbles came from them as they did what I said. Once everyone was out I got out. I had D/N in my arms. The first thing I did as I got out was examine everything. From the distance, you could see the students who I assume are from Yancy Academy. A particular group had caught my eyes. A redheaded girl was throwing wads of sandwich that stuck in a guy's curly brown hair, his friend was clearly agitated by what's happening and had balled his fist. "Y/N L/N." Mrs Rudolph called snapping me out from the trance. "H-Here!" "Okay so everyone is here. Remember, Y/N L/N is in charge. Now go mix with the Yancy kids." Mrs Rudolph clapped and almost immediately everyone ran towards the group. She walked up to me and pointed at D/N. "Dogs aren't allowed inside sweetie I'm sorry. We tried telling them." A whimper came from my boy as he scoot closer to my chest. "It'll be fine boy. W-would you... Mind?" "Not at all. I was going to offer after all." She smiled and took D/N from me. "Now run along and make friends. He'll be with you by lunch." I turned to see my classmates only to see them instantly making friends with the strangers. I could never do that. Getting closer I searched curly brown haired guy and his friends. A man had called our attention by clearing his throat, not giving me the chance to find curly guy. It was a middle-aged guy in a motorized wheelchair. He had thinning hair and a scruffy beard and a frayed tweed jacket. "Everybody file." I said which thankfully they followed. "Hello to everyone." He gave us a comforting smile. "I'm Mr. Brunner, Yancy Academy's Latin teacher. I was told Y/N L/N will be in charge of your group?" I stepped up and greeted him. "All right. Well, feel free to mix in with the group. We'll be staying for a while." He gathered us around a thirteen-foot-tall stone column with a big sphinx on the top, and started telling us how it was a grave marker, a stele, for a girl about our age. He told us about the carvings on the sides. I was listening to what he had to say, because it was kind of interesting, but everybody around me was talking, only one kid had been trying to keep them quiet and he keeps getting glares from someone who looks like Mrs Rudolph every time. Mr. Brunner kept talking about Greek funeral art. Finally, a snicker came from behind, and a kind of loud reply of, "Will you shut up?" Came. The whole group laughed. Mr. Brunner stopped his story. The guy who had said shut up was the friend of curly. "Mr. Jackson," Mr. Brunner said, "did you have a comment?" His face was totally red and he said, "No, sir." Mr. Brunner pointed to one of the pictures on the stele. "Perhaps you'll tell us what this picture represents?" I looked at the carving, and back at the guy who looked relived. "That's Kronos eating his kids, right?" "Yes," Mr. Brunner said, obviously not satisfied. "And he did this because ..." "Well... Kronos was the king god, and—" "God?" Mr. Brunner asked. "Oh uh..." He stammered. Obviously his one mistake got rid of all the information he remembered of the image. "Titan," I reminded him a little too loudly. They all had turned on me. "Ms L/N, care to help Mr Jackson?" "I-I, he knows... I don't..." I turned to Mr Jackson who looked at me as if he needed help. When he mouthed please I gulped. "H-He didn't trust his kids, who were the gods. So, um, Kronos ate them..." As if he had a moment of epiphany, Mr Jackson looked at me and Mr Brunner. "Can you continue on Mr Jackson?" "Okay, Kronos's wife hid baby Zeus, and gave Kronos a rock to eat instead. And later, when Zeus grew up, he tricked his dad, Kronos, into barfing up his brothers and sisters—" "Zeus fed Kronos a mixture of mustard and wine, which made him puke his other five children, who were immortal gods, had been living and growing up completely undigested in the Titan's stomach." I interrupted... Oh god was that rude? "Eeew!" said one of the girls behind us. "—and so there was this big fight between the gods and the Titans," he continued, "and the gods won." "The gods defeated their father, sliced him to pieces with his own scythe, and scattered his remains in Tartarus, the darkest part of the Underworld." I continued. Some snickers from the group. Behind us, the red haired girl mumbled to a friend, "Like we're going to use this in real life. Like it's going to say on our job applications, 'Please explain why Kronos ate his kids.'" "And why, Mr. Jackson," Brunner said, "to paraphrase Miss Bobofit's excellent question, does this matter in real life?" "Busted," curly guy muttered. "Shut up," Ms Bobofit hissed, her face even brighter red than her hair. I thought about his question, and shrugged. "I don't know, sir." "I see." Mr. Brunner looked disappointed. "How about you Ms L/N?" I shook my head frantically not sure of what to say. "Well, half credit, Mr. Jackson, Ms L/n, You both did well. On that happy note, it's time for lunch. Mrs. Dodds, Mrs Rudolph, would you lead us back outside?" The class drifted off, the class still mixed with the other. "Want to join us for lunch?" Mr Jackson offered scratching his head. "Uhm..." My face was heating up I never had friends before. I was about to reply when I heard a loud whimper from outside. It was D/N's cry. "I'm sorry." I said and ran towards the sound. They were about to follow when Mr. Brunner called, "Mr. Jackson." Running outside I searched for D/N. "Hey boy, where are you?!" I called. Not long after I found him by the fountain alone. "Oh god, what are you doing here alone? Why were you crying? Weren't you with Mrs Rudolph?" I cradled him in my arms and lied on the grass. Overhead, a huge storm was brewing, with clouds blacker than I'd ever seen over the city. I figured maybe it was global warming or something, because the weather all across New York state had been weird since Christmas. We'd had massive snow storms, flooding, wildfires from lightning strikes. I wouldn't have been surprised if this was a hurricane blowing in. Some of the guys were pelting pigeons with Lunchables crackers. Red hairedgirl was trying to pickpocket something from a lady's purse, and, of course, Mrs. Rudolph was with her look alike. "Hey," someone had looked down on me. "Sorry I ran. I heard D/N cry..." "Percy, Percy Jackson." He smiled. "Huh?" "I'm Grover Underwood." Curly beamed. "O-Oh... I'm Y/N L/N, this is D/N." He barked in response to the introduction. "Really?!" Grover looked at D/N in surprise. "Can I borrow him?! Please??" Me and Percy looked at him weirdly but I handed him D/N anyways. Grover sat on the edge of the fountain, and Percy and I close enough but not an earshot away. "Detention?" I asked. "Huh?" "Did you get left behind for detention?" I asked him. "Nah," he said. "Not from Brunner. I just wish he'd lay off me sometimes. I mean—I'm not a genius. He thinks I know everything about Mythology and stuffs." "I think you are." I smiled at him. "You're pretty smart." "Yeah, well this genius is dyslexic." He smirked. "No way." "Way." "I am too!!" "What?" "Okay we're totally dyslexic twins now." I chuckled. "Totally." Being the awkward kid I am my stomach had to growl. "Want to have my apple?" I felt awkward and took his apple. "Thanks." We watched the stream of cabs going down Fifth Avenue, and had small talks about random stuffs, we ranged our topic from his past schools, to his mom, Nancy Bobofit the mean redhead, and Mrs Dodds his mathematics teacher. Mr. Brunner parked his wheelchair at the base of the handicapped ramp. He ate celery while he read a paperback novel. A red umbrella stuck up from the back of his chair, making it look like a motorized cafe table. Percy was about to unwrap my sandwich when Nancy Bobofit appeared in front of me with her ugly friends—I guess she'd gotten tired of stealing from the tourists—and dumped her half-eaten lunch in Grover's lap where D/N sat. "Oops." She grinned at me with her crooked teeth. Her freckles were orange, as if somebody had spray-painted her face with liquid Cheetos D/N tackled her down, not biting her but barking at her not letting her up. And Percy tried to held his laughter in. Nancy screamed at D/N and tried to hit him. When she had successfully hit him she glared at me then the dog. "This stupid dog!" She then kicked him. When his whimper came out. "Hey?! What do you think you're doing!?" I screamed. "You don't know how to control your stupid dog!" "You dumped your lunch on him he had every right to mount you!" Grover had D/N now cradled in his arms. My teeth were gritting at the sight of this redhead. I was about to lift my hand on her. I don't remember what happened clearly, but I was pretty sure the water grabbed her, Nancy was sitting on her butt in the fountain, screaming, "Percy pushed me!" "No he didn't you liar!!" Mrs. Dodds materialized next to us. Some of the kids were whispering: "Did you see—" "—the water—" "—like it grabbed her—" I didn't care about the whispers. All I knew was that Percy was in trouble again. As soon as Mrs. Dodds was sure poor little Nancy was okay, promising to get her a new shirt at the museum gift shop, etc., etc., Mrs. Dodds turned on Percy. There was a triumphant fire in her eyes, as if he'd done something she'd been waiting for all semester. "Now, honey—" "He didn't do anything! Why are you punishing him?! Weren't you watching what was happening?!" I glared at her. Staring straight in her eyes. I don't know where I got this confidence and everything but I am starting down the teacher Percy is most scared of and winning. "I'd like to apologize for the bad conduct my student had affected yo---" "Nancy Bobofit is in the wrong not Percy! She. Hurt. My. Dog." I could hear the poison laced in my words. Mrs Rudolph came to me, "sweetie, let's go back in the bus. We have to leave." She took D/N from Grover and dragged me away from the scene. "But----" "Ms. L/N, we'll miss the schedule. Let's go." As if D/N knew he jumped off from Mrs Rudolph's hold and ran. "D/N!!" I didn't bother saying anything to Mrs Rudolph and ran after him. "Y/N!!" She tried calling after. I had lost D/N a few times and I found him. He was barking and growling at something. I went to check and saw Percy swing a sword at a shriveled hag with bat wings and claws and a mouth full of yellow fangs... She exploded into yellow powder, vaporized on the spot, leaving nothing but the smell of sulfur and a dying screech and a chill of evil in the air, as if those two glowing red eyes were still watching me. "Percy?" I called. His sword was gone and there was a ballpoint pen in his hand. His hands were still trembling. "W-Was th-that... D-did..." "Percy," I slowly walked up to him and pulled him to a comforting hug. "Calm down. Breathe. I... Also saw that. You're not imagining things alone." We went back outside. D/N leading us. It had started to rain. Grover was sitting by the fountain, a museum map tented over his head. Nancy Bobofit was still standing there, soaked from her swim in the fountain, grumbling to her ugly friends. When she saw me, she said, "I hope Mrs. Kerr whipped your butt." I said, "Who?" "Our teacher. Duh!" We blinked. "We had no teacher named Mrs. Kerr." Percy said. He asked Nancy what she was talking about. She just rolled her eyes and turned away. We went over to Grover to ask where Mrs. Dodds was. He said, "Who?" But he paused first, and he wouldn't look at Percy, so we thought he was messing with us. "Not funny, man," he told him. "This is serious." "I am concerned as well..." Grover looked at me in surprise. "A-about what?" "About... Mrs Dodds? Percy and I saw something really disturbing." Thunder boomed overhead. Percy then let go of me and went over to Mr. Brunner who hasn't moved from his spot. I immediately followed after. He looked up, a little distracted. "Ah, that would be my pen. Please bring your own writing utensil in the future, Mr. Jackson." Percy handed Mr. Brunner his pen. "Sir," he said, "where's Mrs. Dodds?" He stared at him blankly. "Who?" "The other chaperone. Mrs. Dodds. The pre-algebra teacher." I added. He frowned and sat forward, looking mildly concerned. "Percy, Y/N, there is no Mrs. Dodds on this trip. As far as I know, there has never been a Mrs. Dodds at Yancy Academy. Are you feeling all right?" "W-What?" "And Y/N, Mrs Rudolph is very worried about you. You just ran away all of a sudden. Your bus is about to leave." I turned to Percy reluctantly. "I'll walk you..." "This... Can't be a real..." I gasp. "Okay if this is real, then we'll never meet again and we were really just imagining things and this is a coincidence." "Agreed..." "Percy, I know what I saw. I know what I remember. We'll meet again, and when we do... I have a feeling it'll be weirder." "I'll look forward to it."

Previous | Masterlist | Next

Taglist?

[mintchocolatechipnut]

the boys but they’re idols

ft. bakugou katsuki. midoriya izuku & todoroki shouto

Note: yes, I missed prime pun opportunity to write ‘the boyz’ in the title. Anyway, I’ll be general enough to not include any real-life names and music, but I’ll get specific about other details. (Besides, if you squint real close you can see where I got my references from.) I’m thinking of a follow-up part, but we’ll see. Hope you enjoy!

* These headcanons are detailing each of the boys as a member in a hypothetical idol group, and not that they’re all in the same group.

** For context: the difference between main and lead positions is that main is the position that gets majority of the activity e.g. song, dance, rap, etc. Lead is more of a supporting role, but still important nonetheless. 

Tags: idol!au, no x reader for this one, unless??, as you can see from the word length I think you’ll know who I’m partial to

Word count: 3.3k

BAKUGOU KATSUKI

Obviously an all-rounder. He can sing, dance, and rap, though his forte is definitely dancing.

Bakugou obviously has some mad hand-eye coordination if he can play the drums, and I haven’t even brought in his utilizing it through his quirk and fighting talent. He’s also very flexible when twisting through the air and extremely precise with his explosions

Thus, I’d say that his moves are the most on-beat and precise. He’s got very solid moves when dancing; imagine his limbs cutting the air in sharp, refined movements, and his flexibility leads him to be an overall powerful dancer.

Bakugou is a HUGE stickler for technique. Sure, he’s not above improvisation, but technique’s where he excels the most. He’s looking far ahead enough to not want to jeopardize his health by doing some dangerous moves that could potentially hurt his body, so he always takes extra care when going about them, such as taking advanced dance classes.

He works wonderfully as a center, because not only does he have this charisma that makes people unable to look away from him, his perfected balance between his fierce dancing and his emphasis on technique lead him to be a picture of refined strength, and an absolute delight to watch on stage

His facial expressions are definitely the best when he’s performing powerful songs, probably because he’s naturally angry lol. His worst concept has got to be cute, but while he dreads doing it, it’s not like he can’t pull it off. He’s an idol, dammit.

Bakugou’s that one member who wears a headband or bandanna during cutesy performances and sticks with it, because that’s the closest the stylists are ever gonna get to his hair

God forbid if he ever has curly or straight hair

He’s not against dying it though, but he still cares about the repercussions it has on his body, so he tries to refrain from dying it too often. (Which could be inevitable if his managers require him to, I know that. But I’m going to give the boys a little more leeway here to showcase their personalities.)

Anyway, a bandanna suits him just fine, and now he’s the trademark member with the bandanna haha

Some things that don’t change from canon are obviously his schedule. Boy still wakes up at the crack of dawn, probably goes for runs or do sets in the gym, make himself a healthy breakfast, then get down to work

Now I’m conflicted as to what position he would take in a group; I’m leaning towards main dancer

Then again, he IS an all-rounder, so really you could get him to do anything and he’ll be just fine

It’s not in his nature to fail, after all

He can sing, but since his voice is kind of gravelly he’s not the first choice for a main vocal. Strong lead vocal material, I’ll bet, because his voice adds a lot of color and diversity. It’s not something you’d usually hear in a song, that’s why.

He can rap, but again, his voice is gravelly and hard to hear, so I don’t think it would be too good a fit for fast-paced raps. Though, throw him one or two iconic rap lines in his natural ‘I’ll punch you in the face’ tone and you’ve got yourself an icon (and a meme) for days.

I can also see Bakugou being leader of the group, since in canon he’s actually the oldest in class 1-A. One thing though is his outward persona isn’t all that pristine; he has trouble switching gears into idol mode. As we know Bakugou doesn’t lie, regardless of circumstances, and he’s not about to start doing that just to be liked better. If any of these extras are going to be his fans, they’re going to have to recognize real talent, without all the fake smiles.

But because he knows what it could do to the group’s reputation if he came out to look like a big bad bully, he usually keeps his mouth shut during publicity events

He’s probably one of the first idols to have a not-so-sunny media persona, but fans mostly see him as this brooding, sulky kid that’s prepared to put 100% into everything he does

Which is why they still like him

Suffice to say, his fan-base is very similar to the BNHA fandom lmao

Cue all the memes on him being a jerk and everyone liking him anyway, but they know he’s fully committed to the group and wouldn’t want to do anything to risk its image

But over the years, and with the amount of events he’s been involved in, Bakugou’s learnt to let out his true personality one step at a time

He’s considering things carefully because he doesn’t want his fans to be jarred by his personality change all of a sudden, and also because he’s tired keeping up appearances

Jokes on him because the fans already know how he is and are just waiting for him to be more comfortable around the group to showcase his true feelings

And you know what? It sells!

His members also see him as some inspirational figure because his determination and commitment is truly unparalleled

And while he isn’t the easiest to get along with, they know that he’ll do anything within his abilities to push the group to greater heights

While that’s cute and all, it also means they have to suffer at the hands of Bakugou’s tough love. Tough luck

Besides being leader, I could also see him having a hand in producing as well

Remember when I said he was a stickler for technicality? Well, yeah, exactly this

If he feels something isn’t up to par he’d rather do it himself. I think he’d dabble in mixing for a bit and realize he actually has an ear for it, to which he’d then go on to producing whole songs that just awe his members and they’d be like ‘yeah let’s go with this’

And one more thing. Bakugou’s actually got an eye for fashion

Yeah, gripe all you want because all this boy ever wears in the dorms is skull shirts and black tanks but seriously, when he gets down to it, he knows what looks perfect on each member and can make little adjustments to change up a whole style

Courtesy of having designer parents lmao

Overall Bakugou is nothing if not capable. While it means he could definitely go solo at some point, he’s formed bonds with his members and knows he’s grown as a person as a result. And at this point he can only get better

In a leader position, he’s got the charisma, and is not afraid to push for changes if he thinks the status quo isn’t doing enough to ensure the members’ well-being

His weaknesses are obviously teamwork and perfectionism, but he’s been learning how to get along with others better, that it’s not all just a rat race for fame and influence, and he’s able to form some pretty lasting relationships (see: Kirishima)

Not perfectionism, though. He sees it as a strength and not for one second will he compromise. He wants nothing but the best quality, not just for himself, but for the fans

MIDORIYA IZUKU

Looks like the maknae but isn’t. That’s it, that’s the post

He has a really sweet voice so I can see him going for vocals. So imagine when he turns around, holds a mic in his hand and starts RAPPING

You got it, he’s a rapper. Look at the speed that kid goes when he’s mumbling and muttering to himself all the time

Cue Deku’s origin story where he’s mumbling to himself on the street and a talent scout hands him his business card asbfajgfsa

His enunciation is also clear, and his sweet voice makes for a very refreshing rap. That and he also writes his own rap, because if he’s going to be saying anything on that stage, he’s going to want it to mean something.

His raps are always soulful, with hard-hitting lyrics that serve to encourage and motivate anyone who hears and vibes with them.

Basically, his gap moe game is STRONG. Dude be spitting fire up there on stage but once he’s come down, he’s a timid, sweet, shy boi, with overreactions and exaggerations that just make him all the more endearing

He’s also a big fan favorite because he nails every concept well, and has a very down-to-earth personality which he doesn’t hide from the cameras

You want him to act cute and youthful? You’ve got it. You want him to go for something sexy? Um yeah, he’ll have his reservations, but he’ll still do well. You want him to be angry and powerful? The strength in his gaze has got you trembling from the pit.

He’s not just a fan favorite but also that of the staff. Seriously Deku deserves all the love in the world and in this world, he’s going to get it

He’s in the position for main rapper, but I could see him going for lead vocals as well. He’s got a sweet, clear voice that immediately tugs on anyone’s heartstrings the moment they hear it, and he’s usually given more lines in ballads. His vocal range isn’t bad, he can reach moderately high notes, but sometimes his voice undergoes strain. He’s training for that, though!

As for his dance style, Deku probably goes for freestyle! He’s got this easy-going, totally relaxed style going for him that’s full of swag (omg outdated word alert) that makes his movements very smooth. He’s also reasonably flexible, though not as flexible as Bakugou or Todoroki, so he still can pull off certain dance moves.

Unpopular opinion, but it’s Deku, not Todoroki, who looks good in EVERYTHING. Literally his stylist is squealing backstage because they can go ham on dressing him. You could put him in a gold chain and ripped jeans OR an oversized hoodie and rompers, and it’d just go. The only thing is his hair though; he’s thinking of selling it as his charm point (not his freckles!) so he’d prefer if it could stay green. He doesn’t mind if they style it different ways though

The fans would go ballistic if they saw Deku with an undercut, and chances are they’re going to get to see it

He’s definitely one for improvisation! He’s very flexible with these changes, much like how he considers his growth in canon. He’s always looking to try out new styles or moves and see if it fits for him

Besides, I also see him producing! It’s because he’s so immersed in his idol career that he’s always studying new trends on the scene and making them into formulas for the group. He’s also thinking of marketing strategies in his free time

Everyone better be afraid of businessman Deku because he’ll be stealing those bucks from right under your nose

He’s also got mean leadership skills, but I don’t see him in a leader position

Rather, he’s like the second-eldest-but-co-leader kind of guy! He assists the leader in any way he can, and always serves to inspire and motivate the younger ones to work harder together as a team

Deku’s still got that shounen-protagonist charm, even in this world

But for all his good points, Deku still worries he isn’t enough

He knows how cut-throat the industry can be, having studied it inside and out, and he doesn’t want to lag behind

Cue him getting up at odd hours of the morning to use the practice studio (without waking up the others, of course) and other instances

Whenever his members realize he’s been overworking, literally everyone turns on him

He used to be the mom figure, but the moment he’s ushered into bed, a cooling pad on his forehead and thermos at his bedside desk, and the members even station one person to be in the living room so if he tries to leave his room to practice by himself they’ll see him

Jokes on them because Deku practices in his room

He practically moves in his sleep as if trying to get the muscle memory down

Precious boy must protecc!

In sum, Deku’s a great teammate to have and a valuable asset to the team

He’s also the best of friends and is never one to let a fellow member down

Probably the first to burst into tears if the group ever disbands

With his talent and fan-base, he could definitely go solo. But more than that, he wants to cherish the time he has with his members and achieve greater milestones with them every day

TODOROKI SHOUTO

High-key a visual. I mean, everyone wants to look like him!

Like. Everyone stops to look at him whenever he enters the room. Staff, producers, backstage crew, everyone. Even his members, sometimes.

Man’s just too pretty not to stare at

That's not to say he isn't talented, oh no. He's much like Bakugou, an all-rounder, but he's gone through rigorous training from when he was young to get there

Definitely not because of genes, no offense to Rei

As much as Enji is a major shareholder in the industry, anyone who sees Todoroki strut his stuff and still says he got in because of his father has got to be blind. Or deaf. Or plain stupid.

Sure, he had all that training courtesy of his dad. But the moment he enters as a trainee, it's all him from there and no one else.

He's a lot withdrawn at first, still is, but he's improved a lot from when he first joined. It's because of the support he's gained from both his members and fans that he's able to push himself to be the best version of himself everyday

He definitely doesn't come out and say it, but he's probably the most grateful for his fans. As in his family isn't the only lifeline left for him anymore

Todoroki has an amazing voice; while his speaking voice is low, he can reach higher notes without much difficulty. His tone is deep, somber and perfect for ballads, but the training he's undergone has made his technique immaculate. He's got excellent control, he can do runs and riffs effortlessly and he's even perfected his growl. Fans won't even see it coming

His dancing on the other hand is a lot about technique; but unlike Bakugou, Todoroki probably did classical and contemporary dance training as opposed to hip-hop or popping. Because of that, his movements are smooth and elegant, and he always carries himself with the grace of a dancer

That's not to say he cannot be an absolute beast on stage, of course. He's just more in his element when it comes to melancholic ballads, and he's had a hand in choreographing contemporary routines before

That experience and knowledge easily make him a capable choreographer for the group

After all those years of not being able to properly express himself, Todoroki learnt to let his dance tell a story in itself

He's also a fast learner, so any hip-hop techniques he easily picks up and incorporates into the routine

This makes me think he’s going to be a main dancer and a lead vocal, maybe even main vocal

I don’t see him in a leader position because while he has the charisma for it, I think he’d lack in communication, like Bakugou. They’re both a bit too used to doing things on their own that they 1) can’t trust anyone else to do it right and 2) as a result have never consulted other people about how they do things

The difference is Bakugou is a little more observant and far-thinking enough to be a leader, but it doesn’t make Todoroki any less important

If anything, he’s the mom friend, and always makes sure that the members stay in line and out of trouble

Also, for some reason, he's got exceptional charisma on stage and he doesn't even know it

Like, a sexy song comes on and then there’s Todoroki's smoldering heterochromatic gaze

Fans: omgomgomg how is he so hot what the—

Him: ??? This is my normal face tho

It's a strange feeling. One moment, he can be humping the floor and another moment he's got dimples in his cheeks from smiling. It makes him look like a totally different person, even though he's the same guy

His fans don't know why either

As much as he has a creative outlet in dance, Todoroki thinks he has no talent for songwriting or producing. He doesn't consider them his areas of expertise and if he was asked to write lyrics he'd have a hard time because he rarely expresses himself with words. He'd fret on it and eventually not get much done, so why try?

He does help out though, in offering suggestions on how to proceed, but he won't take the lead for any of these. Only dancing

That and his growing up with a businessman father leads him to also know the industry rather well, so he can offer some insights as to what image they could go for and how to market their discography

When it comes to styling, Todoroki is an absolute Mess. The things he likes and wants to wear doesn't suit him all that much, and the stylists usually have a hard time picking out clothes that really accentuate his look and figure. The myriad of colors in his hair and face lead to color clashes, but they find that red and blue are usually the go-to colors.

Did I mention that Todoroki doesn't mind dying his hair as long as they don't dye the white part? Enough said

They've done rainbow on him before!

He also doesn't cover up his scar, and over the years he's learnt to make it his charm point

It serves to make him a noticeable figure in the industry (as if his heterochromia weren’t enough) but it also makes him easily recognisable to fans

It’s not like he doesn’t like interacting with his fans, but sometimes some of them get a little too close, or ask questions that are way too personal

During those times, he’s at least got his members to relate and support him through it

The cutest thing about this man has got to be when he interacts with fans

Like, he’s pretty expressionless most of the time, but he always makes sure that his fans know that he’s extremely happy to have them here, and that he’ll continue doing the best he can for them

If you’re lucky and catch a small smile from him when you’re at a fan sign, I guess you could die peacefully

To summarize, Todoroki is a sweet bean but hardly ever shows it

When people praise his looks, he’s humble about them (though it’s more because he doesn’t know or think he’s attractive… baby just doesn’t see it)

And to top it all off, he’s a charmer on and off stage  with his quiet, sensitive nature and calm demeanor

He’s also the one that’s most likely to have a modeling career outside of his idol work

He can’t act for the life of him even though he’s got the expressions right on stage

Like Deku and Bakugou, he could always go solo, but his reason for not doing so is mainly because he’s found a new family, here with his members, and he doesn’t want to lose it

He doesn’t even mind if they don’t produce music anymore. As long as everyone sticks together and has a good time, he’s willing

A/N: Thank you for reading! If you haven’t checked out my other pieces, you can find them on my masterlist; if you have, thank you for your support! I’m trying to post something new every week, so stay tuned :)

[mxrekai]

You see this tweet? This tweet right here?

It’s gross and I’ll tell you why, and I’ll break down the article as well because it makes me as angry as a bull.

You simply CAN NOT break these characters down to these (biased!) individual traits. And in Jason’s case, it’s not even a trait, it’s just damn slander with a photo of him dead attached to it, because DC still likes to push the narrative that it’s his fault he died. When in reality, he was a CHILD who was tricked and betrayed by his mother, and in the end still tried to save his mother who was responsible for his death. Joker and Sheila are responsible for this child’s death, NOT HIM.

These are all incredibly complex characters, with incredibly biased descriptions.

For Dick (the only one with his hero name for some reason), the oversexualized Robin by the fandom is more like it rather than ‘the cute Robin’. Which is kinda sad because he has a lot of depth that can be explored and stories that have been told that are really great (not Ric, screw that guy). Like his relationship with Bruce, his relationship with Damian, his relationship with his teams, his life outside of heroism, police life, dealing with his mental health, etc.

From what we’ve seen if I had to pick a single descriptor for him, I’d pick “The protective Robin” or “The first Robin”

Because he’s always willing to throw himself into harm's way to save others. Especially when it comes to his found family. Or the first Robin works well because he was the first. He started the whole Robin line.

For Tim, I’m sorry but I can’t really comment on Tim because I haven’t read his run yet, it’s on my to do list. But from what I have seen from other comics that include him, ‘the smart robin’ doesn’t fit very well because to be Robin they ALL had to be smart. And they all were smart Robins.

If I had to describe Tim, it would be “the detective Robin” because out of all of them, he is the best detective and is the most proficient at it.

For Damian... oh boy, I’m so sorry but he’s not my favorite Robin at all. But I know he’s complex and has depth. If anyone who reads this is a Damian stan, feel free to add onto this and tag me.

And last but definitely not least... Jason Todd.

This whole tweet and the article attached is Jason Todd slander (not what I pay for the DC Universe app for!) and a misrepresentation of his character.

“The Robin we’d like to smack some sense into.”

He👏was👏not👏a👏bad👏robin👏

He was a CHILD who just wanted to help and make a difference! He wanted to help the people in crime alley because he knew what it was like to be in that situation and he wanted to save people! When he first put on his Robin suit it gave him MAGIC. He had Robin magic but that Robin magic wasn’t enough to save him from getting beat to death by the joker.

Yes, sometimes he did not listen but that goes for EVERY robin, my girl Carrie Kelly included.

He had sense, he was also a child who made mistakes! Like all the other Robins!

Then he was brought back under the WORST possible circumstances, to come back and find out his death had little to no impact (unbeknownst to him of Bruce’s grief). Then go under some intense training, deal with pit madness, have his mind tainted with, then grow some problems with the man he loved who took care of him. His father.

If I had to pick a label for Jason? It’d be the discarded Robin. He was this boy who was thrown away by the fandom at the time by murder. Then like a broken toy, the writers proceeded to get a new Robin.

Or the redeemed Robin. When Jason was reborn as Red Hood, overtime he became a fan favorite in the DC community. Even won DC’s sexiest man. He was hated at first but is now loved by many.

Heck, maybe even that label because he’s grown from his first resurrection so much. Instead of being angry at the world, he’s now chosen to accept what happened to him and even reconcile his relationship with his family.

Or even the

Now onto the article...

Holy moly, this article sucked all the life out of me until I was left DCeased (get it?). It is way too obvious an angry stan wrote this.

Oh. My. God.

How is this in any way Jason’s fault? I don’t recall him having the ability to write his own comic book? This is the writers fault, not Jason’s.

Onto the second one.

Okay, sure it was rude to interrupt them, I’ll give them that one. But I’m also pretty sure Jason’s insert was for comedic effect. Tons of comic books have these moments.

I had to laugh at the “SO NATURALLY JASON TODD DID SOMETHING ANNOYING TO INTERRUPT IT” it’s just, damn. This article just reeks of bitterness.

This one confused me, so I went to go read the comic book that they were talking about. This, once again, was intended to be a comedic moment. Jason was simply expressing his excitement for going to go to the Gotham library so he blurts our “Holy Gutenberg!”. Bruce spins him around and tells him to never do that again. Even Jason’s confused on why he doesn’t like the reference. I think this is simply comedy, such as when he threatens to fire Carrie if she moved the batplane in the animated movie.

If a crowbar was right there Bruce NEVER would have grabbed it to hurt Jason over a REFERENCE. No sane person would.

Let’s look at the keywords here,

“Nightwing took a heavy dose of Scarecrow’s fear gas and had an extended nightmare about an alternate life.”

Once again, YOU WANT TO BEAT JASON UP FOR SOMETHING OUT OF HIS CONROL, AND NOT HIS FAULT? TO TOP IT OFF, NOT REAL?

Want someone to blame? Blame Scarecrow and the fear toxins for making Dick see all that. This was an alternate dream reality, no characters were in control or even there.

Yknow what, valid. Honestly, I’m pretty sure the heroes there have memorials elsewhere as well and Jason only got that robin suit on display (which was honestly more so to remind Bruce of his failure and make himself feel guilty), but fair.

CONCLUSION

In conclusion, this better have been some abstract marketing (which I hope it was) for the new Death in the Family movie coming out.

All in all, the Jason slander from DC was infuriating and frankly unnecessary. He deserves so much better because once again, he is a complex character who deserves a deep dive. 

Please remember that this is just my two cents/opinion, and it is totally okay if you disagree with anything I said here. 

Have a good day :)

[fbfh]

vegas lights - piper x mpdg!bff!reader

2.3k words

wlw, friends to lovers

piper x manic pixie dream girl! best friend! reader

inspired by this concept playlist from this post (i think it’s the fourth one on the post)

You and piper met at one of those fancy boarding schools

You’ve been told you have trouble respecting authority, can’t follow instructions, and have little regard to your attitude

So more specifically, you met in detention

You had shown up to school with blue and orange hair

As you expected, that didn’t go over well

Piper hadn’t done her homework again

The teacher had left to make some copies of papers, and you were sitting one seat back and to the right of piper

“Hey, since people always talk about going back in time and making one small change that affects everything, do you think the most minute decisions we make have the capacity to change everything now?”

She turned her head and saw you leaning across your desk

Your eyebrows matched your hair, your blazer was too big and the sleeves were cuffed, and pen ink was scribbled on your arms and hands

You had a wild energy, like a strong breeze that smelled like summer you find some other time of year

“Uh…” 

She wasn’t really sure what you meant, and was still a little thrown by you

“Or like, is it the kind of thing where nothing we do matters and we’re gonna end up where we end up, so that takes off the pressure of moralizing your decisions and you end up making ‘better’ choices?”

Was this real?

The late afternoon sun cast an unsettling blue green light throughout the building, and made Piper feel even more like she was dreaming

“Maybe neither,” she mused, grabbing the first thing that came to mind

A new smile crept at your eyes, and she could almost see your perspective shift

“Yeah, like… the presence of someone who wasn’t there before was the thing to set everything off. Maybe it’s not your decisions as much as being there…” you trailed off lost in thought, “huh.” 

You pushed yourself up, and sat on the edge of your desk

“So what are you in for?”

Piper hadn’t realized she was staring until your eyes locked with hers

“D- uh, didn’t do my homework,” she sputtered

You sighed, and rolled your eyes

“God, they’re only gonna realize humans aren’t designed for constant work when we’re all dead.” 

You turn back to her

“You seem intelligent. Being smart doesn’t mean anything, intelligence is what actually matters.” 

Wow

How do you respond to that?

“... I’m Piper,” 

“Piper…” you repeated slowly

“I like that.”

Silence 

“What’s your name?”

“What do I seem like?” 

She looked confused

“What do I strike you as?”

She thought for a minute, then blurted out the first thing she thought of

“Vegas.” 

You smiled

“I love that… we’re gonna go to Vegas some time. It’ll be an adventure.”

“If I had to guess for you…” you trailed off, examining every detail of her in a way that didn’t make her self conscious

“I’d say diamond. I really like Piper too, though.” 

Her stomach fell

There it is, nothing more than a pretty face once again

“Oh, cause I’m-”

“Strong.”

Her eyes snapped up to yours

“You don’t seem like anyone can break you.”

She liked that a lot better

You asked her something about lunch tomorrow, she didn’t remember quite what, and that was the beginning of the two of you

You spent every minute you could together, which often resulted in coordinating your stunts with hers to end up in detention together

After a while the bmw story came up

You believed her without hesitation

“God, guys can be the fucking worst sometimes. I bet that piece of wet toast gave you the car to get on your good side then pulled a Nice Guy as soon as he realized it wasn’t happening.” 

Not totally accurate, but she appreciated your enthusiasm so she agreed wholeheartedly

For some reason it felt really nice to hear you say boys suck

As the semester went on, she started to get worried

You had started talking to a guy, and she had a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach

She found herself having to try harder and harder to fake happy for you

She was almost surprised at how relieved she was a week later when you plop down at your usual lunch spot and denounce cynically

“Y’know that guy I was talking to? Turns out he’s not actually into philosophy, he’s a fake academic with a superiority complex.”

A weight flew off her chest

“You’re way better off without him,” 

“I know! He thinks watching rick and morty is a personality trait,” 

“Oh god…” she laughed

She had to fight a smile for most of lunch

To her despair, the cycle repeated again, less than a week later

Then again and again, you were seeing a new boy every week for a little over a month

As it progressed, she began to notice feeling worse, then better with every guy you picked up and dumped

She started to worry she was being a bad friend, possessive and jealous

You could tell something was off, and had mentioned here and there if she needs to talk to you she can

Every act of closeness from you made her feel worse and better at the same time

You had asked her to help you re dye your hair, this time a bright lime green, and she had no idea how she’d made it through the long night of just the two of you without saying something really stupid

It was almost graduation by now and she felt like she was going to break in half

“That’s it, I’m done with men. Never touching another one. Ever.”

She looked up at you shocked

“You can hold me to that.” you finish, a laugh frosting the seriousness of your statement

A flood gate opened somewhere deep inside her

Before she could stop it, the thought crept up on her from the back of her mind

‘Least now I have a chance with her,’

The organicness shocked her so much she almost choked on her food

“You okay Di?” you asked

Her pulse was racing and she felt panic and adrenaline coursing through her in a way she’d never experienced

“Yeah, I just have go to the bathroom,” she said, standing up quickly and avoiding your eyes

“I’ll come with,” 

“No! It’s fine. I’ll be right back, stay here.” 

You agreed

She rushed into the bathroom to google “does having a crush on a girl mean i’m gay” 

She tried rephrasing the question a hundred times, glad she remembered to turn on private browsing before she started

She tries to calm her breathing as she gets the same answer five times in a row

“If you keep asking if you’re gay, you probably are”

One article on realizing you have a crush on your girl best friend was actually slightly helpful

It was validating, gave advice on how to act normal, and emphasized there’s time to sort out these feelings and what they might mean later

She read it three times before the bell rang

Shit

She had half her classes with you, what was she gonna do now?

She came out of the bathroom and there you were, waiting for her

“Hey, you okay?”

“Ye- uh… yeah, I’m… sick I think. That’s why I left suddenly, and couldn’t… finish lunch,” she was a terrible liar to you, and just hoped that whatever forces had gotten her in trouble so many times could convince you this was all cause of a stomach bug

“Oh, that sucks. I have an extra bag of chips if you get hungry later, and if you wanna sleep after class instead of hang out I totally get it.” 

Her heart was palpitating

At least you seemed to believe it

“Yeah,  I probably should… and I probably shouldn’t get too close to you- like, I should stay away from you. Cause I don’t want you to get sick too.” she knew she was rambling and had no idea how to fix it.

“Okay, text me later. I’m here to talk if you wanna.” you smiled, and squeezed her shoulder, her heart squeezing at the same time

She left in a hurry to get to her next class, for once grateful you weren’t in it

Over the next week or so, the idea of having a huge uncontrollable crush on you started to be less scary

She just didn’t want to lose you

She knew everything about you

Your favorite color, violet

Your favorite singer, someone named king princess

Your favorite food, broccoli

Even your favorite lip balm flavor, cherry

She had to set all these feelings aside and be there for you as a friend, because that’s what you needed her to be

Just for another week, then you’d part ways for the summer and she could get over this before next year

She couldn’t stop the way her heart skipped a beat when you rested your head on her shoulder

Or when you were studying last night

You couldn’t figure out a problem, and put your head in her lap declaring,

“That’s it. We’re moving to a countryside cottage and becoming an old married farming couple.”

She didn’t breathe right for a second

She somehow managed to choke out

“God, please. That can be our plan b if we fail.”

Which, unfortunately, you didn’t 

You both passed, and unhappily went your separate ways for the summer

She tried to keep plans to meet up abstract, savoring that last hug on friday more than she should have

This plan will work, she’ll avoid you all summer, and come back next semester and be totally normal

It will all be fine

Or it would have if you hadn’t pressed a kiss on her cheek before she got pulled into a rented car, speeding off for the airport

Every minute between that second and seeing her dad at the airport was filled with thoughts of you

Five days had passed, and she couldn’t sleep

She had tried to keep texting you to a minimum, which only worked because of how much she was overthinking everything

Friends can kiss sometimes, right?

And yeah, you looked at her with those big sparkly eyes, but you’ve looked at her like that since she first met you

She was laying in bed, staring at the ceiling, and couldn’t get your stupid amazing smile out of her head

She was… overwhelmed

Her phone buzzed

Of course, it was you

She threw her phone on her bed without reading it

Her whole body was buzzy, her feelings had never been this strong

It was too much

She actually felt like she was going to explode in 10 seconds

She could feel a stupid impulse of some kind or another creeping up

A gentle tapping on her window snapped her out of it

‘It’s her’

No it’s not, she chastised herself, you’re practically on the other side of the country

She looked over at her window

It was you

It was you

Oh god

She scrambled out of bed, and threw the window open

You had already popped the screen off, propping it next to her window

“Hi,” you said,

“H-” she had no words

Time and time again you left her speechless

“Y-... your hair’s pink,” she choked out

You laughed and smiled that crooked little smile of yours, and she could feel her heart clench

“Yeah, d’you like it?”

“Yeah,” she said without a second thought

Something she’d read online came back to her in a rush

‘If you like your crush after they change their hair, you know it’s real’

Shit

You placed your hand on top of hers

“So… do you wanna go on an adventure?”

“Yes.” she answered, never wanting anything more

You laugh and lean forward, closer to her

You brush a strand of hair out of her face and watch as her eyes flutter closed

A surge of nerves pulse through you simultaneously, your hand still on her face

“Piper,” you whisper, sounding closer than before

“Hm?”

“... do you want to kiss?”

Relief floods her like nothing she’s ever experienced before

She nods twice, vigorously

Your lips connect in a moment of pure euphoria

You’re soft

You taste like cherry, and that gum you’re always chewing, grapefruit and pear and a little cayenne

Her lips are warm and soft and so inviting

When you finally pull away, you’re both breathless, already wanting more

Her mind is reeling

What if this is just a fling or something, what if this isn’t like, romantic kissing and it’s the kind of kissing best friends probably do sometimes?

Best friends can kiss sometimes, right???

She has to do it now, there’s no way she could possibly come back from this

She has to tell you how she feels

But how can she say it?

She can’t just blurt it out

It has to be perfect

But she also has to be able to take it back in case you say no

“Piper,” you start again

“Yeah?” she breathes

Once again you take the words right out of her, spinning them into something beautiful and easy to understand

“Do you want to be girlfriends? Like, date each other?”

She’s frozen for a second

This has to be a dream

It feels fake

She’s been dying to hear you say those exact words for months

And how much more in character could it have been than after asking her to go on an adventure

She looks into your eyes, searching for a hint of a lie

She finds nothing

And for a moment, for the first time, she sees your composure begin to crack

You look… scared

She realizes she hasn’t answered yet

“Yes!” she blurts, pulling you in to kiss you again and again

“Yes, yes, yes…” she mutters between kisses

Your giggles hit her ears, sounding different than ever before

After what feels like forever and not nearly long enough, you finally part again

“So…” you play with her hair, braiding a loose strand

“How ‘bout that adventure?”

[yellowocaballero]

Continuation of Human Relations (Oh My God, They Were Roommates)

This is a 16k story that’s a bit too short for AO3 but a bit too long for Tumblr that acts as a continuation of my Archivist!Sasha and Immortal!Jon fic Human Relations. I recommend that you read that before this. This story takes place between S2 and S3, and is about Sasha and Georgie’s roommate adventures. I’m uncertain if I’ll continue this and post it on AO3, post it on AO3 as it is, or what, but for the time being I’ll at least post it here. 

Serious content warnings for discussion of abusive friendships, gaslighting, discussion of 19th century racism, implied transphobia, and discussion of police brutality. Nothing more serious than what we saw in Human Relations, but it does have a much more explicit investigation of Jon and Elias’ relationship. Rest under the cut. Happy Birthday, @magickko. 

EDIT: HAHA READMORE DIDN’T WORK, YIKES. 

Sasha dreams, every night.

Nightmares, mostly. Statements given and Statements stolen run endlessly through her head in a scrolling loop, crying out for mercy, as its figures cry and scream. Sasha looks at them through a camera, pushing the button and clicking the shutter again and again and again, searching for that perfect shot frozen in time. 

A woman, trapped under a thousand pounds of dirt and crumpling metal. Snap. A woman, chewing keycaps, eyes riveted on a flickering screen. Snap. A woman, lost in her fiance’s grave, pleading for someone to find her. Snap. 

A man, eating canned peaches, alone. Snap. A man, swinging an axe with a frantic strength born of terror. Snap. A man, and the look in his eyes, betrayed. Snap. A man, gunshot wound leaking blood out of his chest, eyes rolling in the fluorescent lights. Snap.

When Sasha wakes up she is always surprised to find herself in a guest room, always out of place and out of time as she stares up at an unfamiliar ceiling. Maybe the worst part is those two seconds after waking, where she doesn’t know where she is, adrift in time and space. Then she remembers, and she’s faced with the situation all over again. 

Namely, the fact that she was couch surfing in the Grim Reaper’s guest bedroom. 

Sasha dreams, every night.

Nightmares, mostly. Statements given and Statements stolen run endlessly through her head in a scrolling loop, crying out for mercy, as its figures cry and scream. Sasha looks at them through a camera, pushing the button and clicking the shutter again and again and again, searching for that perfect shot frozen in time. 

A woman, trapped under a thousand pounds of dirt and crumpling metal. Snap. A woman, chewing keycaps, eyes riveted on a flickering screen. Snap. A woman, lost in her fiance’s grave, pleading for someone to find her. Snap. 

A man, eating canned peaches, alone. Snap. A man, swinging an axe with a frantic strength born of terror. Snap. A man, and the look in his eyes, betrayed. Snap. A man, gunshot wound leaking blood out of his chest, eyes rolling in the fluorescent lights. Snap.

When Sasha wakes up she is always surprised to find herself in a guest room, always out of place and out of time as she stares up at an unfamiliar ceiling. Maybe the worst part is those two seconds after waking, where she doesn’t know where she is, adrift in time and space. Then she remembers, and she’s faced with the situation all over again. 

Namely, the fact that she was couch surfing in the Grim Reaper’s guest bedroom. 

Georgie Barker wasn’t a mystery, and she’d be the first to tell you.

Of course you’re welcome to stay as long as you need, honey! I always love having Jonah owe me a favor. Don’t worry about the cops and the law, nobody will ever find you here. Seriously, the entire department’s in my pocket. It’s no hassle having you here, it’s a big flat! It’s been years since I’ve had a roommate, this’ll be fun!

The one thing she hadn’t understood was Sasha begging her not to let Jon in to see her. He knows exactly where you are, Georgie pointed out. He knows you’re not actually a murderer, Georgie said. He might be able to help explain some of what’s going on, Georgie hinted. Jon would respect my wishes, but if Jonah really wants him to talk to you, he’ll definitely do it...

“Please,” Sasha had croaked, the uncomfortable morning after she had stumbled into Georgie’s flat. The Admiral wove around her legs, purring up a storm, and Georgie was munching on avocado toast and sipping pomegranate juice. “I just - I just need some space.”

“Why?” Georgie asked obliviously. That was something that Sasha was rapidly learning about Georgie - she didn’t hold back with impolite questions, or her opinion. She seemed to be regarding Sasha’s life as her own personal Youtuber Drama, which Sasha really didn’t know how she felt about. Her life wasn’t a spectacle, but she guessed even the warfare and tragedy of ants were of obscure and strange interest to humanity. “He’s feeling, like, totally bad about framing you for murder. I can tell he super wants to apologize to you about everything.”

Martin’s words echoed through her mind, from what felt like a decade ago: Jon had ruined Martin’s life, but to him it was as simple as a momentary inconvenience. “I don’t want his apology,” Sasha croaked. “I want not to be on the run from the police. I want to go back to my flat. Unless he’s going to make me human again I don’t want any stupid apologies. They’re useless.”

“Hm. Well, you’re free to stay here as long as you need to, of course.” Georgie sipped at her tea. They were sitting around the breakfast table, Sasha desolately shoving eggs into her mouth as Georgie drank her tea that Sasha was reasonably sure was spiked with brandy. Rich people were literally never sober. “It’ll be so much fun, like a sleepover. We can do each other’s nails and talk about boys!”

“My boyfriend thought I was a monster for the past month and now thinks I’m a murderer,” Sasha said flatly. 

“Oh, I see.” Georgie tapped her lips thoughtfully. “We have to get you laid, huh?”

“I am literally on the run from the cops.”

“That’s very sexy to some people,” Georgie assured her. 

After that, Georgie waved goodbye and swanned out of the house, either going to her studio to work on her podcast or doing some work for her real estate empire or writing a best-selling book or schmoozing with celebrities or attending parties at exclusive nightclubs or working part-time as a bartender just for gossip or devouring souls. Just from Sasha’s one day at Georgie’s flat, she knew that she did all of these things and then some. It was a stunning contrast to Jon’s laziness, or Elias (Jonah’s) single-mindedness. 

Maybe you lost the energy to be so productive after your two hundredth year. Sasha didn’t fucking know. Hopefully she would never know. Or maybe Jon just appeared to be lazy, and every moment that he was complaining about being bored he was secretly manipulating world leaders. Maybe Jonah’s dedication to spreadsheets and dress code was a front, and he was secretly pulling the puppet strings of her entire life…

In the empty spaces of Georgie’s spacious flat, it was easy to be paranoid. Sasha lay on her luxurious couch, hands folded across her chest like a corpse, trying not to think of anything, thinking of everything. Thinking of Tim: of his smile, of his scowl, of his cold looks given to someone he had thought was a stranger. Thinking of Martin: his warm smile, his sharp looks. 

She struggled to think of other friends, other family members who gave her comfort, but drew up a blank. Her parent’s faces were blurred after ten years of no contact, not so much forgotten as repressed, and her baby siblings were likely unrecognizable to her now. Almost as unrecognizable as she was to them, probably. Tim, her boyfriend who hated her, and Martin, her subordinate who she had almost never had a conversation with that wasn’t about work or Jon...that was it. All the friends she had in the world. She was sleeping in the guest room of a podcast host/Grim Reaper whom she had met once, and that was all she had.

Loneliness was Sasha’s constant companion. In a crowd, in her family, in the world - no matter how many people she had been surrounded by, she had always been alone. She had never had anybody in the world to rely on besides herself, and for the first time in a long time she was achingly aware of it. Nobody who loved her was going to help her. She was alone now.

After an hour of lying on the couch and crying, Sasha desolately watched Netflix cooking shows on Georgie’s gigantic flat-screen TV, trying very hard to think of absolutely nothing at all. She only moved to pet Georgie’s silky long-haired cat whose name she had already forgotten, and even he left quickly once she lost the energy to give him attention.

That was how Georgie found Sasha when she came home: lying on the couch, still dressed in borrowed silk pyjamas, watching idiots on television fuck up cakes. Georgie’s arms were laden with shopping bags, with names of exclusive London boutiques sprawled along the side, her deep black pits of eyes hidden by designer sunglasses. She burst through the door happily, her cat running up to her and winding through her laps as he purred, and easily kicked off her red pumps. She stopped in the doorway of the living room, looking strangely excited. 

“Sorry I’m back to late! Utterly bogged up at work, there was a plane crash and I was processing corpses for hours. I had to do some serious retail therapy just to deal with the tedium - darling, have you moved?”

Sasha grunted. 

“You look like Mikey Crew threw you off the Shard,” Georgie said sympathetically. “Utterly disastrous. Don’t worry, Aunt Georgie’s here to make you feel better.” She lifted her bag triumphantly. “I bought you new outfits!”

Sasha eyed her warily. 

“You get no say in this,” Georgie said kindly. “Chop chop, we’re doing face masks too.”

That’s how, somehow, Sasha found herself playing an unwilling dress-up doll for the Grim Reaper. Georgie had taken Sasha’s casual mention that she had no clothing besides her work pantsuit to heart, and had hit up her favorite boutiques for ‘cute outfits that accentuated her figure and made her eyes pop!’. Or something. Sasha wasn’t much one for fashion. 

As it turned out, Georgie Barker had a walk-in closet. Because of course she did. 

The looks ranged from Sasha’s usual, as Georgie put it, ‘sexy librarian’ look, to ballgowns, to tennis outfits, to moddish, to vintage, to wintery. It was February, the seasons lingering in British chill, and according to Georgie the perfect solution to this was a mink coat that was probably worth a month’s rent on her flat. 

Strangely, all of the outfits fit perfectly - and Sasha knew that her measurements were difficult to find. Georgie took it in stride, clapping enthusiastically each time and suggesting accessories and how to mix and match the outfits. 

She would have thought that she was too dead inside to actually enjoy it, but so far as distractions went it actually worked pretty well. Georgie chatted about everything but their actual problems, and Sasha had absolutely no input or choice in what Georgie decided to dress her in, and by the time they had transitioned from nail painting to watching Legally Blonde and eating ice cream from the carton Sasha was actually feeling a little relaxed. 

“The musical’s better,” Georgie informed Sasha imperiously as Sasha dug around in her carton for chunks of cookie dough. Georgie was clutching a glass of wine in one hand, while Sasha was contenting herself with ice cream. Best not to drink when she was this sad. “Reese is such a doll, though. Allergic to shellfish, poor dear, but I told her not to let Leo pick the restaurant.”

“What I’m wondering,” Sasha said carefully, teeth cracking into the frozen chunk of cookie dough, “is that half the time when I see you, you’re dressed like a 2008 goth in jeans and t-shirts.”

“Oh, honey,” Georgie said pityingly, patting her hand. “I used to spend two hours getting dressed each morning. I’m never doing that to myself again. You, however, clearly have never had nice clothing in your life. It’s written all over your face. People’ll walk all over you if you always look like you’re straight from a charity shop. We gotta buy you some self-confidence.”

“Thanks. I think.” On screen, Elle flourished and achieved her dreams. Sasha tried not to feel jealous. “It’s not really as if I had a lot of girly sleepovers as a kid…”

“Word,” Georgie said sympathetically. She patted Sasha’s hand again. “Jon was the same way, you know. I can’t count the number of times I’ve had to renovate that boy’s wardrobe. He has no idea how to dress to impress.”

“Do we have to talk about Jon right now,” Sasha groused. “He’s the last person I want to think about.”

“He means well,” Georgie soothed, as Elle Woods proudly proclaimed on television how she, yes, she, was a strong independent woman - who didn’t need a man! “It’s not his fault he’s stupid. He’s just so helpless on his own, you know, he needs girls like you and me to make sure he’s not wasting a decade fixating on obscure Bolivian religious practices or whatever.”

“Helpless? He’s a two hundred year old man.” Sasha spitefully grabbed the bottle of wine from the coffee table, pouring it into a spare glass and drinking it quickly. It probably cost thousands of pounds, but it just tasted like wine to her. “It’s not my job to make sure his little feelings aren’t hurt.”

“Of course not,” Georgie said, but Sasha had the sense she was being calmed instead of listened to. “But Jon’s...you know.”

“I don’t, actually.”

Georgie made an interpretive hand gesture. Sasha stared at her blankly. 

“...I still don’t.”

Georgie sighed. “He’s delicate. Jonah babies him, honestly.” She patted Sasha’s hand for the third time, making her skin crawl. “Don’t worry, I won’t let him see you until you’re ready to forgive him. Every woman has the right to some time to herself after a guy fucks her over. You two’ll patch things up, right as rain.”

There was nothing Sasha wanted to say to that, nothing she wanted to think about, and she kept drinking her wine and watching the movie, out of lack of any other options.

That night, she drunkenly tipped into bed, so blasted that she slid immediately into sleep and did not dream. It was the first relief she’d had in what felt like a very long time. 

It wasn’t Sasha’s job to fix Jonathan Sims. 

It really, really wasn’t. It wasn’t her job to make him feel better, or forgive him, or save him from himself. If Martin wanted to waste his time and energy doing that, then god fucking speed, but Sasha had other priorities. She had been profoundly fucked over and had her trust abused by three different men lately, and she wasn’t going to be the one to patch things up.

Two of them she had no desire to patch things up with at all. Two of them she’d be perfectly happy if she never saw again. The last one...Sasha didn’t know what she felt. But that was nothing new. 

That being said, as Sasha chewed her way through hangover medication and an acai bowl the next morning, Georgie’s inane chattering about tricking some celebrity or another into taking her to Hungary for authentic Hungarian food didn’t register nearly as loudly in Sasha’s mind as her words about Jonah and Jon. 

Jonah babies Jon. That was what she had said. It...it was accurate, right? It had to be. Georgie had known Jonah and Jon for a hundred years, and Sasha had barely heard one authentic conversation between them. She’d known them for a year, and known Jonah’s true nature for maybe a few days. There was no way Sasha understood their relationship better than Georgie did. It just didn’t make sense. 

Finally, she put her spoon down, cutting Georgie off in the middle of her ramble about the majesty of Hungarian food made by genuine Hungarian grandma hands. “What did you mean, ‘Jonah babies Jon’?”

Georgie blinked at her, clearly barely remembering the conversation, before recognition dawned. Then she shrugged, sipping her protein smoothie. Which may or may not be spiked. It seemed as if her solution to hangovers was to just not stop being drunk. “Oh, you know how those two are. Jon swans around the world doing whatever he wants, Jonah holds the fort down at home. That’s why Jon’s fun, you know.” She sighed nostalgically. “Romantic cruises to the Bahamas for two months, we tear up the Bahaman government and start a minor military coup, then we take a tour of the beaches. You haven’t lived until you’ve dug your toes into Bahaman sand.” 

That was something Georgie said frequently: you haven’t lived until you’ve done X, Y, or Z. It seemed as if Georgie was very intent on living, and very intent on defining it in discretionary ways. To Sasha, living was simply the act of not being dead, but Georgie was almost fanatical about experiencing life. 

“If he’s so much fun, then why did you break up?” Sasha asked, before she realized what she said. “I mean, it’s really none of my business, feel free not to answer that -”

But Georgie just laughed lightly. “That’s just how Jon and I work. We spend a few weeks together in bliss, and then we go our separate ways for six months or a year or whatever. Work’s always taking us different places, and seeing each other all day would make us hate each other. Some people work best when they’re not in each other’s pocket.” She took a long drag of the smoothie before speaking again. “Besides, he’ll always be second in my life to having fun. And I’ll always be second in his life to Jonah. It’s just how we work. It works for us!”

It seemed to. Last Sasha checked, Georgie and Jon seemed to be very amicable despite being exes. Lackadaisical, on-and-off, passionate yet going years without seeing each other - it was a relationship uniquely in the providence of workaholic immortals. 

It wasn’t until Georgie had already waved goodbye, making Sasha promise not to spend all day on the couch again, that she realized that Georgie hadn’t quite answered her question. 

An image flashed through Sasha’s mind - Jon’s face, as he dared to disagree with Jonah, and was utterly ground into the dust for it. 

There was something more to this. Something that wasn’t obvious on the surface, something that was so well hidden maybe nobody even knew it was going on. Or maybe it was deeper than that, more insidious: maybe whatever was going on was so well-known and pervasive that it simply wasn’t spoken about. Not polite, not the kind of thing you say about your friends, not normal. Not in polite company. Not vocalized. Utterly taken for granted. 

Sasha walked into the guest room, pulling out her phone from her bag and staring at its blank screen. Holding her breath, she hesitantly turned it on, staring at it blankly as it slowly booted up. 

She shouldn’t be turning it on. She was perfectly aware of how, given a warrant, the police could track cell phone location, texts sent and received, everything. She could do it herself. The crushing weight of surveillance, the fear of being found and seen and rooted out, settled over her shoulders like an old, familiar friend. A comforting blanket to wrap herself up in at night: where, even if the fear was terrible and awful, at least it was familiar. 

You could get used to anything, Sasha thought. Any behavior, any fears, any horrors or tragedies - anything could become normal, given enough time. A year. A hundred years. After two hundred years, maybe you wouldn’t even recognize it as happening at all.

Like a flood, the text messages poured in. Notifications chimed in a cacophony, as text after text after text popped up on her phone. Missed calls. Emails popped up, notifications from the doorbell camera, reminders from her fucking Duolingo...

Dizzily, Sasha scrolled through the texts. Lots from Tim, as expected, and a few from Martin, as expected. Some texts from her mother, which - which wasn’t expected. At all. Sasha hadn’t even known that she knew her number. 

Sasha’s brain stuttered over the Spanish, having been years since she spoke it. Her brain also stuttered over the gratuitous misgendering, which was also blissfully novel yet just as uncomfortable and upsetting as ever. Translated, it was a slightly accusatory question about why the police had been calling them about her whereabouts. What had she done? Had she gotten in trouble?

No matter what you did, the text read, God will forgive you. Just call them back. 

Sasha stared at the texts, brain buzzing. She felt sick. Forgive her? They’d forgive her? They thought she’d done it? They thought she was capable of -

Horribly, awfully, tears pricked at her eyes. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe you never really grew accustomed to pain, even if it was felt a thousand times. Maybe some pain you never acclimated to, never scarred over or calloused. Maybe sometimes the more you were hurt, the worse it hurt. The pain her parents gave her - how they cut off contact, the misgendering, the coldness - hurt just as badly at thirty six as it had at twenty six, at twenty, at fifteen, at nine. It had always hurt. 

So stupid. Sasha deleted the text messages. She didn’t have time for this. She wasn’t a child. She was thirty six goddamn years old, that was way too old to still care about your parents. To still need them.

She clicked on Martin’s texts next. The first one had a timestamp before the murder, the rest afterwards.

Martin: where are you?? I found Tim (he tried to kill me w/an axe but we’re ok now) and were trying to get out of here. I explained everything to him. We’ll meet you in the archives. 

Martin: Police are looking for you. I know you didn’t do it so call me back. Tim’s worried. Jon doesn’t seem that worried...

Martin: Shouldn’t text you anymore. Please be safe & careful. 

Jesus. Jesus, she had been terrible to Martin. She was a rotten friend. Sasha hiccuped, rubbing at her eyes. She needed to get him a gift basket. Five. He was a freak, but he was her freak. Maybe. 

Finally, almost holding her breath, she pressed on Tim’s messages. There were a lot of them - more than was safe, Sasha distantly registered. The first five were from the same time Martin had sent the second text. She guessed it was right after the police finished talking to them. He had called her slightly before - likely when they found the body - but there were also two texts from two am last night. 

Tim: pick up your phone

Tim: pick up your phone are you okay im so sorry

Tim: baby please please pick up

Tim: we need to talk & im sorry & i hope ur safe

Tim: dont text me back 

Then two texts from two am:

Tim: to warn you im drunk but im sorry (AND DRUNK) but in my defense im a shitty boyfriend. If you want to break up its fine but id like to make it work but i get if you cant because cops i guess. Bitch tonner wont stop bothering me make her stoppp

Tim: I love you and I wish that was enough. 

Sasha rubbed at her eyes, exhausted. She wished it was enough too. She knew it wasn’t. Strongly, like burning, Sasha wished so desperately that she had never met Jonathan Sims. Maybe, in that world, things were okay. She and Tim were happy. 

She scrolled through the rest of the notifications. Strangely, she even had two texts from Melanie. 

Melanie: Hey, I heard what’s going on. I know you couldn’t have done it. A LOT of cops are bothering me - Hussein and Tonner have called like five times. I think you know them? For legal purposes I’ll say that you should turn yourself in or whatever. 

Melanie: oh and Martin said to tell you that Mr. Bouchard’s been asking me a lot of questions about what im doing and my job situation - dunno y tho

That….probably wasn’t good. 

No texts from Jon. She wouldn’t know what to do if he had. She doubted he knew her number, or how to work a phone. The last thing she could deal with emotionally right now was an apology. She didn’t know what to do about Tonner or Hussein or Melanie. Those were all problems she couldn’t fix right now. 

Really, there was only one problem she could fix right now. She walked over to the door to the balcony, carefully stepping out onto the 20th story balcony. She carefully ejected her SIM card, snapped it in half, looked underneath her to make sure there were no passerby in the exclusive London neighborhood, and forced her fingers to release from the phone so she could watch it fall twenty stories onto the concrete. 

She imagined a smash, a crack, but it didn’t make any sound at all. Sasha forced herself to step back inside, leaving the past behind her. 

There was a lot Sasha had to force herself to do that day. Georgie owned a few laptops, but she hadn’t given Sasha permission to use any of them yet, and she didn’t want to intrude. Despite Sasha’s own...reservations about her personality, she really was being incredibly kind by letting her stay and trying to cheer her up. She did, however, have a great deal of antique books, and Sasha eagerly cracked open the first edition copies of fiction novels from the 19th century. Was that a first edition Pride & Prejudice? Oh, score!

She wasn’t hungry, but she forced herself to eat. Food tasted like ash in her mouth, but that always happened whenever she was upset. She forced herself to take a shower, impossibly intimidated by Georgie’s small army of hair care and hygiene products, and even cautiously let herself take a bubble bath with a bath bomb. It was...weirdly luxurious, but maybe not surprisingly. Georgie’s bathroom was like the Queen’s, and you could practically swim in the bathtub. It was intimidating and weird and uncomfortable, but Sasha forced herself to appreciate it. How many people got to take a shower in a stall with five different showerheads?

Halfway through the day the housekeeper came in, terrifying Sasha deeply, and she retreated to her guest bedroom to let the woman work. She inspected her newly painted toenails glumly, halfway through Pride & Prejudice, forcing herself not to think about how Jon could have been a background character in the novel. Wasn’t he in his twenties in this time period? Wasn’t that when he and Jonah Magnus had -

Sasha drank more wine, and put on another cooking program. She hadn’t watched telly all day, so technically she could tell Georgie that. Besides, it wasn’t as if there was anything productive to do. No work, which sucked when she was a workaholic. No computer to waste time on. No friends she could talk to without the police investigating her. She couldn’t go outside, again due to the aforementioned cop situation. Her life was her work, and her bosses had just framed her for murder. 

Somewhat buzzed, Sasha stole several pieces of intricate stationary and wrote down everything Leitner had told her before he was murdered. It wasn’t nearly as much as she wanted, yet far more than she knew what to do with. Halfway through her notes deteriorated into a bizarre sort of mind map, lists of cases connected together and obscure monsters and figures pointing to each other. Salasea and his endless array of dangerous trinkets, mysterious yet lonely ship captains, Michael and his gently twisting deceit, Gerry Keay and his bizarre heroism, Leitner and his ruinous imprints, Agnes and her desolate fate, and the oft-mentioned yet barely understood man, whose name was whispered by shadowy figures entrenched in  the supernatural world, Jonathan Sims…

Did he know? How often his shadow stained her statements? Did he care? Did he know how thoroughly he had ruined her life? 

She scoured her memory for hints, writing down everything she could remember of his cameos in random statements. Of Leitner’s testimony, the immortal figure who so easily attained what Leitner and Mary Keay had spent their entire lives grasping for. Was there a hint to his true nature, his true allegiance? 

In the corners of the cute stationary, Sasha doodled a small eye. She stared at it, and couldn’t help but fight the notion that it was staring back. 

She scratched it out, feeling paranoid, not feeling paranoid enough. 

A few hours later, Georgie came home, and Sasha fought the pathetically hopeful trepidation. When she heard the front door rattle she left her room, intending on welcoming Georgie back and proving that she hadn’t been watching telly all day, but she stopped short in the hallway when she heard the loud sound of voices. Specifically, the loud sound of Georgie’s still slightly unfamiliar voice, and the quieter tones of a voice that was far too familiar to her.  

“ - if you’ll just let me talk to her, she’ll understand.”

“And she said that she’s not seeing you,” Georgie said firmly. Sasha held her breath, pressing herself up against the hallway wall. Next to her was a doorway that led to the living room, that led to a foyer. If she craned her head she could just barely see Georgie standing in the foyer, arguing with a figure holding a leather briefcase that made Sasha’s heart leap into her throat. “You really did screw her over, you know.”

“I know,” Jonathan Sims whined. “I want to apologize. It’s not my fault. Jonah got pushy again, you know how he is.”

“Ugh, tell me about it.” Georgie scoffed. “Did something happen between you two? Sasha was asking all sorts of weird questions.”

“Just Jonah being his usual insufferable self,” Jon said, so carelessly and casually that if Sasha hadn’t known better she would have believed him. “It probably alarmed her, seeing how that man really is. I’m sure she’s feeling very overwhelmed right now.”

“She really is, the poor dear,” Georgie said sympathetically. Sasha’s hands clenched into fists. “But you aren’t getting past this foyer, honey. I’m sure she’ll want to be friends again once Jonah gets the cops off her case.”

“Martin’s giving me a hard time,” Jon sulked. “Says this is all my fault that the dreadful little wolf girl is sniffing around. It’s not my fault. If my Archivist just let me explain, she’d see that it’s not my fault.”

“That Blackwood boy’s always giving you a hard time,” Georgie sniffed. “I don’t know why you’re so obsessed with him. He’s overly moralistic and doesn’t know how to have fun. You spend too much time with him.”

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous, Georgina Barker,” Jon teased. He stepped forward a little closer, and although Sasah couldn’t see his face she had the feeling he was smiling. “It’s a bad look on you.”

“Idiot,” Georgie said fondly, “everything’s a good look on me.” She stretched up on her tip-toes to kiss him on the cheek. “Ditch him and come party with me, darling, I’ll show you a wonderful time. Maybe after all of this nonsense blows over.”

“Judging from what I can make out of Jonah’s monologuing, we ought to get our parties in while we still can,” Jon said glumly. He opened his briefcase, passing a manila folder to Georgie. “Give her these. She’ll be getting hungry. Tell her that the top one is from work, and the second is from me.” He hesitated for a second. “You really think she’ll forgive me?”

“If it’s not your fault, then why do you need to be forgiven?”

Jon was silent for a long minute. Finally, he said, “I’ll talk to you later, Georgie. Love you.”

“Love you too,” Georgie said easily, casually, as if she had said it a thousand times, a million times. “Take care of yourself.”

She stood in the foyer after he left, arms folded, one delicately manicured finger tapping against her arm. She eventually turned around, poking her head into the living room. 

“You can come out, darling, I don’t bite.”

Sasha guiltily stepped into the living room, crossing her arms defensively. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.”

But Georgie just rolled her eyes. “Please. My best friends are Jonathan Sims and Jonah Magnus.” She looked thoughtful for a second. “Well. My oldest friends. Anyway, if you’re in the same house as one of those Beholding types you aren’t getting a private conversation. I’m super used to it.” She held out the manila folder, and Sasha cautiously stepped forward and took it from her. 

“Beholding types?” 

“Oh, you know, you and your lot,” Georgie said dismissively. “Can’t do anything about that annoying little megalomania the Eye gives you. Have fun with lunch, I have to freshen up. It takes ages to get the scent of Jon’s musty old books off me.”

But Sasha was already tuning her out, because in the manilla envelope there were two Statements. They thrummed under her fingers, charged with energy and power and fear, and Sasha could feel herself gripping them. The first one was a classic Magnus Institute Statement, just like she would have read at work, but the second was what looked like a photocopy of a piece of paper. Judging from the ornate script, it was old, and when Sasha’s eyes wandered to the date her eyes widened. July 21st, 1823. 

She looked up, already frantically searching for a tape recorder, and immediately saw one sitting on the coffee table. She didn’t think twice about it, already sitting on the plush white couch and setting the papers out. Which one first - oh man, they were both so exciting - her fingers drifted to the one Jon gave her, and she picked it up. That one, then. 

Sasha James pressed play on the tape deck, feeling a familiar thrill go through her at the gentle whirring. She cleared her throat. 

“Statement of Sasha James, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, regarding a letter sent by Barnabas Bennet to Jonah Magnus. Statement begins.”

And, as Sasha’s blood ran cold, she began to read. 

My dearest Jonah,

I hope you are well. It was an absolute pleasure to vacation at your estate this summer. I’ve never had such interesting conversations with a like-minded individual, and since returning to my own estate I have been sorely missing your company. You have introduced a great deal of brightness and acute interest to my life, and without you the luminescence of Heaven does not thrill me. How I wish you were around to thrill me again!

Do not concern yourself - I have maintained my studies. The library you loaned me is of great interest, and I have been spending many a quiet night bent over one of your occult tomes. I have never felt so enlightened. A world is opening up before us, Jonah, one of richness and wonder, and for the first time in many years I find myself excited to rise each morning. I thank our Heavenly Father each day that I was so fortunate as to cross your path. You must remind me to discuss with you the report by Smirke in detail - fascinating! Theoretical, of course, all theoretical - but the concept of classifying the devils that so bewitch man into fourteen unique taxonomies fascinates me. We must discuss it. 

Jonah, I trust that this letter reaches you in private, and that you shall not betray my confidence by discussing it with anyone. I have a private grievance I wish to address with you. It is regarding your boy, the one kept so close in your confidence and trust. 

I would never hasten to question any of your decisions, for I trust they are made with great deliberation and forethought. But I must question why you keep that boy so close to you. His air is strange and fey. While summering at your estate, I would frequently see him awake at late hours, pouring over some tome or report or another (I would swear that he reads better than I!). I know he’s somewhat of a project of yours, bringing him into Christianity and your charity, which will surely be rewarded etc etc, but I cannot shake my strange trepidation. 

If I were to be quite honest, my fear of him. 

He always asks questions. Disturbing and distressing questions. And when I deign to answer them, he acts as if he truly understands. Moreover, that he understands more than me - that he possesses some secret knowledge that only he has obtained. I catch him listening at doorways and around corners frequently, and no matter how many times I box him about the ears for it he will not cease. You encourage it, allowing this behavior. Even after I reported to you the pagan rituals which I am confident he is performing, you brush me off. You two are strangely close. I’m simply concerned for you, Jonah. Please heed my advice: that boy is trouble. I fear that he will bring you into trouble also. Do not allow this paganism to steer you away from the light of our heavenly Father. I understand that the occult is of great interest to all of us, discovering the secrets of the world and its many mysteries, but it is only an academic interest. I would never go so far as to partake of these devilish rituals myself, and you ought to dissuade yourself of such a notion also. Do not allow that John to lead you astray. 

I wish you most well. I am encountering some trouble of my own - debts and such - but do not concern yourself with them. The situation is well-handled. I hope to write to you again soon.

Yours, faithfully,

Barnabas

...supplemental.

Jon. Why did you show me this?

Is this your definition of vulnerability? Of honesty? What, are you trying to justify your decisions to me? I get it, it’s disgusting. These people were disgusting to you. I can’t know how you feel, but I think I - my parents -

What I mean is, I can’t understand. I can’t imagine how hard this must have been. I understand how Jonah was the only one to… ‘get’ you or whatever. How he was the only person to see how brilliant you are, how much you have to give. 

But, Jon - I don’t think Jonah thought any better of you than Barnabas did. He was just better at hiding it. I don’t know, I didn’t know him and I still don’t know him - but you get that the way he talked to you back then wasn’t right, right? You get that it was fucked up, right?

I don’t know. I don’t think you get that. I don’t think anybody does. Georgie’s too close to it, too used to you and Jonah’s ‘quirks’ or whatever. I...don’t know anything Martin thinks, but I feel as if you’d be pretty invested in keeping this from him. But I’m close enough to you to see it, and I’m far enough away from this that I understand. Something’s really fucked up about this situation. I’m worried I’m the only person who sees it. I hate being that person, the person who Sees it all, who knows it all, but is powerless to do anything about it. You understand, right? You understand how much this is hurting me?

I’m not sure you do. If you’re showing me this, trying to show me how hard you had it, how misunderstood you were, just so I forgive you...I don’t. And it’s manipulative, so cut it out. I’m not sure if you’re consciously doing that, I really don’t think you’re emotionally intelligent enough.

But you aren’t dumb, Jon. I know it’s a defence mechanism or whatever to pretend that you are, to act childish, but you aren’t. 

Ugh, listen to me. I sound like Martin. Disgusting. I don’t give a shit about this, I’m not your therapist. But you keep on making your problems my problems, and I’m not tolerating that. We’ll talk when I’m not fucking wanted for murder for something you were complicit in. 

Get your act together. I don’t forgive you. Statement fucking ends. 

As if Sasha’s life wasn’t hard enough, Georgie wanted to go dancing. 

“I am literally wanted by the police.”

“The nightclub’s so dark, nobody’ll even see your face,” Georgie promised. 

“Shouldn’t I be spending my time working on my conspiracy theory board?”

“Honey, no offence, that thing is so tacky.”

“I hate clubbing.”

“You’ll like the way I do it!”

“I really don’t want to -”

“Tough nuts.”

So, of course, that’s how Sasha ended up shoved into a tight dress, heels, and makeup, pushed into a taxi, and quickly deposited in front of a warehouse looking building. There was a long line out the door, of women with straightened hair dressed somehow identically, yet way worse, than Sasha, all looking very cold. Georgie looped her arm through Sasha’s, white teeth flashing as she grinned widely, and escorted them both straight through the doors and past security. 

She, it seemed, was a known quantity. Sasha, who had spent the last year working in a mill to feed evil psychic vampires and the ten years before that locked in academia, which was basically the same thing, was not a known quantity to any nightclub. She had not been clubbing since uni, which was approximately five lifetimes ago.

“I’m still not sure this is a good idea,” Sasha said into Georgie’s ear as they transitioned from the furiously cold February air into the swelteringly hot club. It was dim and smoky, the noise overwhelmingly grating at her ears. After so long in a quiet office, in a silent flat, she could barely handle it. 

Georgie said something to her. 

“What?” Sasha yelled. “Georgie, I don’t want to be here!”

Georgie frowned at her, and unlinked their arms so she could reach up on her tiptoes and clasp Sasha on the shoulders. “You have been accused of murder! You just split with your boyfriend because of clown trauma! You haven’t had fun in years! You deserve this, queen!”

You know...maybe she did. 

Georgie pressed a drink into her hands, mysteriously procured from somewhere, and without thinking too hard about it Sasha downed it in one gulp. Georgie whooped, clapping her on the back, and directed her towards the bar. She flashed her platinum credit card at the bartender, and suddenly Sasha was MVP of the night. 

You know, Sasha thought dizzily as she was given a toxic blue drink and pushed onto the dance floor, maybe she did deserve this. Didn’t she deserve to have fun? After the way things ended with Tim, couldn’t she just act like a normal girl and go clubbing with her friends to dance away the pain? She was almost forty, way too old for this, but maybe she could forget for a little bit. She had never had the opportunity as a teenager, not even as a young adult. Couldn’t she do this, before she died?

Maybe women closer to forty than thirty dealt with this with - with book clubs, with sisterhood, whatever. Maybe women closer to forty than thirty were married, had kids of their own. But Sasha was just Sasha, stuck in a literal dead-end job, going nowhere good, and this was all she would ever have. 

Maybe Georgie was right. Why not live, before she died? Everybody on earth died - everybody, that is, except for a small group of people who were willing to sell their soul for the privilege.  At least maybe this way she could have whatever joy she could fit into her life before all opportunity was lost, and she was lost. 

A man sidled up to her, asking for a dance, and she evaded him. But then there was another one, and another one, and Sasha found herself fleeing back to the bar and ordering another drink. Too soon. Way too soon. She found herself digging in her borrowed purse, searching for her phone, wanting to call Tim or talk to him or ask him if they really were broken up so she could have rebound sex with random dudes in bars, but the purse was empty of both a phone and a wallet. That’s right - she had destroyed it. Because the cops were after her. 

Next to her, out of the corner of her eye, a man sat down at a barstool. He said something to the bartender and leaned towards her, mouth spilling something obscured by the crush and heat and sound of the club. He seemed to be asking if he could buy her a drink. Sasha shook her head dizzily, confused and lost. Then he leaned in closer, and Sasha could smell the alcohol on his breath. 

“Are you sure? I’d like to dance with you!”

Sasha shook her head no again, frantically. 

“Aw, come on -”

Then, as if by magic, Georgie was at her elbow. Unintimidating, not more than one hundred and seventy centimeters, with teased hair and sharp black lipstick and eyeliner, she raised an eyebrow at the guy. But there must have been something in her eyes, or a lack of something, because the guy rapidly slipped off the barstool and melted into the crowd, leaving the drink the bartender slid onto the counter behind. 

As if she had planned it, Georgie easily stole the drink and knocked it back. She tugged Sasha down, yelling into her ear. “Come with me, darling, let’s check out where the real party is.”

Without taking no for an answer, Georgie grabbed Sasha’s hand and tugged her through the outskirts of the crowd, ducking and weaving between small clusters of people and women dancing the night away. Sasha’s vision swam, details and faces lost in the endless ripple of flashing lights and sound, until all she felt was Georgie’s cool hand in hers, and it wasn’t until they emerged from the choppy sea of people into a small hallway off the main room that she felt like she could breathe. Sasha’s head swam with movement and smoke, and she was barely cognizant that they were in a hallway for a bathroom or something. 

But Georgie walked confidently past the bathrooms, into what appeared to be a storage closet. She confidently opened it, halting at the door frame to glance backwards at Sasha. A smile quirked at her bow lips. 

“You coming?”

Sasha, slightly intoxicated though she was, couldn’t fight the skepticism. “This is where the real party is? A supply closet?”

“Oh, my dear Archivist,” Georgie said, smirking slightly. “The world is full of far more delights than you could understand. Follow me, and stay close.”

Then Georgie stepped forward, disappearing into the closet, and as little as Sasha wanted to step inside more dubiously supernatural hallways she wanted to be left alone in this club even less, and she ducked after Georgie into the unknown. 

The unknown, as it turned out, was another club. 

Or, more accurately, a pub. It was a nice pub too, all smoky yellow lights and burnished wood booths. The booths were upholstered in soft and cushy looking brown leather, and the sound where nowhere above a quiet murmur. It didn’t seem to be abandoned, the shadows at some booths deeper than others, but for the life of her Sasha couldn’t puzzle out the faces or figures of anybody at these shadowy corners. There was a single bartender, wiping a grimy glass over and over. He nodded at Georgie when he walked in, and Sasha was forced to wonder how many dubiously physical supernatural bars and hang-outs existed in random back rooms of mundane stores. Were these things just everywhere? Or were there only a few, and so long as you had the right key any door could be an entrance? It was just Sasha’s intuition, but she felt as if it was the latter. 

What would, could Georgie open up for her? What power, what majesty? What world of power and control could Jon give her, that Jon was trying to hard to give her that she kept refusing? Nobody was telling her the cost. Nobody was letting her make a decision. She was being swept up in the wake of giants, and Sasha was just trying to keep her head above water. 

Georgie was still walking confidently down the aisles, and Sasha stumbled trying to keep up. Finally, she came to a stop in a back corner, utterly secluded with a booth that stretched the entire corner, large enough for seven or more people. Georgie turned to Sasha, smiling broadly, and Sasha tried not to feel intimidated. 

“Honey, these are my friends. Girls, this is my new roommate, Sasha James!”

With a flourish, she made a little tah-dah motion, and the smoky yellow lamp above the table flickered on. 

The table was crowded with women, or women appearing people. Absolutely none of them were familiar. No - in the corner, there was one person who was familiar. Michael, blonde hair hurting her eyes in curly ringlets, hands in his coat pockets. He smiled crookedly at her, jarring her adrift. 

“Uh,” Sasha said, confused. Who were these people? “Hello?”

A short East Asian woman in a white tank top and black jeans scowled from where she was slouching in her seat. “One of those Beholding patsies? Please, Georgie, they’re so insufferable.”

“I like this one,” Georgie said cheerfully. She slid into an empty seat, and Sasha cautiously sat next to her. “Play nice, everyone.”

“You’re such a grouch, Jude,” a woman said, leaning forward and looking interestedly at Sasha. Her eyes were dark and big, her head cocked, giving her an almost insectoid air. “It’s a pleasure to meet you in person finally, Archivist. I’ve heard so much about you. You’re really making waves in our little community.”

“Patsy Archivist,” a tall and burly white woman with cascading brown hair said shortly, taking long gulps of a pint. “What’s impressive about that?”

“I’m impressed with anyone who puts up with Sims and Magnus long enough,” the insectish woman said. “No offence, Georgie.”

“Oh, they’re insufferable,” Georgie said cheerfully. “Have you heard how those two like to socialize? They go to galas. With those awful little Fairchilds and Lukases and whatever. It’s just tragic.”

“Word,” the insect woman said, raising her glass. The rim seemed to be coated in cobwebs, making Sasha feel vaguely ill. “Much rather have a pint at a nice little pub with friends. But we haven’t introduced ourselves, have we? My name’s Annabelle Cane. I’m sure you’ve heard of me in all those little stories you like.”

Anabelle Cane. Sasha swallowed. “Yeah, I’ve heard.”

“A proxy Archivist she may be,” Michael said serenely, “but perhaps our most successful yet. She’s already coming along so much further than Gertrude ever did.” He winked bizarrely at Sasha. “Michael, but you already know that. They and them, if you please.”

Oh. Sasha blinked at them. “Thanks for...saving my life back there. And Tim’s and Martin’s.”

“My pleasure,” Michael said affably. “You’re the most fun I’ve had in awhile. Always nice to have the Eye owe me a favor.”

“They’re just mad they didn’t get to kill Gertrude,” the brunette said evenly. “Julia Montauk. You should know me too, I think. Is it true you killed someone?”

“I definitely didn’t,” Sasha said heatedly. “It was a set-up.”

“Relax, we’re all killers here,” the woman in a tank top said. She scowled at Sasha. “Jude Perry. What the fuck do those old money ponces think they’re doing, installing another patsy Archivist this late in the game? I would have thought that they learned their lesson after that bitch Gertrude.”

“Archivists are quite slow learners,” a woman piped up. She sat in the corner, strangely oddly. Her skin was shiny and strange in the dim light, almost plasticish, and her dark eyes hadn’t moved from Sasha’s face since she walked in. “Nikola. A pleasure, Archivist.”

“Are you guys all…” Sasha trailed off uncomfortably. “You know?”

“Serial killers?” Julia Mauntauk asked flatly. 

“Inhuman monstrosities of plastic and flesh?” Nikola inquired. 

“Daughters of fear entities that control our every action?” Annabelle said. 

“Embodiments of unknown concepts made sentient, forced into a shape that cannot suit them, locked in flesh and fractal prisons, always screaming in endless turmoil, unable to understand the horrors of the concepts of ourselves, always searching for the sweet release of death that can never quite be obtained, because that which does not live can never die?” Michael said serenely. 

“Assholes?” Jude Perry said flatly. 

“The sexiest Avatars around?” Georgie asked. 

How did Sasha’s life devolve to this point. 

“...yeah,” Sasha said. “Hey, where can I get more drinks?”

Unsurprisingly enough, the drinks came very fast. Service was excellent when you hung out with eldritch women, Sasha supposed. 

The conversion flew thick and fast after that. In Sasha’s experience, joining a new group of established friends meant being ignored for favor of pre-existing dynamics. It was always uncomfortable, and no small part of why she just didn’t join new groups. Tim had never had that problem - he had a loud and persistent personality, the kind that made you pay attention to him. He dominated any room he entered, by force if necessary. It always seemed exhausting to Sasha, but Tim didn’t really seem to have anymore real friends than she did lately. His personality was like an ocean, overwhelming and everywhere, but when his mood turned sour it was just as intense. Gulfs of pleasure, intense pain - it seemed exhausting, to feel so deeply. God knows Sasha didn’t. 

But today, in this group, she seemed to be novel. Maybe new fear avatars were a rare enough thing, or at least ones with Georgie’s seal of approval. They aimed a barrage of questions at her, and Sasha did her best to keep up with each one.

How did Sasha know Georgie? Mostly through a mutual enemy. Oh, fuckin’ Sims, right - you guys friends? No, I hate him. You guys fucking? Ew. Right, right, Sims is a giant prude - actually I heard that he doesn’t really - no, Jon decided a while back he doesn’t do that, and we all respect his decision - ew, though, nobody wants to imagine that. So why are you two friends? We’re roommates, mostly, I’m kinda on the run from the cops. Who’d you kill? Nobody. Who’d that old fucker Bouchard kill? Jurgen Leitner, mostly. 

“Cheers to that!” Julia said abruptly, raising her glass. “Hate that fucker.”

“Good riddance to bad rubbish,” Annabelle said, downing her own drink and what seemed like an improbable quantity of spiders. She leaned over the table to where Sasha had hastily been stuffed in, beetle-black eyes gleaming. “But really. What are you doing here?”

“As I said,” Sasha said uncomfortably, “I got framed for murder -”

But Annabelle just waved her hand. “No, no, we know that. I’m asking what are you doing here? With people like us, in a place like us? You’re just a sexy librarian. Your highest goal in life was owning your own cottage house one day. How’d you get wrapped up in the tangled web of our world?”

Sasha’s mouth ran dry, her head spinning in a way that didn’t really seem to have anything to do with the alcohol. How had she ended up like this? Who was to blame?”

“Jonathan Sims,” Sasha said dizzily. “He -”

“Didn’t know you Beholding types were in the process of lying to yourselves,” Annabelle said, casually yet brutally. “No, really.”

Sasha opened her mouth, then closed it. Finally, she said, “I guess I just asked all the wrong questions.”

It was a pretty way of dressing up the real answer: that Sasha didn’t know. 

Maybe her thoughts were obvious, because Georgie cooed sympathetically and slung an arm around her shoulders. “Cheer up, honey, it’s not so bad. Not everything happens for a reason. Sometimes it’s just your own rotten luck.”

“Speak for yourself,” Jude called, lifting her glass. “I love my fucking life. It’s hookers, coke, and blow from here to Scotland. The life of a woman with power’s a thousand times better than the life of a woman without, James.”

“What is with you people and hedonism,” Sasha muttered. 

“Why not?” Nikola asked, tilting her head strangely. “Life’s so short when it’s this long. It’s just bread and circuses, Archivist. We all need...entertainment.”

“Humans are always trying to make sense of it all,” Michael said arily. They were digging their fingers into the table, scoring long grooves in it. “When you know there’s no meaning, no purpose, then everything else just...falls away.”

Sasha didn’t know if she believed that, but she bit her tongue. Instead, she said, “What about those Avatars like Magnus or Raynor? They seem really...driven.”

Georgie giggled, light and airy, and leaned in. “That’s because they don’t know.”

She shouldn’t even ask. She shouldn’t - “Know what?”

Georgie smiled, sharp and wicked. “That there’s no point.”

And that was all she would say on that for the night: conversation after that devolved into parties, restaurants, drugs, and conquests. Maybe the women were right, in their own clearly demented way: that without death there was no meaning, when when there was no meaning only pleasure held any significance. If there was no afterlife, no reward or punishment - which Sasha didn’t believe, but they seemed to - then there was no reason not to do what you wanted. To have fun. To take revenge. 

If all Georgie wanted was to have fun, and if all Jon wanted was revenge, then what did Jonah Magnus want? Sasha didn’t know. She had the feeling that if she didn’t figure it out, she wasn’t going to live much longer. 

Why had Jonah Magnus done this to her? What was the point of framing her for murder? She couldn’t do her job like this. What’s the point? 

Half-drunk, head spinning, she found herself vocalizing this. Somehow, Annabelle Cane had ended up sitting next to her, letting spiders run along her slightly too long and too jointed fingers. Annabelle Cane just smiled at her, jaw slightly slacking open to expose teeth. 

“Maybe it’s just to fuck with you,” Annabelle posited. “Why not? Do you think he has another reason?”

“I don’t know,” Sasha groaned. “I don’t know anything. Everything’s confusing and terrible. I could never understand those psychopaths.”

“You won’t make it very far in this line of work if you never ask why,” Annabelle scolded. She paused a second, spider running thoughtfully across her eyeball. “But too many questions damns you just as effectively, I suppose. Hm. Jonah’s quite good, isn’t he.”

“Why me,” Sasha groaned. “Everyone’s trying to keep shit from me, it fuckin’ - it fuckin’ sucks, man. It sucks. Nobody would tell me what’s going on, but I don’t think anybody knows what’s going on. Not even Jonah, or Jon, or - or anyone. Nobody but me.”

Annabelle blinked at her, somewhat curiously, before leaning in. Her perfume lingered in the air, a heavy rosy scent. “Do you know something that Jonah doesn’t?”

“Yeah,” Sasha slurred, world fading in and out. “Jonah doesn’t know that Jon -”

Then the world faded into black, and Sasha fell asleep. 

If she had felt too old for this at the nightclub, she definitely felt too old for this hangover. Sasha spent twenty minutes crouched over a toilet bowl, reluctantly shoved the Eggs Benedict in her mouth that Georgie insisted was a hangover cure, somehow, and refused the Bloody Mary that Georgie also insisted was a hangover cure that her Mum used to feed her. The thought of Georgie’s Mum filled Sasha with a deep fear, incapable of imagining somebody who was both likely born in the 1800s and who had raised a hellion like Georgie. 

When Sasha mumbled this to Georgie, she didn’t look offended. She just smiled, strangely fond. “Oh, none of this is my Mum’s fault. She was a darling, her and my Da. My childhood was positively idyllic. All things considered, you know.”

Yes, Sasha thought, struggling to imagine 1910s London in her mind, idyllic. She took another look at Georgie, squinting slightly as her head throbbed. She definitely seemed younger physically than Jon, but Jon had a particular way of carrying age about him that had nothing to do with his appearance. “When did you stop aging?”

“I forget, honestly,” Georgie said airly, sipping her own bloody mary. For some reason, Sasha didn’t believe her. “It always takes a while to notice, you know. I suppose, logically, it would be about when I died the first time.”

That, more than anything, alarmed Sasha. “I thought you couldn’t die.”

“Not permanently,” Georgie said, as if this was somehow obvious. “Eat your eggs, they’ll get cold.” Sasha frantically shoved eggs in her mouth, desperate for the story. But Georgie just sighed and propped her chin on her hand, eyes distant. “You know how it is. Small town girl, grew up in North Birmingham, Alabama - back when it was just a tiny little thing, you know. I wanted to be a star. I always did. Scared of dyin’ in the dirt. If I was gonna die young, I wanted to do it where everybody knew my name. So long as they remember you, it’s no kind of death at all, really.” She sighed, lost in memory. “I could sing so good...so I went to Harlem, ‘cause all my friends and I always had dreams of going to Harlem and making it big singing in the jazz clubs. They didn’t get so far, staying at home with their babies, but I did. Wasn’t really made for babies and such, I think.” Something strange emerged in her words, the last vestiges of a Southern accent. “I was pretty, and I could sing, and I took to the spotlight like a duck to water. It was tough, but man - if it ain’t tough, it ain’t worth it. I worked so hard. Like I was working myself to death, almost.”

She trailed off, birds softly trilling outside, and Sasha was silent. 

Quietly, Georgie began speaking again. “Got into some trouble. You know how it is. I spent dozens of years wondering if it was my fault, if there was something I coulda done differently, zig instead of zag...but now, I don’t think so. Just my own rotten luck, you know. Put my trust in the wrong people. Had the wrong sentence whispered into my ear.” She shrugged listlessly. “Couldn’t handle the truth. Just another girl who couldn’t handle the limelight, that was what they said. But I was set up to fail. All those jazz clubs were ganger run, you couldn’t avoid it. Every girl in that golden age fell prey to those men, same as I did. I just wanted to feel again. Tried everything once, just to feel something.” She sighed, taking another drink. “Got shot. Got back up. I remember it, clear as day. Must have been 1923. I scrubbed the blood out of my show dress and went back on stage that night, cuz you can’t get a rep as a flake. They said, that day...that day was my best performance.”

She trailed off, Sasha finally alert. She wanted more details, almost desperately, but she kept her mouth shut. She didn’t want to risk putting the whammy on her host, even if she wasn’t sure that she could. If Georgie was being purposefully vague...well, Sasha wasn’t entitled to her pain. 

Instead, she said, “I bet you were good.”

Georgie smiled at her wanly, eyes far away. “I was the best.”

They sat in silence for a little while, eating their food, Sasha’s head ringing and mind buzzing. What about this picture was she not understanding? What was so important that she was missing?

Finally, Sasha carefully floated, “I bet you must have met Jon soon after.”

Georgie looked up from her bloody mary, surprised. “Oh, yes. Just a few months after. He must have caught the word on the wind, you know, of that singing girl who got back up after getting shot in the lungs.” She sighed, propping her chin on her hand again. “Saw him in the front row of my club. He was so handsome, and so finely dressed. But there had been something strange in his eyes, you know? Like little marbles, reflecting the lamps. He caught up to me afterwards, and I figured he was just another fan to squeeze dry, but he told me in his funny little accent I’d never heard before that he could help me.” She swallowed, looking away. “That he could help me understand what was happening to me. Why I was having those strange dreams, seeing those strange tendrils. I guess he was right. After I met him, I understood it all. Things moved fast after that.” She smiled weakly at Sasha. “I suppose you know the rest.”

She really didn’t, but Sasha understood the dismissal for what it was. “Yeah. Thanks for telling me all of that.”

“It’s no secret,” Georgie said dismissively. She smiled cunningly. “A hundred years later almost exactly, and what I did to those gangsters was still my finest work. They say that if you pass by an old building on St. Nicholas Avenue, you can still hear the screams. Anyway, I have a meeting with my land development company in an hour, must run, ta!”

On that distressing note Georgie swanned out the door, and Sasha was left alone with nothing but a stack of conspiracy theories, an opulent flat, and bad memories. 

Time seemed to move quickly, yet sluggishly, after that. After another day of writing down literally every Statement she could remember off the top of her head and trying to fit them into the weird and seemingly kind of arbitrary categories that Leitner had given her, she had hit a roadblock. She couldn’t remember any more Statements, she didn’t have access to them, and the ones she did remember she either already sorted or couldn’t dredge up enough memory of them to sort them in a satisfactory way. Either that, or the Statement itself was just incomprehensible - Sasha still didn’t know what the fuck was going on with Tessa’s problem. She tended to have a better memory of the ones that seemingly mentioned the Avatars in the background, just because it had been so startling to actually meet them - and a few even mentioned Jon, usually in context of Salasea or any Eye Statement. 

When Georgie came home that night, they watched another movie and they both studiously avoided mentioning anything supernatural. Best not to take work home with you, even if Sasha had never quite been good at that. 

The next day Sasha did what she should have done in the first place, and hacked into the Magnus Institute server. 

It was seriously, comically easy. Sasha had installed a backdoor connection to the desktop of her work computer from her laptop ages ago, and all she had to do was borrow one of Georgie’s laptops and redownload the program. With an easy virtual desktop she was already in. It was somehow satisfying to see all of her work programs pop up on the borrowed laptop, and it was almost a relief to access the Archive drive that connected all of their computers. More importantly, where they all put their research follow-ups and the spreadsheet that documented the debunked, uncertain, and verified statements. It had gotten to the point where if the statement refused to record on the computer they automatically put it on verified, but what Sasha really wanted from that spreadsheet was the one sentence description they had all put for each Statement. 

From there, it was much easier. Sasha, sick of the disorganized conspiracy theorist aesthetic, made her own spreadsheet and began categorizing the verified Statements that way. Much more reliable than working from memory. 

If only she could actually access the Statements...Sasha’s life would be so much easier if everything could be digitized. The debunked ones were typed up, filed, and recorded, but the verified ones only existed on paper. Couldn’t be typed up, couldn’t be recorded. It was so stupid. 

Sasha checked the clock. Eleven am on a Wednesday. They were definitely all still working. Maybe…

It was an invasion of privacy. Did she actually care about that? No. Was she worried about apparently being locked into an employment contract with an...entity of some sort that preyed on invasions of privacy? No, although she felt like she should. Was she concerned that Jon and Jonah were trying to turn into her a conduit of this entity’s power into the world, probably gradually turning her, if not evil, at least into a giant dick? Somewhat. 

Words echoed through her mind, and Sasha’s fingers halted over the keyboard. Her powers manifesting differently than Jon’s...her unique skill with hacking…

Well, that was just kind of offensive. Sasha had worked hard for her skills. They weren’t given to her by Jon’s weird god. Also - seriously, a god? It was just a malevolent eldritch entity living in a separate dimension that encroached tendrils into Sasha’s life. There was nothing divine about it. That was just offensive. Sasha was a good feminist, transgender Catholic on the run from the law and didn’t worship false idols. 

It was only then that Sasha noticed a folder on the drive that she hadn’t created. It was labelled ‘For the Archivist’. Despite herself, she clicked on it. 

It held a few pdfs. Sasha clicked on one curiously, and saw that they were photocopies of statements. No - of Statements. She was already recognizing this one as one of those spider ones. She quickly printed them all out, conscientious of how easily supernatural files corrupted, and quickly exited the drive and the virtual desktop.

It wasn’t until Sasha was already in the kitchen and pulling down a bottle of Jack that she realized what she was doing. She sighed, replaced it, and fetched herself some sparkling water instead. She drank it slowly as she returned to her laptop and logged remotely into the police database, which she already had a backdoor into. 

It occurred to Sasha, perhaps belatedly, that if the police found her laptop and the incredible variety of highly illegal programs meant explicitly for accessing secure servers she was probably triple going to jail. This time, for something she had actually did. 

All of the hacking had never felt illegal. It had just felt...well, fun and necessary. It had never been about whether or not she should, it had been about if she could. 

Was that how it had started for Jon? Collecting household secrets because he had to, so secure the money and influence he desperately needed, because he could, because it was fun? 

Whatever. Sasha shook herself. She could have her moral crisis after she was no longer on the run from the cops for murder. This wasn’t the time to be squeamish about something that wasn’t hurting anybody. She knew, as Jon probably did, that just because something was illegal didn’t make it wrong. 

It was easy to log onto the police database and check out her own open case. She frequently checked out open homicide cases for fun, but it somehow hit a little different when it was her they were talking about. Incident, Senior Citizen, Offence: First Degree Murder, Location of Arrest: N/A, yeah, yeah, yeah…

One victim, a John Doe. Foul play was suspected...yes that’d be the gunshot wound. No witnesses. Reporting officer’s narrative...Elias Bouchard and Jonathan Sims the Fifth had walked into Head Archivist Sasha James’ office to discuss work with her when they found the body. Both were shocked and called the police...gun found at the scene had her fingerprints and the ballistics matched...suspect still at large. Friends and family had been contacted, everyone denied knowledge of where she was. Suspect had a noted history of mental illness...great…

The officers dispatched had been Alice Tonner and Basira Hussein. Sasha found that strange: Basira had history with one of the witnesses and the suspect, wouldn’t it be unprofessional to send her out? 

There couldn’t be that many sectioned officers, Sasha reasoned. Even if the incident hadn’t officially been sectioned, because the police report still existed, as a general rule if something happened at the Magnus Institute it was sectioned until proven otherwise. Even if the murder itself was seemingly mundane. 

Out of curiosity, she searched up Detective Tonner’s records. Been on the force for a long time, worked her way up the ranks. Very, very few cases and incident reports for a detective who had been on the force as long as she had. Sectioned, obviously, but even Basira had more official cases than she did. When Sasha clicked on the incident reports, they were extremely spotty and strange. Obvious details were omitted or censored. 

Something cold began to creep down Sasha’s spine. She found the arrest records of the latest four people with official records of Detective Tonner arresting them. 

Almost all of them had entered custody with bruises, cuts, and in one case a broken limb. They all had records down as ‘resisting arrest’. Sasha felt sick. 

There was one case that stopped strangely short. A clear perp, a rapist but one with little evidence, who Tonner had quickly caught. That was where the case ended: the report that Tonner had found his hiding spot, but no arrest, no trial, no prison sentence. When Sasha investigated the perp, she found that he had unceremoniously vanished shortly after Tonner had reported that she had found his hiding spot. A month later, a death certificate had been filed. 

Sasha stared at the death certificate, nauseated. This was who she was dealing with. A vigilante, some batshit pig who had obviously decided that the law was best taken into her own hands. Couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy, but...if anybody looked at Sasha’s case on paper, they’d say the same thing. 

And that was just the cases on record. It was the only obvious instance Sasha could see of Tonner having offed someone just because she felt like it, but cops were good at covering shit like that up. How many other arrest records had fallen in the cracks? How many other dead perps that nobody gave a shit about? How many sectioned cases? 

God, Sasha was fucked. 

She begged off hanging out with Georgie that night, instead staying in bed with the covers pulled tight over her head as if that could ever protect her. Why was Jonah doing this to her? What did he have to gain? If he wanted her to die a mysterious death in the bottom of a ditch, why wasn’t he man enough to do it himself?

Tonner was going to murder her, Sasha thought hysterically, and she was going to pat herself on the back for keeping another monster off the streets. 

And Jon knew. The fucking hypocrite. He wasn’t going to help her. Nobody was. But, god, she was so alone…

The next morning, as if she knew, Georgie slipped Sasha a burner phone over the breakfast table as they both robotically ate quiches. 

“It should be untraceable, but just know that anybody you call you’re putting at serious risk,” Georgie warned, before her expression softened. “This’ll all be over soon, honey. I promise.”

“Did Jonah tell you that?” Sasha asked bitterly. 

“Nah. I just know those two.” Georgie delicately ate a forkful of quiche. “They get bored of terrorizing humans pretty quickly. Now, Michael’s a different story. They’ll terrorize someone for decades. I’ve seen them do it!”

“Great,” Sasha said. 

It seemed to be at this point that Georgie realized she was actually making Sasha feel much worse, because a slightly panicked expression crossed her face and she quickly reached out to pat Sasha on the hand. “But I’m sure they won’t do that to you,” Georgie said quickly. “They love you! Jon especially. Jonah’s just on another of his little power trips right now, he’ll get over it. And Jon, like, feels really bad about this whole thing. He’s been super annoying about it, actually -”

“See,” Sasha said, standing up to clear away her dishes, “I would rather handle an enemy who obviously wants to kill me than a friend whose good side I always have to be careful to stay on, who I can’t afford to ever make mad. I guess that’s the only difference left between me and you people.”

She angrily put her dishes in the sink, where the housekeeper would do them, and stalked to what was rapidly becoming her room, slamming the door. 

Flopping down on the bed, she stared at the burner phone. Tim wouldn’t be at work yet. They could talk. They could - 

Do what? Get back together? Split up? Could he explain, beg for her forgiveness? Did she have to apologize too? Sasha didn’t understand. 

That was rare for her. She understood a lot of things, or at least she thought she did. Maybe she had been lying to herself, about everything: that her and Tim were a good idea, that Martin was sketchy,  that Jon was evil, that Jon was kind, that Georgie just wanted to help her, that there was nothing that Jonah Magnus would do to her, that she was safe and human and a good person. 

God, her capacity for self-delusion was ridiculous. But maybe people needed a little bit of self-delusion to survive. Nobody could live in complete honesty, in full sight of their flaws and shortcomings. You could burn away, living like that. 

No. No time or space for fear. Sasha wasn’t afraid of anything. If she kept telling herself that, maybe it would be true. She desperately punched in a number that she didn’t remember memorizing, holding the phone desperately to her ear, her one connection to humanity. 

It rung, and rung, and one, and Sasha’s heart thumped in her chest. 

Finally, the ringing stopped, and a slightly sleepy voice punctuated the dead air. “Hello?”

“Tim, it’s me,” Sasha burst out, everything she wanted to say to him rushing through her throat and choking her, and she burst into tears. 

Distantly, through the sound of her crying, she could hear Tim on the other side losing his shit, and eventually wrangling himself to calmness. 

It was almost funny, how they could work each other up like that. Eventually, by the time Sasha had managed to wrangle her own crying, Tim had calmed himself down enough that he was able to clumsily try to cheer her up. 

“We’re all fine. Everyone’s perfectly safe. Martin’s gotten, uh, even more annoying since you left, and we’ve technically hired Melanie, which is - not good but it’s funny? Are you still crying? Please don’t still be crying.”

“I’m fine,” Sasha hiccuped. She rubbed at her red eyes. God, she’d missed him. “Tim, what happened?”

The line was silent for a while. Finally, he said, “Is this line secure?”

“Uh - probably? I mean -” Sasha quickly checked herself. She didn’t want to mention Georgie. The less he knew the better. “ - it’s a burner, if that’s what you’re asking, and I’m not the one who bought it.”

“Where are you living?” Tim asked harshly. “Are you homeless? You have to come stay with me, I can -”

“You mean the first place Tonner will look?” Sasha shot back. “No. I’m safe, I’m dry, things are fine. That’s all you need to know.” She softened her voice. “I promise, if it was safe I’d tell you more. I want to see you again. Tim, I - I’m really sorry.”

Tim laughed hoarsely, without humor. “Shouldn’t it be me saying that? I’m the one who thought you were a monster.”

“...yeah, that one’s on you.” Sasha sighed miserably, lying down on her bed, wishing Tim was next to her. “I am, though. A monster, I mean. Tim, I - I’m definitely not entirely human anymore.”

“God, Sash, that’s the least of our problems right now,” Tim said, laughing slightly again. “Can you just tell me what happened? I know you didn’t fucking do it. That dick Bouchard keeps playing dumb and his shitlead lackey keeps on avoiding the Archives. I bet Sims killed that old man, right? He totally did. Martin keeps on saying that his precious Jon wouldn’t let you take the fall for something he did, but I’m not so sure.”

“I...it’s more complicated than that.”

Sasha explained in short order. For once, Tim was totally silent the entire time, letting Sasha dispassionately recite the entire sad story. She finished it at Michael helping her escape, not detailing where she had been dropped off. 

Finally, after a long silence, Tim said, “So this is my fault.”

“No, it’s not,” Sasha said harshly. “You were manipulated, same as I was.”

“I’m the idiot who -”

“Yes, you were being an idiot. You should have talked to me, talked to anyone. You should have done anything other than your homicidal partner in crime. You definitely shouldn’t have been buying a fucking black market gun when I know for a fact you have no idea how to shoot. But you tried playing hero and you played straight into Magnus’ hands. You fucked up. Okay? Now let’s try to do better.”

More silence, until Tim sighed. “Can’t believe the Douche’s Jonah Magnus. Explains why Sims is always playing lackey for him. Can’t wait to spill to Martin how his boyfriend framed his boss for murder.”

Sasha chewed her lip, uncertain. She hadn’t shared the details of Jonah and Jon’s conversation too closely - it had seemed private. “See, I’m not sure this is...entirely Jon’s fault.”

Tim groaned. “Not you too! Why is everyone but me and Melanie a fucking Sims apologist?”

“Jon and Jonah are...they’re weird, okay?” Sasha moved to chewing her hair, uncertain of how to describe it. If it should even be described. It seemed so private, so unsuitable to name...but maybe everybody thinking that was how these things stayed perpetuated for so long. “I think Jonah’s kind of, you know, abusive?”

The line went silent again. 

“Wow,” Tim said finally, “Martin’s going to be so disappointed his boyfriend’s taken.”

“They’re just friends! I think. I’m like, ninety percent sure. But you didn’t hear them, Tim. They’re really...it’s messed up. Trust me.”

“Jesus, Sash, why are you defending someone who fucked all of us over like this? Sims is a big boy, he’s responsible for his own shitty decisions and the shitty company he keeps.” Tim snorted. “I’ve heard them talk, anyway. If anything, Magnus is the one always giving into Sims and his little tantrums. Jesus, I just want to throttle the both of them.”

“Maybe you need to get over your anger issues and focus on actually solving the problem for once,” Sasha snapped. “Nobody has time for your revenge fantasy, Tim! We need to fix all of this.”

“Which one is it, Sash?” Tim asked coldly. “Was I manipulated, or was it my anger issues and hero complex? Are you going to decide if this is my fault or not?”

Sasha’s heart stuttered in her chest. She didn’t know how to explain to him what she knew - that it was everything, that it was all of the above, that he was manipulated through his anger issues and hero complex, that Tim had been pushed in a direction but he had taken the steps all by himself. But she couldn’t blame him entirely, because Sasha had been manipulated the same way, and so had Jon and Martin and Georgie, and if she started thinking like that then she would have to start hating the whole damn world. 

“Tim, are we going to stay together?” Sasha whispered, broken-hearted. “Can we even still be together? I love you. I want you here with me. But there’s so much ugliness that’s growing between us. I don’t know if this can be fixed.”

A long silence again. Sasha wanted to be there with him, to read his face, to see what he was thinking. She had always understood him so well, or at least she thought that he did. 

“I love you too,” Tim said finally. “I want to fix this too. I - I don’t know, Sasha. I love you. The thought of you alone, in danger, and not even knowing where you are, is fucking me up. It’s like Danny all over again, Sasha, I can’t handle this. Can we have this conversation again when I know you’re safe?”

“Okay,” Sasha said, and she knew that this was probably the best both of them could do right now. “Are we staying together?”

“...I don’t know.”

“...are we breaking up?”

“...still don’t know.”

“Okay,” Sasha repeated again, and sighed. “I won’t call you from this phone twice. I’m doing the best I can here. I’m safe, I think. Things will be okay, Tim.”

“Sash,” Tim said, “I don’t remember the last time things were okay.”

And neither did she, and they both knew it, and she hung up on him without saying anything further. She lay on the bed, listening faintly to the sound of the housekeeper vacuuming, staring up at the fan as it beat in a steady rhythm on the ceiling. 

Was Tim right? Was she reading too much into Jon and Jonah? It wasn’t her job to fix Jon, to puzzle out his weird psychology. Maybe he was just an asshole without a spine,and there wasn’t anything more to that.

No. Sasha didn’t believe that. This was a puzzle that she hadn’t solved yet, and she had the feeling that at the heart of this puzzle was the key to finally keeping herself and Tim safe. She couldn’t abide a mystery, couldn’t trick herself into thinking that the truth wasn’t important. The truth was all Sasha had. She couldn’t close her eyes to it, that awful and ugly reality. 

Tim...he had been such a bad idea. But he had always been her favorite one: the way he could always cheer her up, his bright and bold smile, his courage and heart and sensitivity and vulnerability. He had loved her, truly and wholly, for who she was. He knew the ugly corners of her and loved them as much as he loved her best attributes. 

Was that still true? Was Sasha turning into a person that Tim just couldn’t love? Was Tim turning into someone that Sasha couldn’t love? 

People changed. Sometimes they changed apart. And for some strange reason, Sasha just couldn’t bear the thought of that. 

Lying on the bed of a grim reaper, crying like a broken-hearted teenager, Sasha didn’t notice that the housekeeper’s vacuum had stopped running. She didn’t notice the knock on the door, or the creak of the door opening, or the gentle rise and fall of voices. She only heard it when there was a soft knock at her own door, and she was forced to roll off the bed to open her bedroom door. 

Standing in front of her, looking nervous, was the housekeeper. Standing behind her was Jonathan Sims. 

He looked pretty bad, Sasha noted clinically. Eye bags, even more pronounced than usual, stood starkly under his eyes, and his hair wasn’t as cropped short and styled as it usually was. It had grown out a little, making Jon look more like a tired modern guy walking the streets of London than a centuries old immortal psychic vampire. He was still dressed in a suit, as he always was, but the suit jacket was off and his dress shirt was rolled up to the elbow.

He stared at Sasha, probably registering every minute change in her appearance as she did his, before glancing down at the housekeeper. “You’re excused for the day. Thank you for your time.”

He passed her something - probably neatly folded bills - and nodded at her as she shakily nodded back and escaped the flat as quickly as possible. Jon stepped backwards in the hallway, gesturing for her to come out, and walked back into the living room. Because Sasha was just slightly too prideful to barricade herself in the bedroom, and partly because she wasn’t sure that Jon wouldn’t break into a woman’s bedroom, she stepped out into the grandiose yet cluttered living room with him. He stood in the center, hands in his pockets, looking over the flat with a clinical eye. 

“Georgie’s sense of interior decoration is as immaculate as ever,” Jon noted clinically. “She used to spend months getting every house we ever lived in just right. Said it was her job as lady of the household. She had never been a lady of any household, of course, not in the way that Jonah and I had once known - but her fun’s important to her, and it doesn’t hurt anybody important.” He sniffed slightly. “You coming to stay here was for the best after all. She’s been lonely, I think.” 

“I’m staying here because I’m homeless,” Sasha said flatly. For the first time, she noticed a small manila envelope under his arm, tucked slightly into his back pocket. “Because of you.”

“I’ve kept your flat for you,” Jon said eagerly, stepping forward, and letting his cold mask fall. In him now was something eager, something almost pleading. Sasha forced herself not to step away. “All of your possessions are intact, and I can get your bank accounts unfrozen easily enough. Once all of this blows over, your life can be right back to normal.”

“Wow,” Sasha drawled, crossing her arms, “how kind. Were you so busy being this nice to me that you forgot that Georgie barred you from this flat because I don’t want to fucking look at you?”

“She’ll get over it,” Jon said dismissively. “She’s been wanting us to make up, anyhow.” He stepped closer again, fluorescent green eyes fixed on her large and warm brown ones, and Sasha fought the tingle crawling up her spine. “Sasha, I really am sorry. Jonah was out of line in what he did. But - but you know, he really does know best. Even if it doesn’t seem so. What we’re doing now, it’s for the best for your development. I promise this will all blow over soon, and things will be better. For all of us.”

“For a subject of a truth god,” Sasha said, voice dripping sarcasm, “you have a unique ability to lie to yourself.”

Jon puffed up, scowling down at her. “That’s ridiculous. I -”

“Does Jonah Magnus respect you?” Sasha pressed. 

Jon...hesitated, and they both saw it. Jon frantically tried to cover, quickly saying, “Of course he does. I’m his partner, and we’ve been partners for two hundred years. There’s nobody on earth he respects more than me. There’s nobody he respects but me.”

“Then why does he talk to you like you’re an idiot?”

“He talks to everyone like that.”

“Because he doesn’t respect anyone but you. You just said that. But if he respects you, then wouldn’t he talk to you differently?”

There it is - Jon’s shoulders hunched slightly, unconsciously on the defensive. “Does he give you equal input on decisions?”

“I always give my -”

“Does he listen to them?”

Jon was silent. Finally, slowly, he said, “Jonah was right. He said you’d get like this.”

Fuck. Sasha’s heart sank, even as her jaw dropped in incredulity. She had lost him. “You must be kidding.”

“He said you’d get jealous.” Jon crossed his arms, turning slightly away from her, but what he clearly meant to be a closed-off stance just seemed defensive. “He said that you’d get upset that I’m more loyal to him than to you. What we’re doing now is for your own good, Miss James. You’ll see one day that this - this unpleasantness is helping you grow.”

Unpleasantness? Unpleasantness?! Putting her life at risk was an inconvenience? “I’ll see, huh?” Sasha said bitterly. “Just like you saw? Just like how you changed your mind from this being cruel and traumatic to it being a momentary unpleasantness?” She barked a short laugh, not very humorous at all. “I was there. He called you stupid, he said that you couldn’t trust anybody but him, and he called you an idiot. Are those the words of someone who respects you? Of someone who even likes you?”

Jon stiffened, mouth tightening, and he broke eye contact and looked away. “Don’t concern yourself with the private business between Jonah and I.”

“When you’re having the conversation over a cooling corpse that you framed me for then you’re making it my business, you absolute shitheel!” Sasha yelled, finally losing her temper. “Your bullshit is ruining my life! Your complete inability to stand up to that sack of shit is ruining my life!”

“Shut up!” Jon yelled, seemingly having taken her losing her temper as permission to lose his. Distantly, Sasha was aware of his stupid this must have looked: two fully grown adults, yelling in a living room like children. “You’re a spoiled child who doesn’t know anything! All I’ve ever done is try to help you, and you spit in my face! You’re no better than Martin!”

Abruptly, strangely, Jon stopped short. He seemed almost embarrassed, almost in pain. 

And just like that, Sasha knew. “He’s not letting you see Martin, is he.”

For just a split second, Jon’s expression crumpled, but he forced it back into his haughty mask. “I decided that it was best I didn’t waste my time with manipulative traitors.”

“Was that your idea?” Sasha asked flatly, abruptly extremely tired. “Or was it Jonah’s?”

Jon was silent. They both knew the answer. 

“If you walked up to Jonah now and told him that you wanted to start dating Martin, do you think that you’d leave that conversation still wanting to do it? Or would you somehow decide, all by yourself, that you’ll end up doing what Jonah wants anyway?”

Jon didn’t say anything.

A strange mix of emotions swirled in Sasha’s stomach. Anger and disgust mixed with pity and sadness. What had Jon been like, before he met Jonah Magnus? Had he been a good person?

But maybe that wasn’t so important. Maybe the question that had to be asked was - what kind of person would Jonathan Sims be without Jonah Magnus in his life?

All at once, the fight seemed to go out of Jon. His shoulders sagged, and he abruptly deflated. He looked down at the ground, ashamed and aware of it. He had always been aware of it. He had just been lying to himself. Maybe it was impossible to live without it. 

“I don’t know what to do without him,” Jon said quietly. “I’ve never - I need him.”

“You don’t,” Sasha said, abruptly exhausted. “You want to help me, Jon? You want to protect me and Martin? You can’t do that while staying friends with Jonah Magnus. You have to choose. So long as you stay close to him, you are going to stay within his complete control. That’s what he does. He controls everybody and everything. And you’re letting him. You’re justifying it. You’re doing his work for him. Everybody around him is - even Georgie. There are two people in your life who are trying to get you away from him, and he’s trying to convince you to cut them out of your life. You think that’s a coincidence?”

Jon opened his mouth, then closed it. Weakly, he said, “You’re wrong.”

“I need your help, Jon,” Sasha whispered, and to her shame found her voice cracking. “I need someone on my side. I can do it alone, but - but I’m scared. And I don’t want to. I need help. I’m scared.”

But she knew, even as she said it, that Jon was scared too. He couldn’t reach out a hand to her - not now, not here. Jon had carried around his fear for hundreds of years, pushing it down and pretending it wasn’t there, and it informed everything he’d ever done. Scrambling for power, exerting that power, desperately dominating even as he was dominated - it stemmed from that fear, all of it. And Jonah Magnus kept those flames fanned, because a Jon who was afraid was a Jon who could be controlled. 

A Sasha who was afraid, who was isolated, who was trapped, was one who could be controlled. 

The realization was dizzying. Somehow, the thought that kept running through her mind was - who’d do that? Who was such a terrible person that they’d go through all that trouble, all of that plotting, just to make someone suffer? Not because they disliked them, not in revenge, not because of any human emotion - but just because it was convenient? Useful?

Because you could?

So this was what power did to a person, Sasha realized. So this was what power and immortality and money and supernatural gifts did to you. It made you someone who Sasha could never hope to understand, whose depths of depravity she could never truly rationalize. To Sasha, who prided herself on knowing people and being able to understand them and their motives - it was almost a relief, almost a blessing, that she couldn’t possibly understand the motives of Jonah Magnus at all. 

Jon stared at her, fluorescent green eyes wide, and for just a minute she could see the fear that she knew was there written all over his face. For just a minute, Sasha and Jon were scared together, both trapped in tumultuous waters that they couldn’t control. For the first time Sasha empathized with Jon. 

Jonah Magnus was somebody that Sasha could never understand. But Jon was, and for the first time Sasha knew what Martin meant when he said that he felt as if Jon had been a good person, a long time ago. 

You can’t understand someone and hate them. Not really. You could be angry, upset, betrayed...but if you really understood someone, backwards and forwards, true hate was difficult to find. 

“I have to go,” Jon said, almost dizzily. He shoved the manila folder at her, both of them having forgotten that it was even there in the first place. He glanced at it, frightened and guilty. “Be - be careful when meeting Jude Perry. Don’t take her at her word. I have to go.”

He fled, as if the hounds of hell themselves were snapping at his heels, and Sasha was left standing in an opulent hallway, clutching a manila folder as if it was a time bomb, completely certain that it was meant to hurt her and cause her pain and damage her, completely certain that she was going to read it anyway. 

Like Jon - what choice did she have? 

But as she stumbled back to her room, as she sat down on the comfortable chair and thumbed on the tape recorder that sat at the desk, the words of Jonathan Sims ran through her mind. His warning. A clumsy attempt at protection. At the very least, a signifier of desire. 

Sasha knew, as she sometimes knew things, that Jon had started out somebody who deeply desired to protect others like him. To take revenge, to grab power, yes, but also to spread that precious knowledge and resources around. He had never stopped thinking of himself as one of those vulnerable people, people who society had stepped on and ground into the dirt. Deep down he had just wanted things to be fair, wanted some justice in the world. Jon, at one point, had only wanted to help. 

Maybe she wasn’t so alone after all. 

“Statement of Sasha James, Head Archivist…”